Hearing a shout from the Order’s soldiers, she scrambled down a side street, leaving the open and unprotected Washington Mall behind her. She stayed to the shadows of the now-deserted buildings as she tried to recall where she was in proximity to the Ford Theater. Relying on her childhood memories of her time in DC, she made her way south, keeping what remained of the city skyline in her sight. Her progress was slow as she had to wait until several of the Order’s men finished canvassing the area. She wasn’t sure if they were searching for her or for the unfortunate men who had been caught in the earlier battle.
She pulled her lower lip in under her teeth and bit hard. Pulling the remnants of her dress around her chest, she picked her way through debris and snow, maneuvering her way through the streets of New Washington and toward a hopeful refuge.
Duncan’s orders broke through the noise of the engine as the shuttle doors closed and the tiny craft shot into the sky. He looked at Nicolas, who sat pensively across from him, Danika on his left. The faraway look in the younger man’s eyes led Duncan to believe Nicolas was communicating with his charge, but when Duncan caught his eye, Nicolas shook his head.
“Keep trying,” Duncan growled, punching in a series of codes on the command unit that the little craft would follow to their destination.
“How long till we’re there?” Danika asked, interrupting his silent brooding.
“Several hours,” he growled, taking his seat across from them both. He pulled the safety restraints around him, settling in for the flight to New Washington. A scowl settled on his face as he thought of Caitriona trapped, afraid, and hurt. Goddess, he couldn’t even protect her. They had talked about her being a plant for Hawkins, but she had gone off script and off plan. Damnu her obstinance, he thought, his fingers curling in anger around the arm of his seat. He had half a mind to turn her over his knee when he found her. A half grin crossed his features as he imagined his mouth on her taut nipples, teasing them into hard peaks until her soft moans became his undoing. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Had Hawkins caught on to their plan or had Caitriona tried to bargain with the devil for passage home? He didn’t want to think about the latter.
Nicolas touched his arm, interrupting his thoughts. He knew the look on his face must have conveyed his displeasure because Nicolas spoke quickly.
“I think we should all try together,” he said. Dani stopped staring out the window and turned toward them both, a perplexed look creasing her brow. She only paused a moment before she nodded and reached her hand out to him. He could see the tears brimming beneath her long lashes and knew she blamed herself for not having reported Caitriona’s potential betrayal.
Duncan clasped Danika’s hand, noting how cold and small it felt in his hand. How unlike her sister’s hand, he thought. He extended his other hand to Nicolas, who didn’t hesitate to grasp it in his.
“How do we do this?” Duncan asked, his rich baritone reverberating in the small confines of the craft.
“I’ll open the link,” Nicolas replied. “I need you both to concentrate. Despite what you may feel, it’s important we don’t sever the link.” Duncan nodded, but Danika’s eyes remained fixed on the ground.
“Dani,” Nicolas whispered.
“I can’t do this,” she stated, withdrawing her hand.
“Ye must,” Duncan growled, his irritation beginning to show.
“Something happened to me last time, Duncan,” she said. “The power is simply too much. I can’t control it.”
“I dinna care if ye think ye can’t, yer going tae do this, lass.” His voice was controlled but inside he was raging. Nicolas gave him a warning look that only made him scowl more.
“Damnu!” he thundered. “Tis the only lead we’ve had in days. I dinna care if ye feel like tossing yer breakfast and faintin’. Yer goin’ tae do this fer yer sister.” He scowled at Danika until she slumped in her seat.
“Duncan,” Nicolas interrupted . . .
“Unless ye’ve got a better way tae find yer charge.” He stressed the last two words, flinching when he saw the hurt look in Nicolas’ eyes at the staunch reminder that the younger man had been unable to protect Caitriona.
He caught Danika’s eye. “I suggest ye put aside yer feelings and do this,” he told her. “Ye ken damn well yer sister would do the same for ye.”
The silence was uncomfortable. After several long seconds, Dani reached for his hand again. He took her hand, marveling once again at how different she was from Caitriona. Where Dani’s fingers were long and slender, Caitriona’s were short and petite, her nails trimmed and neatly filed. He gave Dani’s hand a reassuring squeeze and reached for Nicolas, who completed the triangle.
When they were settled, Duncan nodded to Nicolas to indicate they should begin. Duncan relaxed, uncertain what he should do to assist Nicolas. He didn’t have long to wait. At first, the energy passed through him quickly, leaving his skin tingling and his nerves on edge. Just when he thought nothing further was going to happen, a bolt of energy slammed into him. Nicolas gripped his hand tightly and Duncan could see the ghostly mask settle on Dani’s face.
The energy passed, and just when he was beginning to think nothing further was going to happen, he felt the energy that was uniquely Caitriona’s surge through him. He cried out, elated that she was still alive.
He looked at Dani and Nicolas and could tell they felt her as well. There was a certain sense of knowing her in a way each had never known her before. They felt her anger, her fear, and her love for him. Her emotional connection to them all was overwhelming as their collective energy gathered and spread among them. Duncan glanced at Nicolas and could see his lips moving. His eyes were tightly shut as his mouth worked furiously to convey instructions Duncan knew she couldn’t hear.
