What the hell was he going to do?
The police wanted to question him about his brother’s disappearance. And if Helen ever appeared from wherever the hell she’d vanished, the police would want to do more than talk with him.
He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated sigh. Jesus, what was he going to do?
Another coyote howled in the distance, a little closer than the others. He twisted on his heel and narrowed his eyes in a vain attempt to see where the noise came from.
A chorus of howls called from behind him, answering the first animal’s cry.
Were they surrounding him? Philip stood a little taller, gauged the distance to his car, and relaxed. Only a few yards. Nothing he couldn’t manage easily if the animals wanted to attack him.
He turned back to the fire and placed his hands in front of his body to warm, to think about his situation. Usually he was the levelheaded one, the one to count on in a crunch. Yet when he’d snatched Helen, a surge of power he hadn’t known he possessed welled up from nowhere. Damn he was screwed, really and truly fucked. Even now, days later, his cock hardened and his pulse raced as he remembered the fear in her eyes. “You’re one sick mother,” he said to himself. Still, his lips twitched into a sick grin. Maybe this was where madness began, in the dark of a desert night surrounded by coyotes and cold autumn air.
Maybe… He froze, his body doing its best impression of a wooden board, as the hair on the nape of his neck prickled. With his hand slowly reaching to his right hip pocket where he kept the knife he’d held against Helen’s throat, his gaze drifted with slow, calculated ease. Beyond his right shoulder, by his car, was a sight that made his breath catch.
Blocking Philip’s escape was a fierce coyote. He stood at attention, hair standing on end, and a growl rolled low from its gut.
“Oh, screw me,” he murmured as his hand slowly removed the knife. What was the protocol for chasing off wild dogs? Was he supposed to make himself big and yell, or hold still and wait for the dog to consider him a non-threat and move along?
The coyote stared him straight in the eye and pulled his lips back to bare his teeth. The growl and ensuing yip-like bark frightened Philip more than he cared to admit.
“Go!”
The coyote continued to yip and pierce the night with sound, becoming more fierce with every passing second.
Philip took an unconscious step back.
A noise behind him made him stop.
Another coyote paced to his right.
Movement to the left indicated more of the pack wanted to play.
Fear reached up and squeezed his neck in a death grip. He wouldn’t get to the car without injury.
“Fuck off!”
The animals stepped closer, slowly.
He shoved the knife in front of him like a sword. A useless tool in his current situation. The animals would have to be on him to use it.
He twisted to his left and the coyote there lifted his face to the sky and cried. Each step away from the animal brought Philip closer to the fire. Any closer and he’d be licking burns along with the bite wounds he undoubtedly would be suffering soon.
“How does it feel to be the hunted and not the hunter?”
The question came from behind him, close to his ear, in a voice so low and deadly, Philip felt his bladder spasm and the warm liquid spilled down his leg, puddling in his boots. He spun in a circle, intending to gut the man behind the words. But with lightning speed, the man towering over him removed the knife from his grip and held it against his throat.
The night grew still. Within the sudden eerie silence only the breath Philip expelled from his lips in short, staccato pants made any sound.
He recognized the man holding the knife to his throat. He was one of Helen’s friends, one Philip remembered from casing Mrs. Dawson’s home.
“What do you want?”
The knife pushed closer to the pulsating vein in his neck.
Philip went deathly still.
Hatred rolled off Helen’s friend with physical force. He could almost feel the man’s piercing eyes drill holes into the back of his skull.
“You. Are. A. Dead. Man.”
One of the coyote’s snarled and caught the man’s attention.
“Simon?”
Philip heard Helen’s voice but didn’t dare move his head and risk having the knife slice into his flesh.
“I told you to wait in the car, lass.” The coyotes started to snarl.
“Call ‘em off,” Helen said from the darkness.
Simon glanced beyond Philip, and the knife slipped away from his neck. It could be the only chance Philip had to escape. At the distraction, he ducked and twisted, catching Simon off guard.
He managed only two yards before the force of a freight train tackled him to the ground with a warrior cry.
The world spun. A fist smashed into his face. Everything threatened to go dark. Coyotes filled the night with sound, and another fist pushed his stomach up somewhere near his heart.
Simon shoved off Philip. “Get up.”
Philip was out of his league. With one look into the man’s eyes, he knew Simon would kill him if given a chance.
“Simon? C’mon. We need him alive.” Helen stood a couple feet beyond them, her voice soft. Her eyes shifted from Philip then quickly back to Simon.
Philip didn’t press for reasons.
Simon reached down and grasped Philip by his shirt, hauled him to his feet, and shook him until his teeth rattled. The fierce expression on Simon’s face slowly slid into a grin. “We won’t need you for long, Philip.”
Helen moved behind Simon and placed a hand on his back. “We should go.”
“Aye. Let’s take this bastard where he’ll learn what happens to men who accost defenseless women.” Simon put his hand to Philip’s neck and grasped tightly. Only when Philip sputtered did Simon ease his grip.
As Simon waved his free hand around in the air, fire from the pit spread into a circle, surrounding them, and Helen started to chant.
