Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance)

by Geralyn Beauchamp

  * * *

  “C’mon, Shona, run!” Maggie hurried down another long hall racing for the stairs leading to the lower lobby several floors below them.

  Shona continued to turn back to the box, her Muiraran features still frozen in place. Maggie brought her to a connecting hall and flattened the two of them against a wall, listening. They hadn’t passed anyone in their escape from the box. The refreshment counters and portable bars were on the floor below them. They were on their own.

  Julia’s voice cut its way up the stairs and down the hall to where Maggie and Shona hid. “Hurry up, Kent. Philip’s waiting. I’ll be in the car.”

  “Oh no, oh no. What now?” Maggie breathed as she looked frantically about. Her eyes came to rest on two separate signs.

  The men’s and women’s lounges.

  “Quick.” She pulled Shona through the nearest door.

  “Julia!” Philip’s crisp, loud voice coiled around Shona and Maggie, both now pressed against the wall near the entrance to the men’s lounge. Maggie began to search the room for something to be used as a weapon, but saw nothing except her own desperate look in the mirror on the opposite wall.

  And the face of Shona.

  Shona stared at her reflection in stunned silence with an odd knowing look. “Mother,” came out a weakened plea.

  Maggie also stared at the mirror before slowly turning her shocked face to her daughter. “Oh.” Her voice was even weaker than Shona’s.

  Shona’s eyes found her mother’s. She slowly shook her head. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Maggie brought a hand to her daughter’s face and cautiously touched her. “We didn’t know,” she whispered, still fearing Philip close enough to hear.

  Shona’s face fell into desperate need. “He will kill Dallan. I cannot let him find him.”

  “Philip?”

  Shona nodded slowly.

  “Where is Dallan? Do you know where he is?”

  She searched the area instinctively with the thing inside of her. It shot forth and found him in less than a second. She clearly saw him making his way steadily across the lower front lobby, his eyes intent on the stairs she and Maggie had been making for. Dallan!

  M’eudain?

  We are upstairs, in the men’s lounge, Philip is nearby.

  He did not answer.

  No, no, please. Dallan, can you not hear me? Are you all right? Answer me!

  Still nothing. She threw her mother a panicked look and started for the door.

  “No!” Maggie whispered urgently as she grabbed Shona’s arm. “Philip may still be out in the hall somewhere.”

  The door to the lounge slowly began to open.

  Maggie pulled Shona back to the wall behind the door and prepared to push it into whoever entered.

  Dallan came around the door so fast Maggie nearly fainted. Shona fell away from the wall and stared up into his face, helpless with longing. Their eyes locked, and for several seconds neither could find the will to move.

  “Shona…” Dallan’s voice, laced with relief, reached her as he took her in his arms. “Saints, lass, dinna scare me so.” He pulled away, gripped her arms with his hands and looked at her with barely suppressed wonderment. “Och, lassie, ye change so fast!” He stared at her again, a fierce concern in his eyes, his jaw confirming his current emotions. “Did he hurt ye, lass? What did he do?”

  Shona turned her face from him and looked in the mirror.

  A human face stared back. Her own. “I am fine. Just take us out of here.”

  “Aye, lass.” He turned to Maggie. “Brennan hasna anything more to threaten ye with, Lady. Get yer husband and go where that devil canna find ye. I’ll take Shona and keep her safe. Dinna worry.”

  Maggie glanced between Dallan and Shona. “When can we see her again?”

  “Dinna concern yerself with that now. Get Evan. Ye need to be with him.”

  She nodded slowly then stared at Shona for several long seconds. “I love you. Never forget that. Remember us.”

  Shona swallowed the painful lump in her throat and nodded.

  “Take her, Dallan. Keep her safe.” Maggie moved for the door but Dallan stopped her and slipped out first. After several seconds, he returned and motioned them to follow. They entered the hall cautiously, Maggie silently heading back to the orchestra box, Dallan and Shona to the stairs.

  All three stopped at the same time, and the last few words needing to be spoken, to be heard, took full advantage of the pause.

