HIDDEN IN TIME

by Longley, Barbara

  The sun rode low on the horizon now. She hadn’t caught sight of anyone on guard duty, and it would soon be too dark to see much of anything. A small boulder protruded out of the ground a few feet away. Desperate, she formed a hasty plan.

  Grayce pretended to trip over the exposed rock. She fell, rolling so that Rebecca didn’t land on top of her. As she’d hoped, Rebecca threw out her arms to catch herself. Her hands opened, and Grayce tugged the rope from her grasp and shot up. She took off running for home, loosening the noose as she went so she could throw it off.

  “You stupid cunt!” Rebecca shouted.

  Grayce gasped as the sharp, stinging pain of Rebecca’s dagger bit into her calf. An agonizing, searing jolt shot through her with each step. If she could grab hold of the knife, she’d have the upper hand. Grayce slowed and reached for the blade. Yes! She had it, but then Rebecca tackled her from behind.

  She went down beneath the other woman’s weight. Rebecca gripped the wrist that held the dagger. Grayce tried to twist, to fight, but Rebecca grabbed a handful of Grayce’s hair and slammed her face into the ground over and over until blood dripped from her nose, and she nearly lost consciousness.

  “That was a mistake,” Rebecca whispered into Grayce’s ear. “I had planned to make your death quick, relatively painless, but I’ve changed my mind. Now I want you to suffer first.”

  Chapter Eleven

  * * *

  The sun sat low in the western sky by the time Brian left the druid’s grove. The day had been long and grueling, and all he wanted was to be home with Grayce. Exhausted, he walked toward the village, flanked by Craig and Dylan.

  Craig glanced Brian’s way. “As chieftain, is it your duty to inform Helen of her son’s death?”

  “If he’d died in an accident, aye, but Ceann Carraig said in a case like this, it fell to a druid to inform her.”

  Craig’s brow creased. “Do ye think Helen was in on the plan to murder ye?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I’m guessing she was.” The three of them came to a halt in front of the blacksmith’s forge. Craig said his farewell and left them, and Brian turned to Dylan. “Walk with me to the edge of the village. I’ve been meaning to speak with ye,” Brian said, continuing on.

  “Aye? What about?”

  “Rebecca. I fear James is right. The woman is unwilling or incapable of changing. I fear she’ll cause ye nothing but trouble for the rest of your days should the two of ye wed.”

  Dylan grunted. “I came to the same conclusion several days ago. She’s not for me.”

  “I’m relieved to hear ye say so.” They’d reached the Y in the trail where the path cut off toward Brian’s farm. “Let’s meet at the Goose & Gander tomorrow eve,” Brian suggested. “The clan will want to hear what transpired today.”

  “Aye, they will.”

  “My thanks for your help today. I’m in your debt.” He clasped Dylan’s forearm, and finally, Brian set his feet upon the path for home.

  Grayce had advised him not to answer a summons alone, and he wouldn’t. He’d been blessed to have her by his side. Recalling her stern admonition to never ever allow anyone to lure him to the edge of a cliff, he chuckled. “Such a fierce lassie.”

  The scent of peat smoke and roasting meat wafted over him before he reached his parents’ cottage. Smoke curled from their chimney, and the warm glow of candlelight filled the windows. Still smiling, he hastened home, anticipating the same beckoning signs of welcome he’d find there.

  Brian frowned as he came around the last bend. No candlelight lit the interior, and no smoke rose from his chimney. Rufus and Rosie darted out from wherever they’d been hiding. The two dogs barked and whined, and Rosie pressed against his legs as if something had frightened her. “What is it, ye wee beasties? he asked, leaning over to scratch each one behind the ears.

  As if in answer, Rufus trotted stiff-legged to the edge of the trees and growled out into the night, his hackles standing on end. Rosie paced back and forth in front of Brian. “What has ye two in a such a state? Have ye not had supper? Is there a fox nearby?”

