“Not echoes because the battle hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve visited this location in the future and there were many disturbing echoes.”
They continued walking, looking at homes, stores and stables, the Lutheran church that still stood in Gettysburg in Angelique’s time.
“Let’s find an inn,” Faolan said. “I’d like to make love in every century we visit.”
“Better than collecting souvenirs,” she said.
His sexy eyebrow movement capably eased her morose mood.
*
The following morning Angelique opened the satchel.
“Why don’t you do the honors this time?”
Faolan pulled out the last scroll, looked at it and scowled.
“Is this some kind of joke?” he asked. “Because I’m not findin’ it very funny.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Angelique took the scroll, read it over several times, not believing it or not wanting to.
Accompany your guardian to his time—where he must remain. Return to the night you summoned him. Ensure he’s never brought to you. If not—one or both of you will die.
“Wolf, come here right now! I’m serious.”
He did not.
“I won’t comply with this freaking quest!” Angelique said.
A tall, stern-looking woman with long blonde hair appeared. She wore light armor and carried a sword and shield.
“Probably not a faery,” Angelique said.
“Water Witch!” the woman addressed her in a tone of superiority, instantly making Angelique defensive.
“I’m Aine. Your sniveling, incompetent guide cowardly requested I speak directly to you. If you don’t take your guardian back to his time, history will be much changed.”
“I’ll go with Faolan. He’ll do what he must, then he can return with me or I’ll stay with him—whatever, so long as we’re together.”
“That’s not possible,” the woman said.
Her indifference further angered Angelique.
“The gods have permitted you time together that was never meant to occur. I wasn’t even in agreement with that.”
“Why should you determine what happens in my life or any of the transcendent witches?”
“It’s what’s fated to be,” Aine casually said.
“I love Angelique. We’re married and want a life together,” Faolan argued.
“What we want and what can be are often far separated, guardian. If you remain together one or both of you will die. The fourth witch is needed in the upcoming battle.”
“The third witch apparently made several demands you eventually gave in to. I’ll make demands as well.”
“The time approaches when we’ll finally battle those who side with darkness.”
“Winter is coming,” Angelique sarcastically said.
Aine seemed impatient. “The season bears no relevance.”
“If you don’t permit us to remain together, I’ll make you sorrier than you might imagine.”
“You dare threaten me?”
“Not just you. I’ll threaten your entire fucking realm.”
Angelique was startled when Danhoul magically appeared.
“Why are you here?” Angelique asked.
“Apparently I’m to be your guardian for a time,” Danhoul said gazing at Angelique and Faolan sympathetically.
“Make this witch see reason, Druid!”
Danhoul shook his head. “I don’t suppose I can, nor would I want to try to explain to Angelique she’s to live without the man she loves.”
“Humans and their damnable emotions that get in the way of what must be done! If they remain together they’ll not live. How can I make that clearer?”
“Change fate, Aine—or I promise, I won’t be in your damn battle.”
Angelique grasped Faolan’s hand and they disappeared. This time her journey was more unpleasant due to her heavy heart.
*
They stood looking at a harbor. By the buildings, she could tell it was Ireland. By the ships moored there, she knew it wasn’t the twenty-first century.
“You’ve taken us to my time,” Faolan said.
“Have I? It wasn’t with intent, maybe by instinct or maybe Aine saw to it we were sent back here. But I won’t leave you.”
“And if we both die as she predicted?”
“I’d rather die beside you, than live apart.”
He took her in his arms, held her so tight she could barely breathe.
“What if only one of us dies and the other has to live alone?”
“Do you want me to leave you here and have me go to my time?”
“By all that’s holy, no, but I also can’t watch you die.”
“Surely together we can figure out a way to…”
“To outwit the gods…escape fate? That’s unlikely even for a witch,” Faolan said.
“We change our destiny daily with every decision. I doubt we were really destined to journey to four different centuries. Clearly you weren’t, but it happened.”
