Timeless Vision

by Regan Black

  “Live to regroup,” Nick said quietly as the dust settled around them.

  “What about the man with the gun?” she asked Nick.

  “Likely dead as well,” Nick replied. “By suicide or cult leader, it hardly matters now. Let’s get out of here.”

  Nick, Wayne and Sterling surrounded her as her cousin led them first to the hotel garage and then drove a long, circuitous route back to the brownstone. No one spoke, giving her too much time to relive and analyze the gap-toothed man’s death.

  Why would Collette put that murder on her? Knowing it was a mind game didn’t alter the fact that it was working. Tara felt responsible. She’d crossed a line, baiting Collette that way. Wayne had been managing without her help.

  Damn it, the dagger was her responsibility and it was up to her to recover it. “Were we followed?” Her voice trembled as Nick parked the car at the curb. “She has that place a few blocks away.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” her cousin replied softly. “She can’t get in. Go on.”

  She tripped as she stepped out of the car, and her knees wobbled, giving out. “I’m cold.”

  Wayne scooped her into his arms. “Inside, now.”

  “Was she hit?”

  “I think…”

  “Can we…”

  Tara’s head swam and the voices faded into a blissful darkness where the world wasn’t shaking and a demented witch wasn’t blaming her for murder.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wayne knew a terror he’d never experienced while he sought to bring Tara out of the darkness Collette had cast her into. For the better part of two days, he and Nick had argued and studied and stood vigil in turns. Both of them understood modern medicine would do no good, yet neither of them knew who else to consult. For two days straight, Sterling spent every possible minute at her bedside, his silver-blue head on her pillow next to her vibrant red hair.

  Tomorrow was the winter solstice. He’d fought with Nick repeatedly over which man would strike at Collette and where and how it should be done. They only agreed they couldn’t let her raise Morgana. Wayne sensed wisps of his aunt’s power each time he stepped outside with the dog.

  Would killing Collette tomorrow be enough to stop Morgana and save Tara?

  If he’d replayed that terrible scene in his head once, he’d done it a thousand times since her collapse. And a thousand times more with Nick. They had picked apart every word, every action and reaction in that horrible room.

  No matter what they tried, Tara slept like the dead, her heartbeat sluggish and her breath shallow.

  “Any change?” Nick asked from the doorway, returning Sterling to the room after a short walk.

  Wayne shook his head and scratched at the whiskers on his chin. He flung out a hand and the books on the floor skittered further from him. “I read it all again. Nothing explains this.”

  “Have you tried kissing her?” Nick asked.

  “What?” Wayne felt guilty enough for the kisses they’d shared and worse for reliving them when he should be searching for a cure. There had to be help in one of these dusty old books.

  “It’s a fairy tale thing,” Nick said. “The prince kisses the maiden, she wakes up, and they live happily ever after.”

  “I’m not a prince,” Wayne groused. “And tales of fairies rarely end well for humans.” He wouldn’t be fit for anyone’s happily ever after, even if he could be sure he’d stick with this century once all threats from Collette and Morgana were eliminated.

  “Nevermind. I’m just desperate,” Nick admitted. “Collette had you in her sights and diverted the spell to kill her own man.”

  “She would have killed him anyway.”

  “I know.” Nick came in and leaned against the foot of the bed, reaching out to rub Tara’s foot under the covers. “I can’t figure out how Tara got hit with anything.”

  “The bitch lost control. It’s the only explanation.” Wayne stared at Tara’s still form, wishing Nick away so he could try kissing more than her hand. Maybe that was the key.

  Sterling bumped up against him, then hopped onto the bed, gingerly nestling his long back to Tara’s side. Once more, Wayne was jealous of his hound.

  This was his fault for not keeping the O’Malley heir out of harm’s way. “I never should’ve let her near Collette.”

  “To be fair, we didn’t expect the witch to show up in person.”

  “Of course we did,” Wayne countered. “Neither of us said the words but we knew it was possible. I suspect Tara knew it was possible.”