Duncan inhaled sharply as he felt a spark grow within him. While small, the flame was mighty, fueled by the collective efforts of their energy. As they opened themselves to the flow, he could feel the strength of Nicolas and Dani. Caitriona’s energy was strongest, feeding their subconscious and directing their response. As they combined their power, their bond became stronger. Duncan could feel the energy they created travel through his arms, his wrists, his fingers. Without warning, a burst of energy shot past his fingers and erupted in front of him.
Nicolas pulled his hands from theirs, breaking the bond.
“What happened?” Duncan growled, reaching for Dani’s hand again. She was shaking and deliberately ignored him.
“I lost the link with her,” Nicolas apologized. “I…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to explain what just happened.
“I felt as if I had fire comin’ from my fingertips,” Duncan said, examining the tips of his fingers. “I havena felt that before.”
“I felt it too,” Dani murmured. “Is Caitriona alright?” she asked, the fear in her voice an echo of his.
“I don’t know,” Nicolas said, searching for the right words. “I saw an image…”
“Go on,” Duncan commanded, the authority in his voice demanding and sure.
“It was almost as if a flame…or a ball of energy…was released from her. But I don’t know how she would have done that. Perhaps it’s metaphorical. Maybe the energy is a metaphor for where she’s hiding.”
“Or not,” Dani protested. She stared at both men, daring them to contradict her. At Duncan’s nod, she continued. “What if it’s literal?”
“That she shot fire from her hands?” Duncan scoffed, and then sobered when he saw the look in Nicolas’ eyes.
“We don’t yet know the extent of her power,” Dani acknowledged. “Or mine, for that matter. I can manipulate the elements. Why is it implausible to think that Cat can move energy?”
Duncan stared at her, the ticking of his jaw the only evidence of his warring emotions.
“Or maybe it wasn’t literal fire,” she continued. “What if it wasn’t just her energy, but all of our energy that she released?”
Nicolas shook his head. “I don’t k
now, Dani. That’s a stretch given where she was with her training.”
“Back at the caves, she told me she felt an energy,” Duncan interjected. “She said the energy she felt was strong, more powerful than anythin’ she’s known.” He paused as he struggled to recall the details. “Goddess, she didna want tae go intae the caves and I forced her.” He rubbed his hand through his hair, fisting the dark long locks in his fingers.
“You didn’t know, Duncan,” Dani responded.
“I should have,” he growled.
“Why?” Nicolas challenged. “You don’t share a bond with her.”
Duncan looked sharply at the younger man, irritated at the stark reminder that Nicolas shared a part of her that he would never touch. The thought was unsettling.
“Do ye think she’s still headed tae the Ford Theater?” he said, redirecting the conversation. He wanted off this topic. It wasn’t something he was prepared to discuss with Nicolas. Not yet anyway.
“I don’t know,” Nicolas replied. “But it’s the best lead we have right now.”
“Is she hurt?” Duncan asked, his voice little more than a whisper. Dani reached over and squeezed his hand.
“Nothing fatal. But we need to find her,” Nicolas said. “If you have Templars or Dwellers in the area you can trust, send them to the theater. She’ll likely need backup.”
Duncan could see the concern edged in the hard lines of the young handler’s face. He opened communications and sent word to Lee. His second would contact those loyal to their cause and mobilize forces. Settling back in the shuttle seat, he closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for what he feared was ahead.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The snow covered the land in a thick blanket of eerie, blood-stained white, the remnants of its once-vibrant community long gone. The ravages of the land spoke to a citizenship now more concerned with war and victory than humanity and peace. Caitriona felt lost in the devastation that surrounded her.
She remembered negotiating with Hawkins’ soldier for passage home. She’d exchanged her information and Hawkins’ man would provide the ship and pilot she’d need to traverse time. She knew it was a long shot and had purposely layered in some safeguards should Hawkins not stay true to his word. The one variable she hadn’t counted on was Duncan.
After the mediation, Duncan sought her out to hatch his plan. He’d wanted to use the hostilities from the mediation to have her convince Hawkins she was not loyal to Duncan’s cause but was a prisoner of the rebellious Templar leader. It was almost too easy. The plan fit neatly within Caitriona’s own plan to trade information with Hawkins for passage home. Once back in her time, she would work to ensure this timeline never happened.
With Duncan encouraging her to meet with Hawkins, the plan seemed almost flawless. She simply had to convince Hawkins that her information was of value to him and that she would not interfere with the timeline. She knew she’d have to be convincing and was trying to concoct her strategy when she had been knocked unconscious. She awoke two days later in her cell, a captive of Hawkins once again. She pleaded with him to keep his end of the bargain but his lust for her and her power, coupled with his very real fear that she would change the timeline, had kept her shackled and a prisoner of the man who once tried to rape her.
I’m an idiot, she thought with disgust. The only thing she had succeeded in doing was putting herself, Duncan, and the others in danger. Hawkins would not rest until he had killed Duncan and found a way to use her powers to his advantage.
She sighed and pressed a hand to her head. Duncan would be furious when he discovered the depths of her treachery. Her only hope was to escape and somehow get back to her time and undo the Order’s advancement. And the only one who could do that for her now was Duncan. She would have to convince him that her plan was sound.
