“I want to get that gnarly looking gross stuff to stick on my face,” he’d said. “So I can look like some burnt up dead guy.”
“You mean like Kat.” The older girl had laughed, causing Kat to pull back into the shadows and turn on her invisibility.
Kevin laughed. “Yea, like Kat,” he’d said. And Kat couldn’t breathe. The pain that still haunted had crept deep into her heart.
Kat watched a lantern bob along the cobbled pathway as she concentrated on keeping the old tears of a foolish eight-year-old at bay. “A long time ago, when I didn’t want to look like a monster anymore.”
Kat felt his nearness even though he made no sound. His hand caught at the loose curls falling down her back. “A monster,” he said, without pity or surprise. Slowly he turned her towards him until she had to look up into his face. “Monsters, lass, are scarred on the inside.” He ran a thumb over her bottom lip without looking at nor avoiding the right side of her face. “I’ve lived with monsters.” He shook his head slightly. “Ye’re not a monster.”
Kat reached up and rubbed her upper arm where it tingled through the heavy brocade. She glanced at the spot. Her dragonfly birthmark.
“Where is it?” the voice echoed in the sparse room. Toren whirled around, blocking Kat’s body with his own.
“Witch!” Toren growled. “Be gone. Ye will not take me again.”
Kat peeked from under Toren’s arm. A dirk glinted in the firelight. The witch, Drakkina, floated like a ghost near the door. Ethereal dragonflies flitted around her long floating hair. Her smooth cheeks pulled down into a frown, making the ageless face wise and angry like some furious goddess.
“Where is my dragonfly?” Drakkina glanced around the room. “And put that thing away before you cut someone. It won’t do any good against me,” she said, dissolving in the air and reappearing closer to them. She peered around Toren’s massive frame. Toren moved again, blocking Kat.
“Step down, warrior.” Drakkina’s voice seemed to fill the room. “I’m not sending anyone anywhere.” She stopped and squinted her eyes, “not right now, anyway.” Drakkina moved around to look at Kat.
“Katell, I must speak with you, but first, where is the necklace?” Drakkina asked.
Kat felt more than saw the muscles in Toren’s back clench as the apparition addressed her by her true name, as if they knew one another.
“Who are you?” Kat asked.
“Come child, pay attention when I tell you something,” the old woman admonished. Her form had solidified since she’d lowered to the floor; the swirls of her dress still moved on a nonexistent breeze across the stone.
“You are Drakkina, and taught my parents how to use their magic,” she answered, stepping around to the side of Toren. He seemed more inclined to act as a shield, but relented when she held onto his arm.
“So I am,” Drakkina answered, her eyes scanning the room.
“Why are you”—Kat moved her hand around to indicate all that had happened to them—“involved with us?”
Drakkina looked at her. “You won’t tell where my dragonfly is until I answer your questions.”
Kat gave a little smile.
“Damn stubborn children,” Drakkina murmured. “Take after Druce. Gilla was much more compliant.” Drakkina crossed her arms. “You need to know, anyway. I was but waiting until I thought you were old enough to comprehend the gravity of the situation.”
“What situation, bana-bhuidseach?” Toren ground out, his body in a primed state, ready to strike.
Drakkina narrowed her eyes at Toren. “I prefer Wiccan Priestess, Highlander. Always suspicious, these soul mates.”
“Soul mates?” Kat asked.
“The situation?” Toren asked at the same time.
Drakkina looked between them and smiled. She nodded briefly. “Yes, you two will do well together, I think.”
“Ye talk in riddles,” Toren said, sheathing his dirk and pulling Kat into his side.
Drakkina frowned again. “I will explain. Listen carefully for there is not much time for questions.” She looked at Kat. “That tornado was a tempest of pure evil.” She moved her arms like a tumbling storm. “A conglomeration of thirteen demonic souls seeking to break free of their binding and steal magic to increase their power. A storm like that killed your father and mother, Katell. Do you remember the night Gilla sent you away? The night you arrived at the orphanage?”
