Highland Protector (MacCoinnich Time Travels Book Five)

by Bybee, Catherine

  “I’m not sure how much I should tell you. I’d hate to change the course of the future by saying something vital.”

  “A little late for that, don’t you think? Besides, the Ancients wouldn’t have assisted you into this time if they didn’t want you here.”

  “You really think the Ancients had a hand in this?”

  “Who else?”

  Giles couldn’t imagine. “The Ancient power is so seldom talked about in my time. I’ve doubted it existed.”

  “Who do you think guide us then? The moon?”

  “It’s hard to believe in something you’ve never seen with your own eyes. So few people have any faith in a higher power in my time. Oh, they may say they do, but do they truly believe it? No.”

  Simon sat forward, leaned on his elbows, and lowered his voice. “The Ancients are real, second only to God. I have seen their power, witnessed them…as has Amber.”

  Giles swallowed and felt Simon’s words soak into him. He shivered in the warm room.

  “They brought you here, and I for one will learn everything I can from you. I have sworn to protect Amber and, so far, have only been able to stand by and watch her deteriorate toward a slow painful death. You may not see exactly what the Ancients want you to see because you’re not looking hard enough…or because you don’t believe they hold the answers. Lora would never have sent Amber to this time if the answer to her survival was anywhere else. I have to believe we will find a way to save her. She did not survive Grainna only to die now.”

  Simon’s hard stare made the coffee sit like a stone in his gut.

  “Now, let me ask you again. Who are these warriors and what is it they do?”

  Chapter Six

  Kincaid stood among his peers who all held expressions of doubt and concern. Unless they were traveling to retrieve another branded warrior, none of them had journeyed in time alone. Ever. Safety in numbers and all that…

  He couldn’t say for sure if any of those in the room held any blood relation, yet Kincaid considered each of them a brother…a sister. They were his family and had been since his father abandoned him. Leaving them was the only thing about the trip that bothered him.

  What was he worried about? He’d find Giles, grab him, and bring him back.

  “You have the path?” Kincaid asked Colleen. The blank expression on her face would have troubled him if he wasn’t used to her stoic exterior.

  “I have a path.”

  He peered closer.

  She blinked twice.

  What are you not telling me?

  “I don’t like this!” Rory said.

  “We heard you the first time.” Owen shoved the other man’s shoulder as he spoke.

  “Give me one good reason two of us can’t go.”

  Colleen responded to Rory while never losing eye contact with Kincaid. “The loss of two warriors is twice as hard as the loss of one.”

  Kincaid swallowed. Not that he feared for his life. He didn’t.

  Colleen on the other hand, did. That was obvious.

  The air in the room hung heavy, like a thick fog threatening the shore for weeks on end. Kincaid cut through it, met the eyes of his brothers, and ignored his rising heartbeat.

  “Destiny is not something one can avoid,” he said and, because he felt it deep in his soul, he told them, “I will see you again.”

  “Fuck!” Rory mumbled under his breath.

  “Until then.” Kincaid focused on Rory, met his green-eyed gaze. “Until then.”

  He turned toward Colleen and saw the blue aura surrounding her. From it, he saw one tiny strand. When he focused, he noticed it turn red, then white-hot. That was his path…his destiny.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  Then, as if he wasn’t already uneasy with his solo journey, Colleen, who never smiled, offered a half-ass grin.

  The energy of her power and his circled around him as he focused on the white strand that would lead him where he needed to be.

  The lids of his eyes started to drift closed so he could remove everything except the single thought of his path, but then Colleen’s rapt attention forced his eyes to hers. Beyond her, he saw a white light in the form of a woman. Her hair flowed down well past her hips, her soft glow welcomed him into her warmth. The woman opened her lips and spoke, but it was Colleen’s voice he heard. “You cannot change who you are…but you can shape who you will be.”

  Before Kincaid could utter one syllable the world around him dropped away.

  The familiar shift in time was a comfort. He remembered the first time, the exhilaration, the way the light flashed around him like a vortex, and the way the shift shoved his stomach up somewhere near his neck. He swallowed it down then and didn’t even feel it now. The weightless feeling was nothing more than falling into a body of water after a high dive. No fear. No worries. He would land as he always did, alert and ready to battle or observe.

  He felt the pull of his exit approaching and waited until the last second.

  He jumped and found himself slammed back into the vortex, falling.

  What the hell?

  The ink in his arm sparked hot and he kept falling. Without thought, he attempted to jump again and ended up on his ass in the shift.

  Instinctively, he shielded himself and waited. The journey wasn’t letting him go. He knew he’d flown past Giles and his intended target, but he was powerless to stop.

  The world stilled, briefly and the shore of a rocky cliff came into focus. There, he witnessed two teenage boys kicking water and a young woman lifting her heavy skirts, joining them in the fun.

  Before he could smell the salt air, the world shifted again. He landed between the dark shadows of stone walls. There stood a clan…men and women alike. They held hands with one focus. The youngest, the young woman from the beach with her dark hair swept over her brow…her eyes shot like daggers across the room.

  When Kincaid managed to look away, he lost his ability to breathe. The world dipped again.

