She squelched the desire to press a hand against her stomach where nervous nausea hit her in waves. ”This might not even work.”
Quinn raised one brow, his expression wry. “And pigs can fly, too.”
She laughed, the sound reflecting her nervousness. “We need to know when the baby was born. We may be able to save him.”
Quinn raked his fingers through his hair. “Regan.”
She raised a hand. “I know. We need to accept this, Quinn. Commit to it if we want to do what needs to be done. I’ve already done that. I need you to do it, too.”
He shoved open the car door. Regan exited the car more slowly. Saying she was committed didn’t relieve the fear that turned her insides to liquid. She focused on Bryce and the pain Coira had experienced at his death. If what she learned could spare her and Braden that, it would be worth it. She drew a deep breath.
She grasped Quinn’s hand and drew strength from his touch.
His fierce expression, so similar to what he wore when they made love, kicked her heartbeat into a gallop.
“Whatever you experience, it’s already happened. It can’t hurt you,” he said, his voice raspy.
Couldn’t it? She and Coira were connected in impossible ways.
He gave her hand a brief squeeze. “Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”
“I’m depending on it.”
*****
Dr. Reinhart was nothing like Regan had pictured her. With her plump matronly figure and dark hair lightly sprinkled with gray at the temples, she looked like someone’s favorite granny. After greeting them at the door she seated them in what appeared to be her office. Though no bookcases lined the walls, professional journals fanned out atop a cherrywood coffee table. A flowered couch set before it, bracketed by matching end tables.
A decorative screen shielded the fireplace taking up the center of one wall. The doctor’s desk blocked the French doors leading out to a patio, but not the view of the garden. Two wing-backed chairs faced the desk.
As soon as Regan and Quinn sat down, Dr. Reinhart’s demeanor turned professional. “You realize this isn’t a game or a parlor trick, though there are acts around that make it into one.”
Her upper crust English accent sounded clipped after so many weeks of listening to brogues of one kind or another. “When I spoke with you earlier, you said you were interested in past life regression. What makes you think you need to go back in time to solve your problems?”
Regan fought the urge to look at Quinn and leaned forward to rest her forearms on her knees. “I’m not trying to solve my problems with this. I want to find out if I’ve had another life before this one.”
“I can tell you straight up, if you have, you won’t discover it by doing this. Whatever you say won’t be dependable. It will most likely be generated from your imagination.”
“So you don’t believe in repressed memories or reincarnation?” Quinn asked.
“Repressed memory, but not past lives. Hypnosis should be used, as a last resort, to help a patient discover what has caused their emotional problems, not to find out about the impossible.”
Quinn’s gaze met Regan’s and he raised a brow.
“You’ve done this before haven’t you? It isn’t dangerous?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ve done it, and it isn’t dangerous. But you don’t know what thoughts or feelings might arise from it. And if you’re already having flashbacks, it could intensify those feelings. What I’m getting at is I don’t want to create more suffering by taking you to a place where you may imagine more pain.”
“I’m not having flashbacks, just dreams. And if you don’t believe in reincarnation or past life regression, why did you agree to do this?”
Dr. Reinhart shrugged, her expression remaining neutral. “For the money.”
Quinn shook his head.
Before he could say anything to antagonize the hypnotist, Regan said, “I’m not going to hold you responsible for anything that happens. I’ll be happy to sign a release.”
“Good. I’d like you to.” She removed a single sheet of paper from her desktop and extended it to Regan.
The form said she promised not to hold the doctor responsible for any lasting trauma the session might cause. If she hadn’t been traumatized by everything that had happened thus far, nothing could bother her. She passed it on to Quinn to read before signing it and handing it back to the doctor.
“You’re absolutely certain you want to do this?” Dr. Reinhart asked.
Coira, Braden, and Bryce should have been in the forefront of her mind, but Quinn’s face was what she focused on. If they did this and discovered what they had to do to free themselves from the visions, what would happen? What would happen if they didn’t? What if Coira and Braden were trapped in a never-ending loop of pain until something or someone freed them?