  The rising moon was nearly full, and the sky still nearly cloudless. That and the last gasps of twilight provided him with enough light to see the platter used to feed the dogs sitting on the ground. So they’d been fed. He walked closer and noticed their water trough was empty. The trough was never empty. He and Grayce both saw to keeping it filled with fresh water.

  Brian glanced toward the well, and his heart thumped. The bucket lay on the ground near the base, tipped over on its side. He strode across the yard, lifted the pail and brushed off the dirt before lowering it into the well. He studied the area around the base. There were prints in the mud where water had spilled. Fresh prints … two distinctly different sets facing the same direction, one behind the other.

  He recognized Grayce’s footprints. Judging by the size and the footwear, the other also belonged to a woman. Whoever it was, they had approached Grayce from behind. He didn’t know what to make of that. He straightened, put his hands on his hips and stared out into the gathering darkness as if he might find the answers there.

  Why would Grayce drop the pail, and where was she? Perhaps there’d been an accident, and she’d been called upon to help her druid mentor in the healing. Still … if anyone had come to fetch Grayce for help, wouldn’t they have come up the path the same way he had? No one lived to the south of their farm. That didn’t mean there hadn’t been an accident that way. Clansmen hunted, and someone would be patrolling the border, at least until sunset.

  Rufus continued to bark at the edge of their yard. Rosie whined, and her eyes seemed to beseech him to do … something. Brian filled their water trough. His unease mounting, he left the pail by his door and jogged to his parents’ cottage. Hopefully, he’d find his wife there, awaiting his return.

  Brian knocked on the back door before opening it a crack. “Hello.”

  “Come in, laddie. Tell us the news,” his father called.

  “Everything went as planned. Aiden refused to surrender. He attacked me more than once, and now he’s dead.” He walked in and looked around the room. “Grayce isn’t here?”

  “Nay.” His father’s gaze shot to him. “Should she be?”

  “She’s not at home.” He described what he’d observed by the well. “I was hoping I’d find her here.”

  “Did she leave a note?” his mother asked.

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t go inside. The tipped bucket leads me to believe she left in a hurry.” His chest tightened. Gods, what if her family and their half-fae relative had found a way to snatch her away from him after all? “The dogs are behaving strangely.”

  His ma’s brow rose. “How so?”

  “Rufus barks and growls at the edge of the yard, and Rosie whines and paces back and forth, looking at me as if there is something she expects me to do.”

  His father rose from his chair beside the hearth. “Come, lad, let’s see if Grayce left word.”

  Sloan crossed the room to take his sword belt, bow and quiver from their pegs. “Brianna, love, if we do not return in the time it takes to check for a note and walk back, go to the village and gather what help ye can. Have them meet us at Brian’s cottage.”

  “All right.” She bit her lip, and worry suffused her features. “Perhaps she’s helping Anna with a birthing. I know of at least two women who are close to their time.”

  “Then she’d surely leave word.” Sloan crossed the room and kissed her on the cheek. “We’re off.”

  Brian followed his father out the back door. “Remember how Grayce kept saying her family and her half-fae relative would find her? What if—”

  “I’m far more concerned that Aiden may have hatched a plot involving Grayce to coincide with your murder.”

  “Shite.” His jaw clenched. “During our confrontation, Aiden said Grayce should’ve been his. He also admitted he and his mother poisoned his father and that Bl
aine had nothing to do with setting you up. That was all Helen and Aiden’s doing.”

  He hadn’t considered the possibility that Aiden might’ve planned to have Grayce taken from him, but it made sense. In Aiden’s mind, Brian would be dead now, leaving Grayce alone and vulnerable. Stupid. He’d been stupid not to realize the depths of Aiden’s depravity. He rubbed the spot over his aching heart and struggled to draw breath. “Helen might be holding Grayce captive.” If so, he prayed Ceann Carraig would find her there, and take her away from Helen.

  “Aye, it’s possible. If there’s no note, we’ll remain at your cottage, and Brianna will send help. You and I can head to her farm, and we’ll send the others to search for her elsewhere.

