Timeless

by Teresa Reasor

  “Hey mister,” a teenager called from down the fence. “When will they be opening the place so we can get a look?” he asked. His American accent sounded different from Regan’s.

  Quinn answered as he neared him. “‘Twill be another six months at least. The ground is still marshy, and there’s some areas that will have to be reinforced before allowing the public to walk about.” God forbid some unsuspecting tourist should fall through the opening of the chamber. “ And the equipment and scaffolding will have to be removed.”

  Disappointment flickered across the teen’s features, and then impatience. “’I’ll never get to see them. We may never come back to Scotland again.”

  “The stones have been here for forty-six hundred years. They’ll not be going anywhere. You’ll have plenty of time to find a way.”

  Quinn closed the gate behind him and continued down the slope. The workers on the dig were breaking for the day. He nodded to a group and pressed on. Henry and Stephen passed him with a word of greeting, and he raised a hand to acknowledge them. The envelope with the check inside lay like a knife in his palm.

  *****

  Regan picked up her pad and pencil. She sat down, and resting her back against one of the supports to the scaffolding, and opened her drawing pad.

  “Have you not had enough of the place?” Sheary asked.

  Regan forced a smile. “I just need a moment to unwind, and drawing seems to help me do that. I’ll meet you back at the cabin in an hour.”

  “All right, but if I haven’t seen you by then, I’m coming back for you. There are other stones to uncover in Scotland. And their last name is Douglas.”

  Regan’s smile came more easily with the mention of Quinn and his brothers. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

  “Thought that might offer you some incentive.” Sheary laughed and giving a wave, walked down the scaffold to the steps.

  Henry squatted down beside her, and she looked up from the pad. He’d been keeping his distance for some time, but his expression held a touch of concern as he studied her. “I’m sorry Dr. Frost is being a bitch to you,” he said.

  Regan bit her lip. “I hoped no one else had noticed our run-in.”

  “It was hard to ignore.”

  She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. “Hannah told me you’d had a visit from your family while I was gone to Edinburgh,” she said.

  “Yeah. Dr. Fraser was kind enough to give me a few days off so I could visit with them. They flew in unexpectedly. My grandfather had a small cottage in the Aberdeen area. When he passed away, he left it to my mother’s family. My family flies over about twice a year to stay for a week or two.”

  “Lucky you. I suspected there might be some Scots blood in your ancestry.” She braced her hands on the scaffold and scooted up on the platform..

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Have you looked in the mirror, Henry? You have all the classic facial markers for English or Scottish decent. Your auburn hair and freckles might point in that direction just a tad as well.”

  He smiled. “What about you?” he asked.

  “I’m uncertain about my lineage. What would you say?”

  “You’re too exotic to pinpoint.”

  Regan’s brows rose in surprise.

  The tops of Henry’s ears turned bright red and he looked away.

  “Exotic enough to be a mutt. Too many lines to follow,” she said trying to spare him his embarrassment.

  “Have you tried to find your biological family?” he asked.

  “Once. I ran into so many dead ends, and it upset my mother so much, I gave up.”

  “Once the dig ends, maybe you should pursue it,” he said rising to his feet. “You’re so interested in the past. It might do you good to discover your own history.”

  Once again he had surprised her, and she bent her head back to look up at him.

  “See you.” He made a brief gesture, and strode up the scaffold to the stone steps.

  The other team members left one by one, and silence settled over the chamber, easing Regan’s tension. She leaned her head back against the narrow pole and studied the massive blocks before her. Her arms ached from the tedious work of cleaning and recording every inch of the slabs. She set aside the sketchbook and scooted across the plank walkway to kneel before the blocks. She ran a questing hand over the edges allowing her fingertips to linger on each small mark.

  At the sound of footsteps on the stone stairs she turned.

  “Are they telling you their secrets, Regan?” Quinn asked.

  “No. Not even a whisper.” Her gaze studied the deep crags in his cheeks and the appealing masculinity of his features as he traversed the distance between them.

  “Perhaps everything is over for us, then,” Quinn said.

  It would never be over until Nicodemus had his answers—or he died. God help her, she didn’t wish him dead, but she wanted free of him—and this place.

  Quinn sat down next to her. “I’ve not had a dream since we’ve been back.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “Then maybe, we’ve settled things for them.”

  It didn’t feel over— “It’s only been a few days.”

  Quinn laid an envelope in her lap.

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve been released from the job. Fraser says we’re finished here.”

  Her stomach dropped and her throat grew tight. Regan opened the envelope and slipped the papers out. She studied the check. Her face felt numb. He was a distraction, and Nicodemus wanted him gone.

  What would she do without him?

  How would she bear this alone?

  She focused on the letters of recommendation for fear she would cry if she looked at him. “You’ve gone above and beyond for Fraser. You deserve the letters and the extra work.”

  Quinn made a cutting motion with his hand. “I want you to come with me when we leave, Regan.”

  Did he want her because he loved her? Did he truly care about her, or was it just a residual attachment from the past?

  Did that even matter with Nicodemus’s threats hanging over them both?

