The English dog knew what he was doing.
Brennan, obviously through being generous, attacked again. This time without mercy.
* * *
“No! Don’t you do it, Evan! Don’t you leave me!” Maggie screamed as two paramedics worked fervently in a vain attempt at reviving the man.
“Nooo!” She wailed as she took in the look on the paramedic’s faces, all their attempts now ceased. “Try again! Do you hear me? Do it again!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” one of the paramedics began. “He’s not coming back.”
She spun to Lany standing in the doorway, his face locked in grave anger. He looked to her, his sudden empathetic eyes filling her own. “They’ve done all they can, Maggie.”
“What? How can you say that? I’m a nurse! I say when they’re done! Now try again!”
“Maggie,” Lany began as he knelt next to her on the bedroom floor, his voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Let them go. There’s another way to save him, but you have to trust me.”
She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “Don’t joke with me. Don’t even!” She turned to Evan. “Oh, God, please…”
Lany leaned toward her. “Trust me.”
Their eyes locked and she nodded before turning to the paramedics. “Please don’t take him. Leave him here and send the coroner.”
They both nodded as one began to cover Evan with the blanket they’d placed over him earlier.
“No,” she began, shooting out a hand. “Leave him the way he is.”
“All right, ma’am. We’ll call it in.”
Maggie’s lower lip trembled. “Thank you.”
The paramedics left the room after a few more questions and the gathering of equipment, none too soon as far as Lany was concerned. He quickly turned to Evan once they were gone. “C’mon, Zara. Get here.”
“Zara?” Maggie’s voice squeaked out.
“She can bring him back. There’s still time.”
“Bring him back? She can do that? Oh please, yes! Where is she?”
“Here, Lady. I am right here.” Zara glided into the bedroom and went immediately to Evan, Kwaku close behind. She turned to her husband after briefly examining the still form on the floor, her face grave. “He is deep in death, Kawahnee. Nearly gone. I can heal him but not alone.”
Kwaku closed his eyes a brief second and nodded before looking to Maggie. “You wish his life?”
“Yes! Please! Do something if you’re able. Don’t let him leave me! I’ll die without him.”
“Do you want him badly enough to sacrifice de life of anoder?”
She stared at him in shock. “What do you mean?”
Kwaku turned to Lany. “Mos-go-fi -an, you and de Lord Councilor must find de Boyeee and de Maiden.”
“We don’t know where they are.” Lany reached into his pocket and handed Kwaku the message found in Julia’s car as Zara began to softly sing.
Kwaku read the brief note, ignoring Maggie’s sudden gasp as Zara’s features fluxed. “If I help my wife wid your husband, de Boyeee and possibly even Shona, will die, unless someone can reach dem in time to stop Brennan.”
Speech seemed beyond Maggie at his words. All she could do was shake her head then look frantically to Evan.
“Kwaku, we haven’t the slightest idea where Brennan has taken them.” Lany told him, his voice grave. “Zara can’t feel either one of them.”
“Dat is good, and means dey are safe for now. Drugged. Brennan will not play wid a dead mouse. He likes his catch live.”
Lany’s eyes narrowed to slits. “How like Brennan. I got rid of the medical people. You have some time before others arrive.”
Kwaku nodded without looking at him, his eyes on his wife’s weary form.
Lany touched Kwaku’s shoulder. “We can’t risk losing Dallan or Shona. You know that.”
“Yes, Mos-go-fi -an, I know.” He looked Lany in the eye. “And if it were your mate on de floor, death wrapping itself around her, taking her life, would you have me leave her and try to find de Boyeee? Or would you be like dis woman, desperate for her mate’s survival?”
Lany closed his eyes as Kwaku patted him on the back. “And I would do de same.” He turned to John, who had just entered the room, Angus shuffling close behind. “Maybe dere will be enough streng-d left for my wife and I to find de Boyeee and de Maiden. But we see if it be de Creator’s will to save dis one first.”
John dropped to his knees near Lany. “What are you saying? Enough strength left? Couldn’t Zara search for Brennan and find them that way?”
