Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3)

by Heather McCollum

  Toren pulled a woven plaid from the back of the horse and draped it in front of Kat, covering her to her neck. Kat wanted to crawl under the heavy cloth, into the darkness and hide away from Toren witnessing the others’ reactions or non-reactions. She burrowed down into the cloth.

  “Ye are cold,” Toren said and pulled her back closer into his heat.

  “I’m fine now,” she said. He probably didn’t buy that since her voice sounded pathetic even to her own ears. Change of subject. “Will they follow us?”

  “Aye,” he said, with calm certainty.

  “When?”

  “As soon as they can.” They rode in silence for several minutes. “Without being able to use yer magic will the clearing still be hidden?”

  Good question, Kat thought. “I think so, but I’ve never warded an area so large before.” Kat had warded the gym locker and safe deposit boxes to hide her heist money, making them virtually invisible to people. Once she tied off the power, it was no longer from her, of her, it was from the universe, from the energy and magic that flowed through the earth and water. She’d done the same with the clearing, using the water magic inherent in the brook that flowed nearby, weaving it with the earth magic around the deep roots of the oaks that surrounded the place. The magic that lay heavy in the air and ground was ancient and strong. Especially in the rocks that ringed it.

  Kat nodded. “Even without my magic, the wards will still protect the clearing.”

  “Will we be able to find it?”

  She nodded again. “We know what we’re looking for.”

  She knew what to feel for, just as Margaret and little Sara must have felt when they returned earlier. It was a hum, a soft breeze without wind, a warm glow without sun, a mixture of woven magic that recognized those who should enter and those who should stay out.

  Toren and Eadan felt it too, for they moved silently through the narrow path of bramble, breaking into the moonlit clearing. A shape moved over near a boulder.

  “Margaret,” Eadan called out, and lowered Brianag to the ground.

  “Thank the good God,” Margaret breathed and stepped from her hiding place. Sara walked behind her mother. Kat slid awkwardly to the ground. Sara’s arms encircled Kat with strength born of worry.

  Kat drew the child’s arms away so she could sink down on her knees, level with the girl. Kat hugged Sara and rubbed her back as she whispered comfort.

  Margaret stood close to Eadan. He wrapped her into his own embrace.

  “Ye started no fire?” Eadan said against Margaret’s head.

  “We were not certain if we’d be seen.”

  “Smart and brave,” Eadan praised.

  Kat stood. “We can start a fire. I feel the wards. They are still strong. No one will see or smell the fire.”

  “Even if they follow?” Eadan asked.

  Toren moved in the darkness and gathered brittle twigs and branches. “They will follow.”

  “And they won’t see the fire?” Eadan asked again.

  “They shouldn’t,” Kat said.

  “Should not or will not?” Eadan persisted. “There is a difference.”

  Toren used a flint to spark the peat he had in a bag tied to his horse. He apparently trusted Kat’s “should not.” Before long a warm fire glowed, pulling the three women and Sara into its circumference.

  Eadan and Toren stood, their stances that of warriors.

  “I will take the first watch.” Toren nodded toward a plaid he’d laid out on the ground. Both men continued to systematically follow the perimeter of the boundary encircling them. “We can’t fight without sleep.”

  Eadan grunted. “If you command it, brother. But I swear as soon as I close my eyes, I’ll have nightmares about butterflies.”

  Kat couldn’t help but smile as she pushed the tip of a stick in the dirt. She sat with her legs crossed, the right side of her face turned slightly to the cold darkness.

  “What are ye drawing?” Brianag asked. “It looks like a dragonfly.”

  Toren snorted behind her, making Kat glance up. “I’ll be walking the perimeter inside the trees.” He stalked away.

  “It is,” Kat said and pulled her eyes away from Toren’s broad shoulders to continue the drawing.

  “I’d think ye would be drawing a butterfly,” Brianag commented and nibbled on a bannock Eadan had handed each one of them earlier. “Ye have a gift with them.” Brianag looked over at Margaret. “Ye should have seen it.” She shook her head. “Thousands of them descended like colorful leaves on the Campbells, fluttering and then diving into their eyes and mouth.” She shook her head again. “Never seen anything like it before. They attacked them. Should not even have butterflies up here until summertide.”

