Time’s Curse: Highland Time-Travel Paranormal Romance Read online

  A hideous groan was followed by ripping, tearing, and shredding as the demon, motivated by pain and fury, pushed its upper body through the crack. Jagged edges cut into its scaled hide, and it roared and bellowed until plaster cascaded from the walls.

  More windows blew inward.

  The creature’s head was enormous, twice as big as a human skull. Curling red horns rose from a low forehead. Patches of reddish hair dotted its scalp. Three spinning yellow eyes canted at crazy angles. But the worst part was its mouth. A huge, gaping maw, it displayed triple rows of discolored teeth. Teeth that had bits of red clinging to them. No doubt detritus from whatever it had fed on last.

  Judging from its torso, also coated in interlocking black scales, it had to be at least eight or nine feet tall.

  Sean had cut the flow of his power to avoid hitting the birds. The raptors tag-teamed their offensive. One would fly around the back of the thing’s head, pecking at exposed flesh. As it heckled the offender, the other bird drove its beak into anything handy.

  Intelligence wasn’t high on the demon’s list of attributes because the birds repeated their diversionary tactics over and over, and the creature went for the bait every single time. Sean took stock. For the moment, they were holding their own, but all the demon had to do was step aside and all manner of atrocities could spill through the opening. Whether it led to Hell or a borderworld or some other point in time didn’t matter. Earth’s integrity was threatened. They had to drive the demon back to where he came from—and seal up the crack—before something else saw opportunity and grabbed it with both clawed hands.

  The witches joined the line of Druids, power flowing from their outstretched hands. “We’re stronger joined,” Gloria reminded them.

  “Here’s the plan.” Liliana’s telepathy overlapped her mother’s. “Focus all our magic at that hole at the top of the crack. Force it shut. That should make the motherfucker panic. While he’s thrashing around, my owl should be able to put out one of his eyes.”

  “Or my raven,” Gloria tossed in.

  Arlen didn’t insert his own strategy, didn’t remind them he was the ranking magic-wielder in the group. It told Sean how rattled he was. Druids hadn’t been targeted by a Hell-horde in centuries. Probably never since Arlen took over as Arch Druid.

  He opened his magic, mixing it with the witches’ enchantment. He’d expected the power pulsing from the group to brighten, but it turned into an absolute lightshow of untapped, raw energy.

  Even the demon, dull-witted as he appeared, noticed and roared his dismay. The birds, clearly in some type of communication with the witches, flew lower, pecking at the demon’s hands.

  Once he was confident the raptors would stay out of the line of fire, Sean let power flow, homing in on the two-foot opening above the abomination’s half-bald head. Flames, burning bright with their combined power, and scented with clean, pure magic, ignited along the edges of the gap. It turned liquid, flowing together. Sean wanted to cheer but couldn’t spare energy for anything beyond step one in ridding themselves of the intruder.

  The demon craned its neck at an unnatural angle, shrieking rage and imprecations in a language Sean had never heard. It gripped the sides of the crack, not trying to force it open, but in an attempt to retreat through an opening that was now too small to do anything but crush the breath out of its scaled chest.

  As it thrashed and writhed, the owl made a strafing pass. At the last moment, it twisted its head and thrust its beak into one of the demon’s eyes. Black ichor spewed, coating its golden feathers, but it rose into the air, screeching a victory cry.

  The streamer linking it to Liliana brightened and pulsed, and its feathers turned pure gold again.

  While the demon had one clawed hand clapped over its wounded eye, the raven did its own strafing run, effectively putting out the other one. Joining the owl, it flew in excited circles well out of the demon’s reach. Gloria sent a lavish string of praise in Gaelic, aimed at both familiars.

  The demon’s stench intensified. Before it merely stank of rotten meat, but now the rank odors of death and decay joined it. Not new death, but death where decomposition had gained the upper hand, acrid and cloying. Sean switched to mouth breathing to lessen the reek.