“He is totally incompatible to her,” Kwaku whispered. “She would be harmed if she searched for him now. My heart will join wid my wife to heal dis man. After dat, we will bode be very weak. I will not be able to help you fight Brennan should it come to dat. We may not even be able to search for dem once dey no longer have Brennan’s poison in deir bodies.”
John shook his head. “We’ve come so far…” He turned to Lany. “Can you sense anything? Do you think you can find the Maiden?”
“Eaton, I’m not capable of searching for anything. I needed Zara’s help just to communicate with her!”
Kwaku joined his wife and wrapped her up in his arms, then, to everyone’s amazement, began to sing with her. John again turned to Lany. “We have no one else now. You’ve got to try.”
Lany shook his head, “Eaton, I don’t know how.”
John rubbed his face with his hands. He scanned the room before letting his eyes land on Angus. “Suggestions?”
“Aye,” Angus began his face grave. “Pray, Lord John. Pray for a miracle.”
* * *
Julia watched horrified at the savage brutality with which both men fought. At first Philip seemed to be the better of the two, but now the Scot was utilizing a different style, his moves quicker, closer together. Given enough time, he would beat Philip.
She cringed as the blades collided, the sound ringing with impending death for one or both men. What would she do if they both died? Shona also would die, leaving her with nothing, no one. Alone.
Julia slowly made her way along the wall, staying well away from the battle waging across the room where both men’s blood was making the floor slippery, the fighting more hazardous. She had to do something fast.
Reaching the weapons rack, she pulled from it a long staff of wood and slowly crept along the wall again in the direction of the warriors, blades still singing a death song. If she was to save Shona, one of the men would have to live, and she could see that at this point it wouldn’t be Philip. As much blood as the Scot had already lost, he still fought like a savage, Philip now unable to judge his moves and method. Philip had been wrong; he would lose unless she did something to help.
Julia continued toward them, the smell of blood clear in the air. When she reached her destination, she carefully edged as close to the men as possible, footing difficult, and positioned herself behind the Scot as best she could. She noticed how gracefully he fought and became shocked to realize he had his eyes closed, his face briefly facing her as he twisted away from Philip’s blade. The Scot was battling with his new heart alone, the drug still pulling at him.
“Amazing,” she whispered in awe. If only she could save both Shona and her mate somehow. What a study they would make for her! She’d planned on helping Philip kill him, but perhaps…
The Scot jumped back into her range and she quickly took advantage. She swung the quarterstaff as hard as she could, the wood connecting squarely with the side of his head. The blow knocked him to the floor and into his own blood. Philip would live!
“You fool!” Philip screamed in rage as he raced toward her. He wrenched the staff from her hands and threw it across the room to bounce off one wall and onto the floor, the sound echoing loudly. He grabbed her to him and viciously slapped her across the face to send her sprawling. “How dare you interrupt! Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve ruined it for me, you little witch!”
She tried to
scramble out of reach, the slick floor thwarting her efforts. “No! I saved you! He would have killed you!”
Philip dropped his sword, grabbed her again and roughly pulled her to her feet. “I had him! He was mine! Now he may die while merely stunned! You’ve ruined everything!” He slapped her again, but didn’t release his hold, one hand now around her throat. “I’ll teach you to interfere!”
To Julia’s utter horror, he began to lift her off the floor by the neck. She grabbed and clawed at his hand with her own, her struggles useless. Philip was going to kill her.
“Curse you witch! See that I don’t make idle threats! Do you think I care anything for you? Do you? I don’t care if you live or die!”
She kicked at the air, held at arms length from him, her feet striking nothing as his grip began to crush her windpipe. She hated him in that moment, hated his words of love from years past, the way he’d rescued her from her own execution and brought her into a world of life again. How he did it she had no idea, and at the time didn’t care. She’d been fifty-two when he took her from her world and struck the bargain that would give her back her youth and a chance to see her life’s dream fulfilled.
As consciousness left her, death imminent, one thought permeated the rest. Philip wasn’t the fool. She was.
