by T. M. Cromer
“Explain what’s going on with the Council, Nash. We have the right to know what we’re getting into by staying,” Quentin said.
Her brother sat in one of the two armchairs across from them. “Information about the Cheirotonia Scroll and Alastair’s need of it has come to light. It’s no secret the Council isn’t his biggest fan.”
“They sent you to stop us?”
“Initially they came to me,” he said by way of confirming Holly’s suspicion. “I told them no. But that only means they’ll alert a contact on this side of the world.”
“Selene.”
Holly twisted to face Quentin. “Do you suppose that’s why she approached you in the restaurant? That she already knows who you are?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Then how are you going to get in good with her?”
He squinted in Nash’s direction. “Any hope that Selene Barringer might not be the person they turn to?”
Nash shook his head. “But she doesn’t know me. We could formulate a new plan.”
“I don’t think that would work, brother. As much as you detest the fact, you are the spitting image of our father. Even your mannerisms resemble his.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told.” The grimace on his face told everyone he resented any comments to that effect. “However, I can alter my appearance.”
“I need to be the one to get the scroll.”
“Quentin, I appreciate what you are trying to do for my mother, but—”
“No, love. I need to be the one. If I don’t touch that scroll, I can’t save you from Beau and Michelle.”
Chapter 10
“What the hell are you talking about? Achoo!”
Quentin raised his fist to magically stem off an avian attack on the building. Holly’s fierce question triggered an equally fierce result. When he was certain an influx of birds wasn’t imminent, he faced brother and sister. Their twin looks of confusion were about to turn to disbelief when he revealed what he knew about the past and the scroll.
“First and foremost, I’m not crazy. We should establish that right from the get-go.” He sighed when Holly scrunched up her face in concern. “Second, I’m not sure how it worked for my future self, but the night Holly was assaulted by Beau and Michelle, it was future me who came and warned me it was going to happen.”
“What? How can there be two of you, and what do you mean by future you?”
In order to convey his seriousness, he looked Holly dead in the eye. “I came back from the future to make sure you didn’t wind up a corpse that night.”
She scrambled off his lap, and her look of horror was a clear indication she thought he’d snapped.
“Hol, I’m not nuts.” Quentin rose and moved toward her. When she backed away, hands in the air, he sighed his frustration. A quick glance in Nash’s direction showed that at least her brother considered the idea of time travel possible. “Please keep an open mind while I explain.” At Nash’s nod, he continued, “Future me came to the restaurant earlier that night. He cornered me before I walked through the door and told me everything. Or at least everything having to do with the attack.”
Quentin frowned as he tried to recall what was said that night.
“I swear, I thought I was having a psychotic break. But he told me things that hadn’t happened yet. Told me minute-by-minute details of how the next two hours would go. He made me promise if it all went down like he said it would, if you left with Beau after he grabbed your arm and tried to haul you away, I was to head to a specific address.” He faced Holly. “That address was for the cabin Beau took you to. All of it was a result of the scroll, Hol. It’s why I need it. I’m now future me, and I have to go back to warn past me.”
She shook her head and looked at her brother.
“I get that this is insane, love. But that parchment has strong magic. He told me that, too.”
“Did future you tell you how the heck you were supposed to get it?” Nash asked.
“You’re buying into this craziness, Nash?”
Quentin moved in front of Holly and stared down into her alarmed gaze. “I thought you said you trusted me.”
“I want to…” Her eyes shot to Nash again.
“I see.” Disappointment rode Quentin hard. Because he couldn’t bear to see the apprehension in Holly’s eyes, he moved to the window. He stared out over Athens, not seeing any of the city’s beauty.
For a few hours today, he’d thought maybe he and Holly stood a chance. Now, he knew differently. Now, he knew why future Quentin refused to reveal any details other than, together, they saved her life. In the end, no matter how much his romantic soul wanted to be the one who got the girl, in all likelihood, it wouldn’t come to pass. Their differences were too great.
“Quentin, please understand,” Holly said from beside him. “This all sounds so… so…”
He didn’t spare her a glance, only continued to stare unseeingly out toward the lit Parthenon in the distance. “Insane? Yeah, I know, Hol.”
When Holly’s hand settled on his lower back, he flinched. He wanted to yell. Wanted to tell her to keep her damned hands to herself. At the same time, he wanted to turn to her and pull her close, never letting her go. For that reason, he stepped away and returned to the sofa.
Perching on the edge, he balanced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him to address Nash. “I’m sure you think I’m nuts, too. But what else can you tell me about the scroll? Was there any indication as to how the Council found out about our mission?”
Nash’s penetrating stare made Quentin squirm inside. With a concerted effort, he maintained eye contact, shoving all the confidence he didn’t feel into a single look as he waited for Nash to respond.
“As a matter of fact, there was a whisper of a rumor that someone used the scroll to bend time. No one knows where or how the rumor started.”
“There are witches and warlocks who can bend time at will. How is this different?” Holly settled in the armchair beside Nash.
