Time Bound

by Lora Andrews

  “It’s the same then?” Ewen ground out. “The wretch who killed my mother murdered these innocents?”

  “It would appear so.”

  Ewen expelled the breath he’d been holding.

  Brother Rupert crouched. Pressing his forefinger into the dirt, he drew a cross with an oval loop at the top. “The crux ansata is a representation of eternal life and is often depicted in Egyptian literature as such. Engravings on tombs and temples show the gods of Egypt holding the crux ansata while bestowing divine power upon their Pharaohs.” He tapped the earth beside the symbol he’d drawn. “But Egypt is not the only land where this symbol held prominence.”

  Rupert drew a circle around the cross.

  Ice crawled into Ewen’s veins. The victims, with their arms arched over their heads, resembled the crux ansata within the circle.

  “Before the time of the Druids there lived a great race, people who lived side by side with the gods in a world said to have marvels beyond our imagination. A civilization—”

  “Ewen!”

  The shout carried across the field from the direction of the glen where many of the villagers lived. Looking up over Brother Rupert’s head, Ewen saw Connor’s lad running over the hill at breakneck speed.

  “Ewen,” the boy shouted, waving frantically.

  Ewen sprinted to the pale-faced boy whose chest shuddered with heaving breaths.

  “She’s in the glen. Mama saw her in the glen. There are demons in the woods.”

  “Calm down, boy. Your mother saw who?”

  “Her,” he said gulping air. “The one who—”

  The raven-haired lass.

  Christ, no. Not another death. Ewen grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “Run to the keep and alert Ian. And do not leave until it’s safe to do so. Go.”

  He ran to the stables, shouting to Brother Rupert as he mounted his horse. “Follow the lad. Make sure he alerts Ian. Tell him to send my guard and notify the laird of all you have told me.”

  Before Brother Rupert could finish saying, “Go with God,” Ewen had galloped from the stables and raced across the fields toward the sighting. Behind him, the keep faded into the distance, disappearing into the hills he loved. He slowed, his neck prickling with warning as he scanned the woods.

  Where was she?

  Attackers burst from the forest, their battle cries ringing in the air.

  Without hesitation, Ewen reached for his claymore and jumped off his horse to face the enemy. He didn’t recognize their faces. Had he chanced upon a surprise attack to the keep, or had they been lying in wait for him?

  Axes raised, the men advanced. All bluidy ten of them.

  He should be flattered. Six he could easily overtake, but ten? Did they think him immortal? Growling, he sunk his blade into flesh and fought like a madman using his feet, elbows, fists, and any other god-given limb against a group of seasoned warriors. He blocked most strikes, but a blow to the head knocked him to the ground.

  Dizzy, he laughed out loud. Imagine, felled by an ambush. What an idiot. Only a halfwit sprinted into a precarious situation without first scouting for a trap. God help him. He’d gone in wearing only his léine. No helmet. No armor. Just his sword and a dirk.

  He’d lost his bluidy mind over two strange deaths and a dark-haired woman. Ardgour’s Dorcha Dìon, its dark protector, would be recorded in the annals of time as having died a fool’s death for failing the first lesson taught every green warrior. Be prepared. Doona let your emotions rue your cause. Hell would welcome him with open arms.

  As luck would have it, hell had no room for fools, for at that precise moment, he heard an angel’s voice. Her melodious chant rose in the air, muting the warrior’s grunts and growls. The men fell to their knees, eyes bulging, grasping their chests as they crashed face-first to the ground.

  Perhaps hell had come for him after all.

  Air locked in Ewen’s throat. His vision blurred. A dark-haired woman kneeled over his body. Placing her hand on his forehead, she whispered words he could not understand.

  Witch? She looked familiar, yet he could not place her face.

  Smiling through weary emerald eyes, she clenched her jaw in pain, her ethereal skin whitening beneath the strain. Clasping the amulet at her neck, she closed her eyes and moved her hand over his heart. “My time has come. I haven’t the strength to help her.”

