by Kat Bastion
But Brigid’s newfound level of energy had already begun to flag. Flickering markers in her energy pulses signaled that she teetered perilously close to flameout.
Even so, a massive surge of blinding light exploded outward. Hurtling toward where he and Isobel stood.
Skorpius blasted out a burst of his own dark energy, shielding Isobel.
Several of the lupine creatures tumbled past them.
The stench of singed fur and scorched metal soured the air.
Isobel strode out from behind his defensive shield. And they stared at the fiery brilliance in stunned silence for brief seconds.
“Who? What the…” —a punching shove smacked into his shoulder as realization dawned— “that’s our girl?”
Our girl. Skorpius supposed she was. He gave Isobel a nod. “Brigid. She’s grown more powerful.”
Unbelievably powerful.
“Since when?”
Since he’d been gone.
But based on Isobel’s lack of commentary regarding oddities with Brigid—even since her holy shit! and clearly felt tug at the initial time-fracturing power surge—the Traveler had been inexplicably insulated from the development. Until now.
“Since she ‘fritzed’ your wall.”
Isobel gasped. “She touched it.” She glanced at him with a wince. “Back when I screwed up trying to power the wall up, lost my balance, and fell against it. Because I’d failed, she had to…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I caused this. I bungled things so badly, Brigid had to step in to protect the clan, had to press her hand to the wall in my absence.”
“She more than touched it.”
Isobel blinked up at him, frowning. Then she turned to stare at her warrior friend who glowed like brilliant starlight. “She went through it.”
“Apparently.” And then some. Brigid had somehow become one with his world’s magick. It remained the only explanation of where her extraordinary power originated from—why it resonated angelfire.
Isobel folded her arms, expression full of wonder. “And she’s holding her own.”
Better than holding her own.
Additional creatures began to charge into the clearing. However, based on their trajectory, they’d been summoned by Brigid. A polar bear thrice any normal size, reared up on hind legs, roared with ferociousness, then loped after one of the hounds. A gargantuan hart charged after another, its forty-prong rack of antlers angled forward to impale. And to his astonishment, a male African lion—a species never documented to roam Scottish soil, the size of a bull elephant—leapt from the crown of a hundred-foot pine. With the skillful swipe of massive paws, the feline snagged one of the screeching winged creatures from the sky.
Isobel gasped. “A giant lion?”
“You’ve shown her pictures?”
Bewildered, she dropped her chin in a nod. “Bedtime stories.”
“All Brigid needs is an image.”
“She created that thing?” Her brow furrowed with concern as unsheathed her short swords. “Is she okay out there?”
“For now.” His guardian tether to her remained taut, but didn’t twang with urgency any longer. Her life force vibrated through to him, still strong and vibrant.
One of the loping hounds barreled from behind them and charged toward the fray again, gaining speed as it sprinted downhill.
Isobel darted from the sidelines and planted herself directly in a second one’s path.
Skorpius flashed between her and the unknown danger. His altered magick—the antithesis of Brigid’s, tainted with darkness—stopped the beast in its tracks, only a few yards away. Then he glared at Isobel for foolishly stepping out from his protection again.
The dramatic Traveler flung her arms wide, swords glinting from Brigid’s brilliance behind her, and stared Skorpius down. “The historian in me is freaking out.” Without a care in the world, she skirted him and strolled right up to the otherworldly menace until it towered over her. “It’s like a stegosaurus-porcupine and a Godzilla-werewolf had a baby.”
Skorpius pinched his eyes shut and cast out a silent wish for the patience he’d never found lacking. “Do not regale me with the sick kind of orgies collegiate humans dream up.”
“Hey, I did shrooms once.” She gave a half shrug. “We all experiment.”
The blocked creature vibrated an eerie growl from its armor-plated throat and lowered its head, boring a red-glowing gaze at her.
Skorpius flared out an additional pulse of protective energy, holding the creature at bay.
“Sit.” Isobel stared into those glowing eyes that stared back at her with unhidden menace. “Roll over.” With the tip of a sword, she twisted a wide horizontal corkscrew through the air. “How ’bout play…dead?”
