Time Everlastin' Book 5

by Mickee Madden

  Somehow, Cuttstone had discovered its use. Minute claws of energy reached out from the grayness, fingering the remaining parameter of the killer's luminescent form, each stroke revitalizing him, bringing him inexorably into the realm of the living.

  Stephen Miles wasn't privy to the offerings of the grayness. He hovered off to one side between Lachlan and Cuttstone, gnawing a thumbnail as would anyone caught up in a stressful situation.

  Cuttstone released a low, rumbling chuckle. The mist remaining on his chest and right leg, solidified.

  Lachlan breathed sparingly.

  A rumbling, reverberating cackle came from The Phantom as his head solidified inch by inch.

  Lachlan took two steps forward, his hands fisted at his sides. "I killed you once. God is merciful to give me a second whack at you."

  Cuttstone's grin faltered but a second.

  "Let the lad go," Lachlan said. "Mon to mon. You and me. I can hurt you a wee or hurt you a lot. The decision is yers."

  With a snarl that spewed foaming globules of spit from his mouth, Cuttstone flung Alby aside. For a brief moment no one breathed, knowing the boy's impact on the foundation wall would seriously injure or kill him. Two winged apparitions appeared from the shadows, no longer four inches but full human height, and two sets of arms whisked Alby from the air and into their embrace. Deliah, Winston's fiancé and Baird House's own fairy occupant, swung the boy fully into her arms, freeing her queen, Blue, to fly and hover to Lachlan's right.

  "Die!" Cuttstone roared, and lunged at Lachlan.

  "No' likely," Lachlan growled and surged forward.

  Beth Staples came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the basement steps when her eyes zoomed in on two men locked in a deadly struggle across the room. She was oblivious to the other occupants. Fear riveted her attention on the combatants, the hammering of her heart deafening her to all other sound. A red, pulsing aura surrounded them, growing brighter as seconds passed. Her mind couldn't decide whether Lachlan was somehow dead again or if Cuttstone had somehow learned to use the energies in the gray domain.

  Neither prospect was bearable but one or the other had to be fact. How else could the men be grappling so fiercely?

  "Beth!"

  Startled, Beth blinked and found herself staring into Blue's troubled gaze. "What's happening?"

  Blue glanced at the men. "The Phantom is nearly solid."

  "How?" Beth gasped.

  "Go to your children—"

  "Jondee's with them. Can't you do something?"

  "Magic could complicate the situation."

  "Die!" Cuttstone roared, the sound blasting off the rock walls.

  "Do something!" Beth wailed.

  "We must trust in Lachlan."

  An electrical tremor coursed through Beth. "I won't lose him again!"

  She pushed past Blue, determined to reach Lachlan, determined to save him whatever the cost.

  "Aunt Beth!" Alby cried, alerting the others in time for Winston and Deliah to jump into her path, stopping her. Winston's strong grip held fast, not even lessening when she smacked him open-handedly on the chest, her frenzied concern for Lachlan overriding her reasoning.

  Sharp intakes of breath rang out when Lachlan swung an arm about Cuttstone's neck. Instead of enclosing solidity, his arm passed through and the force of his action sent him toppling to the floor.

  "Lachlan!" Beth cried, struggling to escape Winston's hold.

  She stopped cold when Cuttstone's crazed-brightened eyes speared hers. He came at her, lips curled back like a rabid animal, foamy spit spewing between his clenched teeth.

  Time slipped into a still frame, he alone moving and at a speed inhumanly fast. Beth had thought fear could never touch her again since her return from the afterworld. In death, she had learned to love and survive against what some would deem impossible odds. The meek Beth who had first come to Scotland, the Beth whose guilt over her mother's death had rendered her an emotional cripple, was a distant memory.

  The woman she was now would not die without a fight, would not surrender her children, her lover, her life, without challenging the whims of fate.

  The still frame shifted. Cuttstone was but a blur coming at her, his clawed hands stretching out for her throat. From far away, Beth heard Roan release a feral sound. Wings fluttered close by. Winston was in the process of stepping between her and The Phantom when another blur rammed into the frothing killer, both bodies hitting the floor.

  Beth blinked, clearing her vision. To her disbelief, Laura straddled Cuttstone. Her fingers in his hair, she slammed his head repeatedly against the floor.

