[Through Time 02.0] Whiplash

by Claudy Conn

  This would have to do. At least it would have been a partial answer if the Seelie Prince hadn’t appeared to make things more difficult.

  He had never thought of himself as a problem solver. That had always fallen to Pestale. He had, however, surprised himself as of late, but even so, he didn’t want to charge into the human world alone. He needed his older brother and even his resistant brother Graely at his side. He wanted them all. They were familiar. His brothers and Morrigu had been with him for all time. He sneered as he thought of the Seelie Prince, for he was aged, and experienced. He had so much more knowledge than the young Seelie Prince who dared to challenge him.

  He would not make the same mistakes Pestale had made. Pestale would be dead if the Dark King had not interceded.

  Pestale ‘felt’ too much. Pestale had doubts about how far he would go to attain his needs. He, however had no such doubts.

  He had two problems to deal with: the Seelie Royal and the little human who was not quite human.

  The little pretty had power.

  He liked that. He also liked the look of her. Her form was more than pleasing, and something in her eyes caught his attention. She was more than human, less than immortal. Intriguing, and what was even more exciting was the fact that he could not seduce her with the Lianhan. He could, however, force her to have sex with him, and the notion was damned thrilling.

  He was amused that she had managed to best him in their first encounter. He liked that. He had never been challenged by a woman before. Pestale would be surprised to see how well he handled the setback. Pestale thought him cold and dangerously self-centered, and he was, but so much about him was growing. Each day in the Human Realm, even in the past, he was discovering more about himself.

  However, he had not anticipated a Seelie Royal running him to earth like this so soon. He thought he would have had more time. Fate was a bitch, and apparently that bitch had somehow put the Seelie Royal in his way. He would take him down. It was just a matter of time.

  If only he had the Death Sword that Pestale had managed to obtain. For now, he would have to do without this invaluable weapon.

  When he got his hands on one, though—then the Seelie Prince would meet with death, and the woman would be his.

  She was a beauty, a piece of artwork he would enjoy exploring. Perhaps he would even take the time and seduce her, use her … damn, but he wanted to use her! In the meantime, plenty enough peasant women awaited him.

  A smile curved his lips as his cock distracted him from his goals. He turned back to the two women he had brought with him. They were lying in the grass playing with one another, calling to him. Did he have time?

  He thought of the Royal Seelie and frowned. No, he would have to keep on the move. Leave the pretties. Time enough for more of that later, when he completed his plans and brought Pestale and Graely, and their Morrigu, through the monoliths. Soon, the stars would align and the future would be theirs.

  * * *

  “You think?” Jazz said in some exasperation.

  “Indeed, how can I know for sure when I have never had it in my possession and, therefore, am uncertain just what it does?”

  “Okay, but—” Jazz cut herself off and frowned at the scene taking place only a hundred feet down the road from where they stood.

  A man was shouting at a child Jazz assumed was his daughter. She was a dirty little urchin no more than eleven or twelve years old. Jazz felt a moment’s irritation with the man, until she saw his hand rise and the child cringe.

  Irritation turned to fury when the man smacked the child across her face and sent her flying backwards to land hard on the ground.

  The beast of a man took hard, long steps to stand over her. He bent and grabbed the collar of her worn sack of a dress, but Jazz, using her hyper-speed, arrived in time to catch his attention by slamming her boot down on his foot.

  He yelped and hopped on one foot, stood, and turned to her, a fist in the air as he bellowed, “I’ll kill ye, ye little tart!”

  Karate was a human skill, one that her father had made certain she acquire and perfect. She used it now and with great pleasure. Her leg came up and into position, landing him a round kick that sent him flying. He tripped over himself and went down, hard. Winded, he lay there while Jazz put the child behind her.

  Visible now, as she was out of the prince’s circle of Féth Fiada, she stood in position, ready to dole out more.

  The brute lifted his head and stared at her as he made his first attempt to get up, saying, “Eh … whot the hell?” He got to his knees and then rose from there. “Where did ye learn to hit like that? And whot be ye wearing there, she-devil?” His voice was hushed, and caution laced his movements now.

