Chasing Time

by Elena Lawson

  Just then the shifter who was clearing the space toward me from the bank jumped into the water, his arm reeled back to strike.

  Chapter 22

  ELLIS

  They should have returned by now.

  It’d been one hour and twenty-five minutes. She couldn’t have possibly gotten that far. Jasper’s raven would have spotted her. Or Alex would have caught up on horseback. Or—and I hoped this wasn’t the case—Everett could have sniffed her out…but if that happened, she might be in even more danger. When his beast came out…

  No. He wouldn’t allow it. Not anywhere near her. I put the thought aside and rummaged through the drawers on Alex’s desk, pulling ledgers and papers and broken quills from their dust-coated depths.

  Where were the maps? I knew Alex kept some here. His parents had acquired some fine ones when they’d first arrived from Scotland all those years ago. They may be outdated, but they would do the trick if I could just find them!

  I slammed the drawer closed with shaking fingers. What was wrong with me? What had this woman done to me? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this anxious.

  But, wait—that wasn’t quite true.

  I did remember, but I’d been trying to block out those memories for as long as I’d had them. I cringed as they tried to surge forward again, groping for a foothold at the forefront of my mind. The wounds created by them were still tender, and the re-opening of them would be more than I could bear right now.

  Don’t think about them. Don’t think about what they did to you. Who they took from you…

  No one was taking Beck away. Beck would live.

  She was so unlike what I was used to. I’d never beheld a woman like her. A wrecking ball with hair and a pretty face. Beck was a survivor. Not some helpless creature that needed constant monitoring.

  Then why did I have this sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach? Why did the mere thought of her failing to return make my pulse quicken and stomach twist, knotting as a fist rose to clench my damaged heart?

  I shook my head. Something was wrong. I could feel it. I continued my search, finding at last the amethyst scryer that belonged to Alex’s mother in the back of the bottom drawer. Good. That was one bit found. Now, just the map and a bit of hair and then I’d have the peace of mind of knowing where she was. Perhaps she was already on her way back.

  Perhaps the scryer would show me that she was close by and I could depart to retrieve her at once. The others had left in a flurry to go and find her, not wanting to waste time looking for the instruments to complete the spell. And not knowing if we could even find anything of hers with a strong enough connection to locate her.

  I had to hope that a single, waving brown hair I’d found atop her pillow would be enough. I understood someone needed to wait behind in case she returned, but that didn’t mean I needed to remain idle. It didn’t mean that I couldn’t still help in whatever way I was able.

  I just needed the blasted map.

  Ah!

  A rolled bit of parchment jutted out from a shelf near the window, and I stood on the toes of my boots to reach it, sliding it and a plume of dust from the shelf. I coughed, the sound barely audible, and choked as the dust rained down around me, settling on my skin and discoloring the shoulders of my dark jacket.

  Not wasting a moment, I swept the items from the top of Alex’s desk, a rush of power surging up through the balls of my feet, coiling through my core until it rested in a place somewhere just behind my breastbone—smaller tendrils curling out to tingle my extremities—to sing in my blood.

  The rush was pure and fast-moving. Like it always was when I called it.

  It’d been hell hiding it for as long as I’d had to before I met the guys. It was always there, tapping at my subconscious, whispering how it wanted its freedom.

  I never thought I’d have that freedom again.

  A small smile tugged at one corner of my mouth as I shivered in pleasure.

  I spread the map out atop the wooden surface of the desk and collected several weighted objects from the mess I’d made on the floor to hold it in place. I tossed the crystal scryer down and drew the silk napkin from my breast pocket, unfolding it gently to uncover the single hair it contained.

  I closed it in one fist and picked up the tarnished silver chain of the scryer in the other, holding it with a steady hand over the map.

  It was time to bring Beck home.

  Chapter 23

  BECK

  I had just enough time to gasp and recoil before the shifter struck.

  But the blow never came. An ominous roar split the night, and I regained my footing to see a flash of red hair and the glint of metal in the moonlight. The long blade plunged into the shifter’s inner thigh, and a river of crimson cascaded down his leg, steaming in the cold night air.

  The shifter cried out as the man who attacked him yanked the blade free, tossing his hair back from his eyes. My lips parted in surprise and my heart—still hammering in my chest—ached when I realized I knew this man. It was Alex.

  He…he’d come for me…

  Tears welled in my eyes and my will to live—to fight—was strengthened. There were two of us now. Surely, we could…

  “Alex, watch out!” I screamed as a black wolf charged down from the top of the bank, leaping into the air. I watched in awestruck horror as the beast sailed through the shadows as though on the back of the wind itself, teeth bared in a feral, frothing snarl. Eyes wild and glowing bright reddish amber.

  Alex turned as the wolf descended upon him, his blade raised.

  Distantly, I heard a sound like thunder. Like the pounding of rain on hard ground. Or the sound of a shovel driving into the earth.

  I heard Sorcha before I saw her. A marvel of equine muscle—her black mane wild as she reared her front legs and plowed into the shifter. The high-pitched whine of the animal as it was slammed into a tree and fell to the ground, half-way shifted back into man, assaulted my ears. But Sorcha was far from done. The horse lifted its front hooves again and again and again—stomping the shifter into the damp dirt until it didn’t emit even the smallest of sounds anymore.

