Flight of Dragons

by Elianne Adams, Sadie Haller, Zoe York, Shelley Munro, Zara Keane, LC Alleyne, Skye Jones, Evanne Lorraine, Ann Gimpel

  Her heart swelled, spilled over, and broke open. “I love you too. I’m so glad I ignored all the reasons I should’ve walked by you that first day we met.”

  “Were there really that many?” He smoothed her hair back and gazed at her.

  “Oh my, yes. There’s lots you don’t know about the twenty-first century. We’ve become a cautious lot. By the way, what’s the deal with Mauvreen and Kheladin? They can’t do anything, um, kinky can they?”

  He grinned. “If by kinky, ye mean sexual, aye, there are ways of working things out. More importantly, Kheladin had things right when he spoke of humans revering dragons. Long ago, there used to be cults of dragon worshippers…”

  ****

  The day edged into evening and then into night. Lachlan couldn’t remember ever being so happy. He and Maggie made love, bathed, ate, and made love some more.

  Hold onto the good times, an inner voice cautioned. There are battles to be fought afore I can truly relax.

  She snuggled closer into his arms. They lay in her bed with the curtains pinned back so they could see the stars and the moon. “Remember what you said about seeing me in dreams?” she asked sleepily.

  “Aye, lass. I told you I was born loving you, and that I would die loving you. But I told you that in your dream. I had no idea ye’d recall it.”

  “How could I forget? It’s just so beautiful. One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.” She turned and kissed the hollow at the base of his neck. “Maybe it’s the magic, courtesy of Gran and Mauvreen, but I’ve been catching glimpses of visions. Familiar ones. Now that I’ve slowed down enough to pay attention, you were in my dreams too. From the time I was young.”

  “’Tisn’t surprising. We were made for one another. Probably loved each other in other lives along the way.”

  “Let’s hang onto this one as long as we can. As much trouble as it took us to be reunited, maybe we don’t want to have to do it all again.”

  “I will be by your side till ye die.”

  “And then what? You’re immortal. I’m not.”

  “I’ll wait until ye’re reborn, and we shall find each other again.”

  “I know I asked, but this isn’t a time to talk about dying.” A small shiver moved down her body.

  “Nay, lass. ’Tisn’t. Yet, doona delude yourself. Rhukon hasna gone away. We’ve defeated him thrice running now, so he’ll be cautious, lick his wounds, but he remains a problem.”

  “Maybe the Celts will…fix it somehow.”

  “Not if they can get someone else to do it for them.” Lachlan spread magic more thickly around them. He didn’t wish to be overheard. “Kheladin and I glossed over how we managed to return from the past.”

  “I noticed.” She changed position and propped her head on an upraised hand so she could watch him in the moonlight. “I was surprised Gran didn’t press for more details.”

  “I spelled my words so no one would ask me to elaborate. Dragons were the first time travelers. ’Twas Kheladin’s magic that returned us to you.”

  Maggie sat upright in bed and smiled. “The Celts told me about dragons and time travel. It means we could go back to when your castle was still standing. I’d love to see what life was like back then. The Celts were ready to send me back to you, but Gran told me if I went, it’d be impossible to return if I couldn’t find you, or a Celt or a dragon…” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m so tired I’m babbling.” She tossed her body atop his and kissed him on the mouth.

  “I love your enthusiasm,” he said after surfacing from their kiss, “but if we go back, ’twill be hard to find an excuse to not do the Celts’ bidding and corral Rhukon—if I can.”

  “Let them do their own corralling.”

  Would that it were so simple.

  “It doesna work like that, lass. If I tell them nay, the next boon I ask, they’ll spit in my face.”

  The chime of her phone sounded. “Who the hell could that be?” she muttered. “It’s closing on ten at night.”

  “Leave it,” he suggested.

  “I can’t. Not yet. Not until I extricate myself from my commitments here. It might be the hospital.” She felt around on a table, picked up the phone, and said, “Dr. Hibbins.”

  Because he wanted to understand the life she’d be walking away from, Lachlan extended his magic to listen. If it were the grandmother, or one of the witches, he wouldn’t be able to hear anything, but somehow he didn’t think Mary Elma would bother them.