  “Help who?” Ewen tried to sit, but his body sagged against the ground as if weighed down by a hundred men.

  “Save her. She is all that stands between our world and theirs.”

  The sorceress stood and lifted her arms to the heavens. The air stirred and whipped her black hair around her face, spurring leaves from the ground into a spiral pattern. Pressure slammed into Ewen’s body—a head-to-toe assault that left his temples pounding. Groaning, he curled into his chest and searched for his sword. His vision faltered, and the world fell away at the edges so that all he saw was a long tunnel with a small disc of light at the end.

  He clasped the dirk at his belt and fell back against the earth, surrendering to the darkness and the soft chant whispering in the wind.

  THREE

  Weetamoo Woods in nearby Tiverton, Rhode Island was Caitlin’s second home. Acres of mature oak, American Holly, and other trees native to the coastal areas of Southern New England lined the forest trails.

  Running had never been her thing. After a million failed starts, attempted 5ks, and a divorce that had kicked her butt, she had finally achieved her goal of completing a race. There had been setbacks of course, like overcoming her bizarre fear of the forest, yet she had persevered, and now strength and power pulsed through her legs as she pushed herself beyond her physical limits.

  But peace eluded her today. She adjusted her ear buds. Haunting vocals blasted in her ears as her feet pounded against the hard-packed earth in rhythmic blows mirroring the song’s edgy beat. In the span of two days, her life had fallen apart. First, she had received news of the baby—Brian’s baby—and now the adoption was in jeopardy. How ironic. Her ex had spent years building a case against having children so soon into their marriage. Now he was having a baby with his new wife while her adoption fell through the cracks.

  God, what was she going to do?

  She wound deeper into the woods, pumping her arms, running as fast as she could before the tears spilled down her cheeks. When she couldn’t breathe, and her knees threatened to buckle beneath the weight of her body, she came to a full stop. What had happened to her? Somewhere along the line, she had lost her identity. Where was the woman who’d traveled to the MacEwen ruins in Scotland alone? Who swore to confront life head-on? No more hiding. No more pushing her feelings aside, or under the rug, or pretending she was okay when she wasn’t.

  “Lila’s right. I am such coward.” And it was about time she did something about it. She grasped her grandmother’s pendant. The ache of her loss was as fresh today as it was a year ago. She missed her seanmhair’s sass. How she could calm Caitlin with a hug. Or a wise word or two. Smiling, she held the necklace close to her heart and renewed her promise to move forward with her life. She was steps away from having the family she’d always wanted. The only thing missing was her faith in herself.

  Dawn illuminated the sky. Bright orange tongues of color lapped at the dark clouds dotting the heavens. She closed her eyes, and for a minute, she allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the warmth permeating her body. “Let go of your fears. Accept your dreams.” Ha! Easier said than done, but she’d give it the old college try. And she’d start by meeting with Mandy Cabeceiras—today. She wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  When she opened her eyes, a green haze filled the area where she stood. The strange glow hung four feet off the ground and extended to the evergreens and brush that lined the path before completely dissipating.

  What the heck?

  As a teacher, she’d seen some strange things, but never neon-green fog. What was next? A band of killer pirate ghosts swaggering through the woods,
terrorizing the town folk with their red glowing eyes? Caitlin let out a snort. The Fog had been one of her all-time favorite movies back when she and Lila were two giggling fourteen-year-olds watching horror movies until the crack of dawn. To this day, the film still had the power to freak her out and make her check for monsters under the bed.

  A chipmunk scurried across her path. Caitlin screamed, then laughed, glancing around her to make sure no one had witnessed her embarrassing display. She’d blame her reaction on lack of sleep. Mandy’s words had knocked around in her head for most of the night. She was lucky if she’d gotten two hours of solid rest. And oh, would she pay for it. In two hours’ time, she’d be hanging on for dear life with twenty-nine energetic seven year olds ready to tear her apart. Lucky for them, she would love every minute of it.