  Shona, her hand now in one of Dallan’s, turned to her mother down the long hall, the sounds of the orchestra drifting over all three. “I love you too.”

  Maggie smiled, nodded and motioned them to go, the air around them suddenly tight with warning.

  Dallan pulled Shona toward the stairs. Without looking back, they began their descent.

  When they disappeared from sight, Maggie Whittard knew she would cry.

  And she did.

  * * *

  Dallan and Shona raced down the stairs, the lobby doors closer with each step, their lives now irrevocably changed.

  The Call had been answered.

  Dallan hurried to the doors, the Maiden running to keep up with his longer legs. He slowed his pace enough for her to stay alongside him better and continued on, freedom from the building his only thought.

  “You!”

  Shona let go a gasp of surprise as Dallan’s eyes met those of Kent atop the opposite set of stairs leading into the lobby. They then fell to the gun in Kent’s hand, aimed right at them.

  Dallan glanced at the doors. Twenty feet, no more, no less.

  Kent started down the stairs. “Don’t move, either of you.”

  Dallan hid a smile. The man had fear in his eyes. His hand tightened around Shona’s. He then broke for the doors at full speed.

  Kent fired.

  “You fool!” Philip grabbed Kent’s arm from behind and painfully yanked it down. “You might hit the Maiden. Wait for a clear shot!” Philip ran down the stairs and quickly glanced around to make sure no one saw anything, the gun’s silencer making sure no one heard. He reached the bottom but too late. His quarry had already escaped to the street. He cursed, then paused as if listening, his eyes closed in concentration.

  Kent looked about nervously and waited.

  Philip suddenly grabbed him, a wicked smile on his face. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  Dallan and Shona raced up the street and around the first corner they came to. The Weapons Master’s intended destination was an alley near the concert hall where John, Lany and Angus waited for him.

  A sudden screech of tires however detoured the couple into a different alley. And a dead end.

  Dallan ran to the end of the alley and quickly scanned the high wall. Too high. Shona would never make it, much less himself. He spun around and started back the other way. Perhaps the car was a coincidence and not chasing them. There was, after all, no sign of it now anywhere.

  He stopped, breathed a short sigh of relief and turned to Shona. “Are ye all right, lass?”

  She nodded to him and scanned the alley. “They are following us.”

  “Most likely. Quiet now.” He began to creep to the entrance of the alley and turned to look down at her once more. “We havena far to go and then ye’ll be safe.”

  “Oh, somehow I doubt that.”

  The voice was cold, sinister, mocking. And English.

  Brennan.

  Dallan quickly shoved Shona behind himself and searched the alley. The voice was close, but how close?

  “Well, well, well. You realize, of course, I’d not expected to be running through the streets after you my dear. I hope you haven’t done damage to your dress. I would hate to see it get torn.” Philip stepped into the alley from a doorway in one wall. “And whom might your escort be this evening, Shona? I thought the privilege was mine.”

  Dallan realized the building Philip had just emerged from was the back of the concert hall.
Fate was not in a good mood tonight. Nor was Philip. He had a huge pistol in his hand, one much different from Kent’s.

  The Weapons Master’s eyes narrowed. Ye may ha’ to run lass. Be ready.

  Shona pressed briefly against his back. Please be careful. I sense something from him, Dallan. He is very dangerous.

  Aye, Flower. Now get ready. If I can get him away from ye, run to the alley down the street. My friends are there.

  She gently hugged his back then stepped away from him. She knew he would need the room.

  “What’s the matter, my dear? Has the company of this brute overwhelmed your sense of speech?” Philip took a few steps closer and looked Dallan over carefully. “Mmm. Handsome piece, aren’t you? If not for the fetching morsel behind you, I might be half tempted to try you myself. But alas, I haven’t the time for it this evening.”

  Dallan swallowed back his immediate revulsion and skewered him with a piercing glare.

  Phillip glared right back. He was familiar, very familiar. Dallan pondered briefly where or when he’d seen him before.

  “Let us introduce ourselves to each other. I really do hate killing a man with whom I have not been properly introduced.” Philip took another step closer.