  All at once, apparently thinking Jazz had just landed him a lucky blow, he released a low and ferocious sound and charged, bent like a bull.

  “Ah, foolish beast …” Jazz sneered, and he paused. She waved him to bring it. “Come on and get some more.” She wanted to taunt him; he needed hurting, and she wanted to be the one to dish it out.

  He completed the charge at her, all brawn and fury, and got his head kicked in for his effort. He lay there on his back again, but this time he was unconscious.

  Jazz turned to the child. “Are you okay?”

  “What is ‘okay’?” The girl’s Irish lilt was lovely, but her hazel eyes were bright with worry.

  “It means are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Aye, that I am, but when he wakes up, he will kill me for this … och, but he will.”

  “No, he won’t. Is he your father?”

  “No, I be an orphan, and he bought me from the orphan home … to help on his farm, last month.” She said this in a resigned tone, sounding so much older than she looked.

  “Did he?” Jazz said in some disgust. “Well, you don’t belong to him anymore.”

  “But I have nowhere to go,” the child said pragmatically.

  “Yes, you do. You will come with me, and we will see about finding you a better home. How is that?”

  “What are you doing?” Trevor demanded as he stepped forward and leaned into her.

  “What do you think I am doing?” Jazz answered, thinking, Oh no, the child will think she’s going crazy. One minute I’m here, the next I’m invisible.

  “I can’t have a child in tow,” he answered. “And besides, we are not supposed to interfere in human matters and events.”

  “Well, I am not bound by your rules,” Jazz said.

  “A Royal,” the child whispered and reached for Jazz’s hand.

  Both Trevor and Jazz turned to the child in shock, and Trevor asked, “You can see me, lass?”

  She lowered her gaze and did not respond. Jazz bent to her and said, “It’s safe. You don’t have to worry. Are you a seer?”

  When the girl looked away and would not answer, Jazz realized she must have been taught never to reveal what she was.

  She said softly as she took the girl’s chin and looked into her hazel eyes, “You don’t have to be afraid. This Royal will not hurt you. I know because I had to reveal to him that I am also a Fios.”

  The girl’s eyes opened wide, though she still did not speak. Jazz continued, “That’s right. I can see Fae.” She waved towards the prince. “This Royal will not carry you off or harm you. Instead, he will keep you safe, won’t you, Trevor?” Jazz straightened as she turned to him with an arched look.

  The prince released a low curse in what she assumed was Danu, but when Jazz pinched his arm he frowned at her and told the child, “Of course—isn’t that what we Royals do? Babysit?” He grimaced at Jazz and murmured as he bent to her ear, “Sure, what is one more piece of baggage?”

  “Oooh,” Jazz seethed and glared up at him as he straightened. She played with her pendant and said, “Ah, but, Royal, I am the one with the charm, remember?”

  He grinned suddenly. “So you are, though you haven’t a clue how to use it.”

  She turned away from him and bent onc
e more to the girl. “What is your name, sweetie?”

  “Francine McGilley.” Her voice was quiet and still tinged with uncertainty as she kept her eyes focused on the ground.

  “Well, then, Francine, I am Jazmine Decker, and this big, handsome Fae is Trevor, Prince of Lugh …” She smiled up at the prince, noting that he appeared taken aback. She smiled to herself and said, “Oh, aren’t you used to being called handsome?”

  * * *

  Surprise raced through him. She had called him handsome? Well, of course he was, but until this moment he thought she was not aware of it. He frowned and then felt a wave of satisfaction. She thought him handsome. It shouldn’t matter, but perversely it did.

  Jazmine Decker was complicating matters irrevocably for him. He spent too much time thinking about her, wondering what she was thinking, looking at her. Damn but he couldn’t stop looking at her. Everything about her attracted him to her. Her golden hair framed her piquant face … her nose upturned slightly, and he constantly had an urge to touch it … kiss it, lower that kiss to her full, luscious lips and taste her tongue.

