Men of Midnight Complete Collection

by Emilie Richards

  “Do you recognize anything or anyone?”

  “No. And the orra thing is that no one I see looks…as they should?” She lifted her shoulders in question.

  “I dinna ken why.”

  “All right. Maybe we should start there.”

  “Start?”

  “Yes. Start trying to pin it down a little. Maybe we should start with why they don’t look the way you think they should. What’s strange about them that you haven’t been able to put your finger on yet?”

  “I’ve never been able to pin my visions down, as you put it.” She set her tea down and stood, as if she couldn’t stand to sit beside him. She began to pace. “I have no control over what I see or when I see it.”

  “Why are you pacing?”

  “I’m more comfortable this way.”

  “Mara…”

  She stopped pacing. “I’m here because I’m afraid for April. Dinna make this into something else, Duncan, or I’ll be forced to leave.”

  He dropped his hand to his lap. He hadn’t even realized that he had reached out to her. “Can you describe what you see?”

  She began to pace again. “Faces. Mist.” She shook her head.

  He watched her pace. “What about the faces? Men’s? Women’s?”

  “I dinna know.” Suddenly she stopped and faced him. “I can no’ sleep, because when I do, the dreams begin. And I wake up with a scream in my throat.”

  He felt wrenched by the emotion in her voice. She was struggling not to let him see how deeply she had been affected by the visions, but the struggle was there for him to hear. “Is that very unusual?”

  “Aye. I’ve often had prophetic dreams, but never ones that repeat themselves over and over.”

  “When you wake up, what do you feel? You must feel fear if you’re ready to scream.”

  “No’ fear. No’ for myself.” She began to pace again.

  “Then for someone else? For April?”

  “I dinna think it’s April in the dream. But it’s about her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Mara, you’re wearing yourself out. Please sit down before you drop.”

  She continued to pace. Faster, if anything. “There’s a feeling of such betrayal—”

  “Betrayal?” He sat forward.

  “Terrible, terrible betrayal.”

  He thought of his own betrayals and shame filled him. “Well, there’s not much doubt where that comes from.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He stood and intercepted her, resting his hands on her arms. She pulled away as if she couldn’t tolerate his touch. “I betrayed you,” he said softly. “I used you, and I betrayed you. And you were right, I did the same thing to Lisa, even if the circumstances were entirely different.”

  “This is no’ about you and me.”

  “I think it is. What you believe to be a nightmare about April is really about us, Mara. You gave so much of yourself, and I gave so little. And when you wanted more, when you reached out to me, I shoved you away.”

  “This is no’ about you and me. The dream is about your daughter!”

  He reached out to her, and she backed away. “Dinna touch me, Duncan. Dinna touch me again or I’ll leave and no’ come back.”

  He saw how agitated she was becoming. He had never seen her this way. He nodded, afraid she would do exactly as she threatened. “All right.”

  “Please, move away from me.”

  He walked to the window and looked out over the village green. He struggled for something to say, something ordinary and soothing. He didn’t struggle long. “It’s snowing.” He slapped his palm against the windowsill. “I knew it was cold, but I had no idea it was that cold.”

  “They’ve been predicting storms in the Highlands all day.”

  He could tell from her voice that she was doing exactly what he was, struggling for normalcy. It almost seemed insane. “Then it’s not just a flake or two?”

  “At the highest elevations it might be several feet.”

  He turned slowly. “Maybe your dream isn’t about me and you, but that doesn’t make what I said any less true.”

  “Does it no’?”

  “I’ve closed myself off from everyone for so long that I don’t even know when it started. But you got too close, and it scared me.”

  “You’ve never trusted me. No’ from the beginning, and no’ now.”

  “What do you mean, I don’t trust you now?”

  She began to pace again. “I’ve told you this dream is about your daughter, yet you persist in calling it something else.”

  “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry!”

  “And will that change anything? You’ve suddenly realized that you’re at least partially to blame for the problems between us, but you still dinna see what you’re doing.”

  “What am I doing?”

  “You have no’ really changed at all. You see me and everything I am as less than whole. You see the sight as a regrettable handicap, and me as a hysterical woman whose own psychological needs are coming out in dreams and visions. It’s a wonder you’re taking the time to speak to me at all!”

  He stared at her. He saw her pain, and the self-respect that she had somehow managed to cultivate anyway. And he realized that she was right. At no time during their reunion had he truly taken her visions seriously. He had used them as an excuse to be with her.

  From the beginning of their relationship he had ignored the abilities that she had used so often and so well. He had seen her predictions come true time and time again, yet he had pushed her successes out of his own narrow mind. And when he had been forced to confront the evidence, he had sought other explanations. Any other explanation.

  He had never trusted her. Not the way that she needed someone to trust her. Not the way that she needed him to trust her.

  “How could I have been so blind?” he asked. “I haven’t understood. I still don’t understand. But you’re right. I couldn’t understand, and so I denied what’s so obvious.”

  She faced him. “And what is that, Duncan?”

  He had to push his answer from his throat. He still didn’t want to believe it. Even as he said it, he didn’t want to believe it. But he knew now that it had to be true.

