Highland Protector (MacCoinnich Time Travels Book Five) (6 page)

Simon arrived within twenty minutes,
idling his two-door Audi R8 in the drive.

Selma felt dwarfed at Simon’s side.
The man was built for the Highlands and barely fit behind the wheel of his
fancy car. “What did Jake tell you?”

“Just that he had an unexpected guest.
One from the future.”

“Did Helen tell you about Giles?”

Selma shook her head. “Who’s Giles?”

“A visitor from the future. We think
he may be able to find something for Amber.”

“Helen didn’t say anything over the
phone.” The freeway was relatively free of traffic as they wove through the
cars en route to Jake’s place in the valley.

“She’s convinced all telephone calls
are monitored. Seems the government has stopped asking permission to tap calls,
lately.”

Selma would like to disagree, but she
couldn’t. Everything fell under the guise of national security, and the public
didn’t put up much of a fight as their liberties were slowly being stripped
away…for their own good of course. Or so the elected officials told them.

“You think Giles and this visitor are
linked?”

“Might be. No way to know for sure
until we meet this guy.”

She grabbed hold of the dash as Simon
took an off ramp at high speed.

Two blocks away from Jake’s house,
Simon pulled over and started to remove his shirt.

Selma tried not to stare while Simon
instructed her about what he wanted her to do. “We need to find out if this guy
is looking for Giles…for Amber…for me. We can’t take any chances that we’re
bringing an enemy into the house. It doesn’t make sense he’d end up at Jake’s.
Unless he can’t control his time travel.”

They both knew those who couldn’t
control their time travel couldn’t be trusted.

“Giles told me about warriors from
the future. Men and women…all Druid, who weave in and out of time to protect
the family, our secrets. But there are others, too, who attempt to undo what
these warriors protect.” One of his shoes hit the floor followed by the other.

“More Grainnas out there?”

Simon’s jaw tightened. “None as
powerful. But it seems Giles and his people keep those who wish to be like her
from gaining power.”

“There’s good and evil with every
race. I guess it’s too much to ask for all Druids to get along.”

Simon reached for his jeans.

“Hey!” Selma shot a hand in the air.
“What are you doing?”

He stopped his hand at his zipper and
delivered a dimpled grin. “I’m going in with you, but you’ll do all the
talking. Ask this guy who he is, who his people are…why he’s here. I’ll
determine if he’s telling the truth.”

Then, without removing his pants,
Simon winked and shifted form. A small flash of light illuminated his body and
before Selma could say abracadabra, a four legged fur ball climbed out of
Simon’s jeans and jumped in her lap with a loud meow.

Selma knew he was a shifter, but
she’d never seen him shift in person. “Wow!”

Cat-Simon meowed again.

Without thought, Selma gave his head
a pat. “Can you understand me?”

A strange sense of crazy washed over
her when Simon nodded and nudged her hand toward the door.

“Here goes nothing.”

She stepped out of the car and lifted
Simon into her arms. “I’ll let you down when I get inside,” she told him. “Cats
don’t follow people.”

Simon meowed again when she rapped on
Jake’s door a few seconds later.

Jake flung open the door and met her
eyes. She tried to ignore the skip of her heartbeat every time she saw the man.
Didn’t matter how good looking he was, he was an arrogant ass most of the time.

“’Bout time you got here. Who’s
this?” he asked looking at Simon.

“Every
witch
needs a cat,” she
said as she pushed past him and into the house.

Simon scratched her arm and she
instantly let him go.

“So, where’s this visitor?”

Chapter Seven

So this is the cop’s Druid back up?
Kincaid attempted a smile, knew it
wasn’t his strong point, and decided to drop the act.

He let his eyes travel over the
petite woman who couldn’t be much more than five feet five…he noted her spiky
heels and decided she was closer to five feet two. Her curly red hair exploded
from a clip and framed her freckled nose. Her green eyes and the hand on her
hip told him she either had Irish or Scottish blood running thick in her veins.

“So you’re future-boy?” She directed
her sarcastic question his way, sweeping a glance over his frame, and dismissed
him with a tiny shake of her head. “Must not be very powerful if you’re
carrying all that firepower on your hip.”

She talked big, but he couldn’t tell
by just looking at her if she could back up her words with a set of powers of
her own. He felt a tremor of power in the room, but with his shield up he
couldn’t tell how strong it was.

“It’s never good to show all your
cards,” he told her.

The cat she brought in circled her
feet for a few seconds before disappearing behind the couch.

“Well, future-boy…who are you and why
are you here?”

Jake stood beside her, his arms
crossed over his chest.

“I’m Kincaid. I’m here searching for
a friend.”

“Who?”

His first instinct was to hold his
tongue. He did and the room grew silent.

“Not going to tell me?”

“I have no idea if I can trust you,”
he stated the obvious.

