Time’s Curse: Highland Time-Travel Paranormal Romance Page 11

  She skewered him with her dark gaze. “You’re the seer. Take a look for yourself.”

  “Maybe I will,” he murmured.

  Gloria motioned everyone toward the door. “We’ll join you in the kitchen after a quick stop to scatter sufficient magic around the great room to cleanse it of residual taint.”

  “See you soon,” Morgan replied and exited the chapel, along with Will, Krista, and a few other Druids.

  Liliana, Sean, and Gloria were the last ones in the chapel, and they hurried down the half flight of stairs leading to the main hallway. A faint touch of the demon’s stench remained. Liliana set her teeth together with a clack.

  Their respite was over.

  Only problem was a face-to-face confrontation with Rhea Roskelly did more than scare her. It melted her bones to a puddle of terror so pervasive she wasn’t certain she could go through with her part—whatever it ended up being. She still remembered Gloria hustling both of them to the cave where Rhea had launched unspeakable dark power. An unbreakable spell designed to ensure Katerina wouldn’t escape her clutches like the last two potential Black Witches had.

  If they’d been only a few minutes later, the die would have been cast, and Rhea would have claimed her daughter, much as she’d claimed Warren. Breath hissed from between her clenched teeth. After that incident, Liliana had restructured her life and created an impregnable fortress consisting of three elements. Keeping wards around her daughter was her priority. Beyond that, she went to work and built impenetrable walls to ensure her nonexistent personal life remained that way.

  No one expected doctors to be warm and fuzzy, so her med school credentials had opened the perfect door for her. Long before Kat’s birth, she’d balked at actually attending formalized training, followed by a residency, but in the end it was easier than faking her credentials. She hadn’t wanted any repercussions if someone examined her qualifications too closely.

  The hard truth was she’d spent the last quarter century avoiding scrutiny and casting the occasional “don’t look here” spell if the need arose.

  If no one got close to her, no one else would be broken by her rampaging Black Witch kinswomen. The strategy had worked in her favor—for years. But it was about to change.

  No, she corrected herself. It’s changed already.

  Gloria stopped at the entrance to the great room. “You two run along. That way I won’t have to be particularly careful where my magic lands.”

  “Are you sure?” Liliana asked, not wanting to stick her mother with all the cleanup.

  “Of course I am, or I wouldn’t have offered. My bird and I can take care of this.” She trotted nimbly forward, power sheeting from her. The raven shot forward, light flowing from it as it winged its way around the room herding and concentrating Gloria’s magic.

  “I’m impressed. Quite a useful assistant.” Sean tucked a hand beneath Liliana’s elbow and guided her away from the psychedelic lightshow turning the great room into a kaleidoscope of shifting forms and colors. The clean smell of witch magic, rich with vanilla and herbs, displaced lingering demon reek.

  “Familiars are incredible. I was shocked—and delighted—when mine reappeared.”

  “Had it been gone, then?”

  Liliana nodded. “For years. I shut the door on it after Warren’s death, along with anything else that smacked of witchcraft.”

  “But you used your power in your work.” His pace had slowed until they weren’t moving at all.

  She offered a wry expression. “I did, convincing myself all the while it had nothing to do with witchy anything.”

  He stepped so he faced her, a thoughtful expression creasing his forehead into a map of converging lines. “It must be difficult, having magic—powerful magic—that has the potential to turn wicked.”

  “You have no idea. When Mother said we had to tap into the teensiest corner of black power to make certain Rhea couldn’t get to Katerina again, I was horrified. I only agreed because saving my daughter rose to the top of the heap.”

  “What aren’t you saying?” His brown eyes never left her face.

  “That I was terrified I’d turn to darkness, that I wouldn’t be strong enough to resist the pull.”

  “It appears you managed.” A corner of his mouth twisted downward.

  “Thanks. It’s been nearly thirty years, but not a day goes by that I don’t do a reality check. Make certain I haven’t slithered toward the abyss.”