  Until it was silent and still.

  Alex whistled, and Sorcha finally stopped, shaking her great head—her black eyes wide and wild. Great plumes of hot breath clouded in front of her face. Her sides heaved.

  “Home,” Alex commanded her, and with a look so intelligent it bordered on creepy, the horse indignantly chortled at Alex and then stalked off as though it’d done nothing wrong at all. Trotting at first, and then breaking into a full run as soon as she was far enough away from the shifters watching her with twitchy clawed fingers and bright eyes.

  The groan behind me jolted me out of my shocked stillness and reminded me that the danger wasn’t yet over. The shifter who attacked me was still in the water, and the others—the ones who were waiting along the banks—watched Alex and I with varying expressions of wary, menace, and something like hunger that made my insides twist.

  Fuck. Did…did shifters eat humans?

  I trudged the rest of the way to where Alex was standing—the shifter he’d stabbed in the thigh a few feet away, trying to crawl to where one of his mates waited just outside of the tree line.

  Once I was close enough, Alex reached out a hand to me, and I took it, allowing him to pull me behind him. The grimy stickiness coating his hand made my stomach turn again. I refused to look down—to check and see if what I was feeling in the grooves and calluses of his palms, in the press of his fingers—was blood.

  “What are you waiting for!” The shifter in the water bellowed hoarsely, baring his canine teeth at the shifters surrounding us from virtually all sides. “Kill them!”

  My stomach dropped, and I drew in a shaking breath.

  One, two, three, four, five…six…

  Seven.

  There were still seven of them that I could see including the shifter who attacked me—but he didn’t look like he was planning on doin
g any fighting himself. No. He looked like he was going to make his little lackeys do it for him.

  It didn’t matter either way.

  Even six was more than we could take on our own. Especially since I barely felt as if I could raise a fist—the cold making my muscles spasm and my bones ache—much less throw a half-decent punch.

  Wouldn’t stop me from trying, though.

  The shifters began closing in on us, and Alex tucked me in behind him, pressing his back against mine. I felt his breaths rise and fall—calmer than mine—but still quickened. If he was as terrified as I was, he was doing a damned good job of hiding it.

  “Alex…” I whispered, unsure what exactly I was going to say. Thank you for trying? You never should have come looking for me?

  Damn it.

  In the end, I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. “I’m sorry,” I said finally, not knowing what else to say.

  I felt more than saw him shake his head and for the briefest second I caught his scent of wild heather and horses. It soothed me enough that my thoughts cleared—became sharper. “No lass, it’s I who should be apologizin’ to you,” he whispered back, adjusting his position as the shifters closed in around us. “But we havena time for that now. Ye’re a bonny fighter, Beck. Show me what you can do.”

  Immediately, I felt my core tighten and my stance widen, my sodden boots pressing hard into the ground. Despite myself, I smiled, nodding my agreement and readied myself for the fight of my life.

  The shifter closest to my right changed into wolf form before my eyes. His flesh rippling into blackish fur—his bones and joints popping and cracking.

  The sound was so horrific it made my skin crawl.

  “Stay close to my side,” Alex whispered harshly, and I caught the flare of something orange in his hand. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought it was a flashlight, but judging by how the shifters seemed to have stopped in their slow advance—I knew it was something more dangerous.

  I was trying to see what it was he had, but I was too afraid to take my eyes off the shifter in the water and the two others flanking him. He was watching my back, and I had to watch his. It was our only chance of surviving this.

  A snap from above the bank had me snapping my gaze east, anticipating an attack. A loud caw sounded from above, and a shadow passed over the face of the moon.

  Alex made a sound of relief, and I spun just as two running shapes came into view through the trees. The glint of metal on a mask. And the hulking, heaving mass of Everett.

  I’d have recognized their shapes anywhere.

  The shifter in the water charged. I thought he was coming for me, and I tensed for the attack, but he only barreled past me, knocking hard into my shoulder to send me sprawling to the ground. I landed in the dirt with an oomf and the air knocked from my lungs—my left hip aching.

  He wasn’t coming for me, I realized with a start, lifting my head to find his true target—he was going after Everett.

  Everett was the largest threat here, I thought. He was the biggest. Probably the strongest. And there was something else about him, too. Something I couldn’t name or put my finger on—but I got the distinct feeling from the very first moment I laid eyes on him that he was not a man to cross. There was more than fury and power in his eyes. There was something dangerous there, too.

  Something less than human.

  “No,” I breathed, trying to stand and regain the lost air in my lungs, shocked at how the thought of him being hurt sent my heart back into a broken, discordant rhythm.

  This was Everett.

  Everett hates me.

  Everett is a total dick.

  And yet…I was already chasing after the shifter intent to hurt him because there was something else, too…

  Everett never turned me away.

  Black spots still danced in the corners of my vision from landing too hard on the ground. I wouldn’t allow any of them to be hurt because of me. I couldn’t stand it.

  Alex reached out to attempt to pull me back, but the charge of their leader had sent the others into a frenzy, and Alex had his hands full as two charged for him.