“Witches and warlocks have been known to stop time for mere seconds, sister. Bending time, messing with the whole time-continuum, and returning to the past? Yeah, that’s not normal and a whole other matter entirely. One that concerns the Powers That Be.”
“He’s not crazy?”
Swift rage flooded Quentin. His frayed temper finally snapped. “I’m right here, Holly!”
Her hand flew up toward her mouth.
“She didn’t mean—”
“Yes, she damned well did.” He’d had enough and cut Nash off. “Let Holly keep her suite, and you take my room, Nash. I have a few things to see to. I’ll meet up with you both over breakfast.”
“Quentin!” Holly’s cry fell on deaf ears.
Quentin didn’t wait for apologies or explanations. He didn’t dare. Not when the walls were closing in on him and his skin felt too small for his body. There was no telling what he would say in his anger.
With a clear image of the Temple of Athena, he closed his eyes, letting the magic heat his cells to almost burning. After arriving at his destination, he surveyed the area and berated himself for not sending out a magical feeler first. It was by the Goddess’s good grace that no one was present when he teleported to this location.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he approached the columns where the ancient power of the place called to him. The spirits of the old Greek gods and goddesses still lingered in the very air he breathed. He bowed his head as a sign of respect.
When the oppressive air lifted, Quentin moved forward and touched the stone column closest to him. This historic ruin was the perfect representation of how old and tired he felt. Should he feel this world weary at only twenty-nine years of age? He could only imagine how Alastair must feel. The man was three-quarters of a century old. He’d seen the seedier side of life, been subjected to countless tortures at the hands of two madmen, and suffered without the love of his life for the better part of twenty years. Yet, through
it all, Alastair had remained optimistic in his droll, arrogant way. As matchmaker to five couples, he had to have an element of the romantic soul himself, didn’t he?
Quentin sat. With his back to the column, he surveyed the horizon. There lay Athens; its bustling city on the verge of sleep, lights winking out even as he watched.
Tomorrow, he would be forced to meet with the Thorne siblings and devise a plan to retrieve the object he needed to save Holly and that Alastair needed to save Aurora Fennell-Thorne.
The similarities weren’t lost on him. Alastair loved a woman who wasn’t even his wife, but the wife of another, yet he would do whatever it took to save her life. Just as Quentin had done… er, would do. Yeah, the whole thing was a muddle. He didn’t blame Holly for thinking he was off his rocker.
Added to the mess now was the Witches’ Council.
“Why the hell wasn’t my future self more clear on how I’m expected to go about all this shit?” he muttered as he thunked his head back against the stone.
“Because your future self knew you had a tough decision to make.”
Quentin was up and shooting an icy blast of air in the direction of the newcomer before she’d finished her sentence. The force of his power scarcely ruffled her dark, upswept hair.
“Nicely done, child, but ineffective on a goddess of my stature.” She smiled, and it warmed a place he didn’t know was cold. Perhaps it was her blue eyes so similar to Holly’s in color, or maybe it was her open, friendly demeanor, but Quentin found himself mesmerized by the goddess before him.
“Forgive me, Exalted One.” He dropped to one knee in a show of deference.
“You may rise.” She glided forward, and the folds of her dress sparkled, reflecting the moonlight in its shimmering silver strands. “My, you are a tall one, Quentin Buchanan. Do you know who I am?”
“Since I’m standing in Athens, am I to assume you are Athena?”
Her laughter was musical in nature. “I’m impressed. Most would assume I am Nike. Throughout history, we’ve been confused.”
He shot her a half grin. “I can’t say I’m up on my Greek history. A failing for sure.”
Again, she laughed. “I like you, child. You have a boldness not seen in a lot of mortals these days.”
“I am honored.”
“I can see you truly mean that.” Athena’s head shifted slightly to the left as she studied him. “You have a warrior’s heart.”
“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”
“You also have the soul of a poet and true romantic.”
“I would call it a sucker for love, but I won’t argue.”
A broad smile graced her lips. “I see you have a humorous retort for every compliment. Why is that, do you suppose?”
He grinned in response to her smile. He was helpless against her beauty and charm. “I can’t say for certain.”
“I’m sure you could, but let us get back to your original question.”
His mind went blank. What the hell had he asked?
“Your future self,” she reminded him gently.
“Ah, yes. I was lamenting the fact he hadn’t told me more about this part of my life and how I was to get what I need.”
“Like I said, you have a decision to make.”
Together they stood overlooking the city named for her, letting the weight of her words sink in.
“I don’t know how to do that,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know how to choose between going back to save her and starting this cycle all over again, or making sure I never meet her in order for her to live her life without pain.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “It seems as if it should be a simple choice, doesn’t it? I should sacrifice our time together.” He rubbed a hand over his heart where he felt a widening crack at the idea of walking away from Holly. “But that year and a half we were together has carried me through until now. Hope springs eternal.”
“A difficult decision to be sure.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“How many times have we been here, you and I? How many times have I stood on this very spot, asking you in which direction I should go?”
