by Amy Jarecki
“Eva?” asked Chrissy, one of Walter Tennant’s students. She stepped into the living room and leaned against the door jamb. “Where the hell did you come from?”
Walter flicked his wrist at the undergrad. “Please give us a moment. I need a word with Miss MacKay.”
Chrissy coughed out a grunt and backed into what looked like an office and closed the door. Thank God. All Eva needed was a nosy student finding out about the medallion and time travel.
Walter motioned with his head. “She’s doing some research for me.”
Eva shrugged. It wasn’t any of her business why a fifty-something man would shack up with twenty-year-old student. Thank God they weren’t naked when she arrived. Eva bit her lip, realizing she’d never set foot in the room before. “Where the hell am I?”
“My flat in Glasgow.”
“What about the dig? Where’s my stuff? What happened to the tent…and where’s my car?” Her head shook as she glared at Tennant. “Fuck! This can’t end. Not. Now.”
The professor shook his palms. “Slow down. One thing at a time.”
With a huff, Eva clamped her fists to her hips and tapped her foot.
Looking over the top of his inordinately thick lenses, Walter cleared his throat. “First of all, it’s November. The dig ended two months ago. Your things are safe. Your car is in the garage below and your suitcase and attaché are in my spare room.”
She turned in a circle. “How did I end up here?”
“I’ve no idea.”
She reflected back to the moment she was about to make the incision in Andrew’s shoulder. “I pictured your face. That must be it. The same thing happened the last time I was hurled back to the…” She looked toward the office and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Twenty-first century.”
“I never expected you to be gone for this long. What in God’s name has been happening?”
“Too much. I need to go back. All my scrolls are still there. This is the absolute worst time to leave William.”
He inclined his head and held up a finger. “Now come lass, you cannot spew a string of ambiguities and expect me to sit back and let it pass. What. Have. You been up to?”
With an exasperated sigh, she looked to the ceiling. “The last thing I remember, I was trying to remove a lead arrow tip from Andrew Murray’s shoulder.”
“Murray? Well, undoubtedly that’s what sent you back. The history books are very clear as to the timing of his death.”
“Don’t you think I know? But William was adamant I try to do something to save him. He even accused me of withholding information about a cure.”
The professor crossed his arms. “Didn’t you? I mean, you knew you could do nothing to change the past. I would think you would have avoided helping Sir Andrew at all costs.”
Eva groaned. “And William suspected me of doing just that. I tried to help as much as I could. I told Brother Bartholomew to keep the wound clean, though I suspected Sir Andrew was suffering from lead poisoning.”
“Fascinating.” Walter beamed as if the world hadn’t just collapsed. “We all know he died from wounds incurred at the Battle of Stirling Bridge, but how did you arrive at lead poisoning?”
“He was shot in the shoulder with a crossbow arrow and a bit of the tip broke off.”
“And you were about to remove it because Wallace didn’t want to lose his friend?”
“Sir Andrew was more than that.” Eva threw out her hands. “He was William’s ticket into the gentry. You wouldn’t believe all the backstabbing that goes on between the nobles.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Walter chuckled. “That’s exactly why Scotland ended up in such a mess in the first place. The nobles would have preferred to fight each other for the throne than fight for King John.”
Eva combed her fingers through her hair. “I have to go back to Fail. If I drive there, can you pick up my car?”
The professor had the gall to slip his stockinged feet onto the footstool. “Do you honestly believe the forces behind the medallion will allow you to travel again?”
“I did nothing wrong.” She stamped her foot. “By the looks of Sir Andrew this morning, he wouldn’t have lived even if I did successfully remove the lead.”
“But how do you know for certain?” Goddammit, did the man have to look so smug, comfortably sitting in his lounger?
She narrowed her gaze and balled her fists. Lord she wanted to throttle him. “I don’t.”
“Wasn’t Sir Andrew a young, virile man? Someone who might recover from the brink of death?”