  He dropped his hands onto her shoulders. Heat from his palms seared her, made her wish they could slip away and block out the world. “You’ve worried about something that will never happen.”

  She tilted her head, regarding him. “What do you mean? Evil is sneaky, seductive.”

  “Aye. ’Tis all those things and more, but it also requires willing participants. The reason Rhea got as far as she did with Katerina in that long-ago attempt to shanghai her loyalties—and her power—was because the child loved and trusted her great-great grandmother.”

  The truth in his observation kindled righteous anger, not just at Rhea but at herself for not taking a firmer stand. Rhea had done a number on Kat, who adored her. The child’s face lit with pleasure whenever the old woman showed up. Made it damned difficult to bar the doors to her.

  “Katerina did love Rhea—and it complicated everything. I should have banned her from the house. As it was, I never let her stay long, but I suspected she visited Kat’s dreams. And snuck in at other times as well.”

  “Did you ask your daughter?”

  “Yup. She always said no, but Rhea could have scripted that. Damn.” She exhaled shakily. “I was such a fool, but Kat was too young for one of those heart-to-heart talks where you rip a child’s innocence into bloody shreds by revealing someone they love is a monster.”

  “’Tis only in recent years we’ve treated children such. Back when I was born, they were dealt with like adults from the time they could perform useful chores.”

  She looked for censure in his words but didn’t find any. He was merely stating a fact. Before she could respond, he went on, having switched to Gaelic. “Ye canna go back. And the net effect of what ye did—and dinna—do worked out.”

  “It may have.” She lowered her voice. “But I’m scared. More than scared. I’m petrified. I’ll face a million Father Abernathys before I’d willingly face Rhea. The woman always terrified me, even as a child. I never could figure out why Katerina was so drawn to her.”

  He moved one hand from her shoulder to cup the side of her face. “Ye know the answer to that last part. Rhea is far from stupid. She made mistakes with you and your mum. Serious ones. By the time your daughter was born, she understood she was moving into her latter days, that she wouldn’t get too many more chances to recruit another Roskelly witch.”

  “So she turned soft and fuzzy with Kat—after she murdered her father.” The anger that had ignited burned with a steady flame. “I get what you said about today’s children being overprotected, but I didn’t have it in me to tell my daughter I’d lied about her father’s death. Or that Rhea had killed him. For all I knew, she’d planted some kind of trap that would have sprung shut in Kat’s mind if I’d told her everything.”

  She took a ragged breath. “I kicked it around with Mom, asked if there was some casting where we could test if Rhea had introduced things that shouldn’t be there, but she said there wasn’t. Not without endangering Kat’s mind.”

  “I ken well enough. There are reasons aplenty Druids have never worked together with witches. We were never certain which ones were truly White Magicians and who was pretending.”

  She considered his words. “It’s not just Druids and witches, though. Things may have changed, but the various types of magic-wielders have never trusted one another. Not enough to join forces.”

  “Ye’d be correct. Yet times are shifting, and our rift is coming to an end. Morgan invited me to cast my own vision of what we face. ’Twas a sound idea since we’ll fare best if we have fore
knowledge. Would ye do me the honor of joining me?”

  A mountain of feeling swept through her. Pleasure at being invited. Dread of what she might view. Knowledge was a potent motivator, though. They’d prepare better if they had some idea what lay ahead.

  “These visions”—she licked at dry lips—“how precise are they?”

  “Verra precise, but ye must understand I see variations of possible futures. We willna know till we get there which one comes to pass.”

  Liliana leaned into the comfort of his hands before standing straight and rolling her shoulders back. “I’m game. We should stop by the kitchen and tell everyone what we’re about. We can get something to eat and drink while we’re there.”

  He nodded approval. “Ye may be scared, but ye’re not letting it stop you. I respect that. I’m coming to care for you, Liliana.”

  Her heart skipped a beat or two before she managed, “I like you too. A lot.” She shut her mouth before she told him how she really felt. That looking at him heated her blood and made her long for the touch of his fingers and lips, for the surge of his cock inside her.