Kat looked down at her hands. “Not really. I remember darkness.” She looked back up. “And melting, like when you sent us here.”
Drakkina nodded. “I sent you two here the same way Gilla sent you away to save you on that night. If she hadn’t sent you and your sisters with her magic, the demons would have absorbed it when they killed her.”
“What would the demons have done if they absorbed her magic?” Kat asked, trying not to think about that storm. She had only the faintest memory of her mother, but it was warm and strong and beautiful. And where were her sisters? Could she find them?
Drakkina’s voice deepened. “Life for humans will become like the Hell your people fear if they capture Gilla’s power. With it, combined with Druce’s, they could control time.”
Drakkina looked at them both. “Do you know what that means?”
It felt like a rhetorical question so Kat didn’t answer.
“When I scry the future in the great oracle,” Drakkina continued, “one probable outcome surfaces. The demons will collapse all the times on top of one another.” Her voice grew darker, more ominous, sending chills down Kat’s back. She held on tight to Toren’s strong forearm.
Drakkina’s body faded and grew solid again as she spoke. “All the people who have been will suddenly populate this little planet. People piled on top of one another, fighting for resources. Most will be consumed by the evil. Those who survive will hide in darkness and fear in a timeless plane of existence until they too are captured and consumed. Then the demons will populate this world with their own and humankind will cease to exist, except for the few they keep around to play with.”
The priestess’s voice rang darkly serious. She spoke without a hint of exaggeration as if she tried to spare them the horrendous details she’d seen.
“By consumed,” Kat asked, swallowing the bile at the back of her throat, “you mean eaten?”
“Eaten, played with, tortured, raped, used in some way,” Drakkina answered slowly.
“What about God?” Kat asked. “If these”—she moved her hands around—“demons are pure evil and are swallowing up everyone on Earth, wouldn’t God step in?”
Drakkina looked at her. “As I understand it, your God of Light gave up His right to interfere when He gave you all free will.”
“So God just abandons us,” Kat said and crossed her arms.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Drakkina said cryptically. “He’s allowed you and your sisters to survive and eventually fight for the Light. He’s allowing me to guide—”
“How do I fight these demons?” Toren asked, frown still in place, eyes narrowed as if he judged the truth in the threat to be genuine.
Drakkina shook her head. “It’s not time to fight them, warrior, but one day it will be. And I need the combined strength of Katell’s sisters with their soul mates to conquer them. They must be conquered with something stronger than iron blades.”
“What do you mean by soul mates?” Kat asked, her mind drifting from the horrific outcome Drakkina had painted.
Drakkina looked as if she wouldn’t answer her question, but then chose her words carefully. “Each of Gilla’s children has a mate, one they are destined to be with. Their love together is stronger than either one of them alone. I must find each of you and make sure you find your soul mate so that you will be ready for the final battle against this evil.”
Kat swallowed hard. “And…and you think Toren MacCallum from the sixteenth-century is my soul mate?” The last two words came out a bit breathless. “Which is why you stole him from his home and sent h
im to mine,” Kat finished softly.
“He can see through your magic, can’t he?” Drakkina said.
Kat’s heart pounded. “Yes,” she murmured.
“Then I wasn’t wrong, he is your soul mate. It’s been the same with all your sisters. Their magic does not work on their soul mates.”
“It’s my fault she stole you -” Kat started.
Drakkina cut in with an exasperated guttural sound. “Baa! There is no fault, there is only what must be done.” She looked at Toren. “The fates split the two of you.” She threw her hands out to either side, floating a bit off the ground. The dragonflies buzzed around as if they shared her annoyance. “I’ve learned it’s best not to interfere in love, but five hundred years is a big chasm for mortals to cross to find one another.”
“Ye threw me away from my clan, my family.” Toren’s stony voice rang through the room. He didn’t yell, but the anger behind his words made Kat’s heart pound. “Mac an donais,” he swore and ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t ye tell me to go find Kat? Ye landed me in Virginia.”
