“But I saw her—”
“Forget her!”
The footsteps hammered away, back into the shadowed paths of the graveyard. Wind blew over the old stone monuments, ornate headstones and weathered graves, part of a forgotten past.
The night was silent again. There was no one nearby to hear the faint rumble of stone somewhere beneath the old mausoleum, the ancestral graveyard of the family of Alasdair, with holdings in France, Ireland and Greyhaven near Skye.
Maddie came awake slowly, wincing at the pain that locked around her forehead. She turned dizzily and then coughed, gulping in musky, dank air. Memories returned slowly.
The graveyard.
The man who had followed her through the shadows.
Most of all, she remembered the warning fog.
She sat up and studied the darkness. Where was he? She hadn’t imagined the hand that had grabbed her. “Hello?”
No answer.
But Maddie knew someone had rescued her. He had to be close by. “Who are you? Why did you—”
“Cease your clamor, girl.” The low voice boomed out of the shadows with such force that Maddie jumped. Okay, this was not funny. She was in a graveyard, dragged down into some kind of mausoleum. She had witnessed an intended drug deal, and the men nearby would be waiting for her.
This is going to make a really bad story for Teague—assuming she could actually tell him, which she couldn’t until she got safely out of this graveyard.
“I appreciate you grabbing me when you did. Things were getting ticklish up there. So…who are you?”
She heard the slow tread of feet in the darkness. “I might well ask you the same. Who are you, and why have you come to this place?”
“Some men were chasing me. I didn’t mean to trespass or anything. I just needed to hide until they went away. They had a drug deal going on up in the cemetery.”
Maddie had a sudden, horrible thought. What if he was part of the drug deal? What if this spot was a clever meeting place?
“I believe that I asked for your name, girl. I am not in the custom of being disobeyed.”
Okay, he might have rescued her, but the creep was weird. Maddie was getting angry now. His words were odd, and why didn’t he show his face?
“I don’t much care how you are usually treated. Who lurks around a graveyard anyway?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She slid an arm along the damp stone wall, feeling a trickle of water.
They must be underground. That would explain the seepage.
Quietly she felt her way forward. She didn’t have a clue where she was going, but staying where she was would be totally stupid. She didn’t like the cold, commanding tone of the man’s voice.
She didn’t expect to hear a sudden rumble of laughter. The sound seemed awkward, as if it surprised the man as much as it did her.
“A most amusing question. I am not certain how to begin explaining that.”
“While you think about it, how about you hold down the laughter? I don’t want those creeps to hear. I’m pretty sure they’re armed and dangerous.”
The laughter grew cold. “Armed? I think that their arms will pose no threat to me. But as you say, caution may be prudent.”
Maddie kept moving, her hand to the wall; but the voice moved too, as if he was following her.
She swallowed a knot of fear. “Want to explain why you talk so funny? I mean, it is 2012.”
Again the low, rough laughter. “Is it indeed? An age of noise and great chaos, not to my liking at all. But when duty summons, one must follow.”
More of this weird talk. Who the heck was he?
More important, how was she going to get out of this place and back to safety when she still couldn’t see a thing?
She could feel the brush of air. The air was fresh, and that meant there was an opening somewhere in front of her. Her fingers curved over a loose piece of stone on the wall, and she gripped it tightly.
When the steps followed her, Maddie tossed the stone behind her hard, listening to it strike the opposite wall. The footsteps moved away. Maddie shot forward, searching the wall for a handhold. She didn’t know who this strange man was, and she wasn’t staying around to find out.
She grabbed at a small ledge and climbed quickly, then pulled her body up to another recess in the stone.
The footsteps stopped. She imagined the man standing motionless, listening, trying to pinpoint her location.
Neither one spoke. Both were assessing probabilities.
Wind brushed her face, and she heard the rustle of fabric. She let out a yelp as strong hands clasped her legs and yanked her out of her hiding place, fighting and kicking. He didn’t wince when her foot slammed into his side. He made no sound when she slapped and clawed at his face. More than anything else this told Maddie he was a cold professional.
Then she toppled back, striking the wall. She managed to kick his head and break free. They both tumbled in a sprawl of arms and muttered oaths, collapsing onto the cold floor of the crypt.
Dimly Maddie realized he had twisted to brace her fall with his body. Her head struck not stone but his shoulder, solid with muscle. His hand gripped her waist, holding her at his chest.
Even then he made no sound. No curses, no accusations. Who was he?
She dug her bare foot into his ribs, fighting blindly. “Let go, you creep!”
His hand locked over her mouth. “Do not think to flee.” His voice was a cold whisper at her ear. “I am not the only one in wait for you. And I do not mean your inept criminals in the shadows. Others are close now—men of strength and true evil. I am not the only one who knows the gate. When you fought against me, the force of your emotions cast a net and that will bring them in pursuit. Now lie still. Make no noise. I must prepare.”
When Maddie gave another angry squirm, he pressed down hard in warning. He did not hurt her. He meant only to control, not to punish her.
Who was he, she wondered again. And what was that thing he’d said about the force of her emotions? “What do you mean by others?”