  Kat watched the dirt as she moved the pointy tip of the stick through the soft silt in the glow of the fire. The right side of her face and her back felt the bite of cold but the front of her was hot. “Butterflies have always followed me,” Kat said and shrugged her shoulders. “They come when I need a friend.”

  “Or a regiment of warriors.” Brianag grinned.

  Kat nodded but kept her gaze on the ground. This way, in her own thoughts, she didn’t have to turn toward Margaret and Brianag. Silence stretched while they ate the bannocks, the rabbit Toren had snared, and the fresh blackberries that grew throughout the brambles encircling the clearing.

  “Sara says ye hide yer face,” Margaret said, her voice cracking through the silence like an axe through a frozen pond.

  “I meant that ye are able to hide, unlike me,” Sara squeaked.

  Kat looked up at the girl. Sara’s back was rigid and straight, her eyes round with obvious worry. Kat smiled softly. “Sara, you will grow out of your birth mark. I’ve seen it before.” Kat’s gaze moved to Margaret. “I knew a little girl with the same type of mark and it disappeared completely by the time she was nine.”

  Margaret nodded and then leaned forward trying to catch sight of Kat’s right cheek. “She says ye burned the whole side of yer face.”

  Kat felt the flush. It was familiar but this time she couldn’t hide it, couldn’t use her magic. She stared down at the dirt again and nodded. Maybe the ladies would just let it drop. She didn’t want to discuss it.

  Brianag stood up and walked to her other side. So much for relying on sixteenth century manners. “I’ve tended more burns than I can count,” Brianag bragged and squatted down on Kat’s right side. Her hand touched Kat’s shoulder. “May I see?”

  Kat looked up, then turned to the firelight so her face was illuminated. “Sure.” What else could she say? They were interested and she was stuck with them for a while.

  Brianag looked but didn’t touch. “Looks old, well healed. Ye were just a lass when it happened.”

  Kat nodded and felt her face begin to cool. “I was little and foolish.”

  Brianag stood. “Aren’t we all when we’re little.” She laughed and glanced at Sara where she sat next to her mother. Margaret gave Sara a squeeze and nodded.

  Kat didn’t turn away when Margaret leaned almost into the fire to see Kat’s scars. “Oh they are well healed.” She nodded again. “A blessing that.”

  “Do they pain ye?” Brianag asked. “I have some salve that some say helps.”

  “No,” Kat said and moved her gaze to Brianag for the first time since she’d been inspected.

  Brianag smiled. “Ye certainly are a beauty even with the burn. Can see why Tor is so caught up in ye.”

  Margaret smiled timidly and raised one delicate eyebrow. “He stares at ye all the time,” Margaret said and leaned over to help Sara catch all the crumbs from the bannock.

  Kat stared at them, calm on the outside, a wreck of flippity floppity on the inside. “Stares at me?”

  Brianag leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “All the time. Never seen him do that with a lass before.” She sat back and wiped her hands together. “Oh many a lassie has followed my brother with her gaze, but none until now has he noticed for more
than a night of fun.”

  “Brianag,” Margaret whispered the warning.

  Night of fun? That pushed the flippity flops into the realm of nausea. Kat frowned. “He has a lot of those ‘nights of fun’ then?”

  Brianag waved a hand. “Och, Kat. Do not listen to me. Nay he does not.” Brianag watched Kat and then reached over to squeeze her fingers. Kat looked at her. “Kat, there’s something new there in my brother,” she said, her voice low and serious. “Something I have never seen in Tor before, not before ye.”

  The tight flutter of panic and excitement clenched in Kat’s chest, but she quickly soothed it away with a deep breath. Why would she care if Toren looked at her? He was attracted physically like others before. Just as with them, it was best not to let him too close. He certainly didn’t want to take on all her baggage, the children, the witch, saving the world. And then there were her hideous scars. Although possibly being soul mates might make it a bit difficult to keep a distance.