“And we don’t know if we can trust
you. The time travelers I’ve met all knew when and where they were going. They
didn’t end up in a random location.”

She had him there. “What’s your name,
Irish?”

“Half Irish, half Scot.”

Beside her Jake huffed out a laugh.
“And half witch.”

She rolled her eyes. “Selma Mayfair.”

“Selma?” The name tickled his memory
and then he realized why. “A direct descendant of Elizabeth and Finlay.”

The snarky expression fell from her
face. Obviously, she had no knowledge of her very distant heritage. Lucky for
him, Giles traced several names down and Selma was used in every generation for
centuries.

The cat circled his legs and snarled
at the barrier of his shield.

“My parents aren’t Liz and Fin.”

“I didn’t say they were. I said
descendant. But since you’ve used Elizabeth and Finlay’s familiar names, I
assume you know who I’m talking about.”

The cat bumped up against him again.
Instead of letting the cat bring attention to his shield, he allowed the feline
to move closer. The small lift of his protection brought on a wave of power
that stole his breath.

“Listen, Kincaid…you need to start
trusting me here. Start talking. Who are you looking for?”

He shifted on the balls of his feet
and felt a snap in the air.
Was that Selma?

“Before I tell you anything, I need
to know what you know about Liz and Fin.”

Jake took a step forward. “Listen,
asshole…you came to us—”

The other man didn’t finish his
sentence before the space inside his shield expanded and sparked. Within a
blink of an eye, the cat at his feet shifted and Kincaid found his neck in the
tight grip of a very large, very naked warrior. His angry eyes and set jaw told
Kincaid he’d have no problem snapping him in two.

Jesus…a shifter. That’s rare.

“Elizabeth is my mother, Finlay my
father…now answer the lass. Who are you looking for?”

Kincaid stared into the eyes of a
MacCoinnich. A man he was sworn to protect. “Giles,” he choked out.

The grip on his throat eased.

“Who is this Giles to you?”

“He’s a librarian.” If the man
holding him was anyone other than a MacCoinnich, Kincaid would have him at
arm’s length. Instead of engaging a fight, he calmly answered this man’s
questions. “He’s a friend.”

“
What
are you?”

The question would have sounded odd
to an outsider, but to Kincaid it was about rank. “I’m a warrior. A branded
warrior.”

The hand holding him eased now, but
it hadn’t slid away from his neck.

“One last question, Kincaid. What
were you and Giles speaking of when he disappeared?”

He narrowed his eyes, stared directly
into those watching him. “We were talking about a portrait of a woman.”

The hand at his neck fell away. With
the connection broken, Kincaid’s shield shot up. Not that he worried this man
would harm him now. Still, he’d take no chances.

“I take it his story checks out?”
Jake said behind them.

“Ah, Simon?” Selma said. “Much as I
like the peep show, I think it’s kinda creepy that I’m no longer guessing what
you wear under your kilt.”

Jake grunted. “You don’t
have
to look.”

“Like you’d divert your eyes if a hot
chick was standing here naked. Such a hypocrite.”

“You’re Simon MacCoinnich?” Kincaid
asked.

“Aye.”

From behind him, Jake handed Simon a
throw from his sofa. He wrapped it around his waist.

“And you know where Giles is?”

“Aye.”

This was going to be easier than he
originally thought. “Then you can take me to him and we’ll return to our time.”

Simon looked between the couple
standing behind them and back. “No.”

“Excuse me?” The hair in Kincaid’s
neck stood up.

“I’ll take you to Giles, but he will
not return until a cure has been found.”

“A cure for what?”

Simon didn’t smile, didn’t reveal any
emotion at all. “To save the life of the woman in the portrait.”

The hair on Kincaid’s arms joined
that of his neck. “She’s here?”

“Aye. Amber’s here. Come.” Simon
started for the door wearing a blanket.

“Wait,” Selma stopped him. “How am I
going to get home? Your car only seats two.”

Simon glanced at Jake.

Jake grunted. “Fine. And Kincaid…if
you walk around like that in two thousand and twelve you’re going to get hauled
in to the nearest police station.”

Kincaid glanced at the strap on his
hip holding his blaster, noted the long blade on his back and another side arm
on his leg.

Jake stepped forward, lifted his
hand. “I can hold them for you.”

He stood back. “I don’t think so.”

Jake shrugged. “Can’t blame me for
trying. Where are your clothes, Simon? You walk out like that and people will
think I’m having a damn orgy in here or something.”

Selma laughed.

He pointed an accusing finger her
way. “Enough from you.”

Five minutes later Kincaid climbed
into a gas powered vehicle and sped through a vaguely familiar town.

The airway was free of traffic, but
the ground was car to car. Simon maneuvered through the city, shifting between
other cars. “Looks different to you?”

