Troubled By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 6)

by Rebecca Preston

  Seeing her, he straightened and waved, and she ran to him, too giddy to see him safe and well to worry about what his friends might think about her running into his arms. He held her close for a moment, clearly surprised by the force of her greeting — then she pulled back, clearing her throat hard.

  "Are you alright?" he asked, looking at her as he held her by the shoulders.

  "Fine," she said, staring around at the somewhat bedraggled town. "Which is more than I can say for the town, it seems." The place was scattered with tree branches, and she could see considerable damage to at least a few of the cottages — broken windows, damaged roofs… but there was something else wrong. Something deeper… something about the faces of the people moving disconsolately through the battered town that made her hesitate.

  "It's worse than that, I'm afraid," Connor said heavily.

  The look on his face filled her with dread.

  Chapter 21

  “What's wrong?" she said cautiously, her heart suddenly pounding as her chest filled with worry. "What happened?"

  "Last night," he said, his eyes avoiding hers. "Something… something happened. It wasn't good."

  "What happened?" she said, aware that her voice was getting louder, frustration building in her chest at the evasive way Connor was looking at her. "Connor?"

  "Come inside," he said, his voice low and taut. His eyes kept darting to the villagers moving past them, and she was aware that they were being watched — and there was something new in the expressions on the faces of the villagers passing by. Something… curious, and afraid, and a little bit hostile. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were looking at her. Did it have something to do with what she'd said at the meeting last night? Did they resent her for telling the herdsmen to stay home from work, to do their own laundry, to quarantine themselves? Annoyance flared up in her … but it was quickly quashed by worry. What if something more serious had happened with one of the sick people, and the townsfolk blamed her? Complications were very rare with cowpox, especially when the patients were otherwise young and healthy, but it was entirely possible that something unexpected could have gone wrong. And the more she thought about it, the more it seemed that the atmosphere in town suggested that somebody had died.

  Connor hurried her into the inn. The innkeeper and barmaids were nowhere to be seen — she supposed it was possible Thomas was in town, trying to help clear some of the considerable damage that had occurred overnight. Connor looked exhausted, now that she got a good look at him — had he been up all night? she wondered. Annoyed as she was about the straight answer he was utterly refusing to give her about what was going on, she couldn't help a flare of sympathy and worry. Maybe she'd put him to bed in her little room, if she could convince him to get some sleep… but knowing him, he'd keep working until the village was back in good shape.

  He called out for the innkeeper, but when no response was forthcoming, he shrugged and let himself into the kitchen, returning with a couple of bread rolls she recognized from dinner the night before. Better bread than nothing, she supposed… but food was the last thing on her mind with the look on Connor's worried face. They sat down together at their usual table. There was something eerie about eating in the deserted inn, with all the windows still shut and barred from the night before… but she doubted Connor had stopped for food the night before, so she wanted to encourage him to eat.

  "What's going on?" she said softly once he'd finished a few mouthfuls of bread with butter slathered generously on it. Not exactly a complete meal, but it would do.

  He took a deep breath, his face shadowed. "Last night. During the storm. We… we lost some people."

  Her eyes widened. "Lost them how?" It had been a ferocious windstorm that was for sure… but how had it caused deaths? Visions of horror danced across her vision — fallen branches crushing people, roofs collapsing on sleeping families… but there was something on Connor's face that suggested that he hadn't told the full story yet, so she bit her tongue.

  "We don't exactly know what happened," he said softly, his face lined with worry. "All we know is… six young men were found on the hillside outside of town, just past the dairy farm we were visiting the other day. All badly battered and torn up… and all dead."

  She stared at him, not understanding, the tragedy of the loss for a moment taking a backseat to her complete confusion. "Why? What were they — doing out there?" Had an animal attacked them, or something? But Connor was shaking his head.

  "We don't know. We don't know why they were there, or how they got there. All we know is that the bodies are… they're a shocking sight," he said softly. "The Watch is spending most of its time making sure the villagers are kept away from the scene. The expressions on their faces…" He shuddered, and on impulse she reached across the table to take his hand in hers, wanting to comfort him somehow. From the expression on his face it was clear he'd gotten a good look at the bodies… and that it hadn't been a pleasant sight.

  She could remember the first time she'd seen a body — and the first time she'd seen one outside of the teaching hospital where she'd first worked on a cadaver. The cadavers they studied were different, somehow — sanitized, clean, distant from the people they'd been. But the first time a patient had died on her watch… that had been another experience entirely. He'd been an elderly man who'd succumbed, finally, to a troubling case of flu that his body was simply too old to fight off. She'd always expected the dead to look peaceful… but that hadn't been the case. What she remembered, even years later, was how frightened his expression had been. Something about it stuck with a person. She squeezed his hand tightly, trying to let him know she was there — he wasn't alone in this. He smiled back at her, and she felt her heart do that familiar backflip.

  "Do you know what caused it?" she said softly. But that made him shift in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.

