Highland Shifter

by Catherine Bybee

  Only once they rode over the western slope did Helen breathe a sigh of relief.

  Her whole body shook as she watched the men who had somehow become part of her family return to their side.

  Duncan rode his horse their way and bolted past them. Kong sidestepped and Helen grasped Simon’s waist.

  Behind them, Duncan drove into the trees and returned fifteen seconds later with Philip dangling off the ass of his horse. Throughout the battle, Helen hadn’t noticed that Philip had fallen from his horse and was attempting to get away with bound hands.

  Duncan tossed him to the ground after stopping among them. He hit hard, his head shot up and he glared at all of them.

  “We need to follow those who fled,” Ian told them.

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Helen asked.

  “Aye. They’ll likely lead us to the man we seek. The risk is one we must take.”

  * * * *

  Philip was losing his mind. His stomach was pushed up against his shoulders and his right eye was swollen shut. Death would be a better companion then this. After the brutality of watching men running other men through with swords, he didn’t think things could get worse. Then, for a brief moment after he’d slid from the horse, he thought he’d find freedom. Not that he’d know where to go or had a clue as to how to survive, but it had to be better than this pack of barbarian men were.

  Helen sat beside her lover smug and content. Philip wanted to tear her to tiny pieces. She was the reason for his pain. The reason he’d fallen into the strange world. He’d heard only tidbits of information from his wardens. He knew they were searching for someone and they thought he’d be useful when they found them. It was safe to say the small army of men with their guts spewed all over the wet hills were part of the other man’s army. He hoped the rest of the army was better skilled.

  It didn’t escape Philip’s notice that these men had other tools at their disposal. A magical arsenal. He’d seen the large man, who’d lifted him as if he were nothing, shoot fire from his hand. How the hell was Philip going to combat that? Earthquakes and perfectly timed lightning only happened on the silver screen. He was fucked with a capitol “F”.

  “We’re almost there,” Helen announced. “Over that hill.”

  One of the men broke away. Philip managed to see him gallop by before holding his head up to watch became too much trouble. Either he blacked out or had managed to fall asleep, when the horse he rode on came to a sudden stop.

  Two of the riders, the leader and one of his sons, rode ahead while the other two took the opposite direction.

  Smoke billowed from a short distance away, providing proof of a camp.

  Simon helped Helen off the horse and she stood a short distance away. Without ceremony, Simon pushed Philip until he hit the ground, jarring his hip and causing pain to shoot down his thigh.

  Above them, the predatory bird Ian carried like a weapon, soared. Simon stood still, staring at the animal as it flew toward the smoke filled camp.

  Helen’s gaze shifted from Simon to Philip and back again. She glanced at the sky but kept quiet.

  Without words, Simon left the horses standing alone, grasped Philip’s arm and pushed him forward. “Move,” he yelled, forcing Philip to walk in front.

  Helen walked behind Simon, her eyes searching the horizon.

  “Is he there?” Helen asked.

  “Aye. Ian is explaining his options.”

  They walked a few more yards, each step jarred Philip’s sleeping limbs.

  “We’ve come to negotiate. End the bloodshed.” Ian’s voice penetrated the damp Highland soil.

  A large tent sat in the middle of a small clearing. Several fire pits littered the ground. Well-armed men held massive swords and crouched low as if ready to fight. Philip wouldn’t stand a chance, tied as he was. Even loose, he wouldn’t live long if these men decided he wasn’t useful.

  “I’ve grown used to bloodshed.” A voice rose from inside tent. The men surrounding it stood ready for a fight.

  “What is it you fight for? Land, gold…or are you a mercenary?”

  The faceless man laughed, his voice gruff with age. “Hardly that anymore.”

  “Then what?” Ian kept asking questions.

  Philip watched.

  Simon urged him forward but kept Helen slightly sheltered by his body. The mist started to turn into droplets of rain, adding to the misery.

  “I want what your women can provide.”

