by K H Lemoyne
“Yes. I can sense what goes on inside of people: their skills and emotions.”
This wasn’t good. She didn’t need him to dissect her. Before she could move, he placed a hand over hers and locked her in place with a shake of his head.
“Erase that look. I can’t read your mind. I detect emotions—fear, trust, doubt. I could feel you connecting with the girl because she is also open to me. And while you block me from delving too deeply inside of you, your expressions give you away.”
Her hand remained stiff beneath his. He hadn’t threatened her. Despite that, an uncontrollable shiver coursed through her. A delicious shiver. She’d never been open to another being. The idea of such primitive exposure to another human made her feel emotionally naked.
He moved his hand away, as if aware of her thoughts. “You’ve shared my power, like you did Robert’s strength. And you know I’m not lying to you.”
Yes, she could sense the truth from him. It didn’t make her feel less vulnerable.
“I don’t believe you’re capable of launching the portals. At least not alone. It would take incredible energy, knowledge, and skill.” He frowned, as if considering the possibility. “I suspect it involves an extreme in the power spectrum. Even with our help, locking down the girl’s powers drained you. That was a delicate, subtle process. The portals are rapid bursts of force. The effort would drain a body not equipped to handle the flow and surge.”
“I’m not powerful enough to create the change.” She nodded and looked away, hating the cold edge in her voice and the tight constriction inside her chest.
“Actually, you’re very powerful. Your skills are just oriented toward mental actions, not physical ones. A less volatile power, not less important.”
“How did you know so much about this? All the details, nuances?”
His smile disappeared, leaving his expression an inscrutable mask. For a brief second she regretted her waspish remark. Uncertainty expanded with a flush of heat to her face.
“Attention to detail is the only thing keeping my family alive.” His features twisted with annoyance. “I’m won’t play stupid and give you time to create a new excuse, Bri. I know you saw me across the window between our worlds. I don’t understand our connection, but we have one. I’m looking for answers to murders in my family. The path led here. My choices are limited to the hand dealt me, so I refused to waste time questioning the reasons for helping you or the child.”
“You don’t know anything about me. You’ve no idea what kind of things I’m capable of.” As she spoke the words, the emptiness they generated touched deep into the darkest part of her.
“Right now I’m applying logic, not faith.” He squeezed her hand again. “I don’t believe you are responsible for the burden you’re forcing on yourself.”
“You’re too trusting.”
“No. I’m not.”
She pursed her lips. “I wanted that kind of power.” Her words came out in a whisper, like a horrible confession, yet he surprised her with a slight smile.
“Wanting doesn’t make it so.”
“I would have used the power, if I’d had it.”
He pulled her hand back between them to a warm section of the bench, his fingers like a blanket covering hers, secure and comforting. “Everyone wants superpowers. And you’re not special in having strong desires—a dark side. We all do.”
“What’s yours?”
His expression sobered. “I killed a man, without remorse. I’d do it again without hesitation.”
“Saving people you care about? Hardly evil.”
“A dark side doesn’t make one evil. It only makes us human.”
He waited for her to continue. If she chose silence, she knew he’d end this discussion. However, they were here, with the first potential for change since she’d come through the portal.
Instead of cowardice, she could bare her soul a little. She hadn’t expected saying the words aloud to take courage. His expression remained calm, but a glint of acceptance in his eyes encouraged her. No doubt, it would diminish before she finished.
“I hid when my homeland was invaded.” She looked out toward the bay and pulled her hand away, disconnecting before he did so first. She traced her fingers along the side seam of her pants and held on to the tactile sensation of the leather to ground her. “The sorcerer’s scouts found everyone. The wards in my mother’s study hid me while I searched for a way to leverage magic against the enemy.”
She knew her voice was rising with anger at the memories, but she couldn’t stop her fury. “I wasn’t supposed to embrace powerful magic.” Though my brothers had merited that privilege, she thought with a fleeting twinge of envy.
“You figured out how anyway.”
Her head whipped back, and she checked his expression. He looked amused.
“You were a kid, Bri. Sixteen, remember? Teenagers excel in rebellion.”
Definitely too trusting. “I used what I’d learned. I got as close as possible to where my brothers were held hostage—I intended to send us clear of the sorcerer’s forces. The last thing I heard was my mother’s voice, her spell.” She choked back the memory of the darkness and nausea. “Then she called to me. I’ve done this to myself…to all of us.”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No amount of my telling you otherwise will convince you that you didn’t open the portal, so I won’t bother.”
She blinked back her tears. “It’s obvious you don’t want me to waste time on guilt.”
“Manipulative bastard, aren’t I?”
She smiled in spite of herself. She found it hard to remain upset when he kept countering with logic and humor.
“I gather from your sense of guilt”—he quirked his brow—“invoking dimensional portals carries consequences?”
“The answer to that would be yes. I just can’t read what it is,” Robert said as he approached, his shadow covering the basket. Bri glanced up and frowned at the book in his hand.
“That is mine,” she snapped.
“It was tucked in with our belongings.” Robert palmed the book’s spine, flipping through the pages. “After a glance, I decided it warranted further review.”