Eva threw up her hands. “I suppose there was a remote possibility that he would have survived, but that doesn’t allay the fact that I must try to return.”
Walter sat back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, not before you have a word with your mother.”
“Pardon me?” She glared at him. “I am twenty-seven years old, and I’ll not be listening to a college professor tell me I ought to call my mother.”
“If you want your keys, you will. The woman has been growing quite irritated. I’m afraid she and your father are on the brink of notifying the Royal Marines. Lord knows I’ve been putting them off, but with every phone call your mother becomes less understanding.”
“Ugh.” Eva rubbed the needling knot in her neck. “Bloody hell.” She dug in her pocket for her mobile phone and pushed the “on” button.
Nothing.
“This is dead. Can I use yours?”
Walter unclasped his phone from his belt. “Go in the spare room—down the hall, last door on the right.”
Eva did as asked and found her gear neatly stowed in a corner. Before dialing, she pulled her charger out of her briefcase and plugged in her smartphone to start it charging. She watched it illuminate while she dialed her mother on Walter’s phone, almost shocked she remembered the number after being in a time warp for six months.
The phone didn’t even ring once when her mother picked up. “Hello?”
“Mum?”
“Eva? Oh my God! Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I’ve left messages for you day and night. Your father and I have been beside ourselves thinking the worst of Professor Tennant…”
Eva glanced at her mobile while Mother continued her rant. Only a thousand fifty-three voice messages? Otherwise, the thing was still going through the gyrations of updating unread texts and e-mails.
She tuned back into Mum’s rant. “…how could you have gone for so long without calling? I taught you to respect your parents. I should—”
After taking in a deep breath, Eva interrupted, “Sorry. I’m fine, in good health, wonderful, actually. How are you and Dad?”
“Pardon? You sound as if you’ve been away for a weekend holiday, and—”
“I know it’s been a long time, but I literally have not been near a phone or a post office or a computer for that matter.”
“For heaven’s sakes, have you been on the moon? I have a mind to hop on a plane and fly to Scotland right now. Regardless that your father will be entertaining the Russian ambassador, you need me more.” Eva’s parents lived in Washington DC.
“No. Mother, please do not fly here. I am perfectly fine and I doubt I’ll be around when you arrive.”
“You mean to say you will be off again? What? Are you working for MI6? Oh my God, save us. Have you…have you become a spy?” Mother’s voice ratcheted up with her every word. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”
It would have been easy for Eva to say yes, but she abhorred lying, even when Mum played the hysterical card. “No. It’s a journalism job. I’m researching a story undercover…it may take a year…maybe longer.”
“Undercover? I knew it all along. You are putting yourself in danger. I shoul—”
“No! You aren’t listening to me. I am perfectly safe.” Eva believed that to her toes. She’d convinced herself she would be hurled back to her time if any medieval zealot ever tried to kill her. That’s what happened when Professor Tennan
t fell through the time warp…though he’d never been able to accomplish time traveling again. But Eva had. “The only problem is I am unable to make contact with you or anyone else while I’m there.”
“This is ludicrous. No contact at all? What you’re doing must be dangerous. If nothing else, give me the name of the outfit you are working for and I’ll have your father investigate. You know your father has contacts in high places in London—”
“Jeez, Mum. How can I make you understand?” Eva clenched her fist. “There is no threat and there is nothing for Dad to concern himself with.” Eva’s father, Sir David MacKay was the UK Ambassador to the United States and if he leaked a scandal, it would make the headlines of every newspaper between Washington DC and Edinburgh—not to mention the bloodbath by television.
Mother huffed on the other end of the phone. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m sorry you’re worried. But I’m happy and doing something that makes me feel alive for the first time since Steve’s death. Finally I’ve been able to move on with my life. Please, just give me a little time. Don’t you want me to be happy?” Gritting her teeth, Eva held her breath for a long pause.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mum’s tone completely changed. At last. “I’ve only been thinking of you—of your safety. Of course I want nothing more than to see you happy.”
