Simon scratched her arm and she instantly let him go.
“So, where’s this visitor?”
Chapter Seven
So this is the cop’s Druid back up? Kincaid attempted a smile, knew it wasn’t his strong point, and decided to drop the act.
He let his eyes travel over the petite woman who couldn’t be much more than five feet five…he noted her spiky heels and decided she was closer to five feet two. Her curly red hair exploded from a clip and framed her freckled nose. Her green eyes and the hand on her hip told him she either had Irish or Scottish blood running thick in her veins.
“So you’re future-boy?” She directed her sarcastic question his way, sweeping a glance over his frame, and dismissed him with a tiny shake of her head. “Must not be very powerful if you’re carrying all that firepower on your hip.”
She talked big, but he couldn’t tell by just looking at her if she could back up her words with a set of powers of her own. He felt a tremor of power in the room, but with his shield up he couldn’t tell how strong it was.
“It’s never good to show all your cards,” he told her.
The cat she brought in circled her feet for a few seconds before disappearing behind the couch.
“Well, future-boy…who are you and why are you here?”
Jake stood beside her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m Kincaid. I’m here searching for a friend.”
“Who?”
His first instinct was to hold his tongue. He did and the room grew silent.
“Not going to tell me?”
“I have no idea if I can trust you,” he stated the obvious.
“And we don’t know if we can trust you. The time travelers I’ve met all knew when and where they were going. They didn’t end up in a random location.”
She had him there. “What’s your name, Irish?”
“Half Irish, half Scot.”
Beside her Jake huffed out a laugh. “And half witch.”
She rolled her eyes. “Selma Mayfair.”
“Selma?” The name tickled his memory and then he realized why. “A direct descendant of Elizabeth and Finlay.”
The snarky expression fell from her face. Obviously, she had no knowledge of her very distant heritage. Lucky for him, Giles traced several names down and Selma was used in every generation for centuries.
The cat circled his legs and snarled at the barrier of his shield.
“My parents aren’t Liz and Fin.”
“I didn’t say they were. I said descendant. But since you’ve used Elizabeth and Finlay’s familiar names, I assume you know who I’m talking about.”
The cat bumped up against him again. Instead of letting the cat bring attention to his shield, he allowed the feline to move closer. The small lift of his protection brought on a wave of power that stole his breath.
“Listen, Kincaid…you need to start trusting me here. Start talking. Who are you looking for?”
He shifted on the balls of his feet and felt a snap in the air. Was that Selma?
“Before I tell you anything, I need to know what you know about Liz and Fin.”
Jake took a step forward. “Listen, asshole…you came to us—”
The other man didn’t finish his sentence before the space inside his shield expanded and sparked. Within a blink of an eye, the cat at his feet shifted and Kincaid found his neck in the tight grip of a very large, very naked warrior. His angry eyes and set jaw told Kincaid he’d have no problem snapping him in two.
Jesus…a shifter. That’s rare.
“Elizabeth is my mother, Finlay my father…now answer the lass. Who are you looking for?”
Kincaid stared into the eyes of a MacCoinnich. A man he was sworn to protect. “Giles,” he choked out.
The grip on his throat eased.
“Who is this Giles to you?”
“He’s a librarian.” If the man holding him was anyone other than a MacCoinnich, Kincaid would have him at arm’s length. Instead of engaging a fight, he calmly answered this man’s questions. “He’s a friend.”
“What are you?”
The question would have sounded odd to an outsider, but to Kincaid it was about rank. “I’m a warrior. A branded warrior.”
The hand holding him eased now, but it hadn’t slid away from his neck.
“One last question, Kincaid. What were you and Giles speaking of when he disappeared?”
He narrowed his eyes, stared directly into those watching him. “We were talking about a portrait of a woman.”
The hand at his neck fell away. With the connection broken, Kincaid’s shield shot up. Not that he worried this man would harm him now. Still, he’d take no chances.
“I take it his story checks out?” Jake said behind them.
“Ah, Simon?” Selma said. “Much as I like the peep show, I think it’s kinda creepy that I’m no longer guessing what you wear under your kilt.”
Jake grunted. “You don’t have to look.”
“Like you’d divert your eyes if a hot chick was standing here naked. Such a hypocrite.”
“You’re Simon MacCoinnich?” Kincaid asked.
“Aye.”
From behind him, Jake handed Simon a throw from his sofa. He wrapped it around his waist.
“And you know where Giles is?”
“Aye.”
This was going to be easier than he originally thought. “Then you can take me to him and we’ll return to our time.”
Simon looked between the couple standing behind them and back. “No.”
“Excuse me?” The hair in Kincaid’s neck stood up.
“I’ll take you to Giles, but he will not return until a cure has been found.”
“A cure for what?”
Simon didn’t smile, didn’t reveal any emotion at all. “To save the life of the woman in the portrait.”
The hair on Kincaid’s arms joined that of his neck. “She’s here?”
“Aye. Amber’s here. Come.” Simon started for the door wearing a blanket.