A mane of thicker spikes draped its shoulders and Isobel experimentally tapped the tip of her sword on one. A metallic clink echoed. Sparks flew as she slid the blade from tip to base. A louder, deeper clank sounded out.
“The thing’s hide is armored.” She tapped twice more. “Yup. Pretty sure our weapons won’t penetrate that tank.”
She stared straight into the glowing eyes again.
The creature’s blazing gaze narrowed at her. And its red-rimmed nostrils flared as the thing took an investigative sniff. A snort followed and a putrid brown-green cloud fogged out and engulfed Isobel before he could remove her from harm’s way.
Hold your breath!
She dropped a sword, pinched her eyes shut, and smacked a hand over her nose and mouth. Uck! So holding my breath!
Smartass humor and the vibrational charge of still-strong vital signs told him Isobel wasn’t in immediate danger. So he left her in the disgusting cloud.
Feels sticky. Tacky. Like stale hairspray.
A breeze dissipated the pollution. And a sickly green film coated every inch of her. When she gradually opened her eyes, the stickiness coated her lashes. “Great. I’ve been slimed.”
The hound nudged Isobel with its wrinkly gray nose, nearly knocking her over.
“Hey!” She scowled at the thing and took a wary step back while plucking up her dropped sword.
One of its packmates squealed in pain. The beast’s head snapped up in response. In a blur, it crouched, leapt high over them, then bounded back into the glade.
Isobel snorted. “Guess I wasn’t worth fighting. Or eating.”
Skorpius stared after the charging creature. “They’re drawn to Brigid. Her magick is a beacon to them, to others.”
She wrapped her fingers around the hilts of her swords. “I feel like I should charge in there.”
The timeline tether vibrated in agitation at the suggestion and Skorpius gave her a headshake. “Not your fight. Just as you had your path to walk, so Brigid has hers.”
“And only she can walk it.”
“Precisely.”
“Will she be okay?” Isobel asked again as the beast joined the ongoing fray. Then she glanced back at him, brows raising. “Don’t you have some guardianing to do?”
“When Brigid needs me, she knows to ask.” And the guardian tether hadn’t twanged since they’d arrived. “Her power has already transcended anything I’ve encountered before.”
Isobel narrowed her eyes at him. “Haven’t you lived hundreds of millions of years, Oh Ancient One?”
Very funny. “Not quite.” Skorpius glanced down toward Brigid, a mighty warrior who wielded elemental energy like no other. Not even among angelkind. “But long enough.”
“Okay, then.” Isobel sheathed her swords and gave a firm nod. “She’ll kick their asses twelve ways from Sunday.”
“We shall see.”
“Yeah, well.” The Traveler pressed a finger to her forearm, then lifted. A grotesque sucking noise followed as part of the putrescent substance released and the slimy rest stretched between her skin’s surfaces. “If Brigid’s got this locked down, and you’ve got her back, I’ve got a date with the pristine desert Spa at Amangiri.”
“Excellent idea.” Skorpius
needed the Traveler tucked safely out of the way.
Isobel shot a regretful glance toward the glade and squinted at the brilliance emanating from her friend. “You will take care of her, right?”
Skorpius sucked in a sharp breath as both threads snapped taut, threatening to break. Unbelievable pain seared through his chest.
Skorpius!
The alarm cried out through the ether. Brigid’s life teetered on the brink. As did the timeline.
But he gave Isobel an unaffected nod. “I will,” he ground with gritted teeth.
When Isobel flashed out of their time and safely into the future, Skorpius turned toward Brigid. He cast an implacable stare at his charge, his duty.
One way or another.
Chapter 11
Bright glitterin’ light swirled everywhere.
Highland mist enveloped the sun, sparklin’ into a thousand silvery moonbeams.
Snarlin’ armored beasts danced between the shadows, their gleamin’ teeth the size of claymores snappin’ at her face.
Screechin’ birds swung low from blackened skies, razor talons swipin’ at her shoulders.