  “Maggie. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. Glad you’re back in Inverness.”

  “It’s a bit on the late side, Dr. MacDuff,” she murmured. “I was just going to sleep. Is there some emergency at the hospital?”

  “Oh no, my dear. I wanted to firm up a dinner invitation for you and your grandmother. Say around sixish tomorrow?”

  Maggie sat up in bed. “That’s terribly kind of you, Dr. MacDuff—”

  “Frank.”

  “All right, Frank. I’d planned to get hold of you tomorrow. Something’s come up. I won’t be able to finish my fellowship here. I’m terribly sorry, and I’ll work the next two weeks, or even a month if necessary, to make certain you can get coverage, but—”

  “What’s happened, Maggie? Let me help.” MacDuff’s voice dripped concern, and Lachlan wanted to punch him.

  “Just family matters. Nothing to be done about it, really. I’ll go by work tomorrow and sign a letter of resignation. I’ll also work on continuity plans for my patients.”

  “I’m coming over there. You need someone to talk with.”

  Lachlan reached for the phone. Maggie batted his hand away. “No.” She infused compliance into her words with cunningly woven magic, no doubt a byproduct of the infusion from her kinswomen. “You are not coming over here. It’s late. You have no need to speak with me outside the hospital.”

  “Certainly. Goodnight, Dr. Hibbins.”

  Maggie blew out an exasperated breath. She scrolled through something on the phone’s display before laying it down. “Well, that explains why the phone kept ringing,” she said. “It was—”

  “I know who it was. I listened.”

  “You’re shameless.” She met his gaze.

  “Not shameless. Ye’re my woman. Mine.” The dragon’s fierceness surged, running hot. “All Frank wants is—”

  “Sssh.” She laid fingers over his mouth. “What he wants doesn’t matter. All I want is you. Now and forever. I love you. Never forget that. Never doubt me. I’m yours, Lachlan, heart, body, and soul. I’m quitting my job because I want to, not because you’re making me.”

  Lachlan’s anger evaporated in an instant. Maggie’s words were like a balm. “And I love you, lass. Forever, my love.”

  She twined her fingers with his. “Yes, forever.”

  The End

  This series began with Highland Secrets, a Dragon Lore prequel. It continues in Dragon Maid, Dragon Lore, Book Two and is completed in Dragon’s Dare, Dragon Lore, Book Three.

  Read on for a sample.

  About the Author:

  Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author. She’s also a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent, and a vagabond at heart. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. She’s published over 30 books to date, with several more contracted for 2015 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her family.

  Keep up with her at www.anngimpel.com or http://anngimpel.blogspot.com

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  Dragon Maid

  Dragon Lore, Book Two

  Prologue

  Lachlan bent his head and kissed Maggie. She arche
d against him and opened her mouth. He tightened his hold on her. Maybe leaving her with her grandmother, even for the short time it would take him to do what he needed, wasn’t the best idea. He tangled his hands in the blonde hair streaming down her back.

  Someone tapped his shoulder. Mary Elma, Maggie’s grandmother—and the most powerful witch alive—cleared her throat. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. They had a plan, and a damned good one, but he needed to do his part. He broke away from Maggie and gazed fondly at her. “Lassie. Open your eyes.”

  She did, her brilliant blue gaze twinkling with amusement. “If you’re going to let Gran push you around from the get-go, there’ll be no hope for us. I heard her too.” She shot a sidelong glance at Mary Elma. “I chose to ignore her.”

  “Tsk. No respect.” But Mary Elma was smiling. It was obvious she loved her granddaughter dearly and was willing to overlook a lot.

  Lachlan laid a hand on Maggie’s cheek. “I willna be gone long. And ye really do need to work on your magic.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I suppose a crash course is long overdue, especially given I had zero interest in anything witchy until I met you.”

  “What a gross understatement!” Mary Elma pursed her lips. “The enormous infusion of magic Mauvreen and I force fed you needs to be shaped and honed. You could actually do damage without more knowledge.”