“Apparently with the gods’ blessing; this won’t be.”
“Is this Kinsale?”
He nodded. “But as I’ve told you, just before I came to you, my ship was somewhere off the coast. I suppose I must see if it’s here, if my crew accomplished what we were about to do or if the British perhaps intercepted.”
Angelique wasn’t surprised to see Danhoul appear wearing clothing appropriate to the era.
“You won’t be able to evade the gods,” Danhoul said.
“Have you seen this future Aine spoke of, Danhoul? Do Angelique and I die if we remain together?” Faolan asked.
“Ainsley was adamant you only live one life so you aren’t made to experience the trauma the other three did in the many tragedies and hardships they endured. You get only one life. If you die—you die.”
“So you said,” Angelique replied. “Except that isn’t true. I haven’t lived many lives, but I’ve died three times and been brought back. Obviously destiny was altered.”
“It isn’t likely to happen again,” Danhoul said.
“In the book it stresses all four transcendent witches must be in that final battle. The gods must need to keep me alive.”
Danhoul shook his head and pushed at his blond hair.
“And if Faolan dies?” Danhoul asked.
“I won’t be intimidated by them, gods or not.”
“I’m not sure this is a grand notion, Angel. If you anger them, I suspect they can make your life hell,” Faolan said.
“You believe life without you wouldn’t be hell? You’re saying we should simply let them keep us apart…that our love isn’t worth fighting for?”
“Of course it is, Angelique, but we might be fightin’ a losin’ battle from the start.”
“You’re willing to give in?”
“Aye, to keep you alive.”
“I’m supposed to just leave, say farewell, good-bye, adios, sayonara, good luck, have a nice life?”
“Do you know this day’s date, Danhoul?” Faolan asked.
He nodded. “It’s two days before you’re to sail when you were wounded on your ship.”
“When I pulled you through time to be with me,” Angelique said, “you told me I’d likely saved your life. You had a wound on your shoulder and claimed you were surrounded by men intending to kill you.”
Pulling back his shirt, she looked at his shoulder. The scar wasn’t there.
“If you don’t sail, that should save your life.”
“I doubt it’s that simple or the gods would see it done,” Danhoul said.
“Unless the gods have a reason to purposely keep us apart,” Angelique replied.
Faolan looked at the ships moored nearby.
“My ship’s there, but just now I need ale.”
*
The doorway was so low Faolan and Danhoul had to duck to get through. The pub was small, dark, crowded and smoky from the turf fire. Several men glanced at her, but Fa
olan took her arm and Danhoul walked protectively beside her. Both being tall, powerful men certainly didn’t hurt. Most patrons obviously recognized Faolan.
Faolan’s hand rested on his sword handle. Danhoul had a sword, too. The other men definitely looked like pirates, other than the pub keep and his young male assistant. Unlike the movies, there was no serving wench here. By their very visible cleavage, the only wenches here were likely serving other things.
“Three ales,” Faolan said in a tone commanding respect and probably evoking fear.
The male server returned with the ale straightaway.
“On my account,” Faolan said.
“Aye, Captain Mahoney.”
“You look very fierce, Captain,” she whispered.
“This is a dangerous place, Angel,” he finally replied and Danhoul nodded.
“The captain of the Merganser wishes to know who the woman is?” the server dared to ask, voice trembling.
“Tell Captain MacCrohan she’s my wife, so he’s to keep his eyes off her and his cock in his breeches.”
Angelique stared at Faolan who cast a possessive glance at her.
“I’ll let him know,” the server shakily replied.
“Actually never mind. I’ll inform them all,” Faolan said loudly banging upon the wooden table with numerous marks where knives had been driven in. Faolan stood tall and foreboding.
“Heed me well; this woman’s my wife. Should you dishonor her, you’ll meet swift and just retribution.”