  "Laura!" Roan boomed, and swung her off the killer. She fought him, as if infected with the same rage that motivated Cuttstone.

  Cuttstone rolled and scrambled to his feet, his back to Lachlan, who rose behind him, hunched in a predatory pose. Cuttstone snarled. His hands swiped the air as if his mind couldn't lock onto which target he wanted most. Before he could decide, Lachlan spun him around and drove an uppercut into his jaw. Cuttstone fell backward, momentarily stunned.

  "Lachlan, behind you!" Beth cried.

  He glanced over his shoulder and staggered around as a pinpoint of light grew larger by the moment.

  "Oh, my God!" cried a feminine voice on the stairs.

  Beth cast a brief look in that direction. Laura's mother stood huddled on the steps, her eyes ludicrously wide.

  Guttural sounds issuing from deep in his throat, Cuttstone swayed to his feet. His face contorted in fear and resentment as he glared at the widening aperture.

  "Get back!" Lachlan ordered the others, gripping Cuttstone's arm with both hands.

  Everyone complied, Beth reluctantly in Winston's hold, and Stephen Miles, who stared incredulously at the portal that now covered one wall.

  With a snarl that boiled up from the roiling pit of his stomach, Lachlan swung Cuttstone toward the effulgence. Short of entering it, Cuttstone dug his heels into the floor and drove an elbow into Lachlan's chest. Lachlan released an umph, the air in his lungs forced out by the blow. He recovered with the ferocity of a starving predator locked onto a prey.

  Sucking in a roaring breath, he sprang forward, wound his arms about Cuttstone's chest and pushed off the balls of his bare feet. Both tumbled into the Light, becoming swallowed up in the ethereal passage.

  "Lachlan!" Beth wailed.

  Stephen Miles stopped his approach to the portal, just long enough to convey a visual message of sorrow to the stunned onlookers. Then, he, too, vanished inside the Light.

  In the span of a heartbeat, the aperture closed.

  In shocked denial, Beth stood frozen, unaware of the others, unaware of anything but the horrendous grief swelling behind her breast. Next she knew, a tearful Laura applied a cold, wet cloth to her brow, snapping her out of her stupor. She was in the parlor, sitting on the settee, Laura kneeling in front of her. Alby sat curled between her and Blue, pressed to Beth's side, sobbing, his face buried in his small hands. Everyone in the household was present, all eyes on her, their sorrow tangible, oppressive.

  "No," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "He'll come back."

  "He'll find a way," said Laura, her own face wet with tears, her voice not as reassuring as she hoped.

  "Damn me, I should have done somethin'!" Roan sputtered and raked the fingers of one hand through his disheveled hair. "It all happened so bloody fast."

  A few feet away, Jondee held Ciarda, Beth and Lachlan's daughter. His wings retracted, he looked like a young teenager, his handsome features shadowed with puzzlement.

  Laura's mother, Lauren, cradled their sleeping son, Broc, against her bosom, her face taut and wan, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  The cold October air outside was degrees warmer than in the room. Beth shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering.

  "I didna know wha' to do," Deliah said in a small, quavering voice. Her hands moved unconsciously over her protruding belly. "Shamefully, I be afeared for ma youngl
in'. I couldna think—"

  "No one is to blame," Beth murmured, cutting her off. "Lachlan did what he felt he must. He—" Her voice broke. "We have to believe—"

  A preternatural sound of rendering burst upon the house. The twins woke, wailing. Alby, Kahl and Kevin clamped their hands over their ears. The adults remained transfixed, terror-induced anticipation robbing them of their ability to move. Countless, spectral voices chorused, the shrill cacophony piercing the eardrums of the living.

  Then...heart-stopping silence.

  Moments passed. The twins quieted. The boys lowered their hands. The adults released pented breaths.

  "Fegs!" intruded a familiar voice from the hall. "I willna do tha' again!"

  Lachlan staggered into the parlor, looking like a man who hadn't slept for months, his hair standing on end from static electricity. Laura unsteadily rose to her feet and moved aside, her mouth agape, her eyes wide and blinking in disbelief. Lachlan grinned sheepishly at everyone he passed, and came to a shuffling stop across from Beth.

  "His Mightyship tossed me ou'," he said with a comical lift of his broad shoulders.

