by Ann Gimpel
“No matter what,” Kheladin cautioned, “doona leave my back until we are back here, or I tell you ’tis safe.”
“Why would I want to?”
“Rhukon can be most persuasive. He can conjure images of almost anything. If ye saw your kinswoman lying in a pool of blood, ye’d be sore tempted to go to her.”
There’s so much I don’t know. Maggie cursed herself again for being such a short-sighted fool. She wondered why Mary Elma hadn’t taken a harder tack with her—forced her to learn magic, whether she wished it or not.
“It doesna work that way, lass. Ye must welcome your power, or your castings will backfire. They might even be the death of you.”
“Oh.” While it didn’t surprise her that the dragon could pluck thoughts from her mind as easily as Lachlan or the Celts, it was still unsettling to have everyone know exactly what she was thinking.
“Convenient, though.” A whistling, snorting sound that might have been dragon laughter rustled through her. “Like getting three wishes and not even having to come up with one idea, because I already know what you want.”
An old Rolling Stones song about needing and wanting passed through her mind. Maggie snorted. Maybe Mick Jagger knew more than he’d let on about trips to fairyland. “How long until we get where we’re going?”
“Time is…different. ’Twill seem like hours, yet no time at all is passing in the world ye just left. One impression isna any more real than the other.”
“I thought Gwydion—or maybe it was Arawn—said Rhukon couldn’t move the plane away from Earth?”
“Poor choice of words. Earth is a big place.”
“Ye willna understand with your modern mind,” Lachlan cut in. “Psychic layers circle the Earth. Rhukon took advantage of one. He wove his barrier into its weft.”
“Aye,” Kheladin added. “We must be verra careful not to damage something critical when we attack his binding.”
Maggie didn’t ask what might happen. She didn’t really want to know. Lachlan was right about her twenty-first century brain being in full rebellion. People didn’t ride dragons or go off to fight bad guys who’d shanghaied airplanes—and her grandmother. Look at the World Trade Center. Despite knowing what was about to happen once the planes diverted from their flight plans, the full power of the U.S. Government had been helpless to intervene.
Time, indeed, passed. Warmth rose through the dragon’s scales. It was enough to countermand the wind-chill eddying about her. If her torso got cold, she leaned it against Kheladin’s trunk of a neck. The first time she did it, the dragon made a lewd comment about the feel of her breasts, but Lachlan shut him up.
“Where are Arawn, Gwydion, and Ceridwen?”
“Mayhap already there,” Lachlan answered.
“Child!” Mary Elma’s worried voice jangled discordantly in Maggie’s mind. “No! It’s too dangerous. Go back.”
“Gran? Is it really you?” Tears threatened to overflow, and Maggie knew she’d unconsciously prepared for the worst: Mary Elma’s death.
“Of course it’s me. What the hell are you doing? Go back. I have things under control here.”
“Whether ye will have us or no, we are coming to assist,” Lachlan said.
“Look, you young sprout.” Mary Elma sounded almost as overbearing and bitchy as Chloe. “You’re the dragon shifter linked to my granddaughter in the prophecies. Your job is to keep her safe. I breathed a sigh of relief when I knew she’d found you—finally. I can take care of myself. Take your dragon and go home. That’s an order.”
“Excuse me. Ye canna talk so to me.” Lachlan sounded furious.
“Nay, to us,” Kheladin seconded. Smoke streamed from his mouth.
“This is the second reason I walked away from the coven.” Maggie broke in before a pitched verbal battle unfolded. “Every single witch thinks she’s hot shit. Gran, Lachlan’s my husband. You have to be nice to him. Ditto on the other side of things. Gran is my closest kin.”
“Child,” Mary Elma protested, “you know nothing. You can’t protect yourself.”
“We’ll talk about that later. How are the rest of the people on the airplane?”
“Asleep.”
Maggie’s heart lurched. “Did the oxygen system fail?”
“Christ! I put them to sleep. They were bellowing about like a bunch of stupid, angry sheep. I knew I’d never be able to figure a way out of things with them screaming and crying and carrying on.”