  Her voice didn’t want to work. “I can’t, Quinn. You know I can’t. I have to see this through.”

  “We don’t know who has the recording. You could be in danger.”

  “If I break the contract I signed with Nicodemus, they’ll revoke my work visa and send me home.”

  “You can reapply.”

  “This is the most important discovery in archaeology— possibly ever, Quinn. If I walk away from this—I won’t work again in my field. The archaeology community is small. If I get a reputation for being undependable, or for walking away from a project without a damn good reason, I’ll lose credibility. I want to have a life after this, Quinn. I owe my parents that.”

  He grasped her arm, his fingers pressing into her flesh almost painfully. “This could be your life, Regan. The longer you stay here, the greater the risk that something may lead Nicodemus to your connection with Coira.”

  “Not as long as I’m the only one who knows about it.”

  “But you aren’t. Whoever has the recording knows.”

  A crack of thunder brought her head around to the stairway. Great. Now a storm was coming up.

  “But they haven’t figured out what’s going on, yet.” Would there even be a record of Coira and Braden’s existence? And where would the information be hidden? She didn’t have a choice. She had to hope they didn’t find any information about the couple.

  “You’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for over the last five years. It would be like asking you to give up diving.” She shook the papers she still held. “ Or your business.”

  He ran his hand over his face. “I can’t stay, Regan. Rob and Logan aren’t ready to take on the responsibility of the kind of recoveries we’ll be doing. And the other lads are depending on our business to support their families.”

  Her throat hurt, a knot of tears
banding it. “I know.” She shoved the envelope and papers into his hand. He folded them in half and stuffed them in jeans pocket.

  Their lives were once again traveling parallel to their alter egos. God, when would this end?

  She thrust her fingers through her hair and pushed it back from her face. “Were you expecting our relationship to be permanent, Quinn?” He remained silent so long she raised her head to look at him.

  “I wanted an opportunity for us to be together without all this other shite.”

  To be sure. The words hung between them unspoken.

  Pain ballooned inside her. She nodded. “I understand.”

  “I don’t want to leave you, Regan.”

  She nodded again unable to speak. At least he’d be safe. She tried to draw comfort from that thought.

  She stared down at the partially completed drawing to focus on anything but the pain as it rolled over her, crushing her, smothering her. The dank smell of the mud grew suddenly overpowering.

  Her hands didn’t want to work as she closed the sketchpad. With an effort, she rose to her feet. “I promised Sheary I wouldn’t stay long. She’ll worry if I don’t show up at the cabin soon.” Her chest ached so drawing breath hurt. “When will you be leaving?”

  Quinn got to his feet. “’Twill take a couple of days to gather and load our equipment.” Lines bracketed his mouth as he compressed his lips. He looked suddenly tired.

  When he ran a hand down her back, she stilled the urge to flinch. Every touch they had shared, every look, played through her mind at light speed. She didn’t need him to touch her now.

  “I don’t want to leave you, Regan.”

  But you are. The words screamed through her head as loud as the thunder. She bent to shove the sketchbook inside her backpack. “You’re leaving all the craziness behind.”

  Quinn grasped her upper arms and drew her up to face him. “I have to leave for another job, Regan.” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m not leaving to end things between us.”

  But it will. With an effort, she focused on his face. “We both have jobs to do. Responsibilities to other people. I understand. I have to go before it’s too dangerous to do so.” She pulled away from him. Her legs worked, though she couldn’t feel them.

  A sound above drew her attention and she looked up. A young man she’d never seen before stumbled down the stairs. For a moment, she struggled to suppress her raw emotions and swallow back the tears that threatened.

  Quinn met the kid at the bottom of the stairs. “I told you the site isn’t open to the public.” Thunder blended with and nearly drowned out his voice.

  Regan tensed. This kid didn’t need to be here. But with a storm coming on—

  “I’m not going back out there, man. The lightning is unbelievable,” the boy replied. His zippered jacket appeared splotched dark with rain. His brown hair clung to his head.

  “That’s why the site isn’t open to the public. I told you this place is dangerous,” Quinn said, his tone short.

  Rain blew in at the top of the stairs in a deluge, and water began running down the side of the steps into the chamber in rivulets.

  “What’s your name?” Regan asked.

  “Will Ridner.”

  “Well, Will. You are trespassing on a protected site and could be arrested.”

  “That’s for bloody certain,” Marissa’s voice came from the stairs. She slung her hands spraying water droplets from her fingertips. Her blond hair lay plastered to her head and her clothing, saturated by water, seemed spray-painted to her tall shapely figure. She descended on the boy, her features ugly with anger. “What the hell did you think the chain link fence and all the warning signs were for, you bloody idiot?”

  Will shrugged. “ I’m not hurting anything.”

  “That wasn’t the point. The point is that you could be hurt and then sue the site for your injuries.” She raked her hair back from her face, drew the clumped locks over her shoulder, and wrung it out.

