Timeless Vision

by Regan Black

  Several of their scouts had reported an inexplicable flex in power this morning and she smiled, realizing now that must have been a reaction to Gawain’s arrival.

  She paused at the door of her private sanctuary, holding her breath as she crossed the threshold. As it had from the moment she and Darius had identified this chamber decades ago, the power sizzled through her blood. Pure bliss.

  Plucking up a fat candle from the edge of the altar stone, she carried it closer to the center of the room and breathed deeply. The dagger trembled in her grasp as she stepped into her circle.

  She murmured the words to light the candle wick and lurched back as the candle ignited, shooting a flame a foot high. Her laughter bounced through the stone chamber. This was the enhancement, the x-factor, she needed.

  When the time was right, when Gawain willingly brought all of his power to this space, this dagger along with her carefully wrought spell would be exactly what she needed to achieve her utmost dreams.

  She intended to usher in a new era of power and respect for their growing cult. She would lead them as Morgana had done, influencing the future of this city. Already Collette imagined the joy of her growing influence. Influence that would spread far and wide until people from all corners of the world bowed to her.

  She deserved nothing less.

  Extinguishing the candle, she replaced it on the altar and hurried back upstairs.

  “Are they ready?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  She pressed her fingertips to the thief’s temple. “Tell me everything.”

  The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and his words were garbled. The dagger had given her command too much weight. Reluctantly setting the dagger on the table, she tried again. The man’s memories of the evening played out as if she were in his skin. Every sight and smell, every word exchanged. She even felt the weight of the blows during the fighting.

  Her heart pounded in her ears, sweat gathered at her back, between her breasts. As she composed herself, pulling out of the man’s memories, she noticed blood dripping from the thief’s nose onto the blade of the dagger.

  Runes appeared where none had been visible before. The dark discovery coursed through her. She sat down hard in the nearest chair and dragged the blood along the blade to reveal more symbols. She called for paper and pen and Darius delivered immediately. “Copy these,” she ordered as she kept the thief bleeding so the runes remained visible.

  “What does it mean?” Darius asked when she was satisfied they had completed the notes.

  Collette didn’t have any idea. The symbols were foreign to her. She was the absolute expert on Morgan Le Fey’s rise to power and her ultimate plans for the cult she led. No one understood the political and magical ramifications surrounding that era more than Collette. “Find the knight and his dog,” she ordered quietly. Her fingertips caressed the ruby hilt. “He will be our interpreter.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Collette saw the questions in her faithful partner’s obsidian eyes and she treasured his ability to keep his concerns to himself.

  “What of the men?”

  She looked from one to the other. “They served us well. See that they are suitably rewarded.”

  Darius nodded, understanding the death order hiding under her pleasant tone. Though neither man had divulged her secrets, she couldn’t allow them to live. It was a waste of good skills in the case of the thief, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “I am not to be disturbed,” she added. Taking the dagger and his notes, she stalked back to her private chamber, her mind spinning. She needed time with the unique resources that kept her in control of the cult and her dark power.

  Chapter Nine

  Wayne woke slowly to find his hound at the foot of the bed, pressed close to his legs. Apparently, the dog was equally impressed with the thick mattress and luxurious bedding in this century. Catching a whiff of something savory, his stomach grumbled. He sat up and tossed the covers back, stretching his arms. Light of a new day glowed around the edges of the curtains covering the window. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept past dawn.

  Yesterday’s events crashed over him in a blur from waking in the cave to adapting to the countless, unfathomable changes all around him. They’d worked late into the night and today they would track down those leads.

  First off, he owed Miss O’Malley an apology for letting his base instincts run away with him while she’d been tending to the minor scrapes of the fight. He couldn’t think of her as Tara without wanting to kiss her again and that couldn’t be allowed. Some things didn’t change no matter the date on the calendar and he had been raised to treat a woman with the utmost respect and care.

  His mother’s voice echoed in his head, scolding him for his failure to control the gifts he didn’t understand.