If she ever saw him again.
Drawing in a deep breath, she opened her mind the way Nicolas had taught her and tried to find her handler’s energy. She couldn’t feel him. She couldn’t feel anything. Wrapping her arms around her body, she rubbed her hands vigorously up and down her arms to ward off the biting cold. She wasn’t prepared for the numbing cold that permeated the city. What remained of her gown was of little use. But it was her foot that she worried about most of all.
Removing the now-wet cloth she had earlier wrapped around her foot, she ripped another dry piece from the remnants of her gown and once again wrapped her foot against the cold. It was better than walking barefoot, but it didn’t take long before the snow and ice soaked the strip of satiny fabric.
She made her way to the Ford Theater, ever watchful for Hawkins’ men. The old theater looked deserted, its once stately and arched entrance now weathered and crumbling beneath the forces of nature and the New World Order.
She had no idea why an image of the theater would have flashed in her mind, but recent experience taught her to ignore nothing. She made her way along the south side of the building, pausing when she heard next-gen weapons being fired. When she was reasonably sure the way was clear again, she hurried to her destination, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted the once-stately front doors.
She furrowed her brow as she stared at the dilapidated building that in her century had been impeccably maintained as a historical landmark. The red brick that had long ago been an iconic part of the theater was now windswept and disintegrating. The windows had been boarded up and the stark white arches that had once lined the front of the building were now caked with dirt and grime. The snow—left unplowed—now piled several feet tall, making it impossible to access the doors. Caitriona hugged herself, fighting the urge to sit down and give in to the elements.
Remembering her history lessons about Lincoln’s assassination, she hurried to the alley on the east side of the building. The snow was less dense here as the other buildings provided some shelter from the barrage of snow that dumped unmercifully this time of year. She pushed through the snow, her foot once again numb and the tiny cloth now completely soaked. She wrapped her hands in the folds of her garment and began pushing against the sides of the building. She knew there was a back door—she just had to hope it was still accessible.
After carefully searching the side wall twice, she let out a frustrated cry, tears streaking her dirty cheeks. She was exhausted, injured, and cold. She knew she’d have to abandon the search and look for a dry place to shelter. Night was rapidly approaching and with it a likely barrage of more snow and soldiers.
Turning to inspect the building across the street, she missed the shadow that crossed behind her. Too late, she realized she wasn’t alone. Choking back a scream, she tried to run but her numb feet wouldn’t cooperate. She toppled backward into the snow, her head smacking against a packed patch of ice. She groaned as pain shot through her scalp and nausea threatened to overtake her. As she sank back against the snow, her last thought was a desperate, silent cry to the only man who could hear her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Caitriona woke to the sound of giggling, the scurry of soft feet, and a door closing. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looked around, the weightiness in her head making it difficult to concentrate. She ran her hand through her hair pulling the tangles off her face, wincing when her fingers found the egg-sized bump on the back of her head. The movement sent sharp pains through her shoulder. She pushed the dressing gown from her shoulder and touched the bandage that was neatly placed there. Someone had dressed her wounds. But whom? She closed her eyes and sank back against the pillows, trying to understand how or why she would have ended up wounded and in this place. Nothing made sense.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she pushed the covers from her small frame, shivering as the cold draft raised goosebumps on her exposed arms and legs. She looked around and was dismayed to see the tiny room had no windows. Her heartbeat accelerated but she didn’t know why. She stood, willing the strength to return to her legs.
She stared at her surroundings as she rubbed he
r temples. The exposed wood floor was covered with several area rugs that did little to remove the chill from the room. The walls were bereft of any wall coverings, which only served to make the tiny room seem more perfunctory than welcoming. The bed she had vacated was the only furnishing in the room save for a small nightstand and one wooden chair. She looked around for any signs of her clothing, not expecting them to be near. She pulled the dressing gown tighter around her throat and moved to the door, her thickly bandaged feet padding softly on the floor.
Turning the doorknob, she was surprised when the door opened easily. Peeking into the corridor, she was thankful to find it empty. Cautiously, she left the safety of the room, determined to find out where she was. Once again, she touched the bump on her head and winced. She knew who she was, but beyond basic facts about herself, she had no idea where she was and more importantly, why she would have turned up in such a strange place.
The hallway was eerily quiet and she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Shaking off the chill that passed over her, she walked quickly through the hall, the sconces set high on the wall casting eerie shadows along her path. Something doesn’t feel right, she thought. She continued to the end of the hall, which disappeared into a larger room that was bereft of any furnishings. The walls were also absent any adornments save for more sconces set high up and about six feet apart. No one was in the room although it could have easily held a couple hundred people.
She walked over to the only door and turned the knob. It was locked. She gave it a few tugs but the door refused to open.
“The others didn’t trust you, so they’ve restricted your access.”
Caitriona spun around, not surprised when the deep baritone voice matched the hulk of a man standing before her. She took a tentative step backward, unsure of this latest development. She felt the door, hard and unyielding behind her. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, a defensive posture but one she hoped would lend her some authority.
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