  The fire kindled from their spell oozed downward. Wherever it touched the demon, smoke curled upward, and raw, red patches formed when scales disintegrated to sludge. Desperate, blind, and on fire, the demon curled its talons around both edges of the fissure and gave a mighty heave. A crack as loud as an automatic weapon report filled the room. The opening gave momentarily, and the demon threw himself backward, leaving a black, gaping hole.

  “Hurry!” Arlen raced forward, magic blasting from his fingertips.

  Sean and the others joined him. Once they were right next to the jagged cavity in the ether, an abyss that should never have been there, they peppered it with magic to seal it while the birds circled overhead cawing encouragement.

  Maybe because they were righting an offense against nature, things moved fast. Between one breath and the next, the crack’s uneven edges faded together. The air smoothed over as if the opening had never existed.

  Power crackled as they sheathed their excess enchantment, turning the air hot and bubbly. Sean was relieved they hadn’t blown through every scrap of magic during the battle. Who knew what might happen next, and they couldn’t afford to be defenseless. He scanned the formerly pristine great room and gave himself a sharp mental shake. The lovely antiques he was so fond of—many of which lay smashed to bits on the floor—didn’t matter a twit. What did was that all of them were safe.

  He hoped the demon had no way to regenerate itself. That it was permanently scarred and blind. It might serve as an impediment for the next horror-show fucker the Roskellys cooked up to torment them.

  The owl perched briefly on Liliana’s shoulder before shimmering to nothingness. Perhaps more gregarious in nature, the raven was still flying around the room cawing.

  “Get back here,” Gloria ordered in Gaelic.

  The bird flew close but veered away at the last moment.

  “It’s happy to be free,” Liliana said. “Let it fly a bit.”

  Katerina turned so she faced both her kinswomen. “What are those? Where can I get one?”

  Arlen joined her. “They’re witch familiars, mo croix. As to how ye lure your own, I have no idea.”

  “We’ll work on it.” Gloria dropped a hand onto Kat’s shoulder.

  “The familiars are kind of a consolation prize for foregoing the Siren call of Black Magic,” Liliana murmured.

  “Any other perks I missed out on not knowing I was a witch?” Katerina set her mouth in a tight line.

  Liliana leveled a pointed look her way. “Nope. Not a one.”

  “Have ye altered any of the protections around this castle?” Arlen asked Sean, still speaking Gaelic.

  Sean shook his head. “My first thought was how the hell anything had gotten through.”

  With a final caw, the raven settled on Gloria’s shoulder before shimmering into motes of dark, shiny magic that almost matched its feathers.

  “Where do they go?” Katerina asked. “Why haven’t I ever seen either one of them before?”

  Gloria still had her hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I will answer those two questions, but no more. We have more important issues than your curiosity. The familiars exist on a separate plane. They’re always in our minds, if we chose to accept their presence.” A sharp look winged Liliana’s way. “Our magic powers their physical forms.”

  “You never saw the birds before,” Liliana spoke up, “because Mother and I agreed to conceal your witch heritage.”

  “Your idea, not mine.” Gloria’s tone was brisk.

  Creaking and clanking told Sean the house was putting itself to rights. Some items, like the broken chandeliers, would need to be swept up and tossed, but the castle’s structural elements were self-sustaining.

  “If my castle isn’t safe,” Sean
spoke slowly, weighing his words, “then none of our other homes are, either.”

  “The caves on the islands will be,” Arlen said. “They were constructed with blessings from Danu herself.”

  “Are you suggesting we all move out to the Orkneys?” Morgan asked, sounding nonplussed.

  “Of course not.” Arlen reverted to English.

  “What today’s attack tells me,” Liliana said, “is the sooner we put our strategy into play the better. Rhea is behind this. She’s furious Kat gave her the slip—twice.”

  “And she’s gunning for bear,” Sean muttered.

  Amid the tinkle of glass, the broken windows mended. Dark spots from demon ichor first smoldered, and then burned with a sticky, greasy smoke before disappearing.

  “See. There it is,” Katerina said.

  “There what is?” Liliana asked her daughter.