  Failure. He found that one word more troubling than all the changes in the world combined. He had failed his family, failed his king, and if he didn’t pull himself together, he’d fail his ultimate quest.

  Absently, he rubbed at his chest, at the place where the fire nymph had scorched his soul. He wanted to go back to that fateful day in the gamekeeper’s hut and tell Arthur to choose another man. He should have done the honorable thing and urged Arthur to choose a man more reliable than Gawain the Gallant. What a misnomer. Who was he, that Arthur asked him to cast the spell to stop Morgana?

  His hound nudged his head under his hand. “You’re right,” Wayne agreed. “We were chosen for more than our reputation at court or even in battle.” At the moment, he felt ill-suited to more than a few weak tricks and illusions.

  The dog gave a soft whine and Wayne’s stomach grumbled again. He patted the hound’s shoulder. “Let’s see what the new day has in store.”

  On the floor near the closed bedroom door he found a slip of paper. He recognized Tara’s writing from the paperwork in the pub office. Unfolding the note he read that she and her cousin had made progress researching several people who bore the tattoo. It left him wondering how long the O’Malleys had worked after he’d given in to exhaustion and come up to bed. As much as he wanted to catch the witch who’d put all this in motion, he couldn’t contribute from inside these safe walls.

  He needed to get out into the city and see if he could pick up any trail from the place where he’d spotted her. He sighed. The idea of spending time away from Tara - Miss O’Malley - gave him peace of mind. That kiss proved he couldn’t be trusted around her.

  After making full use of the engineering marvels in the bathroom, he dressed and headed down the back stairs to the kitchen.

  Tara was at the table, her hands cupped around a thick mug. When she looked up, her green eyes locked on him. The small furrow between her brows lifted and disappeared as a smile wreathed her face.

  For a moment Wayne went still, basking in that lovely expression until he realized it was aimed at the dog.

  “Good morning, Sterling,” she cooed. The traitorous hound rushed forward for her affection. “Did you sleep well, sweetie?”

  “Do you expect him to answer?” Wayne didn’t understand his hound’s immediate bond with the woman. The hound had never had much patience for anyone other than Wayne and his squire. Maybe it was her O’Malley bloodline that kept the dog so enamored. Wayne did understand why the woman distracted him. Her physical appeal was only part of it, though her mesmerizing body made him long for the more demure fashions worn by the women of his time.

  “Of course he answers me,” she said. “Look at this face.”

  Wayne cleared his throat and looked everywhere but directly at her, simply to preserve his sanity. She wore a dark gray sweater that hugged her full bosom and the snug trousers he’d heard her contemporaries refer to as jeans. The woman had a magic all her own. “I need to take him outside before we break our fast.”

  “Breakfast,” she corrected him briskly. “Are you sure it’s safe? Nick warned me those cult thugs will still be looking for you.”

 
Because the witch didn’t yet know Tara was necessary if she wanted to bring forth Morgana. He had to believe it was safer out there for him than her, now that he was fully rested. “Your cousin is here?” Please let it be true. Wayne would surely be able to resist her with the aid of a worthy chaperone.

  “Was,” she clarified. “He had to check in at the precinct, but he said he’ll be back shortly.”

  “I see.” He sought an effective distraction from the pretty picture she made, to no avail. “I will manage to prevent our detection,” he said. “Magical or otherwise.” He wanted to get out of the house and check for any signs that they’d been found. The house was too close to the pub for his liking.

  “How about we compromise?” She stood up and gathered her long auburn hair into a clip at the back of her head. “I’ll walk the dog while you eat.”

  He didn’t avert his eyes before she bent over to pull a pan from the machine under the counter. Maybe the current fashions would be more acceptable to him, if he wasn’t so damned attracted to her. Oven, he reminded himself sharply. With no idea how long he might be in this world, he needed to acclimate to the current language and customs.