  Kat’s gaze moved to where Toren quietly stalked along the perimeter of their warded meadow. He stopped near Eadan who lay asleep on a rolled plaid. Every once in awhile Eadan shifted, his hand flying out to swat the air before his face.

  Kat studied Toren’s back as he faced the darkness. It was broad and strong, his stance full of determination, full of duty. No, he couldn’t take on all of what Kat was. She was too much for any man and at the same time not enough, she thought as she touched the puckered skin.

  He had his family to protect just as she did back in the twenty-first century. Finding the dragonfly necklace and sending Kat home would be second to taking his family to safety. As it should be. Kat sighed. “I think I’m just an interesting problem for him, Brianag, another complication to his grand plan to protect you all.”

  Brianag laughed softly and pushed a long stick into the fire. “Well ye are complicated. But I wouldn’t expect an easy woman to capture my brother’s interest.” Kat finished the dry bannock and swallowed a gulp of cool spring water. Brianag smiled. “Complicated suits Tor,” she said and laid her head down on one dirt smudged arm. Margaret and Sara cuddled together under another plaid.

  Kat wrapped a wool plaid around her shoulders and stretched before the fire, her eyes growing heavy as they watched Toren pace like a large cat. He turned then, towards her, as if he felt the questions in her stare. They looked at one another. Toren’s eyes were dark orbs in the night. It was the intensity of his stare, his stance, which made it difficult for Kat to draw in a full breath of the crisp cold air.

  Kat turned toward the fire. “Just a complication,” Kat whispered, and closed her eyes, shutting him out.

  ****

  Misty sunlight and angry voices roused Kat from her sleep. She blinked and jumped. Brianag’s face sat so close to her own Kat couldn’t focus on it. Kat rolled back, but Brianag followed.

  “Do not make a sound.” The terror in Brianag’s eyes froze Kat. “The Campbells are out there.” She pointed with one long finger at the bushes where Eadan and Toren stood, their swords drawn. Kat saw Sara and Margaret clutched together near the far side of the circle.

  “As long as we stay in the circle, they can’t find us or hear us,” Kat said and sat up.

  “Are ye certain?” The desperation in Brianag’s tone tickled doubt along Kat’s skin. The objects that she camouflaged were normally inanimate and quiet. As a habit, when invisible Kat usually remained mute so she didn’t bother to add silence to the wards. But when she’d warded the clearing, she’d woven a thread to dampen the vibrations of sound. The sounds couldn’t travel beyond the warded ring line.

  “Yesterday, I…God gave me a gift to hide us and I used it to hide this clearing. As long as we stay within it no one can see or hear us.”

  “But ye are not using yer power now,” Brianag whispered. “I can see ye.”

  Kat waved her hand to indicate the clearing. “I tied off my magic into the natural magic elements already here. The oaks, the rocks.”

  Brianag’s eyes remained large.

  “Never mind,” Kat whispered. “We’ll just stay quiet, but please don’t worry about them seeing us.” Kat nodded to emphasize her words. “The wards are strong and fit naturally here. I think this was a magical place before.”

  Brianag nodded and sat down next to Kat. Kat took her hand and squeezed reassuringly. Brianag squeezed back.

  “Their trail ends here,” a rough voice called near where Eadan and Toren stood guard, swords in hand.

  “Then where the bloody hell are they?” That was Fergus Campbell, Kat thought. A furious Fergus Campbell.

  No one answered, but Kat watched the bushes all around their circle rustle and sway as the men searched the underbrush. Let the wards hold! A chill raced along Kat’s neck as if she’d heard those frantic pleas before. The swaying continued for countless minutes. Toren and Eadan stood back to back watching the perimeter bushes jostle, their swords balanced, ready to strike. It was as if all in the circle held their breaths. The birds had silenced and the tree leaves overhead ceased to flutter. Suspended in time and place, not a breeze or movement.

  “They must have moved off the road and into the forest to hide their tracks. Them MacCallums ken the way of hiding,” another man added. “They are not here. Ouch!” The man cursed. “Just these damn thorns.”