  He nodded. They reached his cottage and once again the agitated dogs joined them. Brian strode to the door and entered, followed by his father. He picked up a candle as he crossed the room to the hearth. There he stirred the banked embers to life, adding kindling and lighting the candle in the process.

  They always kept a few scraps of paper handy, and a few pieces of graphite. Grayce insisted, especially since she began her training as a healer. He searched for a note on the table and found nothing. His father lit two more candles, setting one on the mantel and the other on the counter by the sink. No notes there either. Brian checked the bedroom. He returned to the table and set down the candle.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. Gods, this can’t be happening. Brian’s throat closed, and his heart pounded. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his father placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “We should look for more footprints around the well,” his father said.

  “I’ll get a couple tallow lamps to bring with us.” Brian headed for the cabinet near the sink. He took out two of the ceramic, fat-filled globes, and his father used a candle to light the thick woolen wicks sticking out of the narrow openings at the tops. Brian held one of the lamps to his da, who took it by the handle.

  Together, he and his father left the cottage, heading for the well. “This is where I found the bucket.” He lowered his lamp and pointed to the prints.

  “Hmm.” His da moved away from the well, searching the ground as he went. “Here,” he called. “Whoever joined Grayce must have hidden in the trees and waited for her.”

  Brian joined him, and they followed the faint trail to the place where whoever it was had stood. “Might’ve been Helen. It’s likely she was in on her son’s plot,” he said.

  “Perhaps.” His father straightened and stared out into the gathering darkness. “Let’s look for prints leading away from the cottage. If they went north, ’tis likely Helen took her.”

  “And if they lead south? Gods, I’m a fool.” A chill slithered down his spine, and the fine hairs at the back of his neck stood up. “I should have insisted Grayce stay with ye while I was gone.”

  “What are ye thinking, Brian?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s find the direction they went first.” The two of them slowly circled the well, moving farther out with each pass, their eyes fixed to the ground. Brian came to an abrupt halt, his heart seizing. “I found them,” he said.

  His father joined him. The footprints he found in the dust were not side by side, but one following the other. He recognized Grayce’s, and it was she whose prints scuffed through the dirt in front, as if reluctant to move in that direction—as if she meant for him to find them. They were headed south into the wilderness. Brian’s eyes burned as fear and rage nearly brought him to his knees. “Rebecca.”

  He set off in the direction the two women had taken. “Rufus, Rosie, come.” The dogs yipped and raced off ahead of him, and Brian followed. He couldn’t wait for help to arrive. Grayce needed him now. Gods, he prayed he’d get to her in time.

  Grayce’s head and face throbbed painfully. Drying blood crusted her face, and she couldn’t breathe through her nose, which she was pretty sure was broken. Not that it mattered. She’d soon be dead. Rebecca had tied Grayce’s hands behind her back after she’d tried to run away. As they walked, Rebecca tormented Grayce, alternately shoving her forward, then yanking her to a halt by the rope around her neck. To top off all that misery, the stab wound ached and throbbed unbearably, and putting weight on that leg caused a world of agony.

  Grayce had passed beyond the point of desperation a mile ago. She couldn’t pull her thoughts together anymore, and with the noose tight around her neck, working to get air into her lungs had become her number one priority.

  “Here we are.” Rebecca yanked Grayce to a halt.

  They’d stopped by a burbling creek surrounded by piles and piles of rocks strewn over the ground. The almost-full moon gilded the area with silvery light. She would’ve found the spot enchanting if not for the fact that it would be her eternal resting place. This was Rebecca’s corpse disposal site?

  “See where those two slabs of rock form a hollow space on the ground between them?” Rebecca rested her chin on Grayce’s shoulder, pressed the knife against her throat, and pointed with the hand holding the end of the rope.

  Grayce didn’t respond, didn’t see the point. What little energy she had left went into mustering a last-ditch plan to survive.

  Rebecca rewarded her for her silence by grabbing a fistful of Grayce’s hair and pulling her head back. “Well, do you?” she shouted into Grayce’s ear.

  Grayce gasped, but still refused to answer. Rebecca shoved her forward, and she landed painfully on her hands and knees.