Fighting the urge to snatch it from him, Bri closed her eyes and counted to ten. What was the harm? She’d read her mother’s book from cover to cover and found only history lessons. A waste of time spent retrieving the worthless journal with no great revelations for her effort. The best thing she could do was avoid hiding behind her immature actions like a child.
Robert held out the book. She waved it away. “No, keep it. And I’m sorry, but it contains nothing of value.”
“Hard to determine the value without reading it. The symbol in here took me by surprise, though.” Robert held the open book before Logan.
Logan turned the page too quickly for her to make out what Robert noted, but she puzzled at the gleam of highlighted symbols and words interlaced with the prim black script. She leaned closer, then stared at Robert. “How did you do this? Those symbols weren’t there before.”
“Not me.” He shrugged. “The symbols reveal themselves as I turned the pages. I don’t know what they mean, except that one.”
Logan took the book and ran a finger down the last page of text. Only delicate, black scrolling letters covered the last half of the book. He held it up. As Robert flipped through the last several pages, symbols and words filled in all the empty spaces.
“I still can’t read them.” Robert said.
“I can.” Logan turned back to the page Robert had flagged, and ran his finger over the symbols. He glanced at Bri. “Would you mind if I go through your book?”
“Be my guest.”
“Any idea why our MacKenzie emblem is referenced in a book from another dimension?” Robert directed the question at Logan, but from his expression, he expected an answer from her.
She looked from the colored depiction—a furrowed oak covered with spiral trefoils, speared by a lightnin
g bolt held in the talons of an owl—to the signet ring on Logan’s finger, which bore the identical image. Home. Family. Loved ones. Blinking hard, she forced back a burst of shock so violent it robbed her of breath. She prayed neither man noticed. She wasn’t in the mood to share.
“The portals are referenced here. There’s a section on the sentinels guarding them.” Logan’s brows pulled together. “The Makir bloodline was refused entry to the final dimension—Tir Thar.” He looked up at her but didn’t wait for her concurrence.
She nodded. “My world.”
“They were commanded to remain and protect the other dimensions,” he continued. “Should the portal locks fail, the bloodline would hold the last line of defense.”
He passed the book back to Robert. “I need you to go through the other pages and reveal the subtext.”
The basket shifted on Briallen’s lap. Logan grabbed a pod and squeezed several beans into the growing pile. “Was that the only thing you brought with you?”
“Yes, I...yes.” She considered telling him of the knife. However, she’d reached her limit on how much of her soul she could expose in a day. Besides, it was a useless tool.
“I don’t suppose you credit yourself with bringing the book?”
“Hardly. It was all I could find.” At least the only thing of her mother’s small enough to hide within her clothes.
“Too much of a coincidence.” Robert flipped a page, ran his finger to the bottom, processed the next page, and continued. “You bring the book, I reveal the text, and Logan can read the gibberish.”
She opened her mouth to object, but unable to come up with a response she glanced Logan’s way. His smile widened as his fingers snapped another pod of beans into her lap with a shrug.
“It’s part of your skill. I don’t care if you believe me. Interactions aren’t random. Granted, the cycle took nine years. But there’s probably a reason for that as well.”
Uneasy with the direction of his conversation, she considered the two men. “Why do you think you’ll find the answers to your family’s murders in this dimension?”
“The killer isn’t human.” Logan glanced at Robert, whose hand had paused at the top of a page.
Neither man showed any emotion. But their determination and conviction was so strong she wasn’t sure what to say.
“Our family members didn’t just die. The murderer left marks. Personal items were missing from each body.” Logan turned his clenched fist around until the sun sparkled off his ring. “They tried to take this from my father.”
Like a sudden change in the temperature, awareness of the intersection of their plights awoke inside of her. Hard, strong hooks tugged in her chest, pulling with an irresistible force and an overwhelming sense of rightness. “The marks, were they dark burns? Visible even on fire-damaged skin?”
“Yes. What can do that?” Robert’s voice came, as though filtered from a distance, as she stared at Logan.
“Minions. Soulless creations imbued with one purpose: to seek their target and destroy its existence.”
Logan broke their gaze first. “We’re in the right place, then.”
Panic swelled in her throat. A pod snapped in her fingers at the memories of her last few years. She’d spent her time in search of her brothers. And for some reason, perhaps because she’d encountered no one else from her family, she’d never considered the minions might be close behind. She’d also made the assumption, right or wrong, that her arrival in this world was an accident—untraceable. “I’ve seen no signs of them.”
“Do you know how they find their victims?”
She shook her head.
“Perhaps the book will give us answers,” Logan said. With a calm voice and steady fingers, he picked up her abandoned bean pod. A faint undercurrent of his intensity shimmered across her skin and pulsed in rhythm with her heart.
Robert handed the book back with a frown and sat on a stump several feet away. “How long will it take you to go through it?”
“A day, maybe two—here’s the section on the portal price.” Logan scowled. The line between his brows deepened as he read down the page.
She kept quiet, pinching pods and avoiding Robert’s stare.