Brigid connected with her cold, dark loch of nothin’ness and leaned aside, avoidin’ contact.
Then she plummeted, weightless, and surrendered to the empty void.
Sinkin’…
Sinkin’…
After a time, her weary body settled on the bottom. She curved her arms around her legs, laid a cheek on her knee, and drifted her eyes shut.
No sound penetrated the deep.
No other existed there.
Only her. And vast black space.
Time ceased to be.
From the nothin’ness, in the center of utter darkness, a white spark flashed.
A silvery gold flame danced, flickerin’ heat and light.
With childlike wonder and joy, she stared intently at the wee flame, then exhaled a steady breath through pursed lips to kindle its fire to greater life.
Brigid!
A muffled tone vibrated through dense blackness. Far away. Beyond her glitterin’ light.
Who is this Brigid? She dinna know. Had no care.
Only peace and serenity existed. Only the here and now.
Only the flame mattered. Only protectin’ her bonnie golden light.
Brigid!
Urgency. Need. A sudden tug pulled her off the bottom of her calm loch and reeled her in, away from the vast nothin’ness, up toward the surface.
In a growin’ fog, she tried to reach for the disappearin’ flame, but her arms sagged, limp.
When she tried to kick, to somehow propel forward, her legs remained motionless.
Then she simply let go, imagined pure joy, visualized her flame. And white-hot energy suffused her with warmth, sizzlin’ and bright. And the silvery golden flame no longer flickered out of her reach.
I’ve become the flame.
“Brigid!”
Deep vibration quaked through her body.
Her eyes flew open.
A velvety sky stretched wide, dusted with countless stars that sparkled brighter than usual. In a glade, long blades of grass were bent, heavy with glitterin’ droplets of dew that trembled. The echo of her shouted name chased on the periphery of her mind, frustration colorin’ its tone.
Above her, Skorpius’s face hovered, brows drawn low, worry etched into deep furrows across his forehead. A sheen of tears glittered over the sparklin’ blue-green of his eyes. His black wings bore a film a fine white powder on the feathers that seemed to glint with their subtle movement in the starlight.
Warmth cradled her in a strong embrace. His embrace.
Brigid bolted upright, jostlin’ out of his iron hold. “Wh…what happened?”
Everythin’ in the glade appeared pristine, untouched. The pine trees towered, majestic and silent. The night breeze carried a crisp fresh scent, as if perfumed from spring’s misty rain. Gentle chirps of insects sang into the sweet darkness.
Skorpius’s hold tightened as he stood while she wobbled to her feet. “Where are the…” She gestured toward the low hill on the horizon, the rocky ground at the perimeter, where turf had been tilled from the massive claws of horrific beasts diggin’ in.
“Gone,” he croaked, voice rough.
“And the…” She pointed toward the starry skies in confusion, where only moments ago it had been obscured by countless bony wings and torrents of fire.
“Destroyed,” the hoarse whisper rasped against her temple.
“But…”
“Later,” he urged. His large warm palm slid over hers till he clasped her hand in a firm hold. “We must go.” Tone stern, his expression shifted from concern to fierce determination. “They will return. And next time, they won’t be holding back.”
“Holdin’ back?” She blinked in shock, that those creatures could possess any greater force.
But when Skorpius gave her hand an impatient tug, she gripped back and gave a nod. Unsteady on her feet, head spinnin’ from her ordeal, heart beatin’ like a trapped rabbit’s, she welcomed the chance to let go for once: not think, simply follow. And Skorpius offered protection, nothin’ else.
For now, I’ll be takin’ it.
Because she’d not woken from a nightmare an hour ago. She’d been thrown into one. And no amount of trainin’ had mentally prepared her for the fight of her life.
“They were sent as a test,” he muttered as he led her toward the outskirts of the glade. Pushin’ on into dense forest, they picked their way over rocky terrain and wove through bracken, their steps muted by mossy groundcover.
“Test?”