  “Ah, well. I’m sure you do. That’s your grave.” She leaned over to peer into Grayce’s eyes. “I’m not sure what I want to do first—remove your fingers, one by one? Maybe your ears, and then your eyes. I’ll leave your eyeballs on the rocks as an offering for the crows.”

  Swallowing the sob rising up her throat, Grayce refused to give Rebecca the satisfaction of seeing how her words affected her.

  “Come along, Grayce.” Rebecca jerked her to her feet and tugged her forward by the rope. “I had hoped you’d cry and beg, but no. Now you’re boring me. I’ve decided to put you in that hollow, slit your throat and cover you with stones.

  “You’re insane.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Your point being?”

  The air around them changed, became charged with electrical energy. Rebecca didn’t seem to notice. Grayce drew in a breath through her mouth. She could almost taste the difference in the atmosphere. She searched her surroundings for anomalies, the slightest ripple.

  Were they walking the verge between the hidden valleys and the outside world? Perhaps what she sensed really was a breach between the realms. Hadn’t Ceann Carraig said a hunter had found an item from the outside world near the boundary?

  She continued to search for any hint of where the border might be. If she detected a rift, she’d lunge for the tear for all she was worth. Hopefully she’d land on a busy street in Waterford or Dublin—somewhere in front of witnesses and help.

  She didn’t find any spot resembling a tear, and lunging in any direction would only bring her more pain. Besides, she’d probably land somewhere in the mountains, likely bringing her captor along with her. A tear slid down Grayce’s cheek, followed by another, and another.

  A loud CRACK resounded, and Boann appeared out of thin air. “Thank God,” Grayce sobbed and sank to the ground in a heap.

  Rebecca stepped back. “Who and what the feck are you?”

  Boann stared at the knife Rebecca held and said a few words under her breath. Rebecca dropped the dagger and cried out. Boann grabbed Rebecca by the wrist and reached out a hand to Grayce. Weak with relief, Grayce latched onto her savior.

  “You’re both coming with me,” Boann told her.

  “Wait,” Grayce cried, but it was too late. Everything around her blurred. The world whooshed past at the speed of light, and she landed mere seconds later, facedown on a rug, a familiar rug—the floor covering in her sister Regan’s family room in fact.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Boann bit out.

  Rebecc
a screamed, and something landed on the floor beside Grayce—Rebecca’s dagger. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and along the hallway from the kitchen. The next thing she knew, Grayce was surrounded by family.

  Her mother cried out, her glance darting from her to Rebecca and back to her again. Her dad made a growling sound.

  “Who did this to ye, Grayce?” Fáelán asked, his tone as sharp as the knife he pulled from his belt. Her dad helped her up to sitting, and Fáelán cut her bonds. “I’ll kill the bastard.” Fáelán threw the pieces of rope across the room.

  “This horrible creature is responsible,” Boann said, pointing to Rebecca’s immobilized form.

  Boann must’ve used some kind of magic to bind her, because Rebecca didn’t move or make a sound even though her eyes were wide open.

  “I suggest you call the garda. While scrying for Grayce, I discovered she wasn’t the only one to enter the hidden world,” Boann said. “When last I came to you, I saw this woman’s image in the news. Her name is Rebecca Hurley, and she’s wanted for murder.”

  “That explains her ramblings about the perfect escape, Grayce muttered. “If you hadn’t come when you had …” Grayce sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “Oh God, Brian. He doesn’t have any way of knowing what has become of me.”

  “Who’s Bree-uhn?” her dad asked.

  My husband and the only man I will ever love. “Can you help me up?” She wasn’t ready to talk about him. She blinked against the tears filling her eyes. Her mother and father helped her up from the floor. They supported her on either side as she gritted her teeth and hobbled to one of the couches. “Where are Regan and Meredith?”

  “Off buying groceries.” Fáelán pulled his phone from his pocket and began texting. “I’m letting them know you’re here. Thank the gods wee Conan is sleeping.” He spared her a glance. “You’re a sight, lassie. For certain your nose is broken. Any other broken bones?”