  “Your gran speaks true.” Lachlan arranged a stray strand of hair behind Maggie’s ear. “I felt great power within you, even afore your gran and her witch associate, Mauvreen, added to it. Ye’re truly a force to be reckoned with now.” Lachlan brushed a knuckle over Maggie’s full lips and stepped away from her. He’d never leave if he couldn’t put some distance between himself and her body still pressed against him.

  Maggie looked from him to Mary Elma. “What if the force to be reckoned with wants her brand new husband to stay a while longer?”

  “Och, mo croi, I do love you. We’ve had such a wee bit of time together, ’tisn’t easy to leave you, even for a span of a few hours.”

  Mary Elma made shooing motions with her hands. “Never fear, dragon shifter, I’ll take good care of your bride.”

  “I know ye will. Kheladin and I will be back verra soon. I suppose he’s still in the yard with Mauvreen.”

  “That would be a solid deduction,” Mary Elma said wryly. “I’d never have guessed a dragon would be such a sucker for attention.”

  Lachlan bristled. “Kheladin is far from a pushover. He recognizes Mauvreen’s adulation as genuine. ’Twas a time when humans worshipped dragons and he misses it.”

  It was amazingly difficult to leave Maggie’s presence, but Lachlan forced himself to turn and walk out the door of Mauvreen’s house. Swathed in spells, it appeared to be a charming, white-washed cottage to passersby, but it was actually an old, multi-story stone manse, sitting just north of Fort William deep in the Scottish Highlands.

  Lachlan located his dragon and Mauvreen chatting up a storm. Steam billowed from the copper-colored dragon’s nostrils, and he gestured with his forelegs when he talked. Mauvreen nodded enthusiastically, apparently agreeing with whatever pearls of wisdom Kheladin dispensed.

  She waved eagerly when she noticed Lachlan. He strode down her front steps and across the yard, which was shrouded in wardings and don’t look here spells. Kheladin blew steam at him. “I was wondering if we were ever going to leave,” the dragon said.

  “Yes,” Mauvreen seconded. “Here we were thinking maybe you changed your mind about visiting the Celts.”

  Lachlan shrugged. Truth be told, he was of two minds because he saw their trip as a fool’s errand. Nevertheless, he had to try to secure the Celtic gods’ assistance. The Morrigan, also known as the Battle Crow, was one of their own. By rights, they needed to be the ones to control her. Like all the Celts, she was immortal, which further complicated matters.

  Kheladin eyed him shrewdly. He and Lachlan were bondmates. Over the hundreds of years they’d been a pair, they’d gotten to know one another eerily well. “We must do this thing,” he rumbled and belched a gout of fire.

  “I ken as much, but it doesna mean I believe it a wise course of action.”

  Kheladin hunkered until he could lay a taloned forefoot on Lachlan’s shoulder. “Rhukon and his dragon, Malik, nearly bested us—again. Connor and his dragon, Preki, aren’t as big a problem, but the Morrigan controls them too. If it werena enough that they ensorcelled us for over three hundred years, they just dragged us back to the fifteen hundreds to try to keep you away from Maggie.”

  Lachlan nodded tiredly. “I havena forgotten. If it wasna for you and your quick thinking, we’d still be stuck hundreds of years in the past.”

  Leaving the Morrigan free to spread chaos and poison throughout time.

  Kheladin twisted his long stalk of a neck and looked pointedly at the spot between his wings. Lachlan drew magic and vaulted into place.

  “Is the invitation to bring my coven to your cave still open?” Mauvreen asked, hope shining from her amber eyes.

  “Of course. I’ll join you there once Lachlan and I return from the Isle of Skye.” The dragon spread his wings.

  “Thanks. See you soon.” Mauvreen winked. “We can finish our conversation then.”

  “Ye’ll have to remind me where we left off,” the dragon called.

  “Glad to.” Mauvreen turned and walked toward the house.

  “I’d love to fly with you,” Lachlan told the dragon, “but doona ye think we should use magic to travel?”

  “I miss the time we came from,” Kheladin grumbled.

  “Aye, I understand, yet we willna accomplish anything if some modern do-gooder sees us and tries to shoot us out of the sky.”

  Kheladin folded his wings. “I would kill them.”

