The Summons (3 page)

Summon me,
he whispered
.

She ran through the castle, calling his name, searching for him, but found nothing. No people, no animals, no life at all. No Roan. Then the castle fell to ruins before her eyes like a movie on fast-forward.

She awoke with a start, her body damp with sweat while tears scorched her cheeks.

“This is insane,” she cried, rubbing at her eyes.

“I have to get out of here.” She took a quick shower, then grabbed some jeans and pulled a tank top over her head.

Summon me.

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The Summons

“Roan?” She searched her room, but he wasn’t there. “Of course he isn’t here. He’s a figment of my imagination. And so is his voice.”

She grabbed up her keys and some money and headed for the door. A walk, a very long walk would help clear her head. Maybe she’d go to the coffee shop and grab a super sized latte.

She stopped at the corner and took several deep breaths of air as she waited for the traffic light to change. It was a warm summer day, the sun was shining, life was in constant motion around her. This was good. This would help.

Summon me.

“Stop it!” she shouted in frustration, only to gain a glare from a driver waiting on the light.

“God help me,” she whispered, and grabbed the lamppost to steady herself. She really was losing her mind.

And yet…she touched the evidence on her neck.

There had to be something she was missing other than a few marbles.

A flyer fluttered in her face, bringing her back, however temporary, to the real world. She lifted her gaze to the brightly printed words, not really reading it, lost in her own little nightmare, when something made her pause. An image of a Scot with bagpipes stood alongside the heading.

“Annual Scottish Festival.”

She’d forgotten all about it. She’d even teased Roan about it, telling him she thought she should go check out his competition. He was not amused, and made it his mission to make sure she never thought of another Scot, another man ever again. That was when he gave her the love bite.

She touched the tender spot at the side of her neck again. “Could it be possible?” Had he been telling the truth about his gift to summon?

The corner of the flyer chose that moment to 17

Jo Barrett

come free of the tape and bat her in the face. She snatched it from the post and read over the information.

Men would be dressed in kilts, tossing cabers, and battling with claymores. The festival itself lasted for nearly a week, which was why she’d put it on her list in the first place. She’d have been able to work it in on one of her off days. But today was the big event day. A full battle re-enactment.

A battle comes, one I must play a part in.

She shook her head as she clutched the paper in her hand. Crazy or not, she had to go, she had to find some way to put an end to the voice, to the dreams…to mend her broken heart.

Huffing and puffing, she jogged to the park, although driving would’ve been better. But parking was slim in the area and finding a spot would’ve taken longer than the two-mile hike.

Catching her breath, she forced herself to slow down and weave her way through the crowds, glancing over several of the vendors’ Scottish wares.

She needed to relax and let whatever happen…happen. She couldn’t go grabbing every man in a kilt thinking it was Roan.

Hearing shouts and cheers in the distance, she made her way to the field and watched as men dressed in kilts shouted out war cries as they ran toward one another waving claymores and other weapons.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to call on her medical experience today. But there were med units standing by, ready for the regular sort of mishaps that happened on a hot summer day during a celebration like this. She doubted they would need her. The sound of steel clanking against steel and shouts pulled her attention back to the field of battle. Why did men always want to re-enact the 18

The Summons

bloodiest parts of history? Oh sure, watching a quilting bee wasn’t exactly exciting, but it didn’t involve life and death.

“What am I doing here?” she murmured. This was ridiculous. Roan wasn’t here. He was in her dreams, in her very vivid imagination. The mark on her neck wasn’t a love bite. It was probably an allergic reaction to something at work.

Oh sure, and the rest of the evidence is just your
imagination too,
a voice in the back of her mind grumbled.

And Roan had said she’d come to him on her own before. Perhaps, she could bring him to her for a change.

With a moan, she cradled her aching head in her hands. This was ridiculous, but she’d never be satisfied if she didn’t at least try.

Clamping her lids closed, she whispered the only words she could think of, and if they weren’t the right ones to summon him then so be it.

“Please bring him to me. Please. I love him.”

She opened he eyes to nothing but more of the same. Sweaty men, wide-eyed watchers, and apparently an injured re-enactor.

