by Julianne Lee
The ear was pointed at the top.
Alex stared at it. Pointed. He blinked, then held the photo closer to the light, but the ear still curved forward at the top and came to a distinct point. Like Mr. Spock. Like....
Cold sweat broke out, and an unwanted image came to his mind. Nemed. That damned elf. Alex's chest tightened, and he backed against the counter. The world twisted into shapes he'd never known it could. It had been Nemed, the elfin king, who had taken himself and Lindsay to the fourteenth century. Nemed and Lindsay: he'd dreamed it once-a nightmare-but hadn't imagined it could have been true. Obviously he'd been both right and wrong. Nemed and Lindsay. It sickened him. His throat began to close, and breathing was an effort. Nemed and Lindsay. Now he knew where she'd gone, and why she hadn't so much as left a note.
He tossed the photo onto the counter and headed for the bedroom. A wooden crate sat at the bottom of the closet, and he tossed aside the clothing and shoes on top of it to haul it from there. The clothes stored inside, the hauberk, sark, trews, and tunic he'd been wearing on his return from the past, were missing. He knew where Lindsay had gone, and why.
"Oh, man." She really had gone to him. Alex sagged where he knelt. "Oh, Lindsay." Despair closed his throat and it was hard to breathe. He didn't want to believe it was true. His mind struggled for an explanation for this, but every avenue of thought led him back to the same conclusion: that Lindsay and Nemed were lovers, and they'd both taken the baby back to historical Scotland.
As the truth hardened in him, the heat of anger kindled and his skin began to flame with rage. There was no way he would let this just happen. He couldn't let that bastard do this to him. Nor Lindsay. She was his wife, and he'd trusted her. They would both answer for this, but first he had to find them.
His medieval clothing was gone, so he rose to look through his civilian clothing for something approximating what he would need. A pair of brown sweat pants and a long-tailed linen shirt looked good. Then a leather belt, with an oversized buckle that was nevertheless too small to be fashionable where he was headed, would have to do. She'd taken his gauntlets as well, and he cursed. He liked the spiked knuckles on those gloves. He'd have to find a new pair once he got there. His green plaid was still lying on the sofa, where it had functioned as a throw during the short time he'd had with Lindsay here. He dumped the change of clothing he'd brought with him from the ship to stuff the plaid and the quasi-medieval items into it.
Hungry and tired as he was after his flight in from the Persian Gulf, he couldn't think of stopping to eat or sleep. He took his bag, locked up the apartment, and headed for Heathrow to catch the first available flight to northern Scotland. Eilean Aonarach, the island he'd once ruled as laird. Danu was there. The faerie was immortal; she would surely be there still. She would know how to find Nemed. And therefore also Lindsay, and probably his son.
His wife's baby, in any case.
Coming to Bookview Cafe April 2, 2013
Other Books by Julianne Lee
Kindred Spirits
Interloper at Glencoe
Son of the Sword
writing as J. Ardian Lee
The Opening Night Murder
writing as Anne Rutherford
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