  “Classic O’Malley recipe.” She removed what appeared to be a thin sheet of metal and the savory aromas he’d noticed on waking filled the kitchen. “It’s a breakfast spin on the typical shepherd’s pie.”

  His mouth watered over the food and the woman was filling a plate for him. “You did this for me?” After he’d been such an oaf last night.

  “For all of us.” She smiled. “Nick ate nearly half of it right out of the oven,” she said. She blessed the hound with another warm smile. “Let’s you and I take a walk and then you’ll have your breakfast too.”

  The hound leaned into her leg, shamelessly begging for more attention. Wayne was more than a little disconcerted by how much he wanted to beg for her touch as well. “That isn’t smart,” he blurted. “The men from the bar might spot Sterling. I will go.” That earned her full attention and her gaze roamed from his head to his feet and back up again. Heat and desire coursed through him.

  She shook her head and spoke to the dog again. “He has no idea does he?”

  Wayne stepped forward, jealous that she shared some secret with his hound. “Idea of what?”

  “Relax,” she said, patting his shoulder. “All I meant was no one would possibly overlook you.” This time when her lips curled, it was in a seductive grin. “Me, I’m just the average girl walking an above-average dog. Trust me, I know how to divert any nosy neighbors.”

  And the hound, through their shared vision, would alert Wayne to any trouble. He conceded reluctantly. To argue further would only raise more questions and he wasn’t ready to tell her the whole truth. “You are far from average, Tara.”

  She froze, a wary light in those green eyes. “You - you mean that.” Her expression, her whole body, softened toward him. “Thank you.”

  Now was the time to apologize and it seemed he’d lost the power of speech.

  She picked up a collar and leash and moved toward Sterling. The dog shied as the restraint slid over his head and his whimper turned into a piercing whine. The hound shook from ears to tail, trying to toss off the collar.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning to Wayne. “The fabric is soft and I didn’t make it tight at all.”

  “He’s never liked collars.” Wayne stifled a laugh at the dog’s theatrics. “You won’t need it, he’s well-trained.”

  “Poor baby, I understand,” she agreed, speaking softly to soothe the dog. “You’re perfect, I know, but it’s the law. A girl with a dog without a leash will be noticed, even on a quick walk.” She slanted a look at Wayne. “Unless you want to toss a spell over us or something.”

  Or something. Wayne snapped his fingers and the hound calmed immediately. “I cannot extend a glamour that far.” Not without gaining the notice of the witch they wanted to avoid. “He will behave himself,” he added.

  He tucked into the breakfast, hiding his amusement as Tara and the hound went out the back door. As he ate in silence, Wayne’s mind drifted back to Avalon. Those days on the island, training for this bizarre contingency, had marked the last time a woman had cooked for him.

  He’d left the island and set out on his path, determined that coming forward through time wouldn’t be necessary. With the flavorful meal warming him inside and out, he examined the kitchen and the improvements time had wrought. Dare he express thanks for his earlier failure and this outrageous situation making this visit possible? He couldn’t decide if he should tell her everything. Would it help or hinder their efforts?

  Training in Avalon had certainly made him more adaptable to the inscrutabilities of this time. Those days had also honed his control over the magic beating in his veins and fortified his mystical bond with his hound. While he’d seen things well beyond his comprehension on Avalon, he appreciated them intuitively now that he was here.

  He tapped into the connection with his hound, checking on their progress as they walked through the neighborhood. His hound was delighted to stretch his legs, despite the required collar and leash. Through the hound’s vision he spotted no threat, nor picked up any sense of danger.

  Having finished the first serving, Wayne went back for another. As he filled a glass with clean water to quench his thirst, he watched Tara and Sterling return. Beside her, his hound blended into this time and place, delighted to leave their earlier hardships in the distant past.

  Had Wayne purposely botched the original spell so he would get a chance to live in this era?

  Thankfully, Tara and Sterling came through the back door before he could dwell on the troubling question. It couldn’t be true. After all the pain Morgana had wrought in his family and, by extension the king’s court, he had wanted to put an end to her more than he wanted his next breath.