“Do you think he’ll be okay, Dad?” a little boy asked his father.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” the man said.

Lindsay’s gaze followed the gurney to the medical tent, then she took off after them. “I’m a nurse, let me through!”

She squeezed through the throngs of onlookers.

He said it was his time, he said it would be a battle.

“Let her through,” one of the paramedics shouted, and the people parted.

In minutes she was inside the tent, her gaze searching the features of the man lying on the pallet.

But it wasn’t Roan.

Shaking off her disappointment for the moment, 19

Jo Barrett

she quickly set about assisting the paramedics.

“Looks like heat exhaustion and a nasty knock on the head,” she said.

“Yeah, nothing major. But I could’ve sworn one of those guys had been gutted.”

“You said it. Man, they sure know how to make it look real,” the other medic said.

“You guys don’t need me,” Lindsay said.

“No, but thanks. For a minute there I thought we had a real mess on our hands.”

“Sure.” Through watery eyes she made her way out of the tent, her heart falling to pieces bit by bit with every step.

“How’s the lad?”

“He’ll be fine. Just a bump on the head and heat exhaustion,” she replied absently.

Lost in hurt and thought, she stumbled a few more steps before the voice, thick with a familiar brogue registered. Her feet felt frozen in place and she couldn’t turn around, terrified she was hallucinating.

“’Tis glad I am ta hear it,” the voice said, coming up behind her. “I nearly felled the lad before I saw

‘twas no’ a true battle.”

“Roan,” she choked out. It had to be.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Aye love,” he said, his lips close to her ear.

Her body shook with so much emotion she could barely breathe. She clasped his arm around her waist. It was solid, warm—and sticky. An odor she was well accustomed to assaulted her nose. Blood.

“You’re hurt!” She spun around and searched his body with her eyes and hands, but found no wounds beneath the blood stained cloth.

His large hands captured hers and pressed them to his chest. “I am well…now.”

“But this is—”

“Aye, love. ‘Tis real, and ‘tis mine,” he said lowly 20

The Summons

so passersby wouldn’t hear. “You’re summons stole me from the verra hands of death.”

“Oh God.” Her gaze shot to the field then back to Roan. “The battle, it was your battle.” She threw her arms around his neck and held onto him with all her might.

“Lindsay,” he said roughly as he buried his face in her hair.

“You’re real. You’re really real,” she cried. “And you’re here.”

“Aye, love. And verra much alive, thanks ta you.”

She lifted her head and cupped his face between her hands. Studying the man through tear-filled eyes, she said, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I was so afraid that I’d fallen in love with a dream.”

He smiled that crooked smile of his. “And now the dream has come true. I love you, Lindsay. No’

time, no’ war, no’ even death will keep me from you.”

“You won’t go back? You’ll stay?”

“Aye, love. I’m here ta stay. I doona know how I will make a life here in this time, but with you by my side, ‘twill be a good one.” He cupped her damp cheek. “Will you marry me, lass?”

She smiled through her tears. “Aye.”

With a boisterous laugh he lifted her off the ground and swung her around. Neither cared that they were surrounded by a crowd of curious spectators and one lone woman with an ethereal quality about her, wearing a satisfied smile. They only had eyes for one another.

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About the author…

Jo currently resides in North Carolina with her patient and supportive family while she juggles her writing career and her position as a programmer analyst. In her early years, she wrote folk songs, poetry, and an occasional short story or two, but never dreamed of writing a book. She didn't even like to read! But one fateful day, she picked up a romance novel and found herself hooked. Not only did she discover the joy of reading, but the joy of writing books. These days, if she isn't tapping away at her computer on a story of her own, she has her nose buried in the latest romance novel hot off the presses, and is enjoying every minute of it.

She participates regularly in a critique group, and attends various seminars and classes, constantly honing her writing skills, determined to squeeze as much time into developing her craft as she does creating new stories about the quest for love. Someday, she hopes to take off her programming hat and write full time. So many of her dreams have already come true. What's one more?

Visit Jo’s website at www.jobarrett.net