  On some level, he realized he was being shown a series of events, but he couldn’t process any of them before he saw another scene.

  He was in the Keep. Felt the familiar walls as if it were his own bedroom. The turret where he and his men had last been wrapped around him like a blanket. Only this time the blanket had a hood and he couldn’t see past the folds of material.

  Nausea built in the back of his throat in hot waves.

  “Enough!” he yelled to anyone listening.

  He slid faster than he’d ever before and slammed onto the floor. Birds chirped in his head as the world came to a crashing halt.

  “Oh, shit!”

  Kincaid heard the shout through his fall, rolled onto his shoulder, and came up on the balls of his feet with his blaster in his hand.

  Feet away sat a man with a primitive weapon pointed directly at him. To the man’s right, a bottle tilted on its side. The smell of hops and barley filled the air.

  “Who are you?” Kincaid demanded.

  The man inched his finger toward the trigger of his weapon. “You just dropped into my living room. Who the fuck are you?”

  He didn’t release the man’s attention. Flat screen TV, not a vid scan or halo projection. Not the tube type either. Leather chair, not the synthetic fabric of the twenty-second century. The air felt cool…artificially cold. Wow, is that Freon?

  Kincaid had never been in this century, avoided it like a rampant case of Pox. Grainna lived in this century…at one point or another. For that, he felt his heart beat reach dangerous proportions.

  He stood to his full height, felt his shield like the invisible armor that it was.

  “Freeze, Mother Fucker.”

  Kincaid made nice, lowered his weapon, and lifted his hands. “I come in peace.”

  His adversary squared his shoulders and gave a curt laugh. “You’ve watched too much late night television.”

  Actually, he only watched the news. Which he had to admit w
as late at night. But he didn’t think that was what the man was referring to.

  “Who are you?” he asked again.

  Kincaid narrowed his eyes. “Does it matter? I just dropped into your living room. Does that happen to you often?”

  The man’s jaw twitched and Kincaid grinned. His ease of the situation told him he’d seen the like before.

  “Damn Druids. Life was easier when I only had to deal with drug dealers and lowlifes.”

  The nausea that rolled in his gut, now settled and Kincaid released a rare laugh.

  “It’s not funny. Damn good thing my kids are with the ex. This would have put them on the therapy couch for years.”

  The man’s weapon now pointed toward the ground.

  Kincaid took a chance, lowered his shield far enough to extend a hand. “I’m Kincaid. From the future. I’m looking for a friend.”

  His unexpected host glared at his offered hand. “He’s not here.”

  “I can see that. But you must know where he is, or I wouldn’t have been brought to you.”

  The man released the cock of his gun, holstered it, and rolled his eyes. “Just when I thought life was going to get back to normal.” He took Kincaid’s hand, shook it hard once. “I’m Jake. Jake Nelson.”

  Through a hooded gaze, Kincaid observed Jake Nelson as he moved about his home, switching off his television set and snatching an old phone from a cradle. He punched in a series of numbers and held the devise up to his ear.

  “Who are you calling?”

  Jake held up his palm as he spoke into the phone. “Hello, Matilda.”

  Matilda?

  “Don’t you wish! No. I have a…visitor. Someone I think you should meet.”

  Jake paused again and huffed out a laugh. “No. His weapons look scary but for all I know they’re toys.”

  Kincaid was half tempted to shoot the old TV into tiny pieces of dust to demonstrate the power of future firearms. He didn’t. Seemed Jake was having a pointed conversation with someone who knew about Druids. From Jake’s relaxed state, so was he. “Hey! You’re the one who moved across the country and told me to call you if anyone showed up. Someone showed up, Selma. So wipe the green shit off your face and get your skinny ass over here. I’m paid to put away crap from this time, not deal with nomads from the future.”

  I’m not a nomad. I have a cause…dammit!

  “Drive your broom or twinkle your nose…or hey, take the bus, just get here.” Jake hung up the phone and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know…you guys need to develop a warning bell or something. You’re bound to give a guy a heart attack.”

  Kincaid was tempted to crack a smile. The man reminded him of Rory, even looked like him a little now that he thought about it. Same dark hair, same eyes.

  “I would have knocked if I knew how,” Kincaid told him. “I take it you’ve had visitors before.”

  “Round about. I’ve seen more shit in the last couple of years than I can explain.” Jake nodded toward Kincaid’s weapon. “That thing work?”

  Impulsively, he moved the hip where he held his blaster away from the man. “It works.”

  “Fire projectiles?”

  He shook his head. “Not bullets, if that’s what you mean.” Instead of elaborating, Kincaid glanced around the room trying to pinpoint the time in which he’d landed. “What year is it?”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know?”

  Kincaid hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “Who has visited you in the past?”

  “What year are you from?”

  The two of them stared each other down…asking questions and not giving answers.

  He lifted his own personal shield and prepared to wait the other man out.

  ****

  Selma Mayfair twisted her fingers around the phone receiver and cursed Jake Nelson…again. The man aggravated her from the top of her head to the very tip of her polished toes. At least he called her and not his colleagues at the police station. She’d have to give him that. Apparently, he was going to keep the oath he made to the MacCoinnich’s. And the one he gave to his ex-partner, Todd, who was happily married and living in the sixteenth century with Myra and their bushel of kids.