  “She’s furious with me. Not you. Not Gram. Me. If I show up, proverbial hat in hand, and tell her I’ve had a taste of dark power and I’m ready to claim it, she’ll believe me. She’ll cook up that cauldron thing she started when I was nine. It’s not an instant process. While she’s adding rattlesnake blood and eye of newt—or whatever it is we use—you can move in and escort her to Hell.”

  “No,” Arlen thundered.

  Sean tapped his upper arm. “Lass has a point.” He kept his words quiet, without inflection.

  “I don’t care. ’Tis far too risky.”

  “All the more reason to get the wedding we planned up and running and completed.” Morgan made her way to Arlen’s side.

  Sean noticed she didn’t contradict him, simply took the conversation in a different direction. He nodded to himself. Morgan was smooth like that. He was certain if he scratched the surface, she’d seeded her request with compulsion.

  Arlen still looked as if he’d taken a mouthful of cod liver oil and was trying not to choke on it. “I’d planned on using this room,” he aimed his words at Sean, “but—”

  “All these old castles have chapels,” Sean cut in. “I’ve done everything I can to cleanse it of traditional religious taint. No crosses. No icons. I even painted Druidic runes on the walls. It might be perfect.”

  Gloria rubbed her hands together. “Splendid. We’ll add a pentacle or two for effect.”

  “Excellent. Follow me.” Sean started out of the great room that was still repairing itself. Getting away from the residual stench was a secondary perk.

  “But don’t I have to get dressed?” Katerina asked from somewhere behind him.

  “Not important, dear,” Liliana replied, her tone warm, reassuring. “You can always have a second, symbolic wedding later if you want a long dress and all the trappings.”

  “I suppose you’re right, Mom.”

  “At least I have our rings,” Arlen said.

  “How?” Kat asked. “They were at our place.”

  “How else? I teleported home and retrieved them while you and your mum were talking.”

  Liliana caught up with Sean. “Is there anything I can do to help? I was cleaning up, and I’d almost finished dressing when I intercepted Mother’s ‘come right away’ call.”

  “Aye. I got one of those from Arlen.”

  “At least you had your shoes on.”

  He glanced down and saw bare feet peeking out from under the hem of a long, colorful skirt. He remembered his sister wearing that same skirt a hundred years before. “Do you want to run upstairs and get your shoes?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Witches actually do best when there aren’t so many layers betwixt us and the earth.”

  “Same holds true for Druids, and all other mages who rely on White Magic.” Deeply pleased she’d sought him out, he reached for her hand, and she threaded her fingers in with his. It felt right to hold her hand, not awkward or unnatural.

  “Anyway, is there anything I can do? You and Arlen and Gloria have the ceremony well in hand. Morgan too.”

  “Just be there for your daughter.” Arlen hesitated and switched to telepathy. “She’s still running on overload. Your familiars are beautiful, stunning, but I saw Katerina’s eyes when those birds flew downstairs, and she put two and two together.”

  “She’s wondering what other rabbits will jump out of the hat,” Liliana agreed. “She asked as much.”

  “Do you think she believed you when you answered her?”

  “Who knows?” An uncomfortable look washed over Liliana’s starkly beautiful features. “That’s the problem with lying to someone. It’s like an overdrawn bank account. Even if you never lie to them again, it takes time for them to come to trust what comes out of your mouth.”

  “What are the odds of her getting her own familiar?” He guided them up half a flight of stairs at the end of the hall. It led right to the chapel.

  “I have no idea. She might be too old. She might have come to magic too late. Or none of those things will matter at all.”

  “Are the chances better once we leave modern time? And would a familiar confer added protections against Rhea and her ilk?”

  Liliana walked past him, through the stained-glass door he held open. “I have no idea,” she said out loud. “Those are probably questions for Mom.”

  “Whatever it is, it will have to keep until later,” Gloria said from behind them.

  Once everyone had crowded into the relatively small space, she went on. “Take your places everyone. Open your hearts and your love. My granddaughter and her intended welcome you as guests at their nuptials.”