Eva grabbed the carrot and fast. “Good. Then it’s settled. When I return, I’ll fly to the embassy and we’ll have a wonderful reunion.”
By the time she clicked off, Eva had her Mum’s hysterics under control. Maybe I should write a few ambiguous letters for Professor Tennant to send from time to time so that doesn’t happen again. But she had no time to lose. Opening the door she headed for the loo.
The water ran before Chrissy stepped out the door.
Great.
“So, what’s going on?” the cute, brown-haired girl asked, planting a sassy hand on her hip.
Eva looked toward the living room with a shrug. “What does Tennant say?”
“Same thing I just heard you tell your mum.”
“You were listening in?” Now Eva knew she needed to watch her back whenever Chrissy was around.
“How else would I find out? Prof Tennant doesn’t tell me anything. One day you were working with us on the dig. Then you unearthed William Wallace’s seal and disappeared—and the professor seemed to think nothing was wrong. It’s just weird.”
Eva pushed past the lass and grabbed the doorknob. “I can only tell you what I told Mum. I’ll spill the beans after I’m done and not before.”
“Come on. At least tell me why you’re dressed like that?” Chrissy pinched Eva’s sleeve and rubbed the wool between her fingers. “It looks so authentic.”
“It’s part of my disguise. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Eva shut the door and turned the lock. As soon as she finished taking care of her bodily needs, she’d head straight for the ruins of Fail Monastery.
Chapter Ten
William sat in the dark chamber—dark like the black scourge spreading through his heart. Two days ago he’d retreated into solitude and hadn’t emerged since. Without a candle or lamp, and the furs pulled across the window, the only hint to the time of day was the regular tolling of the chapel bells. All the while he sat in there as his heart sank deeper into the abyss of self-loathing.
Only he was to blame.
He’d lost not only a patriot, but a true friend.
And he’d lost Eva, the one woman he’d ever loved.
After Eva’s disappearance, William had removed the bit of lead from Andrew’s shoulder himself. But his efforts were for naught. He even doubted such a small piece from the arrow tip would cause so much illness to an otherwise healthy man in his prime. Regardless, Sir Andrew Murray died that eve and there hadn’t been a damned thing William could do to prevent it.
Aye, Murray’s death was a devastating loss for the Patriotic Party, but that wasn’t why William sat motionless in his unlit chamber. Once he’d searched every corner of Dirleton Castle, he’d realized his deepest fears had been realized. She was gone for good.
Faster than he could blink, she’d vanished. He’d only averted his eyes long enough to collect the lancet from the floor. But just as she’d warned him time and time again, by his insistence, Eva had tried to do something that was meant to alter events already written in the stars by God Almighty.
William touched his cheek where a wee puff of air had skimmed past—his last hint that she’d existed—the only hint that something grave had happened. There were no footsteps, no creaks, or banging of doors. Eva had made no movement whatsoever.
She’d vanished.
Mayhap it was Satan’s magic that brought her.
But William’s heart told him differently. It ached like someone had reached through his rib cage and crushed his heart between the jaws of a vise.
“Whatever happens, I love you.” He recounted Eva’s last words. I was too embroiled in my own bloody anger to acknowledge her. I just glared at the woman like a damned, ox-brained bastard.
A rap sounded at the door.
William did nothing but blink.
The door creaked open and the blinding light from a torch shone inside. “Willy, are ye in here?” It was John Blair’s voice.
“Leave me be.”
The priest stepped inside and closed the door. “I have for near two days.” He strode to the hearth and used the torch to light the peat and the candles, then snuffed it.
All the while William stared at the floor.
With a grunt, Blair sat in the chair opposite at the small, round table. “All men die. And ye ken as well as I, every time a man picks up his sword, he places his life in peril. Sir Andrew will be remembered for his service to Scotland.”