  “You can see the future,” he said. “You really can.”

  “Aye. I can see the future. And it’s nearly destroyed my life.”

  “And you’re seeing the future now. In your dreams. In your visions.”

  “Aye.” She lifted her chin. “And it’s nearly destroying me.”

  “How could I have been so stupid?” He moved toward her. She didn’t move away. He moved slowly, so very slowly. “Only one of us has behaved irrationally, and it hasn’t been you.” He stopped an arm’s length away. He stretched out his hand. “My mind has been closed. You’ve proved yourself to me again and again, and I’ve simply ignored everything I didn’t want to see.”

  She closed her eyes. He uncurled his fingers. He touched her cheek. Lightly. A feather’s touch. This time she didn’t move away.

  “And there’s so very much I didn’t want to see,” he said. “And now I’m beginning to.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Mara closed her eyes. She could feel Duncan’s fingertips against her cheek. She could feel his words in her heart.

  And she could feel the boundaries that separated the present and the future begin to shift.

  “Dinna touch me,” she gasped. “Get away from me, Duncan!”

  She stepped backwards. Suddenly she was trembling so hard she was afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her. She opened her eyes and saw the shock in his. Then shock turned to hurt and finally to anger. “All right. I won’t,” he said quietly, but the pitch of his voice was deceptive. He might as well have slapped her.

  “You dinna understand!”

  “That’s possible. Or maybe I do. Finally.”

  She struggled to find a way to explain. “When you t
ouch me…”

  “What? It disgusts you? I’ll remember, and I sure won’t do it again.”

  “No!” Dizziness overwhelmed her. She couldn’t hold off the inevitable. It was like trying to stop a raging river. “Move away from me. Please!”

  “Mara? What in God’s name is wrong?” He stepped closer. His expression changed again. Anger disappeared to be replaced by concern.

  Her knees gave way and she slumped to the floor. She put her head down, but it only made the dizziness worse.

  Then she saw the mists. Thick, swirling mists, and she shivered because suddenly she was so cold, colder than she had ever been in her life. But this wasn’t her life, nor anyone’s that she had ever known. She was somewhere she had never been, and layers of time were crashing one into the other.

  She heard screams and nausea gripped her. She wanted to move toward the screams, to help somehow, but she was rooted to one place and could not move at all.

  Someone was running toward her in the mist. She could hear the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow. There was snow at her feet. She saw it now. And the mist wasn’t mist at all but a snowstorm. A woman’s face materialized in the midst of it. She was young and obviously terrified. Her hair streamed out behind her as she ran and a bruise darkened her cheek. As Mara watched a hand closed over her hair and the woman screamed.

  “Mara! Are you all right?”

  She was jerked back to the present. She could sense Duncan kneeling beside her. She heard a pounding somewhere behind her, but she couldn’t open her eyes. With a curse he got up and went to the door. She heard voices.

  Duncan’s: “No, damn it, I don’t know if everything’s all right or not.”

  A woman’s: “Is it Miss Mara? I heard her scream. Is she ill?”

  Duncan’s again: “Will you go get Dr. Sutherland, please? Ask him to come immediately if he can. And get him, not his partner.” He slammed the door.

  She took a deep breath. Her voice came out a whisper. “Stay away from me, Duncan,” she said. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “For God’s sake, tell me why! What’s happening?”

  But the mists were closing again. She couldn’t speak. She whimpered as they cut off the present again. There were men talking. She strained to understand their words, but they were nearly incomprehensible. She recognized a word, then another. The language was a mixture of a deeply accented English and another language. “Gaelic.” She wrenched out the word, but it didn’t take her back to the present. Instead the scene cleared. There was smoke mixed with the snow now, thick, smothering smoke. She began to cough. She tried to move away from it, but she was trapped. The smoke stung her eyes, and she began to cry. Then she heard a child screaming.

  “April!” She tried to run. She was able, somehow, to get to her feet. Her eyes opened, and she saw Duncan.

  “Move away from me,” she gasped. “Move away!”

  He backed away. “I’m the trigger, aren’t I? You’re seeing the future, and I’m the trigger!”

  She shook her head. She could almost feel her mind clear with each step he took. “No’ the future…” Her head began to pound, but she was, for the moment, firmly back in the present.

  “What then?”

  “I dinna know!”

  “What do you see?”

  She shook her head again. Images swam there, but the feelings were even more terrifying. “Betrayal. Terrible…” She began to cry again.

  “I want to put my arms around you!”

  “No! Please!”

  “I feel so helpless!”

  She made it to the couch. But the moment she sat, the visions began again. She heard laughter. Maniacal, inhuman laughter. A man in belted plaid, trews and bonnet, appeared in front of her on horseback. The horse reared and the man lifted a sword above his head. She saw it come crashing toward the earth.

  There was blood on the snow.

  She felt herself falling through space. There was nothing now except darkness. No visions. No screaming. As she fell she thought she heard the mournful wail of bagpipes. Then, silence.

  The silence seemed to stretch into forever. She only truly became aware of it when it ended. She could hear men’s voices again.