  “You didn’t like it?” Tara asked as she removed the collar from the hound’s neck rather than unclip the lead.

  “Like what?”

  “The food.” She pointed to the counter behind him. “You’re at the sink, scowling. It was a logical conclusion.”

  “No. I mean, yes.” Lord, with her rosy cheeks and that smile lingering in her eyes, he couldn’t think. “The food was delicious, thank you. My mind wandered elsewhere.”

  She nodded as though she understood. “I understand. My mind wandered all night long.” At the cabinet, she scooped food into a bowl for the hound and placed it in front of him, dropping a bit of bacon on top.

  “You’re spoiling him.” Both of them, though he wouldn’t admit such a thing.

  “Feeding you is the least I can do considering how far you’ve both come to help us.”

  “Again, I am stunned by your easy acceptance.”

  Her lips twitched at one corner. “Same goes.”

  He wanted to kiss her again when he should be finding a way to apologize for his first gaffe. “What do you mean?”

  She reached for a short pitcher from yet another machine and poured dark liquid into her thick white mug. “For the most part, nothing trips you up. You’re adapting so easily when everything has changed from your time to mine. Coffee?” she asked, tilting her head to the machine.

  He didn’t know what to expect, but he would try it, if only to prove his adaptability. “Please.”

  She opened a cabinet and removed another mug for him. “How do you take it?”

  “I don’t know, it’s a new experience,” he admitted. “How you take it will be fine.”

  “All right, brave man, black it is.” She turned the cup, so he could take the handle. “Good luck.”

  He raised the full mug to his face, inhaling the aroma first. “It smells delicious.”

  She laughed. “Especially after a short night. Sip carefully, it’s hot.”

  He’d gathered that by watching her and he mimicked her method of small sips. The rich, hot taste on his tongue was heavenly. “I like it. It’s better than ale.”

  �
�Good. Let’s hope you like the caffeine kick too.”

  He peered into the black liquid in his cup. “What kick?”

  “One of the benefits of this beverage is typically a burst of energy or alertness.”

  He gave the beverage another long look before meeting Tara’s gaze once more. “Did you not sleep well? The coffee and breakfast.” He said the new words tentatively, learning how they felt. “Your note mentioned research as well. It all indicates a sleepless night.”

  She returned to her seat at the kitchen table. “Let’s just say I had a lot to process.”

  “Of course. We faced a great deal yesterday.” She was holding back, though he couldn’t blame her for taking the same approach as him. Choosing a chair on the other side of the table made it more difficult for him to touch her. “I offered to explain further last night,” he reminded her.

  “You were exhausted. Nick offered to explain more details from his side of the family after you went up to bed.”

  “I see.” He would have wanted to hear that first hand. Guesses could only carry him so far. He needed reliable information to figure out how the witch and the cult were planning to use the dagger. “Tara -”

  ~*~

  “Don’t worry about it.” Tara sipped her coffee, then set the mug down and pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I wasn’t in the mood to listen to him either. Then my mom called. I had to bring her up to speed - explain the bar fight, I mean.”

  “She was unhappy?”

  Tara kept peeking at him from beneath her lashes. The man wasn’t getting any less sexy this morning. She’d wanted to kiss him the moment he’d walked into the kitchen. Only his reticence and her common sense kept her affection focused on his dog.

  “Well, she wasn’t thrilled to hear about the mess on the news.” She took another scalding sip of coffee. “Some day, when I can tell her everything, she’ll be delighted with the tale.” Tara shrugged. “It’s the Irish blood.”

  Wayne didn’t reply.

  “I think we both have a general idea of how the two branches of O’Malleys kept the dagger safe and prepared for your potential arrival.” She circled a finger to indicate the house. “Granted, it was stolen from me.” A point she hoped she could rectify sooner rather than later. She looked straight at him, her patience thin after a night of trekking through scattered records on Morgana’s current followers. “I’m ready to hear your part of the story.”