“Blood or life boon.” Logan flipped a page. “How isn’t spelled out, but the implication is life or death, blood referenced by soul and flesh. This isn’t a minor incantation with a few drops of blood and eye of newt. I’m grateful this isn’t a power you harness, Bri.” Logan grimaced, then gave her a quick, brief glance and covered her hand with his. All expressions of humor vanished from his face. “You wouldn’t have survived this invocation without killing someone or dying yourself.”
She swallowed hard and pretended comfort from his words. If only she could believe him. Robert’s tightly pressed lips said he believed. But if Logan was right, who had paid the price? “Then how—”
“I don’t know.” He closed the book as Hefin exited the cottage.
“Grainne needs help with the child,” Hefin said.
With a hold on her elbow, Logan delayed her a minute. “We’ll figure this out. None of us is losing nine more years. I promise.”
“The kettle should be boiling by the time I return with fresh tree oil and Baber’s root. Hold the child upright so she can breathe in the steam,” Grainne said.
Bri nodded.
However, Logan glanced suspiciously from the girl to the cast iron contraption set at the side of the pit and then to her. “Can’t you make a cup of water steam instead?”
Designed with a pot for boiling water below and a basket in the center and a top with snakelike protrusions, the steamer gently hissed.
She opened her hands for a second and then shook her head. “I can’t maintain the process for long. Grainne adds an herb mixture to the water, then prolonged steaming works its healing power.”
“I’ll hold her. Wouldn’t want her to slip onto that contraption.” He lifted the child into his arms, situating her on his lap.
As he braced the girl against his chest, Bri considered how strange it was referring to this child as if she had no past or place. “We should give her a name.”
“Mary. Margaret. Both were common for medieval times,” Robert voiced from the doorway.
Logan shook his head. “Might put a bull’s-eye on her.”
“Too close to your guess on identity?” Robert settled on the bench at the far end of the table.
“Well, I could be wrong on this, but…” Logan glanced toward Hefin, who was settling into his chair.
“Not likely,” Robert snorted. “You deal with antiques and history for a living. Just spit it out.”
“Margaret, the Maid of Norway. In our time, she was ten or twelve years old, heir to the Scottish throne and promised in marriage to King Edward’s son.”
“Married off at twelve? That’s rough.” At Robert’s thick tone, Bri glanced between him and Logan.
Logan only shifted the girl higher against his shoulder and checked her pulse. Bri handed him a cool cloth. He gave her a smile in return, and studied her face for a moment, before he turned his attention away.
“Here, Margaret will only succeed if her uncle, David, and his son, Thomas, die,” Hefin added.
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “David? Son of—”
“Alexander the third,” Hefin stated with a brusque nod. “He’s quite hearty, I hear. But this child, if she is Margaret, just lost her parents. Word from the north claims the northern stronghold fell to invasion a month ago. No word has reached us of the child’s death or survival.”
“In our world, David passed away as a child. Alexander outlived all his children, and Margaret died on her way to Scotland, on board her father’s ship.” Logan fell silent.
“The ship I saw wasn’t large, well maintained, or fit with flags or emblems as I’d expect from a king’s vessel. The men we—well, they weren’t royal crewman or even warriors. I’d also like to believe the royal escorts are capable of running down a pirate ship
and saving her.” Robert’s thumb tapped away as he worked through the puzzle. “Evidently, history doesn’t follow precedence in each dimension. Wonder what skills good King David has, or his mother? Magical or otherwise.” Robert added. “If she isn’t in line for the throne—”
“Lineage is always a threat,” Hefin added.
Logan glanced back at him thoughtfully. “I’m curious how her powers play into her abduction. Likely she has enemies who want to control or remove her because of them.”
“Her own people should be looking for her, too.” Robert’s scowl deepened. “Unless they have a reason not to.”
“Not if most consider her dead. She might be a pawn for power or magic.” The old man crossed his arms and legs and scowled at the child.
“Especially if she possesses a dangerous magical power?” Logan frowned silently for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “We’ve remedied that for the time being. Not sure what happens once she regains consciousness and heals.”
“We can’t guarantee her survival.” Robert’s scrutiny was unreadable.
“It’s not a life boon if we don’t—a debt paid to me for securing her life,” Logan said.
Bri looked between them. Logan deciphering her book still weighed on her thoughts. What bothered her more was she understood his point. “She would’ve died here if you hadn’t shown up. So she’s the payment for your family’s safety?”
Robert shifted his weight on the bench and a scuffing noise echoed in the room. His gaze, like Hefin’s, hadn’t strayed from the girl’s face.
Logan nodded. “I think saving her life is the price we pay. Not that we wouldn’t try anyway.” Steady and even, he held her gaze. A tingle tickled in Bri’s stomach and expanded throughout her body. No matter what, he’d battle for this child. Probably any child.
“Major power seeks its like. The portals fall into that category. If you consider the portal a product of physical energy, a life would be equivalent. Give and take.” She gave an involuntary shudder at the comparison. “Why this child?”
“She’s an innocent,” Hefin said from the shadow of his chair.
“I doubt it matters, since we didn’t get a choice about who we save. The only thing required is for us to act on our belief in what’s right.” Logan glanced over his shoulder and followed Grainne’s progress to the fire.