  Nick grunted. “There’s a solution,” he insisted. “I gave you my account,” he continued, “I know you’ve seen it with Sterling’s eyes. What about searching from Tara’s view?”

  Wayne recoiled. “Such a thing is beyond me. Trying it might make matters worse.” His powers were rooted in vision and sight. His training had been limited to what he and his hound could achieve in battle. His studies had been intense and sporadic until he’d entered Avalon for the sole purpose of learning to defeat Morgana.

  “Try. We’ve got nothing to lose.” Nick picked up a book and thrust it at Wayne’s free hand. “I’ve been prepped for this my whole life, Gawain. I’ve had the luxury of studying your past with the wisdom and advice of my elders and the advantage of hindsight. You were careful and specific with your binding spell.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Nick’s face reddened. “I know damn well you wouldn’t have woken up unless your blood was invested as well. She’s the current heir.”

  “And here, Collette cannot use her. She’s safe.”

  “Try, damn it!” Nick shouted.

  Sterling’s head came up, his ears perked, but he didn’t make a noise.

  “Stalling won’t save her if you get killed tomorrow.” Nick swiped at the tears on his cheeks. “You know, she’s had dreams of the past, of you and your time since she was little. My dad documented it all in there.” He tossed a more modern book onto the bed. “Read it if it helps, but by all that’s holy, Gawain, grow a pair already and do what you can before we lose her.”

  Wayne shook his head.

  “Shit.” Nick yanked Wayne to his feet and plowed a fist into his jaw. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want her to wake up. You want her to die so the spell is broken at last.”

  Wayne took another punch, knowing he deserved far worse for even thinking such a thing. He’d been sent into the world to save innocent lives, not sacrifice them as Collette or Morgana would. Nick was wrong. Wayne had no intention of letting Tara die to break the binding spell, he just didn’t know how to get around Collette’s stronger magic.

  “Deny it! Tell me that’s not what’s happening.” Nick pounded on Wayne, his voice cracking with grief. “You’re better than this. Find the solution.”

  Wayne let the next hard shove and a wave of guilt push him back into the chair. He picked up Tara’s hand and squeezed it hard. He had nothing but the prayers of his desperate, broken heart to offer her.

  With another colorful oath, Nick grabbed the modern notebook and flipped it open. “If you’re going to be a bastard, you’re going to know just what kind of treasure you’re refusing to save.”

  “I won’t take a chance that will make things worse.”

  “Shut up.”

  Wayne leaned forward, elbows on knees, head in his hands while Nick read from the journals his father had kept on Tara’s life. It was agony. Nick’s voice drew a picture of a young, clever girl with a rare combination of grit to balance her fanciful nature. She had started dreaming at an early age and not of vague images blossoming from bedtime stories. No, her dreams were specific and a bewildering, inexplicable account of his last years in his time.

  He reached for her hand, the fine bones dwarfed by both of his, as he tried to make sense of it. Make use of it. How could a woman centuries removed from his time and world, have such an intimate connection?

  Wayne stroked her silky red hair behind her ear as Nick read on. The man’s
father had kept remarkably detailed notes. Wayne found himself smiling at her childhood antics, bursting with pride at her various accomplishments, and wishing he’d been here to shoulder the burdens as life started to weigh on her.

  He kissed the back of her hand, the knuckles of each finger, once more wishing for her lips. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the service room, replayed it from his view, and then from Sterling’s.

  Collette wasn’t yet as strong as Morgana, but she had a terrible, natural talent. What had she done? What had he missed?

  As Nick droned on, Wayne knew he should try to connect with Tara through his powerful vision. He couldn’t give up without at least one gentle attempt. The fallout would be worth it if he uncovered the clue that would break Collette’s spell. “Shut up,” he said to Nick. “I need to concentrate.”

  “Finally.” Nick snapped the book closed. “How can I help?”