  “Lord Philip Brennan.” He bowed slightly, never taking his eyes from Dallan’s. “And you are?”

  Dallan’s eyes narrowed further. “Yer worst nightmare. Let us pass.”

  Philip’s eyes widened in amusement as a slight smile curved his mouth. “Oh my God, it’s a bloody Scot.”

  “Aye, ye Sassenach devil. Now out o’ the way.” He took a threatening step forward to measure Philip’s reaction.

  “Ah, ah, ahhh. Not too close. I wouldn’t want to harm the Maiden when I shoot you.”

  Dallan stopped himself before he took another step. He knew Philip wanted Shona alive and relatively unharmed. He just had to get him away from her long enough to get her out of there.

  Too late.

  The bright lights of a car suddenly turned into the alley, blinding Dallan.

  He grabbed Shona and jumped behind a metal trash bin, his previous experience in a similar alley the night before flooding over him. Suddenly he sensed something was wrong, out of place.

  Shona whimpered and he quickly turned to her. She sat against the wall behind him biting her lip in pain. Dallan cursed to himself in Gaelic as he realized a sound had been out of place.

  The muffled sound of a gun. Shona had been shot.

  “Shona, lass!” He quickly pulled her into his arms. “Where?”

  She looked at him as her eyes glazed over in the alley's dim light. “My hip.”

  Dallan felt the area with one hand. No blood. Odd. Then he found it. A small, strange cylinder about the size of his index finger had stabbed her square in the hip. He searched it with his fingers. “What is this lass, d’ye know?”

  “Merely a small tranquilizer.”

  Dallan’s head spun to look up at Philip who stood over them, gun still in his hand. But this one was different—smaller, black, and from what Dallan remembered from the night before, deadly.

  “Oh, it won’t harm her, I assure you. It will, however, put her to sleep for an hour or two. Don’t worry, I would never harm her. Against the law, you know.” He stared down at Dallan with a mocking grin. “No, on second thought, I don’t suppose you would know that yet.”

  Shona moaned and grabbed at his arms. “Dallan, I feel strange.” She turned on Philip. “You… you… bas… tarrrd…” She slumped to the cold ground, Dallan barely catching her as she did. He inwardly seethed. Had she been harmed? Was Philip telling the truth?

  “Get up,” Philip demanded.

  Dallan looked to Shona, unconscious in his arms, before throwing his warrior’s stare at Philip. “What ha’ ye done?”

  “She’s not been harmed. Kwaku should have told you one cannot harm a Shamaelon without suffering certain repercussions. In her case death. It’s how the Muiraran’s protect those in the royal houses. Nothing worse than several thousand Muiraran inner hearts bound to this one girl’s family coming after you. Thankfully, there are only two in the immediate area I’d have to worry about.”

  Dallan looked to Shona then glared at Philip.

  “Oh calm yourself. She’s been drugged, nothing more. Now be so kind as to get up.” He waved the gun at his quarry.

  Dallan gently laid the Maiden on the ground and got to his feet. The sooner he disposed of this enemy, the better.

  Again, fate was not on his side. Graves and Kent came out of nowhere to stand next to Philip, both armed with the same type of weapon.

  “Now, kindly move away from the Maiden.” Philip cooed mockingly. He and the other two backed up to allow Dallan to step away.

  Dallan glanced at Shona’s unconscious form. The sight of her made his jaw dance. His eyes narrowed even further and his nostrils flared as he slowly turned back to his captors.

  “Oh, you’re a hot one. Itching for a fight, are you? Well, perhaps I can accommodate that fancy. Now step away from her.” Philip waved the gun again.

  Reluctantly, Dallan did.

  “Further, if you please. Keep going.”

  Philip forced him well away from the Maiden, nearly to the end of the alley.

  Dallan’s worst fear had come to life. They were going to take her. Again.

  The nightmare he’d had over a week ago suddenly hit and he growled in frustration. Kent bent to Shona, picked her up, turned to Dallan and offered him a sadistic grin, then laughed at him as he headed to the car where Julia, the headlights cut, stood waiting.

  “Ye canna take her!”