Coira’s expression of compassion and fear as she had reached for her hand to free her from the stone played through her mind. Coira would have pulled her from it, despite the danger to herself. She owed her at least this much.
“Yes, I want to do this.”
CHAPTER 30
Dr. Reinhart lit a candle. Following her instructions, Quinn flipped off the lights and drew the blinds. The room grew dark. Regan sat in the chair before the desk. The candle’s pale yellow flame touched her skin with an ethereal glow.
The word “Stop” pressed against Quinn’s teeth. Jesus, what were they doing here?
“Concentrate on the candle, Regan. The candlelight is bathing you in warmth and relaxation. Let every muscle in your body go lax,” Dr. Reinhart said.
Anxiety gnawing at him, Quinn drew the doctor’s chair from behind the desk, placed it next to Regan’s, and took a seat. The doctor shot him a frown, but continued. Her voice fell into an unobtrusive monotone. “Take a deep breath and let it go. With that breath you’re blowing out all your stress and tension.”
Regan drew a deep breath and released it on a sigh.
“Now, start with your jaw. Your jaw is relaxing, falling open a little it’s so relaxed. The muscles in your neck are loosening, shedding their tension. Now your shoulders are relaxing, your arms. Every muscle is growing limp.”
Regan’s lips parted. Her breathing grew shallower, slower. Quinn leaned forward to watch her expression. Dr. Reinhart continued on, her voice drone-like.
The deeper she drew Regan into the trance, the tighter Quinn’s shoulder muscles knotted. The depth of her trance during her first dive in Loch Maree had been life-threatening. What if she should go so deep the hypnotist couldn’t bring her back? Was that possible? God, why hadn’t they discussed this more?
“Your eye lids are growing heavy, so heavy you can’t keep them open. So heavy you have to let them close.”
Regan’s dark lashes fluttered then lay still against her cheeks. Her breathing appeared shallow, and her skin pale against the darkness of her hair and brows.
An air current circulated around the room, cool and moist, and with it the scent of herbs, sage and rosemary. Dr. Reinhart frowned and glanced in Quinn’s direction.
Chill bumps rose on Quinn’s forearms. His heart began to pound against his ribs. There was more than hypnosis at work in the room. He swallowed back his anxiety. “Ask Regan the questions she gave you.”
“But I haven’t taken her back, yet.”
“Braden?”
Quinn jerked in surprise at the sound of a woman’s voice interrupting their conversation. It was Regan speaking, but her vocal tone sounded huskier, and she’d rolled the R in a brogue she didn’t speak.
Dr. Reinhart’s gasp jerked Quinn’s attention to Regan’s face.
Her eyes were open, the irises no longer dark blue but a blue-green in color. Was that a trick of the candlelight? She focused on him with such intensity it sent a chill coursing down his body.
She spoke in a rush. The Gaelic syntax she used fell on his ears like strange familiar music. She repeated the question, and he captured the rhythm o
f her words.
“Braden how is it you are here?” she asked.
Though he had spoken Gaelic all his life, the unusual cadence of her words gave him pause. Would his grasp of the language be up to the task? He drew a deep breath. He’d been a part of Braden, was a part of the man. He knew how he felt and thought. His familiarity through his dreams would help him. He could do this. “To see you, Coira, and to ask you some questions.”
“Of what would you ask me?”
“Are you well?”
“Aye.”
“And the bairn?”
Her smile sprang free radiant with joy. Though Regan never touched her stomach, she moved her hand as though to caress a rounded tummy. “Aye, the babe is growing.”
“When do you expect him, Coira?”
“You know ’tis due the first of November.”
So he had been right. They still had time.