He suddenly dropped her, the Scot again on his feet if precariously. Philip spun to face him, his whole body prepared to spring. He lunged and caught the Scot round the middle, bringing both men to the floor. They slid to a stop and Philip began to slam his fist into his enemy’s face.
Julia, knowing this to be her only chance, crawled from the room, one thing driving her, making her ignore the pain. No matter what it took, she would have her revenge on Philip Brennan.
* * *
Dallan raised his head slowly, painfully and glared at Brennan.
Brennan brutally struck his face again. “You fool!” He screamed. “Did you honestly think you could best me? I am the stronger! It is I who will master the Maiden! Not you!”
Dallan, on his knees, blood oozing from a dozen wounds, clenched his teeth. “Dinna touch her, ye Sassenach dog!”
Brennan erupted into hysterical laughter. “Why my dear fellow, as I told you before, touching her is all I plan on doing!” He continued to chortle as he bent to Dallan. “So pleasant to have you on your knees before me.” He began to circle him. “Pity it will be the last time.”
The nightmare from Genis Lee flashed through Dallan’s mind, its reality bent again in front of him. His hands mercilessly chained behind his back, he retorted with what he had and spit in Brennan’s face.
Brennan calmly wiped away Dallan’s hatred and stood. “She’ll submit to me here, in this room, while you watch. And I may even let you live long enough to see her join with me. If I time it right, your heart will die about the same time I take her.” He smiled wickedly. “Life is glorious, isn’t it?”
Dallan watched Brennan back away. The man’s eyes were wild and glazed with lust, darting back and forth between Dallan and the door leading to the hall. To Shona. M’eudain? M’eudain, can ye no hear me? He means to harm ye lass. Ye’ll ha’ to fight him. Ye may ha’ to kill.
Nothing. She still could not hear him.
“M’eudain? M’eudain, can you not hear me?” Brennan mimicked his voice high-pitched and mocking. He threw his head back and laughed wickedly. “I can hear your heart! Wonderful! This means I’m more compatible to her than I thought. I’ll take her easily.”
Dallan’s face twisted in an odd combination of rage and shock. “How?” Pushed itself out through still clenched teeth.
“I was a Time Master, or were you ignorant of that? I may have lost my own mate recently, but not so long ago that I’ve lost my ability to read another’s heart. My wife was very powerful.”
Dallan’s eyes narrowed with hatred. “Ye dinna deserve a wife.”
Brennan chuckled at that. “My dear fellow, I cared very much for my wife. It’s a pity she died.”
Dallan watched as Brennan’s face began to change from passive remembrance to maniacal lust. His eyes changed as well, darting about the room as his breathing slowed.
Brennan began to pace. “I did love her, you know. She was everything to me until you took her.” He turned from Dallan, his voice lowered somewhat and pushed out on a rasp. “Then why did you kill her?” Brennan spun to face him again, his voice soft. “Because you told me to, remember? I always do what you ask.”
Dallan swallowed hard as he reassessed the situation, one thing clear. Philip Brennan was insane. And insane men were totally unpredictable.
“Lissa was everything to me. I helped her feed her heart in the garden.” He looked right at Dallan. “She fed off beauty and pleasure. A wonderful combination to give.”
Dallan again watched as Brennan took a few steps back and began to examine the various cuts and lacerations inflicted upon his own body. He wiped some blood from his chest and licked it from his fingers. He repeated the action over and over; his movements frenzied like a starving man feeding himself.
Dallan’s stomach lurched at the thought of this man with Shona. He closed his eyes and concentrated as best he could, his loss of blood great. Shona, listen to me. Ye must escape this place. He means to take ye, lass. Dinna let him. I am… I am dying, Flower. I’d rather ye die along with me than allow him to make ye suffer.
Brennan again burst into laughter. “Listen to him, Philip. Hear how he pleads with his mate? He wishes her death rather than see her joined to me. How like a Scot! Well, I’ll tell you something, she will join with me. My blood will become one with hers. My wounds will heal while yours bring you to death’s door!”