“We are here, lass.” Kheladin’s voice held a warning note. “Keep quiet, I must concentrate.”
Maggie wanted to ask her grandmother if she’d seen Rhukon or the other wyvern or the Morrigan, but she bit back the words. This was not the time to assert herself. That Mary Elma was also quiet spoke volumes. Her grandmother was ancient and powerful in her own right; Maggie had never known her to bow to anyone—magical or not.
She looked about. A fine, white mist filled the air. If she focused hard and used her very rusty and almost untrained third eye, she could just barely perceive the outline of an airliner suspended in the murky ether. Kheladin flew back and forth. From time to time, he directed streams of smoke or fire at something in particular. Sometimes it flared back at him.
“Hang on.”
She wasn’t certain if Lachlan or Kheladin had barked the warning, but Maggie clasped her arms around the dragon’s neck not a moment too soon. Kheladin banked and veered. A huge jolt of power missed them by an angstrom. Maggie felt the backlash from it burn every inch of exposed skin. She could only imagine what it would have done if it had actually hit them. The dragon dodged another strike, flew half a figure eight, and blasted something with fire. He rolled, surfaced, and did the same again.
Maggie swallowed her screams. If she clung with her arms and legs, she wouldn’t fall off. Yeah, right. Just keep telling myself that. Where the fuck were Arawn, Gwydion, and Ceridwen? They were supposed to provide counter fire so Kheladin could do his work. The stench of burned hair filled her nose. Terror paralyzed her. It took all her concentration to hold tight to Kheladin. She silenced a growing conviction she was going to die in this dark place. Lachlan and the dragon were immortal. She wasn’t.
After another series of rolls and aerial acrobatics, where the bottom dropped out of her stomach, and her head spun crazily, Lachlan screamed at Kheladin that they had to leave, that it was too risky without help. Kheladin rolled again, spewing fire. Maggie’s sweat-slick hands lost their grip. Limbs flailing, she fell for a long, heart-stopping moment before the dragon looped beneath and caught her.
“We are leaving now,” Lachlan screeched. “Now. No arguments.”
“But I almost had it afore we were attacked,” the dragon protested. “I am certain, with just a bit more—”
“Leave,” Lachlan bellowed so loud Maggie’s ears ached. “Ye will kill the lass if ye continue.”
“I— I’m all right. Really.”
“Bullcrap.”
“We can’t leave. We’re the only ones here. Gran will die.”
“That may be true, but if we remain, I fear ye will die…”
Power zapped past them, focused on the barrier. Maggie cringed against Kheladin’s scales and imagined herself invisible to boost her puny warding skills. “Shit,” she muttered. “Now they’re attacking from behind.” More jolts crashed past them, so bright she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Sorry to be late to the hanging,” Ceridwen said merrily. “They verra nearly trapped us. Damn that Morrigan, anyway. What a crafty old bitch she is.”
“But we’re here now.” Arawn zipped past Maggie’s field of view, power blazing from his hands.
The dragon didn’t wait for an invitation. He returned to his slow, methodical assault on the barrier. Power thundered around them, not quite so close as before, but near enough Maggie expected to be tossed from her perch any moment.
If she hadn’t been watching, she would have missed it. One nanosecond, the barrier was in place, and the next, it was gone as if i
t had been an illusion all along.
“We did it,” Mary Elma crowed. “I’ll wake the pilot. Get my granddaughter out of here. I swear, dragon shifter, if she’s harmed, I’ll hunt you through every circle of hell and personally strangle you.”
“’Twas a time I was looking forward to meeting your kinswoman,” Lachlan muttered. “Now I am not as sure.”
Maggie considered making excuses, but witches were a bossy, overbearing lot, with limited tolerance for others with magic. No point in making up nice lies only to have Mary Elma blow them out of the water when they picked her up at the airport.
Kheladin wheeled. Arawn, Gwydion, and Ceridwen closed from three sides. “Doona fight me,” Gwydion cried. “I am using a different strategy to return us. I dinna care for what happened on the way here.”