“Be still. I must listen.”
Against every instinct, she stopped fighting, listening just as he did. There had been something in his voice, some harsh warning that rang true. But what did he mean about these others—and a gate?
Be real, Maddie. The man is probably high on drugs. And you’re an idiot for thinking any of this could be true.
And yet, though her heart hammered, she waited without fighting, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath hers. She wished she could see his face. She was pretty good at reading people. She could have judged if he was liar—or a lunatic.
But the shadows were impenetrable. She could feel the hammer of his heart beneath her bare arm. She felt the locked line of his muscles that told of his readiness for attack.
“I don’t get it,” she whispered. “What is this gate thing?”
“Hush. I will explain what I can to you but not now.” He rose slowly onto an elbow, lifting her with him, her body still locked to his. “No more noise. It is not safe.”
Maddie heard a sound and felt his hand rise. He tossed something in the direction where she thought the steps were. A pale greenish light floated over the ancient stone, creeping up the carved wall.
How in the heck had he done that? She had a quick glimpse of his face in the pale light: lean cheeks. Intent eyes. Thick hair that skimmed his shoulders.
Then her questions were forgotten. Maddie saw fingers of fog cross the stones—not the natural fog that came from condensation and weather change.
This was the ghost fog that brought a warning of death.
They had to go.
She pushed furiously at his chest, but his hands tightened, holding her still. “What is it?” he whispered. “Have you heard them?”
She shook her head, swallowing panic, watching the fog grow. In the weak green light of his odd stones she could see the outline of the nearby wall. Water dripped down over carvings of lions and roses and shi
elds. All of it looked very old.
Maddie felt the fog rise, climbing up her legs.
“Something has put fear into your blood. Tell me what you see.”
She stared at the lapping gray waves. She didn’t understand this gate he had mentioned or the men he said were waiting, but she knew one thing well.
Danger was close to them. Judging by the cold gray layer crawling over the stones around them, they were both about to die.
They didn't have time for explanations.
The gray layers grew, more dense than any Maddie had ever seen. Once late at night she had come upon a bad car accident. The driver had been thrown clear and lay in a pool of blood. Maddie had tried to help him, but the glaze of death moved into his eyes, and he took his last, gasping breath as she knelt beside him.
The fog that lapped around him had been far less than what she saw now.
"Listen to me. We have to go. There's no time. The fog –"
He pulled her close, not in care or lust but only so she could hear his whisper. "What danger do you see? I sense nothing."
"I can’t explain, but it's here. I've always been able to see it." Maddie had never told anyone about the visions that had dogged her from childhood. "You have to believe me. We are both going to die if we don't get out of here."
"You have the sight?"
“Don't you understand? We have to go.”
She tried to pull free, but his hand locked like steel across her ribs. “We go nowhere. If they come, they must walk single file, in search of the gate. I will meet them here, on my ground.”
“Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” Maddie tried to sound reassuring. The man was definitely a whacko so she would have to talk her way out of this. “You can stay. That's fine with me. But I need to go. My friends are expecting me. They’ll be wondering why I'm late,” she lied. "My husband. My children too," she said in a rush. Why not pile up a few more lies to make her case?
His arm tightened. "You are wed?"
"That's right."
He nodded slowly. “Then you must forget. For your sake and for mine,” he said.
Forget what? But she didn’t ask the question, too desperate to escape this approaching death. “Fine. Consider it forgotten. I have a very adaptable memory, believe me.”
“I will ensure that you forget. This is the only way.” She felt his hand move, tracing a spot at the center of her forehead.
“Hey—”
But the words snapped out of her mind as his fingers pressed in a slow circle. The air seemed to hum, and her vision blurred. When his fingers moved again, the touch seemed to burn deep into her memory, pulling up blurry images.
Signal fires on cold hills.
Stone towers.
Pennants that snapped in an autumn wind. A line of tired horses and lonely riders.
“But hold. Is it possible?” His voice hardened. "You have lied to me. You are not wed."
"Of course I am."
“No.” He ignored her struggling as his hand pressed at her forehead. "You remember the towers. You remember our oldest vows."
"No." But more images stirred, whispered words by candlelight in the fear of discovery. Something about him touched her memory in a way that frightened Maddie. “Who are you?" she whispered.
His touch felt almost familiar—and his words seemed to cut through to some deep part of her mind.
“I am the one you must forget. And you…are the one I must always remember,” he said roughly. “I find my rose and now must leave her. You are too small, too young for what would be asked of you,” he said harshly. “So forget.”
His fingers rose, gently tracing the skin along her neck.
Maddie shivered. The odd sense of familiarity grew. And then she felt her thoughts blur, lulled by that slow, masterful touch.
“Forget all this. Forget me,” he ordered. “I will seal the gate and release you. Once I am gone, none will follow. Nor shall we ever meet again.”
The words left her with an impossible sense of emptiness.
Suddenly he breathed a raw oath. He muttered low words in a fluid, foreign tongue as his fingers traced the skin above Maddie’s ear. “You wear the petal here on your neck. There is no mistake. You are the one I felt, the one I came to find.” His hands opened to cup her head gently. “Through the long nights I heard the whisper of your blood, calling to mine. A rose returned,” he whispered. “Given as in prophecy.”