  Hitting speed dial, Selma waited through the rings until someone at Mrs. Dawson’s picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Helen…it’s Selma.”

  “Hey there. How are you settling in?”

  Selma had relocated to the west coast after Simon returned to the twenty-first century. She’d met Liz, Simon’s mom, less than two years ago, and felt it was her responsibility to stay close to the only two MacCoinnichs living in her century. Before meeting Liz, Selma thought herself a witch, hence Jake’s catty comments about flying brooms and green faces. Now she understood her heritage was deeply rooted in Druid blood. To those around her, she was still witchy Selma, which suited her fine. No one would think anything of her lighting candles and casting spells.

  “I’m unpacked but the car is still in the shop. It really didn’t like the long drive.”

  “Cars are picky sometimes.”

  “Listen, I just got a call from Jake. Seems someone popped in unexpectedly.”

  Helen sighed. “Popped in?”

  “He wanted me to come over and check out his futuristically dressed visitor. I thought maybe Simon could come along.”

  “Friend or foe?”

  “Hard to say. You know Jake. He’s not exactly warm and friendly.”

  “I don’t know, Selma. He’s always been nice to me.”

  She snorted. “That makes one of us.”

  “Hold on…” Through the phone, Selma heard Helen tell Simon about Jake’s visitor. When she got back on the line she said, “He’s on his way now to pick you up.”

  “Good. I didn’t want to go alone. How’s Amber?”

  “Not so good. We have to figure out something to shelter her. Every day she grows weaker. She hasn’t even left her room today.”

  They talked for several minutes in joint misery over Amber’s plight before hanging up. There wasn’t anything they alone could do. It would take intervention from someone outside their circle, and they had a rather powerful circle.

  Simon arrived within twenty minutes, idling his two-door Audi R8 in the drive.

  Selma felt dwarfed at Simon’s side. The man was built for the Highlands and barely fit behind the wheel of his fancy car. “What did Jake tell you?”

  “Just that he had an unexpected guest. One from the future.”

  “Did Helen tell you about Giles?”

  Selma shook her head. “Who’s Giles?”

  “A visitor from the future. We think he may be able to find something for Amber.”

  “Helen didn’t say anything over the phone.” The freeway was relatively free of traffic as they wove through the cars en route to Jake’s place in the valley.

  “She’s convinced all telephone calls are monitored. Seems the government has stopped asking permission to tap calls, lately.”

  Selma would like to disagree, but she couldn’t. Everything fell under the guise of national security, and the public didn’t put up much of a fight as their liberties were slowly being stripped away…for their own good of course. Or so the elected officials told them.

  “You think Giles and this visitor are linked?”

  “Might be. No way to know for sure until we meet this guy.”

  She grabbed hold of the dash as Simon took an off ramp at high speed.

  Two blocks away from Jake’s house, Simon pulled over and started to remove his shirt.

  Selma tried not to stare while Simon instructed her about what he wanted her to do. “We need to find out if this guy is looking for Giles…for Amber…for me. We can’t take any chances that we’re bringing an enemy into the house. It doesn’t make sense he’d end up at Jake’s. Unless he can’t control his time travel.”

  They both knew those who couldn’t control their time travel couldn’t be trusted.
/>
  “Giles told me about warriors from the future. Men and women…all Druid, who weave in and out of time to protect the family, our secrets. But there are others, too, who attempt to undo what these warriors protect.” One of his shoes hit the floor followed by the other.

  “More Grainnas out there?”

  Simon’s jaw tightened. “None as powerful. But it seems Giles and his people keep those who wish to be like her from gaining power.”

  “There’s good and evil with every race. I guess it’s too much to ask for all Druids to get along.”

  Simon reached for his jeans.

  “Hey!” Selma shot a hand in the air. “What are you doing?”

  He stopped his hand at his zipper and delivered a dimpled grin. “I’m going in with you, but you’ll do all the talking. Ask this guy who he is, who his people are…why he’s here. I’ll determine if he’s telling the truth.”

  Then, without removing his pants, Simon winked and shifted form. A small flash of light illuminated his body and before Selma could say abracadabra, a four legged fur ball climbed out of Simon’s jeans and jumped in her lap with a loud meow.

  Selma knew he was a shifter, but she’d never seen him shift in person. “Wow!”

  Cat-Simon meowed again.

  Without thought, Selma gave his head a pat. “Can you understand me?”

  A strange sense of crazy washed over her when Simon nodded and nudged her hand toward the door.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  She stepped out of the car and lifted Simon into her arms. “I’ll let you down when I get inside,” she told him. “Cats don’t follow people.”

  Simon meowed again when she rapped on Jake’s door a few seconds later.

  Jake flung open the door and met her eyes. She tried to ignore the skip of her heartbeat every time she saw the man. Didn’t matter how good looking he was, he was an arrogant ass most of the time.

  “’Bout time you got here. Who’s this?” he asked looking at Simon.

  “Every witch needs a cat,” she said as she pushed past him and into the house.