A fire flared in his gut. “Aye. There’s no need to lecture me.”
“Ye’ve been holed up in here for days whilst the Kingdom in your care crumbles about our ears.” Blair pulled a flagon from his belt. “Have a tot. It’ll set ye to rights.”
William licked his chapped lips and raised his chin. He didn’t want a blasted thing, especially a sermon from a damned priest.
Blair poured and pushed the cup across the table. “Now put this into your gullet.”
William stared at the cup for a moment. Did I hear Blair right? Is something amiss? Why couldn’t the monk have just left me be? He groaned. Damnation, I have a responsibility to the Kingdom of Scotland to wrench myself away from this miserable melancholy. But Lord in heaven, I dunna want to.
With a sharp nod, he pursed his lips, grasped the cup, and sipped.
Blair rocked back in his chair. “I’ll wager that’s better already.”
The whisky burned a fire down William’s throat and sloshed in his stomach like it was still ablaze. William watched the remaining amber liquid swirl.
“What happened to the woman?” Blair asked.
Clenching his fist, William looked up. “Why should ye have a care? Ye never favored Eva overmuch.”
“’Twasna a matter of whether or not I liked the lass. ’Tis just I ken when something’s amiss and nothing ever seemed right with that one.” The priest shook his head. “She spun a thick blanket of wool across your eyes for certain.”
The whisky twisting around his stomach shot through to the tips of his fingers. “I ought to plant my knuckles in your flapping jaw for that.” William held up his fist. “She only tried to help. Though she was unfamiliar with our ways, she was always willing to learn and do what she could—far more than most of the men in our garrison.”
“But ye just said it—she was unfamiliar with our ways. I always thought there was something sinister about her—something unholy.”
“Och, ye daft friar, that wasn’t it at all. Ye didna appreciate her for her efforts.”
“Oh?” Blair’s eyes grew wide. “Then confess to me, your personal chaplain. Show me the error of my ways. What are these secrets locked in your heart that are eating ye from the inside out?”
William turned the cup between his fingers before tipping it up and sculling the rest. “Ye’d never believe it.”
“Och aye? I’m a man of faith. I believe that Jesus walked on water and Moses parted the Red Sea. Come, lad, have out with it.”
Hell, William would probably never see Eva again. What would it hurt to share the truth with his closest friend? “I trust ye more than my own kin.”
“I reckon that’s why I’m sitting here and not your brothers Malcolm or John.”
Reaching for the flagon, William poured himself another tot. A larger portion this time. “She came from the future.” He snorted. “Sent here to write my story.”
Blair gaped. “Now I’ve heard some tall tales in my life, but that one’s got to be taller than the highest peak in Scotland.”
William pounded his fist on the table. “I said ye wouldna believe me. Worse, she told me over and over that she couldna do anything to affect the outcome of events already foretold, but I forced her into Andrew’s chamber—forced her to attempt something to help him. I only averted my eyes for a moment, and the next thing I kent, she’d vanished. Just like she’d warned would happen.”
“Vanished?” The priest’s jaw dropped like a simpleton.
William batted his hand through the air. “Believe what ye like. I ken what happened and I’m sick to death that I forced her to do something that would rip us apart.”
Blair narrowed his eyes. “Ye’re serious?”
“I should have kept my mouth shut.”
Clutching the wooden cross at his chest in his fist, Blair shook his head. “But ’tis not like ye to believe such sorcery—that which can only be from Satan himself. ’Tis a good thing she’s gone. The woman was a temptress, I kent it in my verra bones.”
“Ye’re wrong about her. Have been all along.” Clenching every muscle in his body, William glared back at Blair, personal chaplain or nay, the man was dead wrong.
“I suppose that doesna matter now.”
“Aye?” William slammed his fist on the table. “I’ll not stand for ye sullying her name. Eva MacKay was a good woman. She had a kinder heart than ye or me, and I’ll not tolerate an evil word against her.”