There were muffled responses; most men raised their pints, nodding respectfully. Angelique felt like she was on the set of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Except the fearsome-looking men, the smells of ale and whiskey, the unwashed male and peat smoke combined with thick tension in the room, made it frighteningly real.
“You’re not drinkin’ your ale, Angel,” Faolan said, sitting down as though this was normal. Of course to him, it was.
“I already have to pee,” she whispered. “I don’t even want to imagine where that’d be done.”
“Back of the building,” Faolan said, taking a long swallow of ale before scowling at the other men as he led her outside. Danhoul accompanied them but stood back.
“How are you likin’ my time so far, Angel?” Faolan said pulling her close and kissing her.
“Admittedly a little better now.”
Twisting the wooden block on a small shack, he opened the door. Similar to an outhouse she’d once used at her friend’s cabin at a lake, there was a simple board with a round hole in the middle. She gagged at the terrible stench. The people who’d previously used it did not have good aim. She saw Faolan fight a grin.
“You’re enjoying this?”
“To some degree,” he admitted, smirking.
“Could we find secluded bushes? I’ll use leaves for wiping. I recognize poison ivy and poison oak, so wouldn’t make that mistake.”
“Come with me.” Faolan relented, gesturing for Danhoul to accompany them.
“Are you adept with that weapon or is it for display?” he asked Danhoul.
“I know my way around swords. I’ve traveled to different times and was Alainn’s guardian back in the fifteen hundreds when Killian was chieftain—also a dangerous time.”
“You’ve killed men before then?”
“I have,” Danhoul replied.
“Good,” Faolan said.
“Good? Yes, great! Perfect!” Angelique sarcastically said. “You really think that’s good?”
“I do. Danhoul will defend you with his life, as will I.”
“Can’t I have a weapon, too? I did fencing in high school.”
Faolan’s eyebrow rose dubiously.
“You’ve held my sword. Would it be somethin’ you could wield with proficiency when you can barely lift it?”
“Fine! I’ll just use witchcraft. They didn’t persecute witches in Ireland as often as many places in Europe.”
“Do you honestly believe all that happened here or elsewhere was recorded in those history books you read?” Faolan asked.
“Probably not,” she said.
“Use magic only as a last resort,” Faolan warned.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” she nervously said.
He didn’t look at her but was well engrossed in watching everything around them. Even the sound of his boots hitting the cobblestones seemed intimidating. He appeared fiercer and more dangerous than he’d been in her time. As they walked near the town’s shops and houses she worriedly gazed upward.
“What are you lookin’ at, Angel?”
“Trying to avoid being covered in piss.”
“What?” he asked.
“When people empty their chamber pots out windows. It happens in movies. Doesn’t it occur in real life?”
“Seldom this time of day,” Faolan said. “Unless you have pretty auburn curls and are wearin’ a fine-lookin’ cloak in a particular shade of blue.”
“You’re not funny,” she said still staring upward.
“You’ll only strain your neck and likely fall on your face in horse shite,” he jested. Danhoul smiled, too.
When a fearsome man stepped out of nowhere, Faolan seemed prepared. The man lunged with a sword, but Faolan was quicker and stabbed him in the chest. He fell down, his eyes open, blood pooling.
Angelique stopped in her tracks feeling unable to breathe.
“Did you really have to…?”
“Kill him? Aye, if I didn’t want to be killed. He’s from another crew. We’ve bad blood between us.”
“Fuck!” Angelique said.
Faolan sheathed his sword, still dripping with blood.
Trembling, she fought another gag. “You’re just going to leave him here?”
“Should I maybe hold a wake for him, then?” Faolan said as she continued to stare. He finally took her elbow and gently guided her.
“It’s simply how it is, Angelique,” Faolan explained.
Danhoul appeared more sympathetic.
Angelique easily knew Faolan’s ship. Large triskelion symbols adorned the sides just like his sword handle and tattoo. The ship seemed to fit this powerful and obviously dangerous man. There were two tall masts. The sails, now tied down, were surely an impressive sight when unfurled.