  No.

  Godfuckingdamnit!

  I stilled mid-step. Alex needed my help.

  The shifter named William would reach Jasper and Everett any second.

  And there were more still. More shifters speeding through the trees, jumping from the other side of the stream to join in the assault.

  Frantic, my blood buzzing in my veins, I clenched my hands into fists and screamed, “Stop!”

  My vision swam and my head spun. I thought I heard a strange groaning sound, though for all I knew amid the chaos of the moment and the raucous beating of my heart it could have been me.

  The ground trembled beneath me. Or maybe I was the one trembling.

  It didn’t matter. I shook my head, clearing my vision, huffing clouds of moisture into the air around my face. They’d all stopped—or at least slowed. Seemingly waiting—but for what I didn’t know.

  Alex slammed an elbow into the shifter who had an arm around his neck, and the wolf-man released him, hunching over to hold his gut. The momentary confusion I caused with my screaming managed to free him, and as I spun back to face Everett, I found him seething, his great big hand wrapped like a vise around the neck of the shifter who attacked me, Jasper at his side was in a fighter’s stance in case either of the two other shifters circling them decided to attack.

  William writhed in Everett’s grip, but the brute didn’t falter. If anything, he only squeezed tighter. If he lifted the shifter another inch, his worn boots would leave the ground. Everett’s face was red—his eyes wild. His other hand at his side clenched and unclenched as though he was exerting a great deal of restraint to keep from popping the guy’s head clean off his shoulders as a child would pop the head off a dandelion.

  Shit.

  “Stand down…you idiots!” William said, his voice barely audible—strained and broken beneath Everett’s fist.

  The shifters retreated a bit. Ceased their circling movements, listening to their leader.

  I heard the metallic shink as Alex sheathed his blade behind me and moved over the sodden ground to stand at my side. I flinched when he placed a gentle hand on my waist, attempting to draw me near to him.

  He stopped at my hesitance. “It’s all right, lass. Here,” he said and opened his cloak, beckoning me into its warmth. “I won’t hurt ye, Rebecca. Come before you freeze.”

  I swallowed down my discomfort and waded into the warmth of his body heat and the cover of the cloak as it blocked the cool wind. He wrapped the wooly material around me and chaffed my arms beneath, tucking my head in the crook beneath his chin.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tear you apart,” Everett spat at the shifter, and the strangled noise he emitted told me Everett wasn’t about to allow him to come up with any reasons. He was murderous. I could see it in his eyes.

  I began to move towards him, and Alex moved with me. I glanced at the red-headed Scot, finding a dirt-streaked face and brilliant blue-green eyes that seemed to understand my intent. He offered one tight nod. We needed to stop Everett.

  We couldn’t let him kill the guy, could we?

  Not with all these witnesses.

  He’d go to prison—or…no, wait…this was the nineteenth century. He could be hanged. Or drawn and quartered? Oh fuck…I didn’t know—but I knew that I wouldn’t forgive myself if he was thrown in a cell or died all because some girl he somehow felt was his responsibility ran off into the woods after he blatantly told her it wasn’t safe to do so.

  I’m an idiot.

  A total fucking idiot.

  “Everett,” I started, trying to keep my voice low and steady—calm.

  He didn’t take his eyes from the shifter, and as we neared his side, I could see how he was working his jaw. Grinding his teeth beneath his lips. “Everett,” I tried again, my heart thrumming harder now—so hard my stomach was flut
tering. “Don’t kill him.”

  That seemed to get his attention and his brilliant brown eyes met mine in the moonlit dim. “What?”

  “Don’t…just—just let him go.”

  He cocked his head at me, and I saw the shifter’s mouth open as though he was going to say something, but Everett’s grip on his throat was too tight.

  Everett didn’t respond—he only looked back at the piece of shit writhing in his grasp.

  I looked at him, too. I shuddered in Alex’s arms as I remembered the push of his knee against my thigh—the press of his erection against my hip as he tried to force his way between my legs. I almost gagged.

  Maybe he should die, a voice not entirely my own hissed inside my mind. It’s because of filth like him that mom never came home.

  If we let him go, would he hurt someone else like he almost hurt me? Scar someone for life?

  I threw Alex’s arms off me and tore off the cloak, closing the short gap between me and the shifter. I wound up and kicked him between the legs with everything I had. His face paled instantly, and a silent scream parted his lips—his body spasmed all over.

  I saw both Everett and Jasper flinch out of the corner of my eye.

  “You’re lucky I don’t cut it off,” I hissed, suddenly so hot that sweat was beading along my hairline and across my chest.

  “Did he…?” Jasper trailed off, and I saw how his question registered in Alex and Everett’s expressions—their brows going up—their rage rekindling.

  Everett’s grip on the shifter tightened even more. He would pass out from the lack of oxygen soon.

  The other shifters around us were growing restless, I could tell.

  There were only five left standing—the other few looked too injured to fight.

  Our odds were better, but still not great.

  And if Everett killed the shifter—they’d either attack in full-force to avenge their fallen leader…or they’d run. I’d like to think it would be the latter, but there was no way to be certain.