Hospital or Infirmary then. Fighting to lift his heavy eyelids, he searched for the one heartbeat among the others that had become his lifeline, and sighed in sudden contentment when he found her, close and calm.
It picked up at his sigh. “Roque?” A soft hand slid onto his cheek. “Are ye awakening?”
Gods, yes. Would that he forever awakened to this. He turned toward her voice, still fighting the battle his eyelids waged against him. He finally won, cracking his eyes open to the most beautiful sight.
“There you are.” Eyes shimmery with moisture, Edeen smiled and the dragon’s heart stirred. Treasure, it sang. And Roque wholeheartedly agreed.
“You’re you, aye? Ye know me? Please say ye know me.”
“I know you. My heart knows you.” He smiled. “Treasure.”
The tears she tried holding back spilled and she nodded, dark lashes blinking furiously.
He tried to shift up, but Edeen stopped him. “Ye’re healing on yer own, but ‘tis slow.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, and smiled weakly, the shadows beneath her eyes revealing her worry. “Mayhap dragons do not heal as swiftly as vampires.”
Roque jolted, remembering the transformation, sparing in the skies, bellowing a challenge to Geschopf.” Every muscle in his body tightened. He had transformed. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the wind whisking across his body, the powerful thrust of wings pulling him through the sky. He had transformed. And he was still himself. Geschopf had been wrong. He did not lose himself. He was who he was, dragon, vampire, or man.
An upwelling of peace poured through his soul, touching the heat and magic inside him. The dragon stretched, spreading his wings, relishing freedom. He’d never felt more alive. Roque opened his eyes.
Edeen frowned, studying him.
His smile broadened. “I’m well. All’s well.” He thought of the burning red dragon spiraling through the sky. “Geschopf?”
“Gone. Dead. The planes have also left.” She glanced forlornly past the gap in the drawn curtain. “All is quiet.”
Roque nodded. He would not mourn the death of Die Schwarzen Klaue, though he did not like the sadness touching Edeen’s features. He looked her over, stiffening at the sling holding her arm to her chest. “You’re hurt.”
She looked down at the wrappings on her arm. “A clean break. Judith offered to help it mend, but she’s so tired…”
Roque reached for her other hand, sensing a great sorrow. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Liquid eyes met his and she shrugged her feelings off as unimportant.
“Edeen?”
She tore her gaze away and Roque felt bereft of her contact. “’Tis this world. In my heart, I feel it is not right. ‘Tis not meant to be this way. My brothers…Shaw was never meant to unbalance the magic of the world…yet, I also see light, so much light even amid darkness.”
“My magic is dark, Edeen.”
“Aye! As is the gremlins and the ghouls. Yet I see no darkness in yer souls. Magic has changed, blended, and that seems right to me.”
“Yet…” he prodded.
“My core instincts say otherwise…that Shaw, that my brothers…their fate was not meant to be. I’m sure of it.”
“You grieve for them.” Roque rubbed his thumb along her wrist. “There’s no going back in time. Nothing you can do.”
Her gaze swept to his, imploring him to understand. “I’ve attempted to pen a missive.” She slid her hand from his and took a sheet of paper from the little metal night stand.
His brows rose, seeing the little paragraph of unfamiliar runes, and his heart went out to how much she had lost, and how much she had yet to learn about this century. “Is that Gaelic?”
Edeen nodded. “Alex spoke of codes.” She shrugged. “I cannot leave this for just anyone.”
A troubling thought niggled at the corner of his mind. “Who? Who can you leave the letter for? Who do you know who can possibly read Gaelic?”
“Charity. The Healer Sorceress of the future. Her grandmother insisted—will insist—that she learn ancient languages. Her grandmother, Judith Greves.”
And the bottom dropped out of his world. He swallowed, shell-shocked. It could work. It could change everything. If Edeen warned Charity not to travel back to the Thirteenth Century, Toren, the High Sorcerer, would not be rescued from the witch. Shaw would take the guardian clan and its magic into the Shadowrood, but he would also not remain on the earth to unbalance magic to darkness.