Dallan’s head dropped to his chest.
Brennan chuckled low in his throat. “Did you know you have the power to heal yourself? I bet Kawahnee never told you, did he?”
Dallan slowly looked at him, face expressionless, eyes void of emotion.
“No, I see he didn’t. Just as he never told you how to utilize the power you have.” He began to circle him again. “Did you know you possess enough power to control the planet? Did you know you could rule the world if you chose? And did you know I am about to take it all away from you?”
Dallan’s heart followed Brennan as he circled. He pushed with it, forcing his way into the heart of his enemy, instinct the only thing guiding him.
Brennan suddenly screamed and kicked Dallan in his side, knocking him to the floor. “How dare you invade me! Stay out of my heart you rotter!”
Dallan’s eyes sprang open, his own heart still able to feel what he’d discovered. Brennan was changing inside, aging… dying. His time was almost up. No wonder he was so desperate to join with Shona. If he didn’t, he was a dead man.
“Save your strength, you filthy Scot. I want you to live a while longer.” Brennan pushed out and kicked him again.
Dallan’s back racked with pain from the blow and he fought to stay conscious. If he could only figure out how to heal himself, he could still save Shona from this devil. Save them both.
Brennan stepped away from him and sat casually on the floor. He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “She should be fully awake soon. She can probably hear you now if you call to her. Care to try again?”
Dallan remained as he was his breathing slowed to conserve energy. He knew how badly he might need it. He glared at Brennan but said nothing.
Brennan leaned back on the heels of his hands. “Ah, nothing to say? How unlike the Scottish dog you are. I thought once one of your kind got going, you never shut up. Nothing’s changed much in the last two hundred and fifty years or so, I assume. Where, or should I say, when are you from anyway? Myself, I was born November eighteenth, Seventeen fifty-three.”
Dallan’s only response was a slight furrowing of his brow.
Brennan snorted. “But when were you born, I wonder? What part of the past did you come from? You were hard for Lissa to trace. She never could find you. Or perhaps, she did and wou
ldn’t tell me. The good in her was powerful, though not enough to save her when she needed it.”
Dallan closed his eyes, his heart searching, reaching beyond the room to seek out its only other source of life as Brennan continued with his one-sided conversation.
“I’ll take her to England, back to where I came from. Perhaps we’ll find you in a history book somewhere after all.” He chuckled. “Let’s see, you fight like someone from my time so you couldn’t be far from it. Where shall I look, the Disruption? Or perhaps further back? Ah, the Jacobite rebellion? Hmm, French invasion? Darien Expedition? The Massacre at Glencoe? Maybe…”
Dallan’s eyes sprang open, their depths filled with fury.
“Ah,” Brennan began, satisfied. “I seem to have struck a chord. I know the Darien Expedition wouldn’t put that look in your eye, so it would have to be…” He laughed and stood. “How wonderfully ironic! And tell me, were you there? Did Kwaku take you from it? That’s how the Elders like it done. They take you in the midst of calamity and chaos so you won’t be missed or have your disappearance raise any suspicion. And what a stroke of irony! Allow me to introduce myself to you, sir a second time. I am Lord Philip C. Brennan, though my last name was changed to my mother’s maiden name. Too much scandal attached to my own surname. My original name was Dalrymple, I am a direct descendent of John Dalrymple, Master of Stair to your wondrous King William, though you won’t find me in the history books. No one ever finds us in the history books. The Muirarans see to that.”
Dallan struggled to a sitting position, risking the wasted energy. He wanted to speak from a less vulnerable position. “And what of it? Why should that matter to me?”
“You were there, weren’t you?” Brennan slowly approached him. “Who are you?”
Dallan pushed himself up to a standing position. “I am Dallan Keir MacDonald of Glencoe, third in line to the MacIain.”
Brennan stood shocked for a brief moment, then narrowed his eyes and sneered. “This is better than I thought. Why, I couldn’t ask for a better way to end your life and start my own.”
Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) Page 51