  Fin laughed, but Philip noticed Fin’s hand tighten on his sword.

  Helen tucked behind Simon. Dressed as she was the men in the camp wouldn’t mistake her for a woman. At least not from a distance.

  “Our women? There are plenty more littering the Highlands.”

  “Not the kind of women you have. We both know what I speak of.”

  Philip’s mind scrambled. Something about the voice sounded familiar. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t laced with a Scottish accent, or maybe it was the verbiage used.

  “Our women are of no use to you.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “Still, they will not be a part of our negotiations.” Ian glanced over to Simon who gripped Philip by the arm and took two steps forward. “The bloodshed ends today, Malcolm. They do call you Malcolm?”

  Philip lost his footing. Simon righted him and kept him moving.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Not all of your men died quickly,” Ian explained.

  “The bloodshed ends when I get what I want. You’re outnumbered here. I’ll be a good sport however and give you a few minutes head start.”

  Ian laughed and the sky rumbled. “’Tis you who will need more men.”

  The voice inside the tent laughed as well and then the man behind the voice stepped into view. He held a crossbow that was pointed at the ground. Long grey hair touched his shoulders. Weathered skin ran over taut muscles on his forearms and chest. Philip’s skin crawled and his heart sped up. It can’t be.

  “My bow will remove you first.”

  A loud click broke the silence. All eyes turned to Todd.

  In his hand was a twenty-first century gun.

  Malcolm went deathly still.

  “You recognize the threat, don’t you?”

  Malcolm nodded, his face turned in Philip’s direction.

  “Set the bow down,” Todd instructed. “My bullet will hit you faster than any bow can travel.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Philip murmured.

  “We have someone who might convince you to find a new sport.” Ian nodded once and Simon shoved Philip down the short embankment.

  Philip tripped and tumbled several feet before managing to stand again. When he did, he was a few yards from the tent. A few yards from his brother. “Mal?”

  Malcolm’s face twisted into a look of horror. Recognition flooded his features and his anger rose to the boiling point. “How the fuck?”

  Philip could say the same. Malcolm looked sixty years old. Yet when Philip had seen him only a couple of days before he was a thirty-year-old man in his prime.

  “Jesus, you’re old,” Philip said, not filtering his words.

  Mal stormed forward and grabbed Philip by his shirt. He moved him left, then right. Philip couldn’t steady himself with his hands tied behind his back. “And you’re not.”

  “How?”

  “Damn rock sucked me from prison and into this hellhole. Thirty three years in this God forsaken land.”

  “Why not just go back?”

  “Don’t you think I thought of that, dumb-fuck? The stone disappeared. We need one of their women to take us back.”

  Philip swallowed and glanced behind him at Simon. “They have one with them now.”

  For the first time in years, Philip opened his mind to his brother and allowed the other man’s thoughts to enter into his mind willingly.

  Malcolm’s gaze lifted and followed Philip’s to Helen.

  * * * *

  Helen’s bl
ood grew cold in her veins. All eyes were on her even as Simon shoved her behind him.

  Fin moved in tighter, Duncan did the same.

  “I don’t want to harm her. Just use her to go home. Once I’m gone, the bloodshed will end.”

  “If you mean no harm, instruct your men to stand down,” Ian said.

  Malcolm lifted a hand, the men at his side eased their stance, but they didn’t put down their arms.

  Ian shifted on top of his horse, restless. “Not good enough.”

  “This is my camp. My rules.”

  “Has living on our soil taught you nothing? You are on my land, have murdered my men. You will do as I say.” Ian’s tone straightened Helen’s spine.

  Malcolm’s gaze shifted to Todd briefly before he placed Philip between the gun and himself. Philip attempted to move out of the deadly path, but Malcolm gripped his arm and held him in place. Philip’s face took on a grey tone.

  A small lift of Malcolm’s lip expressed his disgust. He closed his eyes.

  Noise from behind her had Helen spinning on her heel. A dozen men sat at her back and from nowhere many more emerged from the shadows of the trees, some on horseback, others on foot.