“What the hell is going on here?” Dr. Reinhart asked. Her features, powder pale, appeared stiff with control. A twitch worried one eye. The cool, moist air looped around the room, brushed her hair, and caused it to move against her cheek like tiny fingers. She jerked and pushed it aside. Her expression tightened with anxiety as her gaze darted around the room.
Quinn waved, motioning for her to keep her voice down. “You said you didn’t believe in past lives, but Regan has one. That’s what’s going on here. Part of that life is in the room with us.”
Her features stiffened. “That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t.” Quinn turned back to Regan. “How long have I been away?”
“Five full moons have passed since you left. I am so pleased to see you. You are well?” She reached for him and Quinn shifted his chair close to hold her hands. How would Braden greet her after so long a time apart? He bent his head to kiss her hands.
“Aye, I am well. But I have dreamed of you and the babe often. One dream disturbed me. When your time comes, if I am not there, I dinna wish you to allow Nathrach or Ross to be alone with the bairn. Keep the midwife close to you and the babe.”
Her features settled into solemn lines. “Has my gift become a part of yours, Braden?”
So Braden, too, had a gift. “Aye, mayhap a wee bit.” The trust, the love he read in her expression tweaked his guilt. “’Tis truly afraid for you I am, Coira. And the bairn.”
“Aye, I can see that. What place is this? Where are we?” she asked looking about. “This is a dream, is it not?”
“Aye ‘tis a dream. And ’tis a grand house. But the place doesn’t matter. The future is what is important. Your future and the babe’s.”
“Have you become a wizard now? A soothsayer of what is to come?”
“Aye, in this I have.” He paused. “The stones will play a part in that, too.”
“As we have both known they would.” Acceptance and grief flickered across her face.
“We dinna have to accept it, Coira. There are actions we may take to prevent what is to come. You can go away from the area until I return.”
“Would you have me return to Uist after all that happened there?”
Quinn revisited dream images of force fires and threats breathed against her. Were those from Uist? “No. Is there not some place you can be safe, Coira?”
“Only within the circle. The others are afraid of the power there.”
“But not Ross.”
“Nay, he is not afraid. Of late he has been more open to the ways of the old ones.”
Her tone triggered an urgent protective need. If they were to save the bairn, she had to know she couldn’t trust him. “You must be wary of him. Keep yourself and the bairn safe at all costs, Coira. Trust no one.”
Her arms curved protectively around her as though she cradled her belly. She nodded.
“Is there a way for us to use the stones to speak with each other when we are apart?” Quinn asked.
Confusion laced her frown. “Nay. They canna be used for less than healing. ‘Tis too dangerous. You know that.”
“I am concerned for you. I want some way of knowing you are well.”
“You will know in your heart. We have always known.”
The truth of her words resonated with him. He’d experienced how that connection worked between them. His grip on her hands tightened.
“Have you seen anything strange of late at the stones?” Quinn asked.
“Aye. Glimpses of the other place. The visions are growing stronger.”
The other place? What was that? Was it the here and now?
How could he impress upon her that they were moving toward something catastrophic without terrifying her? “I’ve seen a red stone with dark markings upon it, Coira. It was used to hurt you.”
“My Keek-Stane?” she asked.
He would have to look up what that meant. “It was used as a weapon and knocked you to the ground.”
The air currents eddying about the room grew stronger. She turned as though to look behind her at something he couldn’t see. “A storm is coming.”
Shite! What was it about storms that intensified the stone’s power? Did the lightning affect the magnetic field?
Thunder rumbled vibrating through the room as though trapped there with them. Dr. Reinhart grasped his arm, her fingers digging in like talons. Sweat beaded her top lip. Her eyes held a panicked glaze. “Stop this—stop it now.”
Quinn shook off her grip. He had to finish this. But what if Regan didn’t come back? His heart raced making him breathless; his mouth grew dry, as though he’d been breathing Heliox for hours. He spoke in a rush. “I have seen the woman who tried to come through the stone, Coira. She wants to help us, protect us. Is there a way for her to do that?”