  "God?" Beth whispered, too stunned yet to move.

  "Och, aye. He gave me the boot, right enough." Lachlan thoughtfully scratched behind an ear. "Och, lass, He gave me the distinct impression He wasna wantin' to see me again so soon."

  Beth felt Alby shift away from her side. A glance revealed he was beaming up at Lachlan, freeing her to rocket to her feet and throw her arms around Lachlan's neck.

  "I thought...I thought...."

  "I know, Beth-lass," he said against her hair. He wound his arms about her, molding her against him, and sighed contentedly. "The ghosties are gone, love. They'll no' be back."

  "Those v-voices w-we heard," she stammered.

  "I dinna know," Lachlan said.

  "How did Cuttstone get through?" Laura asked.

  "I dinna know tha', either. Fortunately, he wasna fully transformed. Orwise, I wouldna been able to push him through."

  "But you entered the Light and returned," Laura argued.

  "Aye." Lachlan's eyebrows lifted. "But Cuttstone isna me, is he?" he added with a devilish grin.

  Beth loosened her hold enough to lean back and stare into the depths of his dark eyes. "Lachlan Ian Baird, if you ever—"

  He kissed her, dousing her scolding and the residual fear tweaking her awareness. He separated his mouth from hers and framed her face, the humor in his expression gone.

  "Naught will ever keep us apart," he said, his voice husky.

  "Promise?"

  "Aye, I do." Enfolding her more snugly in his arms, he glanced at the others, his gaze settling on Laura. "Twas brave o' you to tackle Cuttstone."

  "Stupid is more like it," she half-heartedly laughed. A new rush of tears flooded her eyes and she hastily brushed them aside when they escaped. "I couldn't let him touch Beth."

  Beth left Lachlan's arms, crossed to Laura, and embraced her. When Beth drew back, she lovingly touched Laura's cheek. "You're the sister I never had. Thank you, Laura, but don't ever risk your life again."

  Alby was first to fling his arms about Lachlan's leg. Kevin and Kahl rushed to their adopted uncle, holding fast, their bodies trembling with relief.

  "Ma lads," Lachlan choked. Disengaging their hold, he knelt and swept them into his arms. "Ma lads," he repeated and cupped a hand at the back of Alby's head and pressed his mouth to the boy's brow. "Ye're no' hurt, are you?"

  "Nope," Alby said through a tenuous grin. His chin quivered and his face scrunched up with an onslaught of tears. "I shouldn't've let him trick me."

  "Now, now, Alby," Lachlan soothed, swiping away the wetness on Alby's face with his thumbs. "Tell me wha' happened."

  Alby cast Laura a woeful glance. "I woke Aunt Laura cause I wanted something to drink. Not water. Cocoa. Then...then...." He slumped, burying his face against Lachlan's shoulder, and wept.

  "We were in the kitchen," Laura continued, "when Alby said something I didn't quite catch, and ran into the parlor. I called for him to stop, but he ran into the basement. I didn't see Cuttstone until he grabbed Alby."

  "Alby? Look at me, lad."

  Alby drew back and timorously lifted his face.

  "Alby, I want you to promise me, mon to mon, you will never do somethin' so rash again."

  "Is rash stupid, Lannie? ‘C-cause I won't be stupid again."

  Lachlan smiled. "Rash means no' thinkin' afore you do somethin'."

  "Okay," Alby said in a small voice.

  "I have yer word?"

  Alby nodded vigorously.

  "I think it's time the children went to bed," said Lauren. "Come along, boys."

  "Do we havta?" complained Kevin.

  "Aye," said Lachlan, standing. "Scat, and dinna give your grandmither any sass."

  Jondee inclined his head to the occupants of the room. "I will remain wi' the twins."

  "Thank you," Beth said.

  Lauren and Jondee herded the children into the hall.

  When their inquisitive voices were heard ascending the staircase, Roan said to Lachlan, "Just when I think you've out-rashed yerself, old mon, you add a few mair gray hairs ta ma collection."

  Lachlan chuckled, crossed the room, clamped a hand at Roan's nape and planted a wet kiss on his brow. He laughed outright and stepped back when Roan swiped the back of a hand over the spot.

  "Damn me, Lannie," Roan grumbled, scowling.