  He angled his head and kissed her. Once she was surrounded by his scent, his taste, the desire she’d felt earlier swelled, turning her knees weak and slicking her thighs with need. Like before, the kiss didn’t last nearly long enough.

  He lifted his mouth from hers. “Sweet. So sweet.” Threading an arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the kitchen.

  “Will we ever get a chance to…?” She didn’t finish the sentence because all the words that danced through her mind made her sound like a sex-starved slut.

  “I hope so, lass.”

  They shouldered through the swinging doors into the large kitchen area.

  “There you are,” Will cried.

  “We were about to hunt you down with magic.” Krista smiled and drained the wine glass in her hand.

  “We shan’t be here long,” Sean said, switching back to English. “Morgan challenged me to scry the future. It’s a damned good idea, so we’re going to grab a couple of plates and maybe a bottle of spirits.”

  “Will you be in the basement?” Morgan asked.

  “Aye. Where else? Our power is augmented by earth, and the subterranean aspect will make it easier for me. Plus, ’tis where all my accoutrements reside.”

  “All done.” Gloria pushed into the kitchen, dusting her hands together. The raven flew ahead of her. With a delighted caw, it divebombed a plate of chicken and perched on a chair with a substantial chunk held in its beak.

  Liliana had been piling food on plates. She edged toward the door with her bounty and silverware. Sean joined her with an open bottle of whiskey.

  “Where are you going?” Gloria asked.

  “With Sean to take a peek into the future.”

  Gloria furled her red brows. “Your owl will love it. They’re natural seers, being Athena’s bird and all. Remember? She was the goddess of knowledge, wisdom, and—”

  Before her mother could wax prophetic about mythology, Liliana scooted through the door with Sean right behind her. “Which way?” she asked.

  “To the right. Then take the second set of stairs that goes down.”

  She walked through another hall, an unfamiliar one. “How big is this place, anyway?”

  He shrugged. “Something like a thousand square meters.”

  She did a few quick calculations and came up with 10,000 square feet. “Damn. I bet there are sections you don’t visit for years.”

  “You’d be right about that.” He grinned. “Take those stairs.”

  A blast of magic skittered around her, and a set of sconces flickered to life. Set into stone walls, they lit the way down a winding, wrought-iron staircase. Her owl stirred, very near the surface. She released it, and it flew ahead, candlelight glimmering off its golden feathers.

  “That is one handsome bird,” Sean said.

  “Thank you. All magical birds are beautiful, but I fell in love with mine when it first showed up.”

  “How does the process work? Or is it something you can’t talk about?”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs. More candles shielded within glass lanterns burst into flame. “I suppose it’s all right to tell you—since we’re on the same side now.”

  “We always were. Druids were too stiff-necked to admit it.”

  “Witches too. Safety in insularity, eh?”

  “Something like that. In here.”

  A door to her right creaked open, and she walked into a circular chamber with earthen walls and no windows. The hearth at the end held a floor-to-ceiling fireplace created of uneven river rocks. Like the candle lanterns, it too ignited, wood crackling in tune to Sean’s power. Now that he wasn’t shielding it, it flowed from him in sheaves of glorious light.

  “How can you hold so much inside?” she asked, awed by how strong his magic was.

  “Same way you do,” he countered and set down the bottle of whiskey.

  The owl swooshed past them, screeching its delight at being free. One more hoot was followed by it lunging into a shadowy corner. When it rose into the air again, a mouse squirmed in its hooked beak.

  Liliana started to protest that her magic was nothing like his, but her words died unspoken. Because she’d opted not to use her power, she’d chosen to underestimate it. Acknowledging its breadth and depth would have meant she’d have to uncloak her ability—something she hadn’t been willing to do.

  Sean didn’t say anything, but he watched her so intently, she was certain he’d been inside her mind. She set the plates on a low table in front of the hearth. He walked to the food and picked up a roll stuffed with something, chewing and swallowing quickly.