“Where she was at the time, attending college,” Drakkina countered.
“Ye could have given me her name.”
“Serena and Merewin taught me it was best to let things happen naturally,” Drakkina said, crossing her arms. “I believe they are right. Soul mates are drawn to one another.”
“Naturally?” Kat asked with sarcastic bewilderment. “How could moving someone five centuries in the future be natural in any way?”
“I returned him,” Drakkina said defensively.
Kat responded with a huff as she rubbed hands over her face. Perhaps she could wash away this nightmare. When she opened her eyes again, maybe she would wake up and be back in bed at the orphanage. But when she opened her eyes she was still in Brianag MacCallum’s room in an Elizabethan castle.
“But now you’ve taken me from my home and family,” Kat said.
“You are an orphan, you have no family,” Drakkina flipped back.
Kat’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I have twenty-three children and a friend who is as close to me as a sister back in the twenty-first century.” Kat felt tears well up, but anger kept them tucked just under her lids. “I love them, each one of them, with all my heart.”
“How could you love twenty-three”—Drakkina paused—“no, twenty-four people with all your heart? Love is rarer than that.”
Kat’s fists balled up against her gown. Homesickness fueled fury. Her heart hurt. “You know nothing about love.” Kat glared at the wavering apparition and blinked back tears. “I know every one of those kids, I know their hearts, I know their fears.” She thumped her chest. “I know their loneliness. And I love every single one of them.” Hot rage filled Kat. “If you ever want to see that necklace again, old woman, you better send me back to my children.”
Toren stood across the room, staring, watching what she would do. He probably thought she was a childish idiot throwing a tantrum. She would go home to her kids, no matter what. Soul mate or not, end of the world, or not. At that thought the steam tamped down, making Kat’s shoulders sag. End of the world meant end of her kids, end of her family in any century.
She looked back at Drakkina. “Couldn’t you just pull each of us from our centuries so we can be together when the time comes to fight? Leave us in our homes until then. A long distance soul mate thing,” Kat quipped, her face blushing red in the dark room.
Drakkina looked between them, her solemn face breaking into a slight grin. “I believe you know less about loving a man than I do, daughter of Gilla.”
Kat opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden pounding on the door stopped her. Drakkina’s body faded. Only her voice remained in the cold room. “Bring the dragonfly to me and you can go home.”
“Tor!” a man’s voice called from outside the door. “Tor, Brianag, are ye in there?”
“Eadan,” Toren said as he approached the door. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Shield yer bosom,” he commanded and pulled the door open, allowing his brother entrance.
Shamed and still angry, Kat turned entirely invisible and moved to a corner.
Eadan walked in and looked around. “Here alone, Tor? I thought ye would be wrapped around yer betrothed.”
Toren glanced at Kat. She held a finger to her lips. “I came to find Brianag,” Toren said.
Eadan frowned. “There is talk that ye’ve broken the betrothal with the Campbells.”
Toren swore. “I didn’t want it spread around before I could speak with Brianag. I ken she did not want the union but I wanted to talk with her once more.”
“We all ken she didn’t want to marry the Campbell, but Tor—” He paused. “Ye’ve always supported Da’s command that she marry to secure the boundaries.”
Toren stared into his brother’s eyes. “Do ye back me in this, Eadan? It will mean unrest, possible war with the Campbells.”
Eadan’s eyes lit up. “Give me the word, brother, and I’d be happy to relieve the Campbells of some of their cattle.” Eadan studied Toren’s face. “Ye’re serious, brother?”
“Aye.”
Eadan’s expression broke into full exhilaration and he whooped, then grabbed Toren’s shoulders. “Bless ye, brother! Ye’ve saved Brianag.” He pushed against Toren as if to shake him, but Toren’s large frame barely moved. “Ye’ve really saved her, Tor.”