  “When we were at the pub office,” Wayne said, “she touched me while I was scrying the scene. It left her vulnerable, though she healed quickly.” And the same healing spell failed him repeatedly now.

  “She touched you in the service room too,” Nick said. “When Collette aimed her death ray.”

  “No. Sterling did that.”

  “They both did.”

  Wayne’s stomach bottomed out with abject fear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought you knew,” Nick said. “She was touching you. What does it mean?”

  Maybe nothing. Taken out of context, it could be a coincidence. Woven amid the journal and the other facts since his arrival in Times Square, it was significant indeed.

  “There is a blood bond in the spell,” he confessed. “Mine and hers. It’s possible something deeper occurred that I could not have predicted. In her effort to protect me, touching me at that moment, she must have absorbed Collette’s attempt to injure me. No wonder the witch put the burden of death on Tara.” He seethed at that dreadful insult. “It’s a miracle, a testament to Tara’s strength that she’s lived this long.”

  “Fix it. Heal her,” Nick pleaded.

  “I will.” He’d do his best anyway. “There’s a better chance now that I know where to start.” He sighed. There was no way to know if his best effort would be enough. So far, his best had resulted in one failure after another. “An Avalon priestess would be a big help.”

  “We’re fresh out,” Nick said. “You can do this.”

  The man’s belief bolstered Wayne’s confidence. “It’s possible what I must do will be another beacon to Collette.”

  “Let her try and get through me.”

  Wayne thought way back to the day he’d asked for Peter’s vow, grounding himself there in that moment. Then he reached out and placed a hand over Tara’s eyes. The other he rested on Sterling’s shoulder. Hopefully the dog would be either buffer or bridge as needed.

  Wayne began with the images from the journal Nick had read, searching for a connection within Tara’s earliest dreams. He felt the energy swell and pop, similar to releasing protective wards on the doors. With one small success, it was all he could do to take it slowly, seeking each place where her dreams had found him centuries after he’d lived those moments.

  One after another, he worked his way closer to the present, feeling her breathing change as she came along with him on the strangest walk of his life. There, sharing her view of their fight with Collette, he saw the problem.

  It was as if she’d been struck by lightning and here, as he gently cast a healing spell, he felt it working immediately. “I’ve got her,” he whispered to Nick.

  “Thank God.”

  Tara’s chest rose and fell on a deep breath, then another. Wayne focused on that, then her heartbeat as it gradually picked up a better pace.

  Caught between him and his hound, her body shuddered. Her hands fisted in his shirt as her eyelids fluttered and opened. “Wayne?”

  Her voice was weak, but she was back. “I’m here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” The one syllable scraped his throat as relief swamped him. At last, he’d done something right in his life. He heard Nick sniffle before the door closed. “And now you are too.”

  “What happened?”

  “Hush.” He eased away from her, soaking up the view of her beautiful face as the color seeped back into her skin. “Be well, my love. Rest now.” He pressed his lips lightly to her forehead.

  “Don’t go.” She reached for him, her fingers clutching his sleeve. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Sterling’s here.” He moved her other hand to the dog’s ear. “You’re not alone.”

  “I- I want you.”

  “All right.” He stretched out beside her, sliding his arm beneath her head. “Rest now.” No force on earth would part him from her. She burrowed into his chest and for the first time in this century, Wayne slept contentedly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tara dreamed of her golden-haired knight, the friend she’d known better than herself all her life. The sun rose high overhead as they walked through her dreams in a warm, perfect day. He took her hand, his palm swallowing hers as they set out across a meadow filled with yellow and purple flowers. His strides were so long, she had to skip through the long grass to keep up.

  Until he scooped her up, held her close to his natural heat in those big, capable arms. No witches or caves, no darkness on the horizon could hurt them here. He smelled of sandalwood soap and sunshine. She wound her arms around his neck and peppered his scruffy jaw with kisses.