  Duncan and Ian twisted their mounts so their backs were to each other. Fin and Todd did the same.

  Ambushed.

  Simon took Helen’s hand and pulled her tight to his frame.

  By the time she glanced back to Philip and his brother, one of Malcolm’s men tore at Philip’s bindings.

  “My camp. My rules. Give me the woman and the rest of you can go.”

  Helen’s hand grasped onto her necklace. She might be able to escape, but the others would be lost.

  There had to be another way.

  “Helen?” Philip called her.

  “You cannot have her.”

  “We’re outnumbered,” Helen whispered to Simon. “Even if we did manage to kill them, we could be hurt or worse.”

  Simon’s grip grew fierce. “Nay.”

  There had to be a way out, a way to escape using the rules placed by her enemy. In her head, she thought of Lizzy and of the conversations they’d had about shifting time. The nerves on Helen’s hand started to jump. “Never attempt to return to a time where you’ve already been. Elise, the Ancient who appeared to us warned us against it.”

  That’s it!

  Helen turned to Simon. “Do you think his hold on these men will dissolve once Malcolm’s gone?”

  “Yes, but—”

  She placed a finger on his lips. “Trust me then.”

  “Let’s go, Helen.”

  “The lass goes nowhere,” Ian yelled.

  “Ian,” Helen called out. “Remember the wise words of Elise?” Helen hoped that by saying the name the others would follow along. “...wise woman, visited you some time ago?”

  “She can’t help us now, lass.”

  Helen glanced at Malcolm, who grew restless.

  “I think she’d approve of my sacrifice for your lives.”

  Malcolm smiled at that.

  Fin started toward them. An arrow shot in front of his horse, stopping him.

  Helen raised her hand. “It’s okay.” She grabbed hold of Simon. “He comes with me.”

  “No,” Malcolm yelled.

  Helen took a deep breath, filled her lungs, and blew it out slowly. “I have no reason to believe you’ll treat me with any respect at the end of our journey. Simon comes or the two of you can go to hell.”

  “We’ll just kill her and cut the necklace from her neck,” Philip said.

  Well damn, she hadn’t thought of that. It was time for some of her earlier years of bullshit to work. “Nice visual, boss, but it doesn’t work that way.” She fingered the necklace on her neck. “This is branded to me. I’m the only one who can make it work.”

  “Is she telling the truth?” Malcolm asked Philip.

  “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

  “Simon comes with me.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Simon whispered.

  “Yeah. But it’s a risk. No telling what will happen when we land.”

  Simon pulled her into his frame, his body molded to hers. “We take the risk together.”

  God she was hoping he’d say that. She really didn’t want to land in the wrong time without him by her side. She nodded.

  Together they walked hand in hand down the hill.

  “Simon?” Fin called.

  “It’s okay, Dad. Elise was a wise woman. Have faith.”

  “I don’t like it,” Ian grumbled and lightning split the sky, spooking the horse.

  “Just take care of these men here,” Simon suggested as they kept walking.

  Helen kept her eyes glued to Philip.

  Once she could smell the stench of Malcolm’s skin, she stopped.

  She reached between the folds of her clothing and removed Simon’s dirk. Malcolm surged forward to grab her arm but Simon intercepted with lightning speed. “Relax. I just need a little blood.” The edge of the knife scraped against her finger.

  Philip winced.

  “Wussey,” Helen told her ex-boss.

  She dripped the blood in a small circle around them, hoping it was enough to move them in time without standing the touch of either man. When she was done, she nodded to Simon who lit the ring. She grasped Simon’s hand and started to chant.

  Malcolm shifted from foot to foot with nervous energy.

  “In the day and in this hour, I ask the Ancients for this power.” The familiar shift in the air and heat from the rising fire ring started to ground out her voice. Instead of lifting her voice high, she kept it low so only she and Simon could hear. “Let’s go back to the United States,” she lowered her voice even more. “Back to nineteen seventy eight. If the Ancient’s will it so, take us now and let us go.”