  "I see nary a gray hair," Lachlan chided playfully, and returned to Beth's side, slipping an arm about her waist. He tilted his head toward Beth while keeping a humorous eye on Roan. "Now we know where the lads' penchant for exaggeration comes from, aye?"

  Despite his mood, Roan grinned. "Kiss me again and ma foot and your arse will come to blows."

  "No' enough excitement tonight?" Lachlan crooned.

  Roan muttered beneath his breath, then sighed. "Plenty. I was havin' a nightmare abou' Taryn when all this hit."

  Laura, stepping behind him, wrapped her arms about his middle and pressed a cheek between his shoulder blades. Winston drew Deliah into one arm, his free hand tenderly stroking her belly.

  Blue remained on the sofa, her hands clasped atop her lap. Although she had never felt more alone than at that moment, she hid it well. "I was thinking about her before I went to sleep."

  "Thinkin' in wha' way?" Roan asked, apprehensive.

  "Wherever she is, she's about to...."

  "Wha'?" asked Roan, panic in his voice.

  Blue pondered the remnant impressions before voicing them. "She's...close."

  "To Baird House?" Lachlan asked.

  Blue shook her head and frowned. "To her destiny. She's safe, but...."

  "Sweet Jesus," Lachlan groaned. "But wha', Blue?"

  Blue's eyes took on a faraway, glassy look. When her expression cleared, she offered a shrug of apology. "I don't know any more."

  "We haven't heard from Reith for over a week," Beth said.

  "He said he would phone if he picked up her trail again," Winston said.

  "Ma gut says she's in trouble," Roan murmured.

  Lachlan shot him an exasperated glance. "Mair'n likely makin' trouble. I would rather face off ten Cuttstones than yer sister."

  "Damn me, Lannie!" Roan said with a scowl. "She is ma kin!"

  Lachlan expelled a breath and slapped a palm to his brow. "Och, I'm for a scotch," he said, and worked his dry mouth. "Anyone care to join me?"

  Although Lachlan had spoken in earnest, Winston threw back his head and laughed. It was a laugh that, like a virus running amuck, infected everyone in the room, temporarily releasing the remnants of their anxieties.

  Chapter 5

  Gentle gurgling sounds stirred Taryn from a realm of serene darkness. Reluctantly, she submitted to a need to open her eyes and stared through slits into vibrant blueness. It took a moment for her to lift her lids fully. A craggy, rock wall several feet away and bathed in the ethereal blueness, stretched across her line of
vision.

  She rolled onto her back and observed two facts at once—three, actually. One: she lay atop a bed of cushiony fronds piled thick enough to award the same comfort as a soft mattress. Two: the same variegated fronds were woven with vines, creating a blanket. Three: she was naked.

  Blinking rapidly, her mind trying to digest all the thoughts vying for dominance, she gazed about her. The gurgling sound came from a small, two-tiered waterfall in the far corner. At the base of the cascade was a clear crystal segmented basin. The water brimming within appeared to be lit by glowing blue moss—or what looked like moss—covering the bottom of the basin, the luminance lighting the chamber, which was no larger than an average-sized bedroom.

  With the exception of the pool and her bed, the room was empty.

  She unsteadily got to her feet. Her gaze pinging around her temporary quarters, she lifted one of the mattress fronds and held it against her.

  How did I survive the fall?

  If the barbarian had cushioned the impact, he couldn't have survived

  And if he hadn't survived, who undressed me?

  She didn't ache. Not even a twinge of discomfort for what she had endured.

  Had she imagined the fall?

  No. There has to be a simple explanation.

  "Hey," she called weakly, then a louder, "Where are my clothes?"

  She crouched and, dropping the frond, hastily unfastened her French braid. Her hands shook with the effort to release the long strands, her desire to use her hair as a partial cover stronger than her need for answers. When she was through, she held the same frond against her and took one precautionary step at a time in the direction of the only opening. She paused at the threshold, gawking at the world that lay beyond.

  Her chamber was set in a massive rock wall, back from a thirty-foot ledge that stretched in both directions as far as she could see. Scattered among gigantic stalagmites and rising from the cliff walls and along the pathway, were towering crystal columns, their faceted edges gleaming from glowing blue and white-green pools scattered on every flat surface. In the distance, she could hear running water.