  Liliana untwined her fingers from his. Bending close, she whispered, “I’ll be walking her down the aisle. Save me a spot next to you.”

  He’d have engaged in mortal combat with anyone who tried to get between them, but it wasn’t an appropriate comment, not at a wedding. He smiled and said, “Always.”

  She grinned back. “I like the sound of that.”

  He did too. The funny thing was he meant it. He, who’d always steered clear of anything smacking of commitments beyond his financial responsibilities to his Druid clan.

  “Mom. We’re ready.” Kat waved in Liliana’s direction.

  Will and Krista took up spots toward the front of the chapel and lifted flutes to their mouths. The high, sweet melody filled Sean’s heart and soul with hope, partially scrubbing memories of the demon who’d penetrated his borders.

  When the flutes began playing Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” Liliana and Kat wrapped their arms around each other’s waists and walked the length of the transept to where Arlen waited. Gloria and Morgan bowed, greeting the couple-to-be and inviting everyone assembled to share their joy.

  As the ceremony they’d hammered out unfolded, Sean felt proud—of all of them. If they were moving toward an all-out confrontation with evil—and it appeared they were—they’d need all the allies they could pick up along the way. That witches and Druids could find common ground was an auspicious beginning, indeed.

  Liliana made her way to where he stood. He took her hand again. Together they let the magic of love and weddings and forever commitments wash over them. Afterward would be plenty soon enough to deal with the wreckage littering his great room and to craft a firm plan for their trip into time’s vortex.

  Chapter 9

  Liliana had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but when Katerina pledged herself to Arlen, the tears she’d vowed not to shed welled anyway. Sean’s fingers tightened around hers, and she squeezed back. Will and Krista’s flutes soared to life playing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D,” and Arlen and Kat walked hand in hand from the chapel.

  “Food and spirits are laid out in the kitchen,” Morgan called after them.

  Kat glanced back over a shoulder. “Maybe later. Arlen’s all the food I’m interested in just now.”

  “I meant for after.” Morgan’s stern expression faded, replaced by a soft, wistful look.

  Ribald suggestions rose from the group, along with laughter.

  Liliana chuckled. “Why do I feel like I�
��ve been transported back to a time when knights were bold, and ladies not nearly as prudish as the history books suggest?”

  Sean smiled at her. It lightened his face and made him look like a mischievous youth. “Helpful commentary on bedroom practices is traditional, but I didn’t think you were old enough to remember how everyone’s relatives would stand outside the marriage bower trying to outdo themselves with smutty recommendations.”

  “Um, yeah. That practice had pretty much fallen out of fashion by the time I came along.”

  Gloria walked up to them, her blue-green eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “I thought that came off splendidly.”

  “It did,” Liliana agreed. “Lovely job of taking the best from our handfasting tradition and blending it with Druid rites.”

  “It was seamless,” Sean said. “When we were cutting and pasting sections, I had no idea it would play so well.”

  “Perhaps we’ll start a new tradition,” Gloria replied, “but for now we have a mess to take care of.”

  Liliana’s chuckles morphed into laughter.

  “I fail to see what’s so funny.” Gloria stared hard at her daughter.

  “Nothing. I was just remembering how neat you like things.”

  Gloria made a noise between a snort and a grunt. “I swear, inculcating basic techniques for maintaining order—”

  Liliana made a chopping motion. “Stop right there, Mom. I’ve managed. My house is put away enough I know where things are. It’s what matters.”

  “I understand why the newly wedded couple won’t be meeting us for toasts and food right away,” Morgan said, joining them, “but I fully expect the three of you in the kitchen.”

  Liliana angled a glance at the Druid. “You have more than eating in mind.”

  “You bet, I do. We’re running out of time. The marriage was a necessity, as is consummating it so it can provide the protections it was designed for, but the rest of us have to map out a firm game plan.” Morgan paused for a beat. “When Arlen and Katerina are, uh, finished, we’ll be gone from here.”

  “What do you mean running out of time?” Sean’s pleasant expression turned somber. “Did you see something to alert you?”