  The year specified was before Simon or Helen had been born. A time when Philip and Malcolm were only kids.

  Helen glanced over to Philip, who watched the swirling vortex surround them. Malcolm was pulling a knife out of his pants, a smug smile on his face.

  Weightlessness surrounded them, knocking the other men back. Helen held onto Simon’s side, her eyes never leaving her enemy.

  A rush of air emptied from the circle, forcing Philip and Malcolm to the ground.

  Everything stopped. Malcolm scrambled to his feet but before he made it far, he grabbed his gut and doubled over. The knife in his hand dropped.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  Philip never made it off the ground. He grasped his head and his eyes shed tears of blood.

  “I took you b-back,” she stammered, unbelieving of what she saw.

  Helen lifted her eyes from the dying men. It was dark, the distant sound of traffic pointed to a road being nearby.

  “The canyon,” Simon suggested. The same canyon they’d been in before.

  Philip rolled onto his back screaming in pain. His cries penetrated the night. Hair fell from his head in chunks and skin receded from his nails.

  “You bitch,” he managed before words were no longer possible.

  Before her eyes, Philip’s skin stretched and folded in on itself. The stench of burned skin singed her nose. Both men writhed in place until they couldn’t move. She buried her face into Simon’s shoulder, unable to watch any more.

  When the noise stopped, Helen blinked and noticed a small pile of soot. Within seconds, a wind came from the north and blew the ashes of both men all over the cold, desert floor.

  The intensity of the day, the month, shook inside her as she trembled in Simon’s arms.

  He stroked her hair, whispering calming words in her ear. “We’re okay.”

  “I know.”

  “He’ll never hurt you again.”

  “I know.”

  “How did you know they’d die?”

  “I didn’t. Not really.” She pulled away and glanced at the ground where the two men had lain only moments before. “Your mom told me about Elise
, the Ancient who came to you after Grainna died. She said not to use the stones to go back to a time where you lived before.”

  Simon nodded. “She didn’t say we’d die if we do.”

  “Your mom said it would be painful for any of us to be in the same time with our younger, or older selves. I thought if we could shift Philip and Malcolm back to a time when they lived, we could disarm them, bring them to justice.” The memory of Philip’s melting flesh swam in her head.

  She shivered. “I didn’t know they’d die.”

  Drawing her in his arms again, he said. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill them. Mayhap the Ancients decided to serve justice to their old souls, and leave their child souls alone. They’d be children now, if we truly are in nineteen seventy eight.”

  The patch of desert was dark, hardly a moon lit the night.

  “What do you think happened to Malcolm’s stone, the one he used to travel back to your time?”

  “If Malcolm lived in my time for thirty years, he arrived long before the small stones evolved from the larger ones. They didn’t exist. The fact that you and Amber have stones stayed with you during travel, proves you’re the only ones who should possess these stones during your lives. Cian’s disappeared, proving he isn’t meant to travel in time at will.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No.” Simon laughed. “I know only what I’ve seen.” His gaze traveled back to the tiny specks of ash on the ground.

  “It’s over,” Helen whispered.

  Simon ran his hand over her hair, kissed the top of her head. “It’s over.”

  Now they could get on with their lives.

  Chapter Thirty

  Helen transferred a few of the MacCoinnich’s at a time to take them home. On her final trip back, to retrieve Simon and Cian, Ian and Lora asked that she take them with her to say goodbye to Amber.

  It was all happening so fast. Helen hardly had time for goodbyes herself. Lizzy embraced her and reminded her they were but a thought away if she ever needed them. But living in the sixteenth century simply wasn’t a sacrifice Helen could make. Besides, Mrs. Dawson needed her. Amber needed a friend and mentor. Her place was in her time, not in Simon’s.

  The two of them didn’t speak, the inevitable parting brought tears to her eyes every time she thought about it.