  No time, absolutely no time for this.

  And then he had stood back and watched her fight for the child’s well-being. In that moment, he thought he had never seen a more beautiful creature in all his thousands of years.

  He was affected by the child’s plight. He shouldn’t be, but there it was.

  It was most disturbing.

  He had always been very detached from humans, even more so than his brother, Prince Danté, yet he had felt fury establish itself, and he’d stepped forward with every intention of picking the brute up and throwing him into another dimension.

  Even though interference was prohibited, it had been his intention, but then he saw that his little Fios had it under control.

  Idiotic pride swelled forcefully through him as he watched his Jazmine Decker take on a brute twice her size.

  Why should he find himself proud of her? Ridiculous. Why should he feel any pride about anything she did? It had nothing to do with him, and yet he could not deny that he did.

  Perhaps his admiration for the courage she constantly displayed had confused him about what he felt for her?

  She was mortal. She could be hurt. She could die. She could be maimed for life, but being faced with these possibilities did not stop her from taking on a man of great size to spare a young human hurt.

  In spite of his cool attitude about humans, he immediately was aware of feeling two things: respect for her and pity for the human child.

  However, now what she was doing would plunge them into further complications. He didn’t have time for this. He had to track Hordly, obtain the Orb, and use the pendant to call on the queen—if she could be called on from this time period.

  He could not be embroiled in human affairs. His queen would be most displeased, but neither could he leave the girl to be beaten by the brute once they had departed. Quandary.

  Interference in this time period could be devastating for the future, but he didn’t think saving this child from harm would adversely affect anything. To the contrary. Maybe, in fact, that was why they had been pulled into the past. Perhaps saving this Fios child was their destiny?

  However, they would have to be careful about other matters. It would be dangerous to do anything of consequence when in another time period. Even small matters, once altered here in the past, could mushroom towards the future and cause the fates to be altered. One could never know if that would be good or catastrophic.

  However, the child was a Fios. That might work well when he presented his explanation to the queen.

  At any rate, he could not refuse to take the child under his protection. He simply could not.

  Would his brother, Danté, refuse to see the child to safety? No, nor would Danté’s mate, Z, allow the child to go unprotected. And he knew what Prince Breslyn would do. Bres would scoop up the child and find a way to wash, clothe, and feed her without delay. Bres would make certain his humans were safe. Suddenly, he smiled to himself. Could he do less than that? Hell no.

  “Very well,” he said. “The child remains with us until we can find a solution to the problem.”

  And then, something inexplicable happened.

  Jazmine Decker threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around him, and a wave of happiness flooded his senses. He had never felt such pleasure. He had never before felt such satisfaction. She, his little Fios, was pleased with him. His agreeing to care for the little one had found approval in her eyes, and he found himself absurdly thrilled by this.

  Without thinking he hugged her back and put his chin on the top of her head. “Very well, then,” he said. It occurred to him he could not, must not, become attached to his beautiful Fios.

  She was mortal, and that was that.

  * * *

  A rush of emotion swept through Jazz. The child was a seer. It was fate! Fate had sent her and Trev back in time. They were supposed to save the girl from the horrible brute and keep her safe.

  Jazz knew there were others of her kind but had never encountered one before, and now … here was this lovely little girl, and all her protective instincts kicked in.

  And then Trevor, for all his show of ‘unconcern’, was, in fact, concerned. She was so thrown off kilter by everything Trevor, Royal Prince of Lugh, was proving himself to be. He was a complicated being with so much more heart than he wanted to let on.

  Before she knew what she was doing, she dove at him. Locking her arms around him as though holding on for life, she whispered, “Thank you.”

  He set her apart and gruffly answered, “We must get her bathed and fed.”

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Fae were so not cold-blooded, or at least this one wasn’t. He had thought of it all on his own—getting the child safely away, cleaning her, and feeding her.

  She turned back to the girl and asked, “How old are you, Francine?”