  “Ease off, Marissa.” Quinn said. “He can’t go anywhere until the storm passes, and he’s not likely to be hurt as long as he stays on the scaffold. I’ll personally march him back up the path and off the site as soon as this passes.”

  “I have a mind to make an example of him and have him charged.” She turned on the boy again.“ You purposely ignored my repeated calls for you to stop.”

  “I was looking for a place to get away from the lightning.”

  A rumble shook the ground, and for a moment it seemed the storm had invaded the chamber.

  “Man, this is crazy,” Will breathed.

  “The bloody place is dangerous every time a storm blows through,” Quinn said. “The stones have enough iron in them to turn them into lightning rods. This place will never be safe enough to open to the public.”

  “What is that smell?” Will asked, breaking into their conversation.

  Quinn and Marissa turned to look at him with identical expressions of exasperation.

  “ Stagnant water, a few dead fish and wet mud,” Regan answered. “We have to be certain of the stability of the walls before we put in a better air filtration system.”

  He nodded.

  Regan studied the small valiant patch of whiskers at the end of his chin. Seventeen, eighteen at the most. “Where are your parents?”

  “They’re back at the camp site.”

  “Where do they think you are?”

  He ducked his head. “At the inn having a snack.”

  There was nothing to be done but keep him safe until the storm passed. “Since you’re here, you might as well look around the chamber. I’ll walk around with you and keep you out of mischief.”

  Will’s features lit up with a smile.

  Had she ever been that young? Regan shook her head. “There isn’t that much to look at. Just the two larger stones in the center of the henge that travel through this chamber and are buried beneath the floor here.”

  “Why’s it called a henge?”

  “A henge is a circular or oval shaped set of stones. The surrounding ditch is what gives the circle its distinction as a henge. Because this one has been under water for seven hundred years, the ditch is almost eroded away. But from overhead you can still see a faint outline. The earthquake that covered the stones toppled two of them, but they’ve been set back into position.”

  “Earthquake?” Marissa interrupted.

  Regan glanced in her direction. “There was an earthquake recorded in 1318 England. Because it would take a significant event to cover the stones with water and topple the two, we thought that might be when it happened.”

  She turned aside and guided Will around the scaffold. A tense silence settled between Quinn and Marissa. Marissa settled on the steps and Quinn on the edge of the scaffold, his back to her. He raised his head and looked down the scaffold toward them. An ache settled in her throat. She couldn’t imagine being separated from him. But at least he’d be safe.

  Ten minutes later Marissa jumped to her feet with an oath. “How many times are you going to keep walking around and around?”

  “Hey, guys. Something’s happening here,” Will said, his tone laced with fear and excitement.

  Rays of light appeared between the two huge pillars sunk in the floor. They shone on Will’s face, giving his skin a yellow tinge.

  “Oh, no.” Not with Marissa here. Regan twisted around. “Quinn.”

  He had already leapt to his feet and was striding toward her. Marissa was close on his heels.

  “What’s happening?” Will asked.

  Regan’s hand closed around Quinn’s as he stood beside her. “We aren’t certain. The magnetic field is fluctuating because of the lightning.”

  Marissa’s makeup was smeared from the rain, and her partially dried hair hung in blond wisps around her face. She flipped her cell phone open. “Damn it. We have no service here.”

  “We don’t know what’s happening yet,” Quinn said, just as the light converged and the scene within the
field became crystal clear. The room looked the same as the one they stood in, though a wooden shelf leaned against the far wall, each shelf clustered with pottery jars.

  “What is that?” Will asked, his eyes round with amazement.

  “It’s this room— in the past,” Marissa said, her voice high pitched with excitement.

  “Like a time warp?” Will asked.

  Marissa swung toward Regan and Quinn. “How long have you two known about this?”

  Regan shook her head. Her fingers tightened around Quinn’s hand.

  Marissa’s eyes narrowed as she focused on first, Regan, then Quinn. “I know you know something. I have to call Nicodemus.” She strutted down the scaffold toward the mouth of the chamber.

  “Is this like a time machine, do you think?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know, Will. Please step back away from the field. It could be dangerous,” Regan said.

  Her fingers wrapped around Quinn’s arm, and she buried her face against his sleeve. “What can we do?”

  “There’s nothing to be done, lass. We can’t unring the bell.”

  Will strode back and forth from side to side studying the energy field. He dropped to his knees and leaned over the scaffold. He picked up a small stone and got to his feet.

  “Will, don’t do anything. You don’t want to mess with the balance of things there or here,” Regan said.

  “It’s a rock. It would be in their reality—possibly in a different form but there. That’s the way it works on TV.”

  “ This is reality, and you don’t know what will happen,” Regan said.

  The quick sound of Marissa’s steps upon the scaffold drew their attention. She carried a shovel by the handle. “It’s time we found out,” she said.

  She swung the shovel as though to throw it at the field but suddenly swept it sideways, bowl first.

  “No.” The word tore from Regan at the hollow ringing the tool made as it struck Will’s skull just above the bridge of his nose. The blow lifted the teenager off his feet.

  He landed on his back and lay still upon the muddy scaffold.

  CHAPTER 40