“Wait,” Selma stopped him. “How am I going to get home? Your car only seats two.”
Simon glanced at Jake.
Jake grunted. “Fine. And Kincaid…if you walk around like that in two thousand and twelve you’re going to get hauled in to the nearest police station.”
Kincaid glanced at the strap on his hip holding his blaster, noted the long blade on his back and another side arm on his leg.
Jake stepped forward, lifted his hand. “I can hold them for you.”
He stood back. “I don’t think so.”
Jake shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying. Where are your clothes, Simon? You walk out like that and people will think I’m having a damn orgy in here or something.”
Selma laughed.
He pointed an accusing finger her way. “Enough from you.”
Five minutes later Kincaid climbed into a gas powered vehicle and sped through a vaguely familiar town.
The airway was free of traffic, but the ground was car to car. Simon maneuvered through the city, shifting between other cars. “Looks different to you?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Simon huffed a laugh. “I grew up in the sixteenth century. I can imagine a lot.”
Kincaid watched the other man’s profile. “Why are you here? In this century?”
“Two reasons. My wife and Amber.”
“Is Amber really dying?”
“Yes. Faster every day.”
“What from?” His insides grew cold as he spoke.
“Her gift. She’s empathic.” Simon spared him a glance then returned his eyes to the road. “She’ll sense us before we reach the city limit. That shield you use…can you cloak your thoughts, feelings?”
“I can.”
“Good. Do so. She doesn’t need to feel anything from you. With Giles in the house she’s been driven to her bedroom.”
“Why is she so sensitive? The empaths I’ve met—”
/>
“None of the empaths you’ve met did battle with Grainna. Amber has and, without a strong filter, she’s unable to cope with the growing power.”
Kincaid thought of the haunted eyes in the portrait he’d seen. Now he understood the emotion behind the expression. It was as if the woman had given up all hope. That would certainly kill her…sooner than later.
They exited a highway and the familiar landscape sharpened. “We’re going to the fortress.”
“It’s only a house. A big house, but a house.”
They rounded what would eventually be the opening to the compound. There weren’t any walls, no protection. “Who lives in these homes?”
Simon glanced to his right, then left. “Neighbors.”
“You haven’t obtained the properties, yet?”
“What do you mean?”
Damn…when had Dawson’s Manner expanded? He thought it was before the turn of the century. Apparently not. “All of this,” he said, waving his hand around, “is part of the compound in the future. Beyond the walls of the fortress is a barrier of wards protecting all who live within.”
“Like I said. It’s just a house. Only a few of us live there. It’s hard enough for Amber with neighbors a few blocks away.”
No wonder Simon was so careful. He was virtually alone in his quest to keep those in the fortress safe. “The future isn’t bright, Simon. All these homes need to be obtained and walls need to go up. This should be one of your main priorities.”
“Should you be telling me this?”
“If not me, who? I’m not the only Druid who can travel in time.”
“You’re talking about the others…the ones Giles warned me about.”
Worry shivered up Kincaid’s spine. “Lethal bastards who will search a trail of energy to find you and your family. Change the path of time as you know it.”
“Change time?”
Kincaid ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. Some caught word of Grainna and want to stop her from ever being destroyed. Others simply want your power to enhance their own. With only two of you in this time…you’re vulnerable.”
“Grainna is dead.”
“But what if any part of her journey to death was altered? I’m a warrior, Simon. I have fought by your ancestors’ sides my whole life. They haven’t known we were there, but we’ve stopped the others from changing time more than once.”
“You’ve been to MacCoinnich Keep?”
“Many times. After your time and in my own time.”
“It’s still there now?”
Kincaid wanted to laugh, but didn’t. “Of course it’s still there. Cloaked and hidden from the eyes of many, but it’s very much still standing.”
Simon shook his head. “Then why weren’t we sent there to live? Why here?”
“That I don’t know.”
Simon gripped the steering wheel hard. “Now’s a good time to hide your thoughts. Amber doesn’t need to worry about what’s going on in your head.”
“And who will cloak your thoughts?”
When Simon didn’t answer, Kincaid knew he couldn’t, and that Amber would suffer the knowledge and worry of her cousin.
****
The soup Helen had brought Amber earlier was now stone cold and untouched.
Downstairs she felt Helen and Mrs. Dawson’s pain. They knew it was nearly time for her to leave this world. Even though Simon was far away, she felt him inside her, too. His anger rose with the thought of her life washing away like a tide and removing all evidence of her existence.
Amber clutched the edges of the sink in an effort to hold herself upright. In the mirror, a reflection stared back at her. The dark circles under her eyes and distinctive cheekbones were a living testament of her failing health. The heat billowing inside Amber’s head grew to an impossible girth. Her fevered skin should have left her flushed. Instead, she was sheet-white and appeared to have been drained of all her life-blood. In the center of her chest, her heartbeat sped too fast, making her gasp for air. Around her neck was a sacred stone centered in a necklace that could take her back to her family. In a moment of weakness, she scraped a razor against her finger and placed it on the stone. She didn’t want to die here. She wanted her mother and father at her side.