Maggie steeled herself for, well, for just about anything. Projectiles, lights, a rocky ride. None of it happened. Before she had time to settle into her perch, where the dragon’s neck joined his body, they were floating over the grove near her car. Kheladin touched down so gently, she wasn’t certain they were on the ground until he said, “Let me help you down.”
Though he set her down gently, Maggie’s legs buckled beneath her, and she understood how terrified she’d been. Maybe not safe forever, but I’m safe for now. Repeating the phrase in her head, she dragged herself upright and stood in place until her head stopped spinning, and her legs agreed to walk in a straight line. Part of her wanted Lachlan’s arms around her, needed to hear him crooning soothing nothings. She looked around, hoping he was back in human form, and she’d just missed the transformation because she was so out of it. Her gaze lit on Kheladin instead. Mouth open in a wide grin that displayed all his teeth, he looked extraordinarily pleased with himself as he fanned the air with furled wings.
Maggie shook herself from head to foot, annoyed that all it took were a few rounds of sex to turn her into a helpless female who needed a man to tell her everything would be all right. I can do this. I did just fine before he walked into my life.
Of course I can. I rode Kheladin, didn’t I?
The Celts materialized out of nowhere and crowded around Kheladin patting him and speaking in Gaelic. Maggie assumed they were telling him he’d done well. While she didn’t want to interrupt his accolades, they had to get moving. As it was, they’d hit the early morning traffic around the Glasgow airport.
Maggie plucked her bag from the tall grass, amazed no one had stolen it. She stumbled to her car, pulled the door open, and made a grab for the bottle of tea wedged between the seats, drinking long and deep. She wished it were liquor. Any kind would do. Just something to steady her nerves. She thought about everything that had transpired since the dragon hoisted her onto his back and tried for perspective, but her mind recoiled.
I’ll think about it later, when I’m not so shaky.
She sank into the driver’s seat and drank more tea, grateful no one was paying the least bit of attention to her—or fussing over how rude Gran had been. Her eyes slid shut. She must have dozed sitting up, because Lachlan’s voice dragged her from an uneasy half slumber.
“Lass, we must leave.”
Her eyes flew open. Confused, she looked around them. “Where did everyone go?”
“The Celts are convening their council. As far as they’re concerned, the black and red wyverns and the Morrigan have declared open war on us. We will retaliate.”
“Get in.” She gestured to the far side of the car. “We still have to pick up Gran, since it appears her plane will show up at the airport now.”
He snorted. “Aye, I feared as much. She doesna care for me.” He walked around the car, got in, and closed his door.
“That’s not it.” Maggie blew out a tired breath. Every bone in her body ached from tension, weariness, and holding on for dear life through Kheladin’s aerobatic maneuvers. “She was worried about me and willing to lay waste to the world if it would keep me safe.”
A slow smile spread over Lachlan’s face. “Aye, then, mayhap we shall get on better than I thought, since protecting you is at the top of my list as well.”
Maggie ferried the car out of the parking lot. “I’m going to look for a diner. I need coffee and something to eat.” Lachlan fumbled with the radio’s dials. “What are you trying to do?” she asked.
“I want to find that fellow again to see what he has to say about flight 427 being returned from the halls of the dead.”
Maggie laughed, recognizing a fine edge of hysteria when she heard herself. Guess I’m still pretty shaken-up. “I’ll get the station for you. Now that you mention it, I’d like to hear the news, too.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lachlan watched Maggie surreptitiously via a series of sidelong glances. It wouldn’t do for her to see how frantic he’d been about her. He’d ordered the dragon to return just before she’d fallen from his back, but Kheladin—drunk on battle-fury—had ignored him. Granted, the dragon had managed to fly beneath Maggie in time to catch her, but his staging had been far too close for Lachlan’s liking.
“Damn it,” Maggie said. “Had a station dialed in, but I lost it. I don’t have high def radio in this car, so we’re stuck with the basic broadcasting networks.”
“I have no idea what ye just said, but I’m thinking what occurred with the airplane was unusual enough, someone should be talking about it.”
“You’re not kidding.” Maggie snorted. “Oh! Here’s something. Let’s see what kind of spin they’re putting on it.”