Maddie’s eyes fluttered. Sleep and memories seemed to engulf her as she was caught by the power of his voice. He shook her lightly.
“This changes all. You must remember. You are needed here.” As he spoke, the fragments of sleep fell away and what might have been her own past poured over Maddie. She struggled to understand, caught by a sharp sense of belonging and purpose. What had he meant about the rosemark he had felt? She had always known there was a sensitive ridge of skin behind her ear, but it was just a simple birthmark, nothing more.
She had to think. She had to stop dreaming and be logical. She was in a crypt, for heaven’s sake.
Suddenly from the corner of her eye she saw an arc of cold light. The air began to hum, as if from a fallen power line. She heard what might have been angry voices echoing down a tunnel. Metal clanged against metal.
His arms locked around her. “They come,” he whispered. “Make no noise. They must not know you wear the rose. It would cause you gravest danger.” His voice tightened. “Do you understand this?”
All Maddie could do was shake her head blindly.
“Know this. They walk through time in search of all like you. For six centuries now each one they have found has died, slowly and terribly. Do you understand? They would tear you from me—and from time itself. You must stay silent,” he whispered.
“I—I understand.”
His breath eased out in relief. “Then do not fear. Without being called, they cannot pass me or my sword.”
But fear gripped Maddie’s chest as the light flashed again. Why was she falling for his delusional story? She was smart and tough and none of this crazy talk about rosemarks and danger could frighten her into—
There was no time to prepare. The air seemed to pull back in an icy wave, tearing the breath from her throat. Energy snapped and sizzled in the narrow space, thick with anger and the frenzy of violence.
And then Maddie saw them.
His name was Lyon of Greyhaven and he held his sword well, clasped by one scarred hand. The Rose was behind him, where she must always stand in his protection.
His code was implacable. The Walkers must never pass beyond him. It was law. More important still, it was honor, honor through the blood of his kind for generations, back to the mist before Arthur and the Romans. Back to foreign shores and some said back to the time of the Master himself.
Lyon did not interest himself in history. Duty was all that mattered to him.
And his duty lay clear before him now, burning in the silver air, blinding in the hatred of those who waited at the far side of the portal.
They must not find her. Others had failed to guard their Rose. Lyon would not fall among them.
The air grew brighter, burning, taking on the shape of an oval.
The portal opened.
Mail and cold metal quivered and shook from angry steps. “There!” A voice boomed, muffled as if cast through a tunnel or deep water. The boundary grew thin. Lyon felt the outlines of time and matter stretch and shift.
He did not answer. He did not move. The force of his will was unbending. His left hand, not his sword hand, stretched out behind him to wrap protectively around the woman’s shoulder. He would guard her with his life—nay, with his eternal soul as well. It was the vow of his kind. And that vow had only been broken once.
When the memory stirred anger, he shook it aside, focused on the danger nearby. Inside the burning air a dark face took form and then the outline of broad shoulders. Armor and a sword that seemed to cry shrilly with the blood of its victims.
&nb
sp; Even then Lyon did not move.
“Always you. Always one leap before us.” The voice was a hiss, fierce with malevolence. “The wretched Lyon is found. If you are here, can a Rose be far behind?” Through the portal, the face turned, and Lyon felt the force of those inhuman eyes. “Search the darkness behind him. Look well for the Rose.”
Lyon did not move. He knew she could not be seen behind him, not with his energy raised to conceal her.
“What, no curses thrown in my face? It was not so at Culloden, when the Scots fell around us like maggots. One of yours fell too. I remember how he pleaded for you to end his torment before we could feast on him. Do you remember his cries, Guardian of Greyhaven?”
The Crusader gave no answer. That day and its pain were best forgotten.
“No answer? Nor was it so at Acre in the Holy Lands. Your kind begged to be killed while the Sultan’s advance guard did our work with slow brutality. And of course, we had taught them well. Their weapons were improved as only we could. And how quickly they learned.” Hard laughter spilled through the shining air. “The sands ran red with blood, Crusader. Do you remember? The game continues, does it not?”
Even then Lyon did not answer. His voice would give a source of attack, and Lyon would give this foul enemy no hold for his evil to pass. Without that hold, the portal could not be crossed. Time held firm, true to the old Laws.
“But another will call to you. Mayhap, her voice will be sweeter to your ears than mine.”
Lyon stiffened. He knew the voice to come. The sweetness of its foul betrayal had haunted him down the ages. Lovely, that voice, with grace to equal the beauty of her body.
And black as ash her heart.
“My dearest love. My sweetest heart.” The voice was a lush whisper, ripe with passion. Any mortal man who heard that voice would fall, stagger to his knees, ready to give the heart from his chest and even his soul. Others called her Siren. Morgaine le Faye. The temptress.
Lyon knew her only as Betrayer.
And he stood firm. He closed his mind and did not answer.
“You do not remember the sea, pounding on the cliffs outside our home in Gwynedd? You do not remember the child that sprang from your loins?”
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