  “I like to be called Frankie, if you please,” the dirty-faced girl said, still not smiling.

  “Frankie, then, how old are you?”

  “Eleven, but I’ll be twelve next month.”

  Jazz grabbed her in a wave of sympathy and held her tightly until Frankie remarked with a groan, “Ye be crushing me …”

  Jazz laughed and loosened her hold as she turned back to Trevor. “Yes, you are right, she needs a bath, some food, and some clothing.”

  He rolled his eyes, but the next thing she knew he had blinked, and Frankie was clean and wearing a simple but pretty dress of pale green. Her hair was brushed and, though short, had a matching ribbon worked into the strands.

  Frankie looked down at her dress and new shoes and at her arms where the dirt had been removed. Then she looked at Trevor, openly and with a warm glint in her eyes. “’Tis a lovely dress, it is,” she said simply, and Jazz thought she would burst into tears.

  Jazz looked at Frankie’s face and said, “Huh? That bruise you had on your cheek seems to have faded.”

  Frankie lowered her eyes and said, “I heal fast, I do.”

  Jazz hugged her again and said, “Now, we need food.”

  A sudden swoosh of air enveloped her; she looked at herself and realized Frankie was not the only one who had gotten a makeover.

  She pulled at the pretty muslin gown of blue and laughed when she realized she was still in her comfortable hiking boots. A warm knit shawl of cream covered her shoulders, and her hair was a pile of curls at the top of her head. She touched the small pin box hat angled on top of her curls and wished she could see what she looked like.

  She turned and found her Royal Fae had donned human Glamour. His blonde hair was slicked back, braided and tied at the nape of his neck. He wore a fashionable superfine of dark navy, breeches, and gleaming hessian boots. His cravat was tied intricately, and his pale blue silk waistcoat fitted his hard, muscular body in a way that made Jazz lick her lips. This was crazy, she told herself. She had to stop looking at him like he was something to explo
re. No exploring. He was Fae. She was Fios. That was that.

  It all seemed too fantastical, and she thought she was going to have a fit of the giggles again. She got control, regarded him with an appreciative smile, and said, “So, then, we are mingling with the locals?”

  “I suppose eventually we must.” He sighed heavily. “In the meantime, if we must be seen, we should don the clothing of the time.” He suddenly reached for her hand and murmured, “Take the child’s hand. We need a place to stay.”

  She took up Frankie’s hand and gave the girl a reassuring smile as Frankie clung to her, a desperate look in her eyes. Jazz said reassuringly, “It will be okay, honey.”

  “Ye won’t leave me, will ye?”

  “No, you and I—friends for life—and I won’t leave you till you are ready for me to go.”

  “I’ll never be ready for that,” the girl answered softly, and Jazz kissed the child’s hand.

  A moment later Trevor shifted them, and Jazz opened her eyes to look down at Frankie.

  The girl was sniffing the air, and after a good long whiff said, “Hmmm.”

  Jazz smelled it too. From somewhere the aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering food wafted on the air.

  They stood in a great hall of what appeared to be a lovely and well-maintained mansion. No cobwebs, no sign of neglect, and yet it was empty. Jazz had the feeling it had been empty for a long, long time.

  She looked at Trevor and whispered, “Whose house is this?”

  “You don’t have to whisper. There is no one here except us,” he replied.

  “No one here? But … it looks so clean, and … I smell food.”

  “Seelie Magic. Humans can’t see this place and pass it by even as magic maintains it ever ready for its owner.”

  “Who is its owner?”

  He laughed, and all at once his fingers lifted her chin, and he said softly, “So very inquisitive, Jazmine Decker.” He frowned then and dropped her chin as he stepped away. “All you need know is that we can remain here safely. It is heavily warded, and no Dark Fae may enter, not even a Dark Prince.”

  “I see, but, again, whose house is it?” she pursued.

  “As I said, it doesn’t matter—why do you want to know? You don’t know him.” Trevor looked around, as Frankie had broken away from them and was heading down the hallway.