A woman’s crackly voice continued. “…BBC News. I tell you, it’s a bloody miracle. Air Blue Sky’s Flight 427 disappeared off radar for one hour and fifty-nine minutes. Yes, you heard me. Nearly two hours. And then there it was again, as if it had never left its trajectory. It reappeared in the same spot it disappeared and is en route for Glasgow International Airport, where it will land in approximately an hour. Crews are clearing the airport and runways, just in case, but our latest report suggests the plane is undamaged. The Glasgow Constabulary has other ideas, and I have it on good authority that the British SIS are on their way…”
“Hmph. No rush, then,” Maggie muttered and reached to turn the sound down. “Hard to say when they’ll let us into the terminal. In fact, think I’ll call Gran once the plane’s on the ground, and she’s allowed to turn her phone on. She can take a shuttle to one of the nearby hotels. It will give us somewhere to wait for her.”
“Hotel, as in a country house or inn?”
“Yes, you rent rooms. We can take showers, clean up, maybe even grab a nap.”
“Mmph.”
She reached across the car and patted his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not that I wouldna welcome any excuse to lie down with you, lassie, but I told Gwydion I’d join them as soon as I could.”
“Where are they having this council gathering?”
“Near Inverness.”
“Do you suppose they’d let Gran be part of it? I’m sure she’s steaming mad, and the coven could be a powerful ally.”
“Ye should have been a tactician. I’m ashamed I dinna think of it first. How long do ye think—” Maggie’s phone chimed. She reached for it, and the car swerved. Lachlan batted her hand away and dug the phone out of her bag. “Here. How do ye stand being summoned by that thing? Goddesses’ teeth, it’s worse than a fretful bairn.”
Maggie tapped the smooth display and mouthed I’m putting it on speaker at Lachlan. “Gran. You can’t have landed yet.”
“I haven’t.”
So that’s what she meant about speaker, Lachlan thought. Excellent. I can hear both sides of the conversation.
“Then how are you calling me? It’s against—”
“For godsakes, stop asking questions. I broke a lot of rules this trip. One more won’t matter a whit. Is the dra—, er fellow still with you?”
“Yes.”
Lachlan waved from his side of the car and opened his mouth, but Maggie shook her head.
>
Mary Elma blew out an exasperated-sounding breath. “Because of what happened, it’s likely the plane—and all of us in it—will be detained for hours while officials question us.”
“Yes. I’d planned to get a room near the airport.”
“Don’t bother. Turn the car around. Go back to the northlands. Certain things are…stronger there, and your new friend will be better able to protect you. Once they turn me loose, I’ll come to you.”
Maggie’s lips pursed in annoyance. Lachlan didn’t have any trouble reading her mind. Insofar as Maggie was concerned, she didn’t need protection. After all, she’d managed Kheladin, hadn’t she?
Aye, lass, ye managed the dragon only because he allowed it. Lachlan made a mental note to talk with Maggie about his link with Kheladin and dragons in general. It wouldn’t do for her to underestimate them.
“Are you going to rent a car?” Maggie asked, still intent on her phone call.
“Maggie. Please.”
“Um, sure, Gran. Sorry. It’s been a hell of a night. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“You often don’t.”
Lachlan saw Maggie wince. Anger flared, turning the energy field surrounding her blood red. The lass had been through hell and back and had shown an excess of courage in his book. “Now ye look here.” He broadcast his voice toward the phone. “Your kinswoman is one of the bravest lasses I have ever met. I’ll not have ye disparaging her.”
Mary Elma brayed laughter. “Well, thanks for telling me we were on speaker, Mags. I assume you’re Lachlan.”
“Ye’d be correct. Furthermore, Maggie is now my mate. That means—”
“Stand down, man. I know exactly what it means. I’ll look forward to meeting the man who actually coaxed my granddaughter into an emotional commitment.” A few more snorts of laughter, then the faint hum of the phone faded.
“Fuck! She hung up,” Maggie exclaimed and slammed the phone down on the console. “Not much point in wasting any more fuel. I’m pulling off at the next exit, getting us coffee and a snack, and then we’ll head back north.”