“More than you can imagine.”

Simon huffed a laugh. “I grew up in
the sixteenth century. I can imagine a lot.”

Kincaid watched the other man’s
profile. “Why are you here? In this century?”

“Two reasons. My wife and Amber.”

“Is Amber really dying?”

“Yes. Faster every day.”

“What from?” His insides grew cold as
he spoke.

“Her gift. She’s empathic.” Simon
spared him a glance then returned his eyes to the road. “She’ll sense us before
we reach the city limit. That shield you use…can you cloak your thoughts,
feelings?”

“I can.”

“Good. Do so. She doesn’t need to
feel anything from you. With Giles in the house she’s been driven to her
bedroom.”

“Why is she so sensitive? The empaths
I’ve met—”

“None of the empaths you’ve met did
battle with Grainna. Amber has and, without a strong filter, she’s unable to cope
with the growing power.”

Kincaid thought of the haunted eyes
in the portrait he’d seen. Now he understood the emotion behind the expression.
It was as if the woman had given up all hope. That would certainly kill
her…sooner than later.

They exited a highway and the
familiar landscape sharpened. “We’re going to the fortress.”

“It’s only a house. A big house, but
a house.”

They rounded what would eventually be
the opening to the compound. There weren’t any walls, no protection. “Who lives
in these homes?”

Simon glanced to his right, then
left. “Neighbors.”

“You haven’t obtained the properties,
yet?”

“What do you mean?”

Damn…when had Dawson’s Manner
expanded? He thought it was before the turn of the century. Apparently not.
“All of this,” he said, waving his hand around, “is part of the compound in the
future. Beyond the walls of the fortress is a barrier of wards protecting all
who live within.”

“Like I said. It’s just a house. Only
a few of us live there. It’s hard enough for Amber with neighbors a few blocks
away.”

 No wonder Simon was so careful. He
was virtually alone in his quest to keep those in the fortress safe. “The
future isn’t bright, Simon. All these homes need to be obtained and walls need
to go up. This should be one of your main priorities.”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“If not me, who? I’m not the only
Druid who can travel in time.”

“You’re talking about the others…the
ones Giles warned me about.”

Worry shivered up Kincaid’s spine.
“Lethal bastards who will search a trail of energy to find you and your family.
Change the path of time as you know it.”

“Change time?”

Kincaid ran a hand through his hair.
“Yes. Some caught word of Grainna and want to stop her from ever being
destroyed. Others simply want your power to enhance their own. With only two of
you in this time…you’re vulnerable.”

“Grainna is dead.”

“But what if any part of her journey
to death was altered? I’m a warrior, Simon. I have fought by your ancestors’
sides my whole life. They haven’t known we were there, but we’ve stopped the
others from changing time more than once.”

“You’ve been to MacCoinnich Keep?”

“Many times. After your time and in
my own time.”

“It’s still there now?”

Kincaid wanted to laugh, but didn’t.
“Of course it’s still there. Cloaked and hidden from the eyes of many, but it’s
very much still standing.”

Simon shook his head. “Then why
weren’t we sent there to live? Why here?”

“That I don’t know.”

Simon gripped the steering wheel hard.
“Now’s a good time to hide your thoughts. Amber doesn’t need to worry about
what’s going on in your head.”

“And who will cloak your thoughts?”

When Simon didn’t answer, Kincaid
knew he couldn’t, and that Amber would suffer the knowledge and worry of her
cousin.

****

The soup Helen had brought Amber
earlier was now stone cold and untouched.

Downstairs she felt Helen and Mrs.
Dawson’s pain. They knew it was nearly time for her to leave this world. Even
though Simon was far away, she felt him inside her, too. His anger rose with
the thought of her life washing away like a tide and removing all evidence of
her existence.

Amber clutched the edges of the sink
in an effort to hold herself upright. In the mirror, a reflection stared back
at her. The dark circles under her eyes and distinctive cheekbones were a living
testament of her failing health. The heat billowing inside Amber’s head grew to
an impossible girth. Her fevered skin should have left her flushed. Instead,
she was sheet-white and appeared to have been drained of all her life-blood. In
the center of her chest, her heartbeat sped too fast, making her gasp for air.
Around her neck was a sacred stone centered in a necklace that could take her
back to her family. In a moment of weakness, she scraped a razor against her
finger and placed it on the stone. She didn’t want to die here. She wanted her
mother and father at her side.

A lone tear fell as she placed her
bleeding finger on her necklace and closed her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t make
the trip. At least she’d know her parents could place her next to her ancestors
and mourn her properly.

They would survive. They always did.

A shuddering breath left her burning
lungs and she began her chant. “In this day and in this hour…”

Light glazed the back of her eyes and
the bathroom started to spin.

Her last thought before her body hit
the floor was,
’Tis over.