  Caitlin beat a path back to her normal route, jogging across several of the non-marked trails. She would finish her run and swing by Dunkin on her way home. A hot shower and a mega-strong dose of coffee would fix everything. That and her impromptu meeting with Mandy. Jadiel was meant to be a part of her life, and she wasn’t giving up on that little boy without a fight.

  With a determined smile, she snaked around a tree to avoid a swampy area. The unnatural quiet was unsettling. She’d never run the trail without bumping into another runner, hiker, or at least someone walking their dog. So strange. She shook off the nagging doubt. Maybe the park was closed for maintenance. She probably missed the sign when she bolted from the car. Lord knows, she’d been distracted.

  Dark, monster clouds rolled across the sky, strangling the morning light. The air chilled as the wind picked up speed at her back, funneling swirling dry leaves around her feet. When thunder rumbled against the howling wind, she knew she wouldn’t make it back to the car in time before the rain fell.

  Great. Figured it would happen on the morning she hadn’t bothered to check the weather app. New England was known for its unpredictability, but this was bizarre. The storm had come out of nowhere and appeared isolated to her immediate area.

  Caitlin stopped and raised her arm to shield her eyes from the flying debris. The air above her head appeared coagulated, resembling a huge gel-like sac.

  “What the—?”

  Goosebumps prickled her skin. Her mind raced to make sense of the crazy signals her eyes were sending her brain. The anomaly hovered in the air. Lightning sparked inside the weird cloud, firing across its diameter like a shooting star before fading into gray bursts of cloudy mist. The thing pulsed and swelled, expanding into an enormous vortex of flashing light and whirling wind until it was large enough to swallow a car and the tiny human woman in its path.

  Right before her feet took command of her body, the unfathomable occurred. Something launched from the turbulent wind and landed with a hard thump a foot away from where she stood planted to the ground with her mouth wide open. Her senses finally kicked in. She leaped back. Sunlight fractured the clouds, streaming through the tree canopy as the strange storm came to a hissing stop.

  A heap of flesh lay motionless on the forest floor.

  A body? Her breath hitched.

  It couldn’t be. Bodies didn’t fall from the sky. But…

  She inched closer. “It” looked human. Strands of long, dark hair covered a masculine face and mouth. Slumped on his side, she couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. The bright yellow tunic he wore was stained with dirt and a reddish-brown substance that resembled blood.

  It couldn’t be real. Maybe a Halloween decoration? People in town spared no expense with lifelike props, some even turning their front yards into spooky, haunted cemeteries that drew spectators from neighboring communities. She looked up to the sky. No way could the mini-tornado hurl a man halfway across Tiverton in his pajamas. Because that was the only explanation for the strange shirt that barely covered muscular legs and naked feet. And by the condition of the clothing and the marks on the dummy, it had been a turbulent ride.

  A deep moan sounded from the body.

  Oh god. It—he—was alive?

  Instinct kicked in and spurred her forward. Dropping to her knees, she reached out to roll the man onto his back. A surge of heat sparked her skin at contact. She yanked her hand back and rubbed the pads of her fingers. Had he been electrocuted in the churning vortex? Anticipating another jolt, she eased her hand forward and touched his shoulder.

  No spark.

  She cursed herself for not remembering more of her CPR class. He had moaned, so that meant a pulse and hopefully a clear airway. There was no pooling blood—at least none she saw—on or near the body except for the dried stains on his shirt. Once on his back, she could straighten his head and neck to begin CPR.

  Not that she knew what she was doing. Granted, she was certified, as were most teachers, but she’d practiced on a dummy two years ago, and that dummy hadn’t prepared her to administer CPR to a man who had fallen out of the sky.

  Don’t panic. Airway. CPR. 911. Easy peasy, right? The mantra did nothing to control her trembling limbs.

  With a groan, the man rolled onto his back, something metal glinting in his left hand. His eyes flew open. He jumped to a low crouch, knife in hand, and scanned the woods.

  Caitlin jerked back and fell onto her rear. The quickness of his movement left her speechless. Arching her neck to look at him, she dug her fingernails into the dirt. He was huge. Over six feet of towering muscle. It was like staring at He-Man dressed in a yellow tunic. Only this barbarian had wild, jet-black hair and fierce blue eyes that slashed everything in its path, including her.