She shifted and turned her solemn, wise eyes on him. “Time is a continuous loop. Humans rarely vary from their choices because they let emotion rule them.”
“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
“We’ve stood in this spot and replayed this exact conversation over three-hundred times on this plane or another.”
Stunned stupid, he could only stare.
“You always follow your heart, Quentin. You are true and strong, and it is why I come back to visit with you every time. You inspire me.”
“Does any of it work out in my favor in the end?”
“Is that a requirement for doing the right thing?”
He dropped his gaze and studied the worn stone at their feet. Was it? “No. No, it isn’t. I’ll save Holly no matter what it takes.”
“The heart of a warrior.”
He decided to ask the question that had been burning at the back of his brain since he learned of the scroll’s existence. “Is there any guarantee she won’t meet and marry Beau if I remove myself from the equation?”
“No.”
Quentin dropped his chin to his chest and inhaled deeply. He’d already guessed at the answer but to hear it spoken aloud was rough.
“But the Fates can be guided.”
He whipped his head around at the first sign of hope. “Would you do that for me?”
“I will wait to see what you decide.” Athena placed a petal-soft hand along his jaw. “Perhaps it is time for you to break the cycle, child.”
Unexpected tears burned behind his lids, and he closed his eyes against the sting. He’d only ever cried once before; the day Holly lay bleeding from her knife wound. But as emotion choked him now, he wished there were a better way. How could one man be so cursed as to lose everything and everyone he ever loved? First his parents as a small boy, then Holly as a young man, and now, once again, he was faced with having to walk away from her. Could he stand to lose her for good?
He voiced none of his pain, but he suspected Athena understood all the same. The gruffness in his voice was a dead giveaway of his inner turmoil when he said, “Thank you for your guidance, Exalted One.”
“Come, I will show you my favorite spot, and we shall have wine and break bread together. You will fall in love with my city.”
When Athena held out her arm, he didn’t hesitate to place her hand on his forearm and guide her, as would a gentleman of old.
“Should I be wary of eating or drinking anything from your world? Like the faeries, will I be enslaved?”
Her musical laughter echoed off the stones of the temple. “Would you care to be?”
“For you? Hell, yeah!”
“Quentin Buchanan, I believe you are what is referred to in your time as an incorrigible flirt.”
He chuckled and allowed himself to be carefree for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow’s tough choices would come all too soon.
Chapter 11
“Where the hell have you been? Achoo!”
Holly sounded like a shrill fishwife even to her own ears. So much for trying to remain calm and collected. She had planned to, but as the minutes turned to hours and the dawn lit the room through the windows, her practiced patience turned sour and eventually disintegrated. The second he appeared, she lost her shit.
Neither she nor Quentin anticipated her violent curse, and as a result, no less than thirty ravens settled on the balcony railing. En masse, their hoarse caws were deafening.
“Goddess!” Nash shouted through the open connecting doors from the other room. “Holly, curb your tongue, woman, or we will all be pecked to death.”
“Shut it!” she shouted in return, before turning her furious gaze on Quentin. “What the he—”
“Careful, Hol. You’re working up to an epic temper tantrum.”
She stormed to where he stood and punched his chest. She’d have aimed for his damned throat had she been tall enough. For that matter, why hadn’t she ever practiced levitation?
“Were you with her?”
“Her?” His dumbfounded expression told her he had no idea where she was coming from.
“Her. Selene,” she ground out.
His confused expression cleared, and he carefully blanked his features. “No. Not her.”
But he had been with a female. He wouldn’t have replied the way he had if he’d spent the night alone. That much Holly knew.
Her heart seized in her chest, and she found it difficult to breathe. She had no rights where he was concerned. She had destroyed any claim she had on him years ago, but it still hurt that he could casually disregard her feelings.
Holly spun away to hide her upset. She didn’t dare give in to her pain. If she did, she might break apart and ruin the whole mission. Careful to keep her voice neutral, she asked, “Do you need to catch a few hours of sleep before we order breakfast, or do you want to get the planning for the scroll retrieval out of the way first?”
“I’ll take a nap after breakfast. We can’t do anything before nightfall anyway.” She heard his sigh behind her. “I wasn’t with anyone else last night, Holly. Not the way you think anyway.”
“You don’t know what I think, Quentin. You always assume you do, but you don’t.”
“I’d ask if you care to enlighten me, but I’m not up for the argument right now. I have too much weighing on me today. Conjure or order what you and Nash want for breakfast. I’ll eat whatever is left over after my shower.”
She turned as he stalked toward the en suite bathroom. A large part of her wanted to rush after him. To beg his forgiveness for her adverse reaction to his time-travel claims last night. But an even bigger part understood he needed time to get over his pique with her.
“Quentin!”
He halted but didn’t face her.
“I don’t truly believe you are crazy. It’s only that the idea of time travel seems far out to me. Very Sci-Fi and unreal, ya know?”