“’Tis sacred, Braden.”
The windows vibrated like tuning forks as the storm drew closer.
Quinn’s grip on Regan’s hands tightened. Come back to me. He rushed his next words. “She can help us, Coira. There are those who will hurt you and the child. Mayhap she can stop it.”
She remained silent for a moment. “Within the chamber, three times travel the circle into the sun. I will be waiting.“
A blinding flash of light filled the space. Dr. Reinhart cried out. Glass tinkled and fell to his right. An explosive bass noise beat against the walls, against them. Quinn fought the instinctive urge to cover his ears, and twisting in his seat, dragged Dr. Reinhart and Regan down on the floor.
Blinded by the burst, Quinn blinked. Silence resounded through the room. Pressure pushed against his eardrums as though they’d been dropped a hundred foot depth in a matter of seconds. The dank smell of lake water permeated the room.
With a pop, his ears opened and his vision cleared—to a hand coming straight at his face. Quinn threw up an arm, blocking most of the blow but it still made him flinch. The doctor packed a hell of a right hook.
“Get out of my house.” Dr. Reinhart’s voice held a strident high-pitched note. As she staggered to her feet, she shook as though an electric current danced from the bottom of her feet upward through her iron gray hair. She slumped into her desk chair.
Quinn’s cheek burnt from the slap. Concerned for Regan, he gripped her shoulders and pulled her up into a seated position. “Are you back, Lass?” He looked into her face. The eyes, her eyes were no longer the strange teal color. Thank God. She looked up at him with recognition.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just—” She appeared pale and deep shadows marred the skin beneath her eyes. “I feel drained as though I’ve run a marathon.” She rested her head on her knees.
Dr. Reinhart gripped the edge of the desk and rose to her feet. “Leave. Now. Both of you. Or I’m calling the police.”
He gave Regan’s arms a comforting squeeze. “Get yourself together,” Quinn said. He rose and swung to face the doctor. “And what would you tell them? That your patient caused a lightning storm in your office?”
The woman flinched, her cheeks growing pasty.
”We’ll leave as soon as Regan has recovered.”<
br />
She heaved in a breath. “She’s possessed. You don’t need a hypnotist, you need a priest.
CHAPTER 31
Impatience tightened every muscle. Sweat ran down his spine, and he shifted against the cloth rental car seat. Turning the key in the ignition, he pushed the button on the door to lower the window. Despite the bushes next to the vehicle, a cool breeze wafted through the interior, clearing the stuffiness from the car. It did nothing to loosen the band of tension that circled his head. He rubbed at the thrumming pain focused at his temples.
Why had they come here? Who was this woman they had come to see? What did she have to do with the monoliths?
At the sound of distant thunder, he turned to look to the east behind the house. The sky was a clear vibrant blue. No clouds in sight. Strange. A storm must be moving into the area.
His cell phone rang and he reached for it.
“Is there any news?” Nicodemus asked.
“I don’t believe they’ve discovered anything important, yet.” When it happened, it was going to be him who discovered the pertinent information. Not Regan.
“Let me know right away if that changes.” Nichodemus said. “Recalling them to the dig was an excellent idea. It has driven them to work faster.”
That hadn’t exactly been what he had in mind.
Nicodemus continued. “ As soon as the pillar is returned to its original place, the salvage team will be leaving.”
Caution warred with his relief. “That will ensure she’s focused on her job and not on him. She’s driven the dig thus far, but what if she discovers something pertaining to their use?”
“She already has.”
Jealousy and rage tore at him like shards of glass. He hit the steering wheel with his fist. The pain jerked him back to Nicodemus’s voice.
“The laptop you stole had notes on it. Notes she did not share with us.”
He knew it. God damn her.
A sudden sound came from the house. His head jerked in that direction. Lights flashed inside behind the blinds then dulled. He studied the windows for any movement. What the hell was that? It sounded like someone beating the hell out of a bass drum.
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