  “I tell you I don’t know what’s wrong exactly! But I think she’s having visions.”

  “Hallucinations?”

  “No! Visions of the future. Mara has second sight. That’s how she knew the children were going to be trampled at the Johnsmas Fair. And she’s predicted other things. More than I can tell you.”

  “I thought as much, Duncan. I guessed it when she was at the hospital. But why did you no’ tell me before this? Why did you try to hide it?”

  “Why? Because most people are stupid and unreasonable if they don’t understand something!”

  “Most people?”

  There was a pause. “Me,” Duncan said.

  “Ah, I see, lad. It’s you who did no’ understand.”

  “And you do?”

  “Of course. Have I no’ see it before? There was an old woman in Druidheachd, old when I came here to practice medicine. She lived many more years after, and she saw the future until the day she died. The week of her death she chose her own kist and told us to wait until the rain stopped before we put her in the kirkyard. It rained the day she died, of course, and three days after. We waited, you can be certain. Auld Margaret was no’ always right, but she was right often enough.”

  “Margaret Henley.”

  “Aye.”

  “Mara’s suffering.”

  “No. She’s resting now. Whatever it was she saw became too much for her.”

  “I think when I’m near, particularly when I touch her, I trigger the visions.”

  “Then they must concern you somehow. Have they to do with April?”

  “Apparently. Mara says that my ex-wife plans to return April tomorrow.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Today, I guess it is. But something is going to interfere. She doesn’t know what.”

  Mara tried to speak, but her throat was so dry the sound that emerged was nothing like a word. She felt hands at her wrist. They were soothing hands.

  “Get her some water, Duncan, but don’t bring it here. I’ll come in the kitchen and get it.”

  Mara opened her eyes and saw Angus Sutherland.

  “Do no’ even try to talk. Just stay here. I’ll get the water,” he said.

  He returned a few moments later with it. She was sitting up by then, and Duncan hadn’t reappeared. “Drink it all,” Angus commanded.

  Mara’s hand shook, and she spilled drops on her dress. But she managed to drink most of it. He took the glass and set it on the table. “Can you talk?”

  “Now you know,” she said.

  “I’ve suspected for a while.” He sat beside her. “May I?”

  “Aye.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Three days.”

  “Have you slept? Eaten?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re wabbit, lass. Trauchled. Exhausted. I’ve a mind to put you back in the hospital.”

  “No!” She put her head in her hands.

  “How long can this go on?”

  “Till I know. Till I can see clearly.”

  “I see.” Dr. Sutherland patted her knee. “Has this happened before, then?”

  “No. Never like this.”

  “Do you ken why it’s different this time?”

  “I can no’ see the fate of those I love. I’ve never been able to.”

  “And this time?”

  “I must!”

  “Ah.” He was quiet for a while. “Duncan says that he triggers the sight.”

  “This time. Aye.” She felt gratitude that Duncan finally understood.

  “What happens?”

  “I dinna know. He comes close or he touches me and the visions are stronger.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “They’re so terrible!”

  “
Poor lass.”

  “But I must see! April’s safety depends on it.”

  “Aye. I think you must. And I think Duncan must help you see this to conclusion.”

  Fear shot through her. She didn’t know if she could continue to survive the horror.

  “He loves you, you know,” Dr. Sutherland said. “And even if he triggers the visions, he’ll be right here with you to help you through them. And so will I.”

  “I dinna think Duncan loves me.”

  “He’s no’ a man who can say it easily, Mara. He’s like his father that way. I saw what happened to his da when his mother took Duncan and Fiona to the States to live. Donald Sinclair withered, like the moors without rain. He was never the same man after they left Druidheachd. And the saddest thing was that Donald could never tell Duncan how much he loved him. He was cruel to the lad when he visited each summer, and he would no’ even let the wee lass come back. Donald cut both of them from his life because he could no’ stand the pain.”

  Tears slipped down her cheeks. He handed her a clean handkerchief. “Will you try now?” he asked. “We must get this over with.”

  “You’ll stay?”

  “Aye. I’ll no’ even write this up for the medical journals.”

  She tried to smile, but tears filled her eyes. “Call him,” she said.

  She closed her eyes and tried to prepare. She felt Angus leave the couch. She heard soft voices in the kitchen. Sometime later she felt the couch sag beside her.

  “Mara, I’m right here,” Duncan said. “I won’t leave you, no matter what happens, unless you tell me to or Angus thinks it’s best.”

  She opened her eyes and turned to him. He held out his hands. She lifted hers, and he took them. “I wish, my lady,” he said softly, “that I could be the one to suffer.”

  A blast of frigid air buffeted her, and she closed her eyes to protect them. She was so cold. The temperature in the room had plummeted. She breathed out and her breath crystalized. And then snow swirled around her. Noise swirled around her. Screams and curses and the clang of swords, the firing of muskets.

  A woman, the same woman, with dark hair streaming behind her, was running toward Mara. Mara tried to reach out to her, but she couldn’t move. The woman’s bruised face was contorted with fear. She pleaded for help in a language that Mara couldn’t understand. Then a hand closed over the woman’s hair, a man’s hairy fist.