Skorpius paused at a rise. A calculatin’ gaze swept down, into, and across a ravine, up toward the next mountain peaks, then glanced back toward the forest whence they’d come. “Your horse is long gone. Would it be acceptable if I carry you?”
“Carry me?”
“If we fly.” Those magnificent black wings arched, velvety feathers rufflin’, as if he warmed them up in anticipation to stretch wide.
She blinked, searchin’ for some denial through the fog in her brain. It failed to come.
“We need to find shelter.” He glanced toward the eastern horizon where gloamin’ had begun to lighten the sky into dusky purple. Then his eyes narrowed and his feathers stood on end.
Brigid’s skin pebbled and a shiver rippled up her spine.
They both sensed roilin’ storm clouds speedin’ their way. No magick needed.
He cast an unyieldin’ stare at her. “We don’t have much time.”
“Aye.” She eased closer to him, ready to take his assistance, his protection.
“Do you have any magick left?”
With a quick search within, she detected no warmth, not even an ember. “Nay.”
“Good.” He blew out a hard breath, relief washin’ over his features. “If you feel your magick return, if you’re tempted to reach out to use even the slightest bit of power, reject the urge. I’m not yet certain how they’re tracking you. When you use your unique magick, its own energy could be leaving a residual tracer.”
The verra idea of the strange energy coursin’ through her turned her stomach, exhaustin’ her. “Nay. I doona wish to.”
Then she gave a firm headshake. And the world… tilted.
Heavy eyelids drifted closed, though she fought to stay awake.
Black specs dotted the edges of her vision.
Dizziness spun her head, then dropped through her stomach.
Her knees began to give way, but Skorpius vanished from in front of her and caught her in a loose hold from behind; strong forearms threaded under hers, elbows to wrists, tight against her ribs. In her next flutterin’ heartbeat, he flexed his arms outward with hers, slid his hands over his opposite wrists, then twisted. His arms were locked together in a shieldin’ embrace with hers restin’ atop them.
“Lean on me.” His gruff tone tempered, softenin’ to a gentle command. “Grab hold in whatever way feels comfortabl
e.”
The heat of his bare skin against her fingertips, the raw strength of a body built for war wrappin’ around her in undeniable protection, at once lulled and energized her senses. While her achin’ muscles relaxed, her verra nerve endin’s sparked to life.
And yet, Brigid did her best to quiet the rush of sensation, struggled to center her foggy mind, as she exhaled a calmin’ breath. Because she welcomed the tactile warmth from him. In truth, she missed havin’ someone express tender care for her welfare.
Therefore, she did as her guardian asked. And without worryin’ about propriety, she shifted her hold and slid her hands under and around the outside of his granite biceps.
Those muscular upper arms tightened against her sides, his forearms lowerin’ under her ribcage. “Close your eyes. The wind will be cold, but I generate enough body heat to mitigate the worst of the chill. And I’ll fly as slow as possible when I can, but we need to soar above the cloud layer to obscure our position. And you won’t be able to see with your eyeballs frosting over. Flight might not be the most comfortable option, but it’s the fastest way to evade any pursuers. And it’s the best plan that enables me to mute my magick too.”
As suggested, she finally let her heavy eyelids drift shut. “They’ll be trackin’ you too?” she wondered aloud.
“It’s you they’re after.”
Not quite an answer, but her clouded mind forced her to let it go.
A slight dip served as Brigid’s sole warnin’ before an explosion of coiled energy surged upward. An icy gust lashed her front side and plastered the emerald gown he’d fashioned against her body. A ruthless windstorm crushed her up against his frame from the top of her weary head to the curled toes tucked into her boots. But after a few harrowin’ seconds, she relaxed against him. Her chilled body basked in his fierce heat, a roarin’ bonfire amidst a snowy blizzard.
“Why me?” On the surface of it, she understood. The magick. But in her fuzzy mental state, she still asked.
“Good question. Why you’ve been chosen still eludes my understanding. But…what you possess is…”—he took a deep breath and tightened his protective hold, as if fearin’ she’d slip through his grasp—“without equal. They will use whatever means necessary to acquire something so valuable.”