by Eno, Laura
Fleeting images came to him of Deanna in a different place—not much, but enough to see she told the truth of not being from this time. Tall buildings that reflected the sun rose high in the air; people dressed in clothing similar to what she'd arrived in crowded around her. Paved streets with blinking lights and metal things racing by too fast to get a good look at assaulted his senses.
One particular image puzzled him more than the rest—a tartan in his clan colors. He strove to hold onto that thought, working to clear the fuzziness surrounding it.
His hand jerked on the reins and the horse reared back. Deanna screamed and tried to turn towards him, her eyes wide and inches from his face. Without thinking, Ian leapt to the ground, dragging her with him. He cushioned her fall as they landed in a clump of heather.
Her body felt soft as she lay panting on top of him, the roundness of her breasts pushing toward his face as she struggled to get up. Ian held her tighter, rolling over to pin her underneath him.
Despite being scared, the vixen tried to bring her knee up and crush his manhood, but her skirts tangled and hampered her efforts. Ian shifted his weight so she couldn't succeed on a second try.
"Get off me." Her blue eyes held daggers within their depths, her voice as frigid as the north wind.
He grinned and got up, although it took all his willpower to do so. Ian wanted nothing more than to trail heated kisses over every inch of her soft skin; to bury his cock deep inside her as Deanna begged for sweet release.
"What was wrong with the horse?" She stared at the animal placidly grazing a few feet away without a care in the world.
"Mayhap he saw a snake."
"Snake? Where?" Deanna skittered closer to him as she searched the ground.
"Dinna worry. It would be gone now." He helped her back up on the horse, not about to admit why it had reared. The vision of himself worshiping at the feet of Deanna's naked body had been so strong he'd jerked the reins in reflex, startling the horse.
Deanna was quiet as they rode on, giving him time to mull over the portent he'd seen. In the vision, Ian hadn't witnessed his own face but he glimpsed his tattoo. Was she aware of this vision as well? Would she recognize him once she saw the mark on his arm? He savored the way she had responded to him in that image, wishing she'd do the same now.
Ian glanced at the sky. Only a couple of hours left till the gloaming set in. He wanted Deanna comfortable before that, not stumbling around in the dark. There was a glen not far from here; they'd make camp before the sun set.
***
Deanna studied Ian as he built a small fire, watching his movements while pretending to look elsewhere whenever he glanced her way—which was often. He seemed as fascinated by her as she was of him, though neither would admit it.
She pulled the extra plaid tighter around her shoulders as the sun lowered in the sky and ushered in a chill wind. Ian didn't seem affected by the cool temperature and yanked his shirt off over his head. Deanna admired his muscled back in the firelight, then gasped as she caught sight of his tattoo, rising as if in a trance and taking uncertain steps toward him.
"Do others in your clan wear that tattoo?" Her fingers reached out to trace the pattern but stopped short of touching his arm.
"Nay, only I wear this mark, though others of my clan have different patterns. Why?" He looked interested in her answer and Deanna wasn't sure what to tell him. His eyes sparkled in the light from the blaze as he waited for her to speak.
"I told you once that you haunted my dreams, remember?" At his nod she continued. "I've seen that tattoo before but not the face of the man who wore it."
This time she let her fingers touch it and he closed his eyes, tilting his face to the sky as Deanna traced the Celtic knot that encircled his arm. Ian's breathing quickened and he edged closer to her, slowly raising his hand to her face. With eyes still closed, his fingers traveled across the planes of her cheekbones, exploring the way a blind man would.
One finger brushed against her lips and Deanna parted them, touching the tip of her tongue to his skin. She saw him shudder and lower his head, eyes locking on her gaze.
"I'd best get you fed." His voice sounded low and strained, filled with dark promises if she didn't back away. Deanna responded to the unspoken command, taking a step back, confusion over what she wanted at war with the unanswered questions she still had.
He stalked over to the travel packs on the spare horse, his steps jarring the ground and sending up puffs of dirt in his wake. She retreated to the fallen log she'd sat on earlier and tried to disappear into the folds of plaid, ashamed of her indecision.
Ian stared into the twilight as they ate their dinner of oatcakes and dried beef in silence, not glancing over at her again. Perhaps that was for the best, she mused. She didn't belong here, didn't belong in his life. The knowledge carved a hollow spot in her heart, leaving an ache that intensified as the night wore on.
Chapter Twenty-One
After a miserable night spent in fitful dozing with tree branches dripping on her head, they ate cold rations and broke camp, heading off through the thick mist that had rolled in. Deanna didn't see how Ian could possibly know where he was going when she couldn't see five feet in front of her face.
He seemed to though, never stopping to question his direction. With his form held stiff behind her, she got the impression some unseen force pulled his unwilling body toward it. The thought made her shiver more than the cold damp surrounding them.
He hadn't said a single word to her all morning, either. Even the horses plodded along, not in any hurry to reach their destination. Occasionally, an owl or falcon would break the silence but it only added to the foreboding nature of their journey. Overall, Deanna found it nerve-racking. She needed conversation as a distraction.
"You said that girl used to be betrothed to your brother? What happened?"