  “Hold onto the account of how witches find their familiars,” he said. “I’d love to hear it, but I need to concentrate on why we’re here.”

  Liliana nodded. She felt the pull of power pulsing through the chamber. Its earth-and-stone walls stood ready, a crucible strengthening Sean’s magic.

  “The way this will work,” he said, “is I’ll fill the cistern next to the hearth with water. Then I’ll beg the goddess’s grace and wait to see what she shows us.” He moved to a spigot she hadn’t seen because it blended in with the walls. The splash of water filling a cream-colored ceramic basin mingled with the hiss and snap of the fire.

  While the bowl was filling, he knelt in front of a small credenza and opened its drawers, withdrawing packets wrapped in creased leather. The owl settled near him, talons curved around the top of a chair. It hooted softly, the mouse long gone. Unlike many birds of prey, owls didn’t play with their food. Once they caught something, they ate it without fanfare.

  Sean pulled the knots from leather cords, and the packages fell open. He lifted a golden chain from one and hung it around his neck. A striking fire opal was suspended from its links. He plucked a matching ring from another packet, sliding it onto his index finger. A pile of shiny stones came last. He carried them to the pool, shut off the water, and held the stones in his hands for long moments before casting them onto a small square of tapestry in front of the basin. They spun and quivered, finally rolling to a stop.

  The owl flew to her, talons digging in as it perched on her shoulder.

  “Come close,” he said without turning around. “Once this begins, I’ll be deep in trance.”

  Liliana crossed the room, stopping once she stood next to him. He began to chant in a low, musical voice, an old version of Gaelic rolling from his tongue. She held herself still, not wanting to interrupt his concentration. Long moments passed before the water’s surface developed a choppy aspect and then began to swirl clockwise.

  The owl’s hold on her tightened. Apparently, it sensed something.

  Sean was still chanting, louder now, more insistent. She followed most of the Gaelic as he instructed the water to reveal their future. After a final swirl, its surface smoothed. She bent forward, determined not to miss anything since she had no idea how long whatever
he summoned would remain visible.

  A medieval city formed, complete with walls. Was it Glasgow? No. The layout wasn’t right. Not Edinburgh, either. She shuffled what little she knew about Scotland’s major cities through her mind and determined they hadn’t left Inverness. Maybe medieval had been somewhat of a stretch. 1700s might be closer. Made sense since Rhea had been born near the front end of that century.

  Empty cobblestone streets filled with noise. People. Carriages. Just another day in a busy city. The owl hooted. She turned to shush it, but it had fluffed its feathers around it in a defensive stance. After its long absence from her life, she didn’t have the heart to do anything but love it.

  Moments later, she felt what the bird had responded to. Apparently, Sean did as well since the timbre and cadence of his words changed, and he moved to an entirely different casting. One she wasn’t familiar with.

  A shadow fell over the scene spread across the cistern’s surface. Small at first, it grew rapidly. Horses whinnied, rearing with fear. People scattered every which way, shrieking and making the sign against evil. The owl hooted again, louder this time. A winged figure closed fast. Liliana curled her hands into fists, waiting to see what they faced.

  She’d expected Roskelly witches, but contrary to popular opinion, witches couldn’t fly.

  Unless they borrowed steeds from hell.

  A dragonesque form, black with a huge wingspan and shiny, double rows of teeth flew a few feet above street level, its wingtips brushing the buildings on either side. Rhea sat astride it, the same savage smile Liliana knew all too well plastered in place. Behind her, three more witches flew on similar steeds. The only difference was color. One dragon was red and three black. Fire spewed from their mouths.

  She glanced at Sean. Sweat had broken out on his face, despite the room being on the cool side. The fire’s heat mostly went up the chimney.

  The next part happened in slow motion but was over in the blink of an eye. Rhea slapped the side of the dragon’s neck. It turned until it faced them, whirling silver eyes hypnotic as hell. The owl screeched a warning just before Sean pitched headfirst into the pool.