  A roar of fury echoed off the trees followed by Gaelic words flung so hard Kat cringed and Margaret covered Sara’s ears. “To London, then!” Fergus shouted. “They would put Brianag before the bastard queen’s nose and demand retribution. I must talk with Maxwell,” he said more to himself, his steps fading back toward the road.

  Kat looked over at Margaret. The woman’s eyes were enormous as she watched Brianag.

  “I am so sorry,” Margaret whispered. “The sins of my father are great.” Kat wondered if Margaret even noticed that she pulled Sara closer into the protection of her own body. Kat’s chest grew tight at the thought of them living under Maxwell’s rule, what Margaret must have endured to keep her daughter shielded.

  An unease sat amongst the three women until Brianag reached out to squeeze Margaret’s hand. “They are his sins, not yours. Sara and ye are welcome with the MacCallums.”

  “Aye, ye are welcome,” Eadan added as he walked up to them and reached down to help Margaret stand up.

  Margaret’s eyes moved to Toren who also approached. “Ye and yer daughter will live under our protection at Craignish. Ye will be safe there.” Kat jumped up, smoothing her shirt front and watching the ladies dust off their gowns. Even though the stable boy outfit she wore was much more practical, Kat yearned to swish the authentic skirts. Even dusty and torn, the gowns were certainly more attractive, not that she was trying to attract anyone.

  “We ride to Craignish,” Toren said. Kat’s breath stopped on an intake. Her gaze jumped to where he stared at her.

  She exhaled. “Craignish, your home. North of here?” she asked. He nodded, his face stone with his decision. He had said it before, but it still felt risky. Drakkina could pop back in at any moment to demand the necklace.

  “I will not leave Eadan alone to take three females through dangerous territory.”

  Kat looked to Eadan who turned a reddish shade but didn’t say anything as he watched the interaction. “The necklace-” she began.

  “Is secure for the time being,” he finished. “Once they are safe at Craignish, we will find the necklace.”

  “What necklace?” Eadan asked.

  Kat and Toren stared at one another without answering. Toren’s duty was to his family first, Kat told herself. Very well, she understood that. He would protect his family just like she would do anything she could to find that necklace and go home to hers. She continued to stare unblinking into his eyes until they began to sting.

  “Then let’s go.” She turned to find the horses.

  Chapter 8

  Drakkina’s essence shot along the temporal web, dipping and weaving through decades, through centuries of colors a
nd iridescent images. She barely had time to notice the time planes she touched. The dark tumble of power that she remembered from the time of Gilla’s death had transformed over the centuries. It slipped after her, a synchronized single entity of evil, an arrow of death. As if the demons had coalesced into a single mind, no longer bickering and fighting each other for their freedom.

  Drakkina had bound them thousands of years ago to hinder them. She, in essence, tied their hands together, tethering them, to slow their malicious intentions, after their leader had seduced into darkness and killed Aspasia. They couldn’t act unless they all had a single focus and intent. She had hoped that their constant squabbling would keep them impotent and drained of power. But the arrow shot after her was far from impotent. She hadn’t been powerful enough in her spirit form to avenge her love nor to protect Gilla and Druce. In this new converged form, they were even more deadly.

  Drakkina wrapped herself in glamour magic so that she looked, smelled, and vibrated like young Kat. As long as Kat didn’t use her own magic to confuse the demons, they should follow Drakkina, thinking that Kat had somehow obtained the ability to cross times. But how long could she stay ahead of them? Drakkina darted and dove, twisted and turned back on herself, yet they trailed. If they caught her, they would know she wasn’t Kat when they killed and stripped her powers, powers that would make them even more potent.

  “My dragonfly,” Drakkina breathed tightly as she tore along an ancient line of gritty brown, diving into the dust storm around a half completed pyramid. The powers surrounding the sacred place radiated outward, obscuring Drakkina’s magic signature, camouflaging her within its own magic. She panted as she laid her essence within the cracks around each block of chiseled stone. “I need my dragonfly. That blasted Highlander put a binding spell on it. Only he can give it to me,” she cursed and fell silent, listening, waiting.

  The mixed whistle of merged voices shrieked in skewed harmony. She smiled. The frustration at losing her was obvious in the pitch.