His sigh hit the back of her neck and she was immediately sorry she'd asked. When he didn't answer, Deanna lapsed back into silence. They rode on through the gloom.
"Alec died two years ago," Ian said awhile later, startling Deanna out of her reverie. "He was nineteen and betrothed to Alyth at the time."
"I'm sorry." She felt awkward for bringing such a painful subject up.
"Dinna be. It's the way of the world." The pain in his voice belied the cold words. "The arse was fooling around where he shouldna been and his horse took a misstep over a cliff, taking him with it. His body lived for two days before his soul was set free."
Deanna closed her eyes and let the mist wash over her face. She'd known the pain of death but had never been forced to witness it firsthand. After a few minutes of silence, Ian continued.
"Alyth believes that I should honor my brother's promise to her. That willna happen, though. She's no for me." He didn't say any more and Deanna left him to his thoughts, her own ghosts crowding around to occupy her mind.
For all intent and purpose, she'd lost everyone who ever mattered to her, being stuck in this timeframe. Friends, relatives…her father, who'd already suffered his own horrors in life. Would he be left to wonder why she disappeared without saying goodbye?
Tears mingled with the relentless mist, coloring Deanna's mind to match the gray nothingness surrounding her. She glanced down at the plaid draped around her shoulders. Not everything had been washed clean of color. Its vibrancy reminded her of the man seated behind her, his heat radiating like a spark of fire to bring light back into her life. She swallowed her pain and leaned against Ian, feeling his arm snake around her waist in response. Maybe they had something to give to each other after all.
***
Late afternoon had them crossing through the standing stones of Clach an Righ. Ian felt Deanna's body jolt from the unexpected change but he'd been ready for it, squeezing her midsection until her heart steadied to a normal rhythm. What looked like nothing but empty countryside changed in the blink of an eye after entering the stones—if the old crone chose to reveal it. If not, you kept going through
empty land, unaware of her presence.
Deanna gripped his thigh and shook her head slowly. "I don't understand. It's beautiful, though."
"It's an ancient magic." Ian couldn't muster the same sense of wonder she had; he'd been here before and the experience wasn't always pleasant.
A cold wind blew amongst bare trees sparkling with the kiss of frost under a midnight sky. A full moon bathed the area in a white light—even though only a crescent hung in the sky the night before. Tame animals eyed them with curiosity as they drowsed in the winter wonderland, not bothered by the mist that surrounded this bubble of Otherworld like a curtain. Or a shroud, Ian thought miserably. One never knew if he would exit into the world again after coming here.
"Dinna touch anything in here," Ian said when he saw Deanna looking at crystalline spheres hanging from a tree. "It's like to be poisonous for you."
She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes shadowed with worry. He fought against the urge to turn around…and the guilt for having subjected her to this place. He had to know why Deanna had been sent here, though. The answer could affect his entire clan.
They came to a halt in front of a simple hut and dismounted. Ian untied the bundle from the second horse—a bag of oats he'd brought as payment to the Cailleach. He hoped she found the offering worthy. One did not approach her empty-handed.
***
The first thing Deanna noticed when they stepped through the doorless hut was the sparkling light inside, so different from the ice-covered night outdoors. She couldn't find a single source to explain the brightness. As her eyes adjusted, she saw an old woman sitting on a stool at a table, a bowl of peas in front of her. The unshelled pods lay in neat rows, looking oddly symmetrical for food. The strips of peas were arranged in groups of even numbers, some crossed to form rectangular shapes. Maybe the woman played with her food as a form of entertainment.
A single eye so black as to be a bottomless pit held Deanna captive as the woman raised her head to look at her. She snarled something unintelligible and Ian bowed, holding out the wrapped bundle as he answered her. Deanna felt weak with relief when the woman finally glanced away from her and focused on Ian.
Deanna's stomach gurgled with tension. She watched the woman purse her lips, moving a few of the pea pods into different formations with hands more claw-like than human. She and Ian continued to talk—his voice strained, almost pleading. The old woman barked something at him and he stopped speaking, his body even more rigid than before.
Deanna listened to the crone speak without comprehending any of it. She glanced at Ian and saw color flush his face. He opened his mouth to say something but choked instead. Was the old woman doing something to him, or was his silence born of shock by whatever she'd said?
He stormed out of the hut and the woman bent to her task of shelling peas, ignoring Deanna completely. Following Ian outside, she saw him standing by a tree, looking high into the icy branches. A raven flew out and Ian's head followed the path of the bird as it soared into the wall of mist. Deanna shivered. She suddenly wanted to be far away from here. Something about the woman made her queasy.
They rode out of the standing stones and back into the mist without incident. At least it was lighter out here, proving that the sun hadn't actually set. Deanna noticed Ian urging the horses to a faster pace and it increased her sense of foreboding. No doubt, they'd be galloping north toward the castle if not for the second horse tethered to them.
By the time they stopped for the night, Deanna's queasiness had blossomed into claws ripping at her gut. She slid off the horse and would have fallen if Ian hadn't caught her. He touched the drops of sweat on her face that she hadn't realized were there.