  "Nothing natural, that's for certain," he muttered, frowning. "It's… unpleasant, Karen. I don't want to disturb you unnecessarily." Was he seriously trying to protect her?

  "Connor. I'm a medical professional. You can speak bluntly to me — you're not going to damage my delicate feminine sensibilities," she said, exasperated by his protectiveness… even though it did send a little thrill down her spine that he was so concerned with her feelings.

  "Sorry," he said, shrugging his shoulders with an exhausted smile. "Old habit, I suppose. They…" He rubbed his face with one hand, clearly exhausted. "Witnesses reported seeing two of the men dragged through the western windows of their homes. The other four went running into the paddocks to calm their herds — they weren't seen again until we found the bodies."

  She blinked hard. "Dragged out of their windows? By what?"

  "That's just the thing," he said heavily. "We don't know."

  "Some kind of… wild animal?" She was struggling to visualize it. She was no wildlife expert, but she'd never heard of a wolf or a bear dragging someone through a window…

  "I don't think so," he said heavily. "Everything we've seen points to a supernatural creature. And the men's injuries… they seem to have been dropped from a great height. That would explain the terror on their faces."

  "Wait — they were dragged out of their homes and into the sky?"

  "Aye, they were," Connor said heavily.

  She sat back in her chair, shocked. "Does that mean —"

  "It does. Whatever did this… it didn't come from this side of the Burgh."

  Chapter 22

  She was stunned. The existence of magic was one thing — she'd reluctantly had to accept that there was no other explanation for what had brought her here. She'd even been able to accept that Old Maggie was somehow able to tell a sick cow from a well one without anything more than a passing glance. But the idea of some kind of supernatural creature that yanked men out of their windows and into the sky… that was utterly unthinkable. She gnawed at her bread roll, though hunger was the furthest thing from what she was feeling right now, trying to give herself spa
ce to process what she'd been told.

  "Has this happened before?" she asked finally, remembering what he'd said about the men of the Watch and the Sept being responsible for defending the world from monsters from beyond the Burgh. "Do you know what kind of — what kind of monster would have done it?" No wonder he'd wanted to have this conversation inside, away from the ears of the townsfolk. She felt ridiculous speaking about supernatural beasts like this. But he only shook his head.

  "Nothing like this has happened before," he said heavily. "Redcaps and goblins and the like will steal a child through a window if it's left unattended… but these are fully grown men. And goblins don't fly."

  She recalled a flash of what she'd seen in the clouds the night before — the dark, leathery, flapping wings, half obscured by shadow — and a chill ran down her spine. She explained what she'd seen to Connor, who gritted his teeth hard.

  "Aye, it does sound like something that might have caused this," he said heavily. "I was worried this would happen."

  "What?"

  "When you came through." He sighed heavily, scrubbing at his face. "The Burgh is like a gateway. When something comes through… it often isn't alone. It's possible these creatures, whatever they are, slipped through when you did."

  Her eyes widened again. "They came through when I did?" She bit her lip. "So, it's my fault."

  "No," he said firmly, grabbing her hand the way she'd grabbed his. "Absolutely not, Karen. This has nothing to do with you."

  "Let me look at the bodies," she said firmly, coming to a decision.

  He blanched. "No. It's a horrible sight, Karen —"

  "I've seen dead bodies before," she said firmly. "I'm an epidemiologist. We examine the dead. I might be able to learn something that can help us figure out what happened."

  He looked horrified, but she wasn't going to give in. They argued for a few minutes, but she hadn't gotten to the position she'd been in back in the future without knowing how to argue with men who thought women weren't cut out for unpleasant work like examining bodies… and to Connor's credit, he saw reason relatively quickly. He didn't like it, but he still rode by her side through the village, out toward the hillside where the bodies had been dropped. Sure enough, there were guards stationed on the road, clearly there to turn back curious onlookers — they gave Connor a nod, and shot Karen some curious looks, but they let them pass.

  What he hadn't mentioned were the specific identities of the six men who'd been killed in this awful way… but once they reached the hillside, her eyes widened in shock. The bodies were spread out over a reasonably wide area, though all were within sight of one another — and the first one they came to was none other than Danny, the young man who'd given her so much trouble in the bar that first night. She frowned as she stared down at him, feeling a peculiar sympathy for his passing… though he'd been an unpleasant person all around, the look of abject horror on his face made her pity him in a strange way. Nobody deserved a death like this.

  Connor was watching her closely, and she schooled her expression, not wanting to give him any indication that she couldn't handle the situation. The way he was lying, it was clear he'd been dropped from a considerable height — his body was broken and twisted, consistent with a fall as Connor had suggested. What was more, he was covered in deep slashes that had oozed a little blood — they looked like the claw marks of some great animal, though she had no idea what kind of creature could cause that kind of damage and also be strong enough to carry an adult man into the sky. She frowned to herself, examining him closely. Sure enough, there were the cowpox lesions she'd noticed that first night, covering his hands … but as she gently pried away his torn and slashed clothing, being careful not to touch the lesions, she realized that they weren't limited to his hands. There were lesions on his chest and shoulders, dotted amongst the deep slashes from whatever creature had carried him out of his window the night before… and she frowned a little, noticing something else too.