Toren nodded at Eadan. “I have come to that conclusion, too. No good will come of Brianag’s union to the Campbells, but I didn’t want the whole court talking of it, especially before ye could get Brianag home and alert our men.”
Eadan frowned and looked around. “I don’t like that she’s walking around court without one of us. Where do ye ken she is? Perhaps with yer Kat?”
“Nay,” Toren said, concerned that she hadn’t returned after dinner. “Check the feasting hall, perhaps she lingered over the wine. I will walk the grounds.”
As Toren threw the door wide, a livery servant stood, causing Toren to stop and Eadan to nearly run into him.
“Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth requests the presence of Toren MacCallum.”
Toren nodded. “Eadan, check the feasting hall and walk the grounds. I must deal with this Maxwell issue.”
Eadan put his hand on Toren’s arm. “Is it true, what Maxwell says?” His voice was low so the servant who had walked further down the corridor couldn’t hear him. “That ye fathered Margaret’s child?”
Toren turned at the anger he heard under Eadan’s words. He stared hard at his brother. “Nay, I haven’t bedded Margaret. He lies about it, and she is too much the mouse to correct him.”
Eadan’s stance relaxed a bit. “Her father lies.”
“When has Maxwell told the truth when a lie better suits his purposes?”
Eadan frowned. “I hate that Margaret lives under the tyranny of that man.”
“I would refute his lies,” Toren swore. “I did.”
“And ye have the scars to prove it,” Eadan said. “She is a gentle lady.”
Toren searched his brother’s eyes. “Ye care for her? For Margaret?” The servant cleared his throat down the hall. “Later, I would ken yer foolish notions on this, Eadan. Go now, find Brianag.”
Eadan moved past Toren down the hall.
Toren glanced back over his shoulder into the room. Kat stood near the bed. “Stay here. If anyone comes, turn invisible, unless it is Brianag.” He turned back around, then paused in the act of pulling the door shut. He looked right at her. “Do not let the witch take ye. I will be back as soon as I can.”
Toren shut the door and walked briskly after the servant. He’d never felt so powerless, even under the rule of Hughe Maxwell. How could he keep Kat, or himself, in this century? How could he protect them from the witch? And then there was the world the crone foretold. How could he protect his clan and his world from the olc that hunted Kat for her magic?
Kat. She’d been the reason for his abduction. And without that he’d
never have discovered that in history, his sister was murdered by her Campbell husband and the Campbells took over all the MacCallum holdings. He’d been taken from his time, but he’d seen what the future held if he followed his father’s dictates upon his death. They were being given a second chance, thanks to Kat and the witch, he acknowledged. But he’d much rather thank Kat.
She’d lied to him, stolen from him, tried to trick him. She had spirit and passion. He’d seen her warrior strength in the actions to save her orphanage and in trying to outwit him. And the love she felt for her children had been evident in the tears earlier.
Toren breathed deeply, annoyed at the tightness he felt in his chest. How to save his clan and protect the world and Kat? Aye, he would protect Kat. The weight in his chest told him he had no other choice. Somehow, he must make her happy here in the sixteenth century. For the one part of this puzzle Toren knew for certain was that he was never letting her go.
Chapter 5
“Are ye certain of this plan, Maxwell?” Fergus Campbell twisted the leather strap between his large, dirty hands and slapped his leg. A whimper pulled his gaze to the corner of the dark horse stall.
“She’s waking,” Hughe Maxwell said. “You must get her out of London, back to your own land before Toren and Eadan catch on that she’s missing.” His words were succinct and irritated.
“Ye think I don’t ken the danger I’m in with those two?” Fergus asked. He swore and slapped his leg with the strap. “I had it all laid out in honest fashion, a betrothal worked out between Brianag and me.” Fergus spit on the dirt again, his fist slamming into the wooden stall door. “And suddenly Toren changes his mind,” he growled low, barely keeping his temper. “Going against the dying wishes of his father.”
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