  And at any minute, he’d let out a warrior roar and…

  Holy shit. She was going to die.

  She must have whimpered or made some stupid sound because he dipped his head and locked his eyes onto her face. His fierce scowl softened, and he fell to his knees in front of her, the brief burst of energy dissipating into the cold morning air. It took her a full minute to regulate her breathing and get over the shock of almost dying.

  He winced and reached a hand to his side. His deep voice vibrated in a language she couldn’t quite understand. Familiar, yet…

  When he pulled his hand away, blood smeared the heel of his palm. Her sharp intake of breath echoed between them. She scrambled to her feet and fumbled with her armband to pull her phone from its pocket.

  “Oh, my god. You’re bleeding. Don’t move. We need to get you to a hospital.” The phone shook in her hands as she mistyped her security code. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll call an ambulance.” At this rate, the guy would bleed to death before she could enter the stupid password.

  He eyed her phone, his dark brows slashed into a squinty vee. The weird dialect rolled off his tongue, the words forming too fast for her to catch their meaning.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” She snapped her attention to the phone now dangerously close to slipping out of her trembling hands. “But that’s okay. Don’t try to talk. We’ll figure this out.”

  He didn’t listen. He spoke in thick, heavy waves, rising and falling like a Scottish burr. It reminded her of when her grandmother spoke in Gaelic. He was Scottish? What was he doing here? In his jammies? When he spoke again, she swore he said, “Where am I, lass? ”

  “I—um…” Her thumb hovered over the keypad as the strange phenomenon came to mind. “I don’t know.” Her phone locked. She’d mistyped the security code. Again.

  He wiped his bloody hand across his chest. Words buzzed out of his mouth in quick succession.

  Caitlin turned her palms out. “Slow down, okay? Can you”—she gestured with her forefinger—“understand me?”

  He nodded.

  She focused on his lips. “Good, now let’s try again, but slower this time, all right?”

  “Aye.” He attempted to stand.

  “You’re hurt. Standing is probably not a good idea. Maybe you should just stay where you are until I can get through to nine-one-one.” Except for the blood she’d missed earlier, he ap
peared fine. Still, she wasn’t a nurse or a doctor and had no experience to gage how serious his injury could be.

  “The wound is minor.” He ignored her directive and rose from the ground. Glancing to the woods behind him, he asked, “How d’ye come to be haur without yer kin?”

  His brogue was rich. Definitely Scottish.

  “I live here? Well, not here, but close by.” She re-entered her passcode hoping the wait time had elapsed. No such luck. One minute left.

  The man followed the movement of her fingers over the keypad. A frown formed over his brow. He surveyed the area once more, then swayed.

  When Caitlin grabbed ahold hold of him, the strange current jammed up her arm.

  His eyes snapped to hers in surprise. He flung out his hand and caught her wrist. “Where is she?” he growled. “Did you aid her with her summons, witch? For what purpose?”

  “What? You’re hurting me. Let go.” She yanked her arm from his grip. “Are you crazy?”

  “What strange tongue is this you speak?” He nodded to the cell phone in her hand. “Discard the item you hold.” The dagger glinted dangerously in his hand.

  She tossed the cell phone to the ground and winced as it hit the damp earth. “I don’t know who you are or what happened to you, but I can see you’re hurt and probably confused. Just put the knife away. I’m only trying to help you.”

  He confiscated the phone and pinned her with a look that twisted her insides. “Who do you serve?”

  “No one. Will you listen to me? I found you on the ground. You’d fallen through…through a…” Her throat clenched under his stare. Did she dare tell him he’d fallen from the sky when he had just accused her of being a witch? “You were unconscious when I found you.”

  “You truly have no knowledge of how I came to be here?”

  “No.” Her knees nearly buckled under his scrutiny. “I swear.”

  He stared at her for the longest, soul-sucking moment of her life. Then he eased his grip on the knife. “Aye, I believe you.”