And Edeen would not be sent into a seven hundred year slumber.
Roque’s throat closed up. “Edeen, if history is altered, we will never meet.”
There was every possibility that he might not even be born with dark magic not as rampant. With dark magic not awakening dragons from their millennial slumbers to mate with mankind. Or his vampire mother.
A tear leaked onto her cheek. “I know.” She tilted a corner of her letter for him to see. “’Tis why I cannot finish. Oh, Roque, I cannot bear a world without you in it. I cannot.” She flung herself in his arms, openly weeping. “I do not know what to do.”
Holding her to him, he smoothed his palm down her hair. “Shh, it’s all right, love. Everything will work out how it should.”
She lifted her tear-stained face, and his heart ached for her. “But I want to stay here. I w-want to help Alex break the c-codes and stop Hitler. I want to stay with you.”
Keep her, the dragon stirred. Never let her go.
Roque kissed her hard and for a moment everything floated away. It was just them in any realm. They were meant to be together. He placed his trust in that.
His trust in her.
He pulled back, staring hard to memorize every precious inflection to her features.
“Write your letter, Edeen. We’ll leave it in the hands of fate.”
~~~
Trembling and heart sore, Edeen walked through the long hall to Alex’s bed, a sealed envelope clutched in her shaking hand.
Judith was just stepping past the drapery, a vibrant blush to her cheeks. Beyond her shoulder, Alex caught sight of Edeen and flashed her an unrepentant grin.
Heart heavy, Edeen merely nodded back and spoke to Judith, holding out the letter. “I need yer help.”
The End
From the Author:
On May 6, 1941, a little after midnight, fifty German planes attacked the town of Greenock, Scotland, targeting in apparent random fashion. The Luftwaffe, three hundred planes strong, reappeared the following night. Again, the brunt of the attack was taken mostly by civilians, leaving the Royal Navy shipyards relatively untouched. Two-hundred-eighty people were killed with twelve thousand left injured.
Although I took liberty with some of the events, the distilleries and sugar factory were hit.
However, to my knowledge, there were no sightings of gremlins, trolls, vampires, or dragons.
I hope you enjoyed my little romp back and forth through time. Please don’t worry about Shaw and Col. The boys each get their own adventure in time-travel until all the sibling guardians reunite together for the conclusion. Find hints and extra tidbits about the characters and how magic works within the world of the Highland Sorcery novels at my blog. Just what is a moon sifter anyway?
Continue the journey with Col as he is thrown forward in time where he learns things are not exactly ideal for a shapeshifter on his own.
Flung forward into the 21st Century, Highland shapeshifter Col Limont needs to find the healer Charity Greves in order to get back home and save his family.
However, the healer’s sister, Lenore, is determined to do everything she can to keep Col from dragging her sister back to 13th Century Scotland into his family’s supernatural war. But when monsters and a strange yuppie trio also try to stop him, Lenore has to reconsider her options.
But by helping Col, she’ll lose her sister.
Download Highland Shapeshifter
As a treat, included at the end of this book is an excerpt from my oth
er time-travel short, The Sweetheart Tree, involving Bree, a not-into-history type, who gets transported back to the Civil War south, where she falls for the hot lieutenant that history says perishes while rallying his men at the Battle of Sunken Bridge. Why did that have to be the only piece of history she remembers?
I have many people to thank for The Vampire and the Highland Empath.
To Pat and the boys for letting me drag them to the Scottish Festival and Highland Games on a hot, windy Saturday in Texas.
And to my wonderful critique partners, the Cowtown Critiquers, who are always willing to pull out the cattle prod during brain-storming sessions. I so enjoy getting together with you guys.
And to my fabulous editor, Melodee Curtis. This wouldn’t be nearly as good without your feedback and way of getting to the heart of what really matters. I adore that you waaaaaay overthink things.