A lone tear fell as she placed her bleeding finger on her necklace and closed her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t make the trip. At least she’d know her parents could place her next to her ancestors and mourn her properly.
They would survive. They always did.
A shuddering breath left her burning lungs and she began her chant. “In this day and in this hour…”
Light glazed the back of her eyes and the bathroom started to spin.
Her last thought before her body hit the floor was, ’Tis over.
****
At least there’s a gate around the main house. Kincaid couldn’t believe the lack of security for the Manor. He felt no magical wards protecting the house, the property. How can this be?
Simon pressed a button and killed the engine.
Kincaid stepped from the car and stared up at the familiar fortress. The landscape had changed, and the house itself wasn’t as large as in his time. Yet it still felt like home.
The front door of the home hit the wall and a petite woman ran down the stairs, ignoring him, and franticly screamed at Simon.
Tears ran down her face as Simon caught her. “What is it, lass?”
“It’s Amber. She collapsed. I can’t wake her, Simon…I can’t wake her.”
Simon ran toward the house, Kincaid followed. His stomach turned stone-cold. Were they too late? The walls of the home shot past him as he took the stairs three at a time, keeping pace with MacCoinnich. They spiraled up, turned down a hall, and ended up at his bedroom door. Or it was his bedroom in the future.
Simon skidded to a halt and entered the room at a slower pace.
Kincaid took in the scene slowly. An old woman sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed from where Simon knelt. The woman who’d informed Simon of Amber’s state hugged the banister of the bed and cried. The only familiar face in the room was Giles. Kincaid met his eyes and he nodded to the woman lying on the bed.
Dressed in a nightgown he’d only seen several hundred years back in time, Amber MacCoinnich had the complexion of Sleeping Beauty and a slow pace of breathing that couldn’t sustain her for much longer. The long dark hair framed her head and fell past her waist. Even under the sunken eyes and drawn features, her beauty was unmatchable.
Simon touched the side of her forehead, which had a trickling of blood. “What happened?” he asked.
“I heard a noise and ran in. She was in the bathroom on the floor.”
Simon lifted her thin hand and placed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t leave us, Amber. We’ll find a cure.”
Kincaid wasn’t sure they could find a cure fast enough. For some reason, the thought of this woman dying before he could see the color of her eyes made him ill. He nodded toward Giles and indicated the hall.
Giles stepped around the woman at the foot of the bed and started toward the door.
“You’re not going anywhere, Kincaid,” Simon demanded.
MacCoinnich didn’t need to spend these last hours with his family worrying about him. Kincaid said the only thing he could to put the man at ease. “I will see this through, Simon. You have my word.”
Content with that, Simon turned back to the bed.
“Am I glad to see you,” Giles said once they were out of earshot of the others.
“What do you know?” Kincaid asked.
“Is that the woman from the portrait?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s safe to say something forced me here to find her. They’re desperate to save her life.”
“I can see that.”
“Do you know who she is?”
Kincaid tasted her name on his lips again. “Amber MacCoinnich. Youngest daughter of Ian and Lora.”
Giles lowered h
is voice. “All the books say she died young. We might just be witnessing her death.”
That didn’t feel right. “Or we’re here to help find a cure.”
“I’ve looked, Kincaid. There isn’t a way to remove her gift. It’s part of her.” Giles swiped his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Then I’ll go home, gather a healer, and bring them back to buy us time.”
“That won’t work. Her brother Cian is a healer. More powerful than any you and I have seen, and he wasn’t able to help. The only thing that has brought her any solace is the cloak the family charmed for her. It acts as a buffer but according to Helen, it’s growing weaker.”
“A cloak is her shield?”
“A filter really. Mutes but doesn’t stop everything from penetrating completely.”
He blinked several times, feeling the answer…or at least a temporary reprieve… was close.
“What are you thinking?” Giles asked.
Every Druid had some ability to read the intentions of others. Though to be honest, Kincaid had never worked hard to peer into others’ minds. To do so would mean he’d have to open himself, lower his shield, and allow someone in.
He said nothing and stared at the door leading to his room. The wooden barrier was easily breached…a swift kick and someone could walk right in.
“I hate that I can’t see a thing inside your head, Kincaid. Something is working for you,” Giles said.
He stepped back over the threshold and motioned for Simon to follow.
“I have an idea,” he said when they moved to the second floor landing.
“What?” Simon asked.
Instead of answering, Kincaid decided to demonstrate. “What is Giles thinking about?”
Simon stared at Giles. “He’s worried, as we all are.”
“No. What’s he really thinking?”
Simon winced and closed his eyes. “That her death is inevitable.”
Right. “Now, what am I thinking?”
This time Simon stared with thinly veiled hatred sparking from his eyes. “Nothing. I…what’s the point, Kincaid? Amber is dying. We don’t have time for games.”
Kincaid lowered his shield and stepped closer to the man. He expanded his shield and surrounded the other warrior. “Now, what am I thinking?”
Highland Protector (MacCoinnich Time Travels Book Five) Page 6