"Forgive me." His eyes drifted to the ground as he spoke. Bewildered, Deanna wondered what the apology was for. Then the fever hit with full force and she couldn't focus on anything at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Boulder, May 2012
Ian walked out the back door of the Light Street building and started down the path, as Robert had instructed him. He wondered about the odd location for this meeting. Robert wasn't big on hiking, preferring the fast cars of this era or the comfort of his office.
Robert stepped out from behind a tree and clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you for coming so promptly."
"As if I havena been at your beck and call for the last five hundred years," Ian said with a laugh. "What's this all about?"
"I'll get to that in a moment. First, how are your memories progressing?"
Agitation swept over Ian and he threw his hands up in the air. "'Tis maddening. I get the memories in chunks, then have to sort through them. Why is that?"
"I can't say. The Gods must have their reasons, perhaps to give you time to adjust."
"Well, I'm still acting the fool." Ian thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans and scowled at his mentor. "I'm taking Deanna to see the Cailleach. If I could meet myself right now, I'd kick his arse for doing such a reckless thing." He hadn't remembered his mortal self being quite so brash.
"Enough about my problems. Why are we meeting out here?" He watched Robert glance all around them before answering and a sense of danger crept up Ian's spine.
"In the past month we've located two more of the lost souls."
"That's good, isna it?"
Robert held up a hand and Ian clamped his mouth shut.
"Right after we located them, they both disappeared. Fiona hasn't been able to trace them. Neither one died—they vanished. I have to assume that the Conrí are responsible."
"So you're saying we have a Conrí collaborator working with us? I didna think that was possible." As far as Ian knew, the wards around the property would keep any Conrí from gaining access to the building.
"It's not possible," Robert said, "if the person has taken an oath to the Conrí. But if they were a sympathizer and purposely didn't switch sides…"
"…then our magic wouldna ken," Ian finished for him. That would be a huge problem. There were dozens of Aeneas Guardians working in this building, their Immortal abilities able to shield their thoughts and actions from both Robert and the wards. Only by taking the oath did their magic change, adopting the Conrí style that marked them as an enemy.
"That's why I'm only telling you. As a Druid in your mortal life you have a different ability from us—another way of looking at things, if you will."
"I am honored by your trust." Ian bowed his head.
"Don't be." Robert glanced over at him and chuckled but the humor didn't reach his eyes. "The others know it too. That ability puts you in more danger than the rest of us."
"Even so, I'm still honored." He wondered if Robert would be more inclined to give him further information in his present state of mind. "You mentioned before that the Conrí had specifically targeted my clan to scatter the soul mates. Can you tell me why?"
Robert sat down on a fallen log and stretched his legs out, looking up at him. "Yours and a couple of others. As to why, I really can't say."
Ian crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his mentor. Robert wasn't giving him the complete truth. "What can you say?"
"Are all Scots as stubborn and aggravating as you?" Robert smiled, even though he looked exasperated at the same time. "I can tell you that the Conrí have two different agendas—one the average Conrí thinks they're fighting for and one only their Council knows about."
"How so?" Ian sat down next to him. If he knew what to listen for, maybe he could catch an unguarded thought that would lead to the traitor in their midst.
"There is an ancient prophecy among my people that's been interpreted by the Conrí as stating that if all of the soul mates come together, then human life shall cease to exist."
Ian sucked in a breath, letting it escape slowly as he digested that information. "Are you saying the Aeneas don't believe that?" He hoped not. He'd hate to think he was fighting for the side that wanted humanity to end.
Robert shrugged. "For the record, no
. We believe the human race will enter into a new phase, not be destroyed. But that isn't the point. An eon ago, the Aeneas and Conrí were united, charged with the task of guarding the Well of Souls. It's not our place to question the will of the Gods—only to do their bidding. The Conrí formed because of the misinterpretation—or so their Council said when recruiting Immortals to take up their cause. That's what makes the Conrí so insidious. They believe they're helping to save the human race."
Ian stared at the ground mulling over what he'd just heard. He wanted to believe in Robert…but what if he was wrong?
"You're wondering if I'm wrong," Robert said quietly. "It's healthy to question me. I would, in your place."
"I dinna mean to question you, but how can you be sure?" Ian gazed at Robert's face. The man looked tired—unusual for an Immortal being.
"Because the Conrí Council is going after something else. If it were only to prevent a complete pairing of soul mates, they would have scattered them at random."
"I'm no following your logic." Ian frowned and tried to concentrate. A jumble of past memories had just flashed into his mind. He blocked them out for a moment.
"The Conrí Council didn't randomly select souls when they attacked the Well," Robert explained. "They targeted certain families for a reason known only to them. The Aeneas Council believes those particular pairings will become a threat to the Conrí in the future."
"But they canna see into the future." Ian shook his head in confusion.
"Exactly. Which means one of the Gods is helping them."
Ian jumped up from the log where he'd been sitting and turned to stare at Robert. "You mean the Gods are going to war?"
"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Robert stood back up and gripped Ian's arm. "That problem is beyond our capabilities, though. Let's concentrate on your own priorities."
"Blethering idiot!" Ian shouted, his hands beginning to tremble.