  “And then we would be in even deeper trouble. We havena spent long in this era. ’Twould be wise for us to blend in as best we can.” Lachlan summoned a traveling spell. He visualized the standing stone circle on the Isle of Skye and took them there. He wasn’t certain he’d find any of the Celts, but the stones held a great deal of ancient power. If the Celts were elsewhere, perhaps one would notice him waiting and deign to come.

  He cast invisibility about himself and his dragon. No point in scaring the hell out of tourists who might be visiting the standing stones. He had ways of getting rid of them, but he had to be closer to accomplish them. He smelled the salt air before he saw the sacred circle.

  Deserted.

  Lady luck was with him. He glanced at a clear blue sky and imagined a thundercloud or two. A few drops pattered down, settling into a steady downpour. Nothing like a little rain to discourage stray visitors. Kheladin dug into the sand, his jaws parted in his approximation of a grin. Lachlan jumped down, using magic to soften his landing. The dragon was large enough, falling from his back would be like tumbling off a six foot precipice.

  Lachlan settled in to wait, creating a minor spell to divert rain from the top of his head.

  “’Tis good to see you happy.” Kheladin nudged him with his snout.

  “Aye. Maggie is everything my dreams were made of.” Lachlan twisted so he looked Kheladin in the eye. “She makes up for having to live in the midst of concrete, asphalt, toxic water, and poisoned air.”

  The dragon snorted steam. “She said she’d be willing to come back to the fifteen or sixteen hundreds with us, for at least part of the time.”

  “Aye, that she did.” Lachlan leaned against Kheladin’s warm scales and lapsed into thought. Maggie was his destiny. Their pairing was foretold eons ago and held enough magic to save the world from the Morrigan and her henchmen, which was why Rhukon tried so hard to corral both him and Maggie, and keep them apart.

  Rhukon had even gone so far as to separate Maggie from the dream world, intent on capturing her. Thank the goddess, her magic was potent enough to stymie him. She’d been frantic, and her efforts fueled by fear, but it was hard to argue with success.

  In spite of R
hukon, the Morrigan, and the red wyvern, the pull of destiny was impossible to deny. Lachlan found Maggie despite all of it. Or she found him. That they were together infuriated the Morrigan. She upped the ante and escalated from an annoyance to an outright menace. Even though Mary Elma cautioned him the Celtic gods were unlikely to help—something Lachlan already knew—both of them saw today’s journey as necessary.

  Light leached from the long, summer’s day. Lachlan was getting ready to tell Kheladin it was high time they left. If the Celts knew he stood in their sacred circle, they apparently weren’t going to acknowledge him. He could force the issue by calling for them directly, but didn’t wish to anger them. The air shimmered off to one side. Lachlan blinked. When his vision cleared, Ceridwen, Gwydion, and Arawn stood in a semicircle, glowering.

  Ceridwen, goddess of the world, crossed her arms over her chest. Long black hair, shot with silver, cascaded down her robed body. “We know what ye want,” she said without preamble, and certainly without so much as a greeting to preface her stark words.

  “Aye.” Gwydion, master enchanter and warrior magician, blew out a tired sounding sigh. Blond hair wafted about him, dampening quickly from the rain. He jabbed a richly carved wooden staff into the ground for emphasis. “’Tisn’t as if ye havena asked afore.”

  Lachlan focused his gaze on Arawn, god of the dead. Today his midnight-dark hair was plaited and his dark eyes solemn. “Ye must figure this problem out on your own,” the god of the underworld said.

  Ceridwen shook her head. Lightning flashed next to her, so Lachlan understood she was furious. “We almost dinna come.”

  “Aye,” Arawn added. “The reason ye waited for hours is because we argued about it.”

  “’Twas only my fondness for you that prevailed,” Gwydion muttered. “Doona push me, dragon shifter. I wouldna like to think ye’d take advantage of my good nature.”

  “But I havena even opened my mouth yet,” Lachlan protested.

  “Ye doona have to,” Ceridwen snapped. “We see what is within your mind.”

  Kheladin got to his feet and turned to face the gods. “The Morrigan is one of you,” he said flatly. “When a dragon misbehaves, we address it among ourselves. We doona foist the task off onto another race.”