* * * *
They arrived at the Keep in the dead of night. The main halls were littered with men, most of whom slept while the guards kept watch.
Simon changed into proper clothing and donned his sword. The weight of the weapon felt right on his hip. Philip had been gagged and bound, waiting for Ian to assemble the right men to accompany them outside the Keep.
Fin met them and approached from the bottom of the stairs. “’Tis good to see you, lad.”
“She’s fine,” Simon offered before Fin could utter his unspoken question. “They are all fine.”
They embraced briefly.
Fin nodded. “I wondered after Helen arrived, battered the way she was.”
“She was the only one who suffered at his hand.” And Simon swore no one else ever would.
“Yet he lives.”
“A necessity.” Simon tilted his head to the side. “For now.”
Fin grasped Simon’s shoulder. “We will finish this battle and call our family home.”
...and Helen will return to her time. Simon didn’t want to think of that now.
“Fin!” Ian’s voice called from above stairs. They both looked up and saw Ian wave for them to move upstairs.
They kept silent until they made their way to the small, hidden chamber the women used. Duncan and Todd were inside with the ladies. Helen had found a gown, her hair was now fixed in the traditional braid.
“We have a problem,” Ian announced the moment he closed the door.
“As always,” Helen muttered as she slid to Simon’s side. He automatically wrapped his arm around her.
Duncan stepped forward. “Seems the man we captured from Malcolm’s camp has met with an unfortunate accident.”
“Accident?”
“Seems he fell on one of the guard’s blades while trying to escape.”
Simon dropped his head with a sigh.
“What does that mean?” Helen asked.
&nbs
p; “He’s dead, lass.”
“No, not that, Simon. I got that. What does it have to do with finding Philip’s brother?”
“We’ve no way to do it. Our prisoner was our beacon,” Fin explained.
“Simon found him before—”
“I found small parties of men who worked for him, but not the man they called Malcolm.”
“Didn’t the prisoner give any clues where to look?”
Duncan laughed. “A man of loyalty doesn’t divulge his laird’s secrets.”
Helen pinched her eyes together. “Well don’t you guys torture in this time?”
Simon shot Helen a smile. “Bloodthirsty, lass?”
“Well there has to be some benefit to living in this time.”
“The man wouldn’t speak, lass. Hard as we tried to loosen his tongue,” Ian explained.
“Now what?” Tara asked.
“We find him. How hard can finding one man be?” Helen turned to Ian.
“If it were only so easy. The Highlands are vast, Helen. What you say is not so easily done.”
Simon noticed the frustration mounting in Helen’s stance. Her hands ran over her arms and her fingers dug into her palms.
“I found Simon on a different continent and in a different time. I’m sure I can find Malcolm in the same neighborhood.”
“You can do that, lass?”
“Sure. Why not?” Helen shrugged her shoulders and glanced around the room to astonished eyes. “Why the looks? We all have a gift. Mine just isn’t often useful…well, until now.”
Ian let a rare smirk spread over his face while he glanced to his oldest son.
Duncan shrugged and turned to Fin.
“How can we help?” Fin asked as he rubbed his palms together.
She hesitated. “I guess a picture of the guy is out. No personal affects. I could talk with Philip—”
“No!” Simon shouted the word.
“It’s not my first choice, either, but he does know the guy.”
“What else can you use?”
Helen placed her palms together and brought them up to her face, taping her nose in thought. “We believe Malcolm had one of the stones, right?”
“Aye.”
“The smaller stones came from the larger ones. Where are those?”
“Hidden about the Keep,” Ian told her.
“Bring them to me. I have an idea.”
Ian nodded to Duncan. Fin and Duncan quickly left the room to retrieve the stones.
Simon leaned close to Helen’s ear. “You think you can truly do this?”
She smiled with only a hint of hesitation. “Hey, I’m a time traveler. I have the ‘finding people’ thing down.”
He chuckled, running a hand over her soft cheek. “’Tis good to see you smile again.”
Helen leaned into his touch. “We’ll get through this.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With every ounce of bravo Helen could muster, she placed the stones in a line and concentrated. Her fingers tingled, whether from anxiety over the past days, or her gift kicking in, she couldn’t tell.
She stroked the necklace hanging from her neck and pulled in a deep breath. Her skin tingled until she hovered her hand over the stones, feeling the vibration of one. She lifted the stone and placed it to her side.
“Is that the one?”
“No, that one gave me my necklace.” The feeling was absolute as she moved to the next. She envisioned Amber and quickly removed the stone on the far right. “Amber’s”
She thought of Cian. But when she lifted that stone she didn’t add it to the elimination pile. “This is Cian’s. But we don’t know if his knife drove Malcolm here.”
Staring at the remaining stones, her vision blurred. Helen spread her fingers wide and closed her eyes.
Malcolm, buddy boy, which one are you?
She smelled a fire and rain. At first both hands tingled, making her wonder if she’d narrow her search to one. Soon the overall sensations muted and heat took its place. A cold gush of air met her palms as she moved them over the stones on her right. Keeping her eyes closed, heat emanated from one. When she rested her palm on it, the sizzling of her skin singed all the way to her skull. “This one.”