  "What is it?" Connor asked, his voice hoarse. He was squatting beside her, taking careful note of the examination she was conducting of the body — and to his credit, he wasn't trying to interfere, despite his clear worry about showing her such an unpleasant sight.

  "These scratches," she said thoughtfully. "They're odd."

  "Aye, probably inflicted by whatever seized him and carried him aloft," Connor said, his eyes clearly on the deep gouges around Danny's shoulders. But she shook her head.

  "Not the fresh ones. Here — these ones. Half-healed. They look maybe a week old?" He leaned in, looking more closely at the wounds she was indicating. Long, narrow gouges, most of them on his shoulders and chest, one going from his collarbone straight down, and evenly spaced — she held her hand up to the wounds, not touching his chest.

  "Fingernails," Connor said thoughtfully. "So, the monsters have human hands?"

  "I don't think these were done by the monster," she said thoughtfully. "They've healed over a little. I think these happened a week ago."

  "Young lads roughhousing," Connor said with a shrug.

  "With their shirts off?"

  Connor shrugged.

  She frowned to herself… but there were five more bodies to investigate. Sure enough, each and every one of the corpses belonged to the men who had been causing such a commotion in the bar the other night. And to her surprise, as she continued to examine them, she noticed that they had a few more things in common, too.

  "All six of these men have the pox," she told Connor as she straightened up from examining the last man. Connor was looking down at him, clearly distracted, and she nudged him gently.

  "Hmm? Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "This man… William… he had a family. A wife, a young son. I'm not looking forward to breaking that news," he said softly. "He's one of the ones who ran off to check on the herd once the storm got serious…"

  "He's got lesions all over him, too," Karen said with a frown, straightening up from the investigation. "Chest and shoulders and all. The lesions usually don't spread from the hands. And he's got the same scratches as Danny and all the others," she added.

  "Maybe he scratched his chest and shoulders with an infected hand, or had a fall or something?" Connor suggested, clearly still preoccupied with the man's tragic loss. "The same way Mary's lesions spread to the rest of her body?"

  She frowned. "Maybe … but the lesions on Mary's hands were clearly a little older than the ones on the rest of her. These are all the same age — they've healed the same amount, can't you see? At a guess I'd say — the lesions turned up a week ago, and the scratches maybe a week before that. Then the deeper wounds, last night," she added, biting her lip as she realized she'd forgotten what she was actually looking at. "At any rate… it doesn't paint a pretty picture of what killed them."

  "Have you finished looking?" he asked softly, his eyes distracted. "I'd like to have the men start carrying the bodies back into town. There'll be funerals to prepare for."

  She sighed. There was no way of taking photos, nothing but her memory of what she'd seen to rely on… but she had an excellent memory, and she supposed it would have to do. "Alright," she said, nodding.

  He gave her a brief, wan smile then turned and headed back across the hillside, his long strides carrying him away from her. She watched him go, her mind troubled. Hopefully, the information she'd gleaned from the bodies could help figure out what supernatural creatures had done this terrible thing… but some part of her felt like there was more to the story than just a random attack. Why these six men? Why did they all have the exact same old injuries — and the exact same distribution of cowpox lesions, even though they were extremely unlikely to have come into contact with infected cows in that way? She remembered Old Maggie's suspicion about the prevalence of pox in the men of the village and frowned.

  Something was going on, here. And she was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of it.

  Chapter 23

  That night, an emergency town meeting was cal
led, and Karen was asked to come along and speak a little about what she'd learned from investigating the bodies. It was Father Caleb who asked, surprising her — she hadn't seen the priest outside of his church before, and it was strange to see him in his robes, poking his head into the inn.

  It was busy in the inn — it seemed the townsfolk, in the wake of the great tragedy, had come together to talk it over. Karen felt a little out of place amongst all the grief. She'd only been here for a week — she'd never met these people before, barely knew the men who had died — aside from her rather unpleasant encounter with them that first night… and of course the odd run-in with Danny outside of Mary's house the other day, which for some reason she couldn't stop thinking about. What had he been doing there? But they were six young men in the prime of their life, one of them a husband and father, and the grief in the village was palpable.

  Maybe that was why she felt like such an outsider. She'd tried to sit at the bar, wanting to be with the people of her new home in their time of grief, wondering if any of them wanted information about the deaths that she could provide — but nobody had seemed interested in talking to her. Locked in their grief, she supposed… though she couldn't help but feel an odd hostility that wasn't quite in keeping with what she thought was motivating her exclusion. She'd headed upstairs to her room after a quick lunch and found herself at a loose end until the priest was tapping on her door.