“No skull and crossbones,” she whispered.
Several scary-looking men stood on the pier, more on the ship. Each nodded or respectfully addressed Faolan. No wonder he wanted to be back here. He was treated like a freaking god.
“Coates,” Faolan said greeting a man, not as tall as him, but sturdily built with a brutal scar down his face.
“Captain,” he replied.
“This is my wife, Angelique, and her protector, Danhoul Calhoun, linked to Clan O’Brien.”
“Your wife, Captain? You’ve been wed in the mere hours since I last saw you?”
“We secretly wed days ago.”
Coates didn’t ask any more.
“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Madam Mahoney,” he said.
“And yours, Mr. Coates.” She wasn’t certain how to address him.
“Will your missus be joinin’ us when we sail, Captain?”
“That’s not been determined.”
“Will you be wantin’ to change the ship’s name, Captain, or be keepin’ the name…?”
“Of my first wife?” Faolan asked. The man nodded. “I was already after changin’ the name. We’ll be goin’ to my cabin for the day. Carry on with havin’ the men load the ship. Danhoul will remain on board, too.”
“Aye, Captain. Should cook prepare a meal for you and your new bride then?”
“I’ll let you know. Until then we’re not to be disturbed.”
“Aye, Captain.” Coates glanced at her, briefly taking in her body. His smile leering. Faolan wouldn’t have noticed. He was gazing out to sea with the look she’d seen before. He was clearly relieved to be back to his ship and in his life and his time.
“You’ll stay in the adjoining cabin, Dan
houl,” Faolan said. “It’s small but not uncomfortable.”
Danhoul looked about but only nodded.
“You’ll be safe on my ship. Find the cook; get some food and ale.”
“I’ll try to think of what to do about your predicament with the gods,” Danhoul replied.
Faolan nodded. He took Angelique’s arm and bent to enter the low doorway to his cabin. She couldn’t get over feeling like she was on some elaborate period movie set with the sexiest captain ever. She was definitely seeing a different side of him.
The chambers were bigger than expected and more luxurious. The wood cherry, she believed. The room smelled of Faolan’s appealing scent. There was a large desk with a sturdy leather chair, a wooden table, simpler chairs, a chest and a bureau. The good-sized bed was draped in what appeared to be blue silk curtains.
“Somewhat lavish, Captain Mahoney, considering you gave me a hard time about liking luxuriousness.”
“It doesn’t seem lavish if you’re weeks or months at sea.”
“I suppose not,” she replied. “You brought me here to use your toilet. I’ll soon pee my pants, well my skirts I suppose, and I don’t have extra clothes.”
He pointed to a small curtain. She pulled it back and looked inside. A huge improvement from the outhouse she’d seen. Same design, but far cleaner without the disgusting smell.
“There’s also a chamber pot under the bed.”
“This is good. Thanks,” she said closing the curtain, then sighing relievedly as she peed. “These fancy soft cloths are for wiping?”
“Unless toilet rolls have magically appeared in your satchel.”
“I’d like to send that satchel straight to hell along with Aine,” she admitted.
Angelique stepped out, finding he’d removed his coat and shirt, boots and stockings and was now unfastening his breeches.
“Faolan?”
“I don’t know what we intend to do about the conundrum we’re facing; I only know I need you,” he said removing his breeches. His need was evident.
“My God, you’re sexy.”
He came to her and she touched his muscular chest but then stopped.
“Do you bring other women here?” she asked.
“Angel…I only want you.”
“Do you bring other women here?” she firmly repeated.
“Not women,” he huskily said quickly disposing of her garments, kissing and caressing her, easily distracting her by creating heat within her she’d come to expect. He sat her upon the bed, knelt before her and gently parted her legs, kissed her from knee to inner thigh, thoroughly tantalizing her.
The Witch's Journey Page 26