Everyone in the room sighed.
“What now?” Lora asked.
Helen lifted the stone in her hand and smiled. “We go find the bastard and make him stop.”
“We? There is no we.” Simon corrected from behind her.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s too dangerous for a woman to—”
“Save it, Simon. I don’t have a death-wish or anything, but unless you can use this thing as a laser pointer to Philip’s brother, you don’t have a choice but to take me with you.”
Simon placed both of his massive hands on his hips, ready to fight her.
“The lass has a point.”
Fin stepped forward. “And if she’s anything like your mother arguing with her will only waste time.”
Helen smiled.
“I don’t like it.” Simon glared at his father. “The battlefield is no place for a woman.”
“Agreed,” Ian said.
Helen opened her mouth to protest.
“Don’t bother,” Tara told her. “They’ll kick this around for a few minutes, grumble about the weakness of our sex, and then fold.”
Duncan glared at his wife.
“What? Did I stutter?”
Lora chuckled under her breath.
Ian shook his head. “The lass is right. No use pretending we can do this without Helen’s help. We’ll keep her safe, Simon. No harm will come to her as long as I have breath.”
Todd, who had kept silent through the whole exchange backed away from the door. “I’ll gather Philip and meet you in the courtyard. I don’t know about you, but I miss my wife and kids. Let’s get this done.”
“Good point,” Fin moved to Todd’s side. “I’ll help.”
Helen glanced down at her gown. “I need to get out of this.”
“Dammit,” Simon muttered as he led her from the room to change clothes.
* * * *
Rain drizzled against them as the horses plucked their way over the green hills. Ian used his gift repeatedly driving the heavy rains away. Helen was still soaked.
Simon sat behind her on Kong, the two of them leading the way. Helen ran her hand over the stone she’d tucked into the waistband of her pants. Her skin tingled and pulsed, the stone acting as a compass. She lifted her hand and pointed to the west, the rest followed.
Their small party had left the Keep as dawn broke. It was past noon now. They hadn’t seen another soul since leaving, and from the expressions on the men’s faces, they worried.
Helen glanced over at Fin. He led another horse that carried Philip. Draped over the ass end of the animal, Philip was anything but comfortable. Many times in the first hour of their trip, Helen noticed Philip attempting to watch where they were going. Trying to keep his head up must have been too difficult and now he simply hung there. She wanted to muster an ounce of sympathy for him, but then remembered the terror he’d put her through.
Half a mile later, the stone went cold and a chill went up her spine. “Stop.”
Simon reined in his horse. “What is it?”
Something was wrong. They were headed in the right direction, but the air changed and every fiber of her body told her to stop.
“Shhh,” Fin whispered.
Everyone stilled. Even Philip had the good sense to hold perfectly still. Ian waved his hand to the East. Todd and Fin urged their horses forward slowly.
Simon moved Kong to the nearest patch of trees and grasped the reins of Philip’s horse from Fin as he rode by.
Ian and Duncan circled around the opposite side of Fin and Todd. Ian’s falcon soared into the sky. The men in stealth mode was staggering, quiet. They knew something was coming. Like waiting for an earthquake, but having no idea when it would strike.
When the gro
und shook, it came by way of horses. Over two dozen riders, all split up to attack each party.
She’d led them to their death, Helen was sure of it.
Huge, fierce men with raised swords and shields to protect their bodies screamed out as soon as they were spotted.
Simon’s arm squeezed her even tighter.
Philip wiggled on top of the horse, his eyes big as saucers.
Helen leaned forward, watching what was sure to be a massacre. They were outnumbered.
Behind her, Simon murmured under his breath. Suddenly a few of the horses charging Fin and Todd abruptly stopped, tossing their riders to the ground, evening their odds.
Simon shifted his attention to Ian and Duncan, and again half a dozen riders were thrown. The men scrambled to their feet and lightning split the sky.
Duncan sliced his sword over the head of his enemy. Blood sprayed in an arch over his head.
Helen squeezed her eyes shut against the brutality of the field, but couldn’t sit in darkness long. Though she shuddered, she had to keep watching. The falcon screeched and dove at one of the enemies.
Simon kept to the shadows of the trees, keeping her from harm’s way. He helped in the way he could. Helen noticed his body flinch and his eyes focus on the horses their enemy rode.
One by one, each man fell from his mount, whether by Simon’s hand or one of the MacCoinnich’s, Helen didn’t know. Everything was moving so fast. Men were bleeding everywhere, bodies falling to the cold, wet soil to die a slow and painful death.
Bile rose in her throat and threatened to erupt. This was medieval life and the death Simon had spoke. How did he live with these memories so vivid in his mind? How would she?
Fin yelled above the striking steel. “Hold on,” he warned.
Simon grasped her tighter. “Hold, Kong,” he muttered to the horse.
The ground shook under them with the earthquake Helen anticipated.
The horses that no longer carried riders, bolted away from the fight. The others attempted to follow, some with riders successfully, unable to gain control.
Bodies littered the ground and a paltry few warriors remained. Sword met sword, then flesh until only two men stood. Their retreat was swift.
Highland Shifter Page 25