  “Oh, but I’m afraid I can.” His enemy drawled.

  Dallan’s eyes narrowed even further. “Dinna touch her.”

  Philip laughed. “My dear fellow, touching her is all I plan. More’s the better as far as I’m concerned. I’m quite sure the Maiden is going to taste as good as she’s going to feel. But then you never got the chance to find that out, did you? Mmm, pity.” His face dropped into a sympathetic pout. “What might I be able to do to ease your frustration of this little predicament?”

  Dallan watched, jaw tight, as Kent put Shona and himself into the back of the car, Julia quickly getting in the front. The headlights came back on as the car backed out of the alley.

  “Say goodbye, old boy. It’s the last you’ll ever see of her,” Philip laughed.

  Within seconds, the car was gone. Along with his lass.

  Dallan turned his seething face back to Philip. “What now?”

  Philip gave him an assessing look. “Now,” he began, his mouth locked in a sadistic grin, “we fight.”

  Th ere is a time for everything, and a season

  For every activity under heaven:

  A time to be born and a time to die,

  A time to plant and a time to uproot,

  A time to kill and a time to heal…

  Ecclesiastes 3:1-3

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Fight, ye say?” Dallan glanced back to the open end of the alley then slowly gave Brennan his full attention, the twitch in his jaw alive with the prospect of killing the Sassenach devil. “What did ye ha’ in mind?”

  Brennan smiled rakishly. “No weapons. Straight hand-to-hand.”

  Dallan raised an assessing brow, “Hand-to-hand. There’s an interesting challenge.” He looked Brennan over carefully. “Yer sure yer up to it?”

  Brennan’s grin changed to anticipation. “I assure you, I am quite fit for the task.”

  Dallan narrowed his eyes and snorted. “Aye, sir, as ye say.”

  Kent reentered the alley, saw the murderous look on Dallan’s face and began to fidget. “Lord Brennan, he’s a lot quick…”

  “Quick as you suspect he is, there are things you don’t yet realize about the situation.” Brennan interjected, stepping away from Dallan. He took off his jacket, folded it neatly and handed it to Kent. “Julia is taking the Maiden to the agreed-upon destination?”


  Kent took the jacket and draped it over one arm. “Yes.” He quickly glanced back to Dallan. “We’ll cover you, sir.”

  Brennan grinned anew. “No need, gentlemen.”

  Dallan began to take off the more cumbersome pieces of his own attire. Never taking his eyes off Brennan, he moved to place his coat on the ground.

  “Oh come now,” Brennan teased. “Don’t soil the thing. Kent can hold it as well.”

  Dallan stopped, his eyes still locked with Brennan’s. “As ye say then, sir.” He handed the jacket to Kent, who took it, eyes darting nervously between Dallan and his employer.

  Brennan removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. Dallan too removed more clothing, until he stood in only his Sark, kilt and weapons.

  Brennan glanced at the dirk hanging at Dallan’s side and the small, deadly sighna duihn tucked into one high stocking. “Be so kind as to remove your weapons as well, sir.”

  Graves stepped forward and re-aimed his gun at Dallan’s head.

  Dallan slowly removed the weapons, eyes now bright green with anticipation. The sooner he killed Brennan, the sooner he could rescue Shona and be gone from this horrible place and time.

  “Mr. Graves, you and Kent stand over there,” Brennan waved toward the alley’s entrance a good fifty feet away. “He’s not going anywhere. Besides this won’t take long, I assure you.”

  Graves nodded to Kent to cover the entrance while he kept watch on Dallan. “What will we do with the body?”

  “There’s a trash bin, we can just put him in it. No sense dragging him around.”

  Dallan raised a brow, crossed his arms over his chest and sighed impatiently. “For a man bent on killing me, ye certainly are in no hurry. Can we no get on wi’ it, sir? I’ve other matters to attend to this evening.”

  Brennan smiled knowingly. “Oh I really wouldn’t trouble yourself with any plans. You won’t live long enough to carry them out.”

  “Ye seem awfully sure o’ yerself. What makes ye think I’m the one who’ll spend the night in the green metal box there?”