Hugs to you all.
Excerpt from The Sweetheart Tree
His penetrating eyes widened in shock, so realistically, Bree went stock-still again. His hand lifted from her mouth, and skimmed along her cheek to tug at the ends of her short hair.
“You’re not a boy.” He said it with such genuine horror, Bree didn’t know if she should be relieved or offended.
“They’ve crossed back over the river, sir.” A young soldier slipped next to them. “Lieutenant, Jonas and Tim are still on them.”
The lieutenant eased off. Taking full advantage of the slight freedom, Bree shoved him hard in the chest. “Get off!” she said with such venom, the young man scrambled back, looking more and more horrified.
He tipped his flat hat. “Begging your pardon...hey!”
Bree hadn’t waited to hear an apology, but took off through the bushes. Since when was there a bush here? She fully intended to get into the main museum building, the church with the gift shop, and report these idiots. Then she’d get a tour guide’s help in finding her sister. Del was probably down at the reenactment site looking for her.
She ran fast, and was almost to the blasted tree, when a hand latched onto her arm, hauling her around. Furious, she let the momentum carry her, swinging her fist out, which the idiot re-enactor blocked easily, capturing her other arm.
“Would you please stop doing that? I’ve had enough. I’ve got to find my sister.”
“There’s another lass lost out here?” His features showed such concern, Bree nearly lost her resolve.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to wrench out of his grip. “No, she’s not lost. Neither am I. Geez, you guys are taking this to the limit. Don’t you go home at night?”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I haven’t seen home for four years…if it still even exists. Lem, search the area,” he spoke to the other men, coming up behind him, though his eyes never left Bree’s face. “There may be another girl roaming alone out here.”
“Oh, sugar,” a solider re-enactor, a tall, slender one, cooed at her. “Did you think you’d be safer dressin’ like a lad? Is that why you cut your hair?”
“Did a poor job of it, if you ask me,” another said. “There’s no mistakin’ she’s a woman. You need something much baggier, miss, if you don’t mind me pointing out.” All eyes seemed to be taking in her jeans and T-shirt, which seemed to gleam in the darkness.
“I never saw attire like that,” the tall one said. “Where you from?”
“Montana,” she snarled it.
“Mont Anna? Is that in Prince Edward County?”
Oh, please. She had to hand it to these guys. They were sure staying in character, pretending they never heard of Montana because it wasn’t even a territory before the Civil War. They hadn’t missed a beat…none of them. What? Were they required to attend reenactment school?
She’d wasted enough time with them. “Please, let go of me.”
The young lieutenant frowned down at her. “Ma’am, I can’t let a woman wander around out here alone. It’s not safe. Sheridan’s army is burning everything. Don’t you know what could happen to you?”
“Gee, let me think. You mean like being dragged into the bushes by several filthy men? Something like that?”
At least he had the decency to wince, while the others appeared to take some offense.
“Now that’s unkind,” the youngest said. “I was dunked in the river yesterday.”
“Bite your tongue. At least I don’t roll in the ashes.”
“That’s so the yanks won’t smell me. It’s a scouting trick, dimwit. Why d’you think the lieutenant never sends you out?”
“Oh, get off, you young scamp.”
While the conversation ebbed around her, Bree became acutely aware of something not right. Except for the sliver of moon, there really wasn’t any light. She looked overhead to where the black cables of electrical power should be. There used to be lines, running from tree to building to building, powering outdoor lights, and inside. No light shone from within. Nor were there fancy little signs, directing tourists to the gift shop or mill. The tiny hairs on Bree’s arms lifted in gooseflesh. She glanced around at what should have been a manicured lawn with flowered beds and those stupid little pebbled pathways. There was gravel, wild flowers, and a circular, rutted dirt roadway that ran alongside the dark buildings.
It was a good thing the lieutenant still held her, because Bree’s knees turned to jelly and she sank fast.
Download The Sweetheart Tree
TOC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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