  Somewhere outside her idyllic dream she heard a door open and felt the mattress shift. Sterling jumped down and padded away, then the door closed. She started to stretch, only to discover she wasn’t alone in the bed.

  Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she found herself clinging like a burr to Wayne’s bare chest. Piece by piece she took stock. His arms were banded around her, and he’d wedged one strong thigh between her legs. His arousal pressed to her hip was unmistakable, though his breathing, steady and even, told her he was asleep. He wore his jeans, but her legs were bare under the oversized t-shirt she typically wore to bed.

  She couldn’t recall changing clothes. Couldn’t remember quite how they’d wound up here. It didn’t matter, she wanted to enjoy this moment safely cocooned in the soft pre-dawn darkness before they had to start another day of witch hunting.

  Nuzzling her cheek against the hard planes of his chest, she let her hands explore all that gorgeous skin. Her fingertips outlined the definition of his magnificent arms, skimmed over all the scars she could see, wishing she could have spared him every pain. In her childhood dreams she’d seen him fight more than once, though she’d never seen him wounded. She wasn’t sure she could have handled it as a child, or now.

  She kissed his chest, relieved he hadn’t been hurt by Collette and more than a little embarrassed that she’d been too exhausted to do anything but collapse in bed - with Wayne. What a missed opportunity. Shifting, she propped herself on an elbow just so she could soak up the view of his chiseled features, relaxed in sleep. He was so beautiful, inside and out. There was a new bruise rising on his cheek and she kissed it. Then she indulged herself and kissed his poet’s mouth before this golden opportunity slipped away and he was gone from her life, out of reach forever.

  Would she still have her dreams when this was over?

  His lips responded under hers in slow motion, as if he didn’t want to scare her off. Didn’t he know by now she didn’t scare easy? She smiled against his mouth, and laughter bubbled out of her when he rolled her over, his big body pinning her to the mattress.

  She knew with absolute certainty there was no better place in the world, in his time or hers, than right here and now.

  “You’re awake.” His thumb traced the arch of her brow, the curve of her lower lip.

  “You too.” She marveled at the tenderness in his sky-blue gaze. Pushing her hands into his hair she brought his mouth to hers and happily surrendered
to his kiss, to the urgency he built with every stroke of his tongue, each nip of his teeth.

  His shoulders were irresistible. She held on tight as his mouth went venturing over her jaw and down the column of her throat. Her nipples peaked through the soft cotton of her t-shirt and she gasped when he closed his hot mouth over her through the fabric.

  When that big, calloused hand slid under her shirt, she arched, filling his palm with her breast. She wanted him, needed him, more with every touch and tease of his fingers. The pleasure pounded through her veins, the sheer intensity of it so beautiful it scared her.

  He sat back on his heels, bringing her pliant body up to straddle his thighs. She raised her arms as he pushed her shirt up and away. She knew only bliss as his mouth closed over her, with no barriers this time, his teeth delicately grazing her nipple.

  Without a word, he knew her. Knew what to give and where to take. The smallest pressure on his shoulder had her magnificent knight on his back, ready and willing to satisfy her curiosity.

  She followed each rise and hollow of his sculpted torso with her hands, mouth and breasts. Dragging his jeans down those powerful legs, she couldn’t help pausing to admire the view as she slipped out of her panties.

  Hard and proud, his breath caught and she felt it in her chest. It was the least of the impossible things that had happened in her life recently. She kissed her way up his splendid body until she thought the anticipation made her head spin.

  She whispered his name between hard kisses, the entirety of her heart and all the hopes of her soul packed into that one word.

  His body covered hers and for a moment she saw herself through his eyes, through the filter of passion and remarkable new love.

  She opened for him, her arms winding around those broad shoulders, seeking an anchor in this storm of desire.

  “Only you.” The rough edge of his voice landed on her skin as soft as spring rain as he thrust deep into her body, joining them.

  Oh, yes. She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, taking all of him into her. Her heart pounded as they found that familiar, elemental rhythm unique to the two of them.