Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (29 page)

“Oh, she’s
a bit
older than that, Dallan. And whether you like it or not, she is still the only means you have of getting home.” John took a step toward him, closing the distance between them and looked directly into his eyes. “And she is still the only one able to save my people… and yours.”

Dallan stepped back, folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “I dinna understand. How can
a we
e lass
be so important? And how
am I to help ye now? I thought she was a weapon, not a… tavern wench!”

John sighed, looked to the ground, then back to Dallan. “She possesses the ability to save my people and yours from a horrible fate, one I care not to explain just now. Suffice to say, she’s all we’ve got. The problem is, she
doesn’t know what she has. We need to win her trust.” He locked gazes with Dallan. “
You
need to win her trust. That’s why you’re here.”

Dallan’s arms fell to his sides slowly as he took another step back. His mouth opened halfway as disbelief formed on his face. “Ye canna be serious.”

John took two steps forward. “I most certainly am.” He took another step and glared straight up into Dallan’s face. “Dead serious.”

Dallan glared back, confusion warring with the need to believe in what John was saying. He looked to the building,
then
back to John as his eyes suddenly softened. “How can the wee lass save so many? Och, I doubt she could save herself if a need arose. Why, the way the lads were tossing her about in there, I…”

His eyes narrowed again as he cursed to himself in Gaelic and sprang toward the building, his long legs eating up the distanc
e. A sense of dread suddenly fil
led him at the thought of th
e woman inside getting hurt. The
unwanted emotions irritated him even more. Yet, by all the Saints, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Dallan!” John ran after him, grabbed an arm and pulled. “Stop!”

Lany came away from the car he’d gone back to leaning against and ran after his superior. “I’ll take care of it, Eaton.” He said as he sped past them to the doors.

“He’ll make sure she’s okay, Dallan. Don’t worry,” John reassured, hoping he was right.

Dallan stopped and leaned toward the building, John still holding his arm, as Lany slipped inside. Minutes passed, and he began to pace. “What’s taking him so long?”

John smiled at the concern in Dallan’s voice, pleased at the sound. “He’s doing his job, Dallan. He knows what to do. Don’t worry.”

  
No sooner had John spoken than the din of the music
stopped abruptly. A moment
later Lany emerg
ed from the building, a satisfi
ed look on his face. He walked quickly to the rest
of the small company. “She’s fi
ne now.”

John raised a brow at him.

“W
e’ll talk later, Eaton, but I think she was feeding.”

“By the Creator, so soon?”

“Afraid so. There’s more, but we can’t talk here.” He turned to Dallan. “She’s being well taken care of, and you’ll see her again later.” He took a step closer and looked directly into Dallan’s eyes. “You’re right, she does need protection. Interested?”

Dallan’s head cocked slightly as he studied him. He then looked to John. “So
…
I’m to be a sort o’ guard for her?”

John glanced at his assistant who stood with one eyebrow raised, a tiny, nervous smile on his face. John smiled back. “Yes, Dallan, that’s a start. Let’s go back to the apartment. We’ll tell you a little more about it, right, Lany?”

Lany looked
to the building and sighed. “Yes. It’s time.”

  J
ohn started to lead Dallan back to the other side of the parking lot whe
re the bus had let them
off, Angus shuffl
ing along close behind.

John let Dallan and Angus go on ahead, then stopped and turned to his assistant. “Feeding? On what?”

Lany watched Dallan
walk on
a moment
before answering. “Music, if my guess is right.”

John’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding?”

“Afraid not.”

“By the Creator, no wonder she was… I mean, if you’re right, and she really does need to, what was she doing here anyway?”

  
Lany glanced over his shoulder at the building. “
Th
at’s what I need
to talk to you about.” He watched as Dallan and Angus got even further ahead of them. “Privately.”

John nodded, then suddenly stoppe
d to look at his assistant. “Th
e
music. Why did it stop?”

Lany
held up an odd black round object with three metal tines, attached to about six inches of cord. Severed cord. “I had to stop it somehow. No telling how long she’d be in there. Maybe now she’ll go home.”

John began to laugh at his assistant’s creativity. “How’d you do it?”

Lany pulled a large pen out of his back pocket, a combination communicator and laser. “I never travel without one.” His expression became quickly serious. “Eaton, we’ve got company. Someone else knows the Maiden is nearly ready.”

John stared at him at him blankly a moment.
“No.”

“A woman. I don’
t know who she is, but she defi
nitely was using the music.”

“By the Creator, what could this mean?”

Lany looked to Dallan’s retreating form in the distance. “It means he may only have a few days to win the Maiden, join, and consummate before whomever originally stole her comes to do the same.”

John also looked to the back of the Weapon’s Master. “Great Bells, I hope and pray he’s cooperative.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any problem.”

  
John stared disbelievingly at Lany, knowing full well there was always a problem with Dallan.

“Eaton, trust me. There won’t be a problem.”

“How can you say that when there’s so little time?”

Lany grinned at him knowingly. He leaned forward. “I saw the Maiden.”

“And?”

“She knows he’s here.”

“How do you know?”

“She was in Flux.”

John’s knees went weak and he sat down, hard, on the ground.

The Mui
raran Maiden’s features were fl
uxing back and forth, a sure sign her inner heart was quickly waking. The small company had perhaps
only days to perform the impossible.

For the Known Lands and John’s people to be saved
from civil war
, Dallan MacDonald and the Muiraran Maiden would have to fall in love.

Quickly.

To be loved at fi
rst sight, a man

Should have at the same time

Something to respect and

Something to pity in his face.

Stendhal

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Shona struck her pillow in anger as the tears fell. How could she have acted so awful? How could she let herself be such a disgrace? And why hadn’t Julia stopped her? Shona continued to
vent her shame
and absently beat
the pillow.

She had felt fi
ne when they got to Stan’s; why would she suddenly lose control? And why had she felt so strange while she was dancing? It was as if she had woken from one of her nightmares, the kind that made her face change…

She
turned onto her back and grabbed
a tissue from her
night stand
as she did. Was she going crazy? Maybe it was the medication her mother had gotten her the day before. The stuff had made her pass out
yesterday
according to Julia
.
But her mother was a nurse after all, and Shona supposed she knew what was what when she obtained the prescription. Shona didn’t like taking it, but it did work.

Perhaps a bit too well.

She got out of bed,
went into the hall, then stopped and stood
a moment.
What was wrong? What was there? She felt something inside her chest stirring, coming to life. She paced the hallway in an unsuccessful attempt to calm herself.

She n
eeded som
ething, anything. She was so
…
hungry.

“Of course, I am hungry.” The realization sent Shona down the hall, past her bedroom, and up the attic stairs to the one pla
ce where she could fi
nd relief from what r
aged within her.

She
fl
ung herself onto the worn sofa, hands shaking, and groped in the darkness for
the stereo remote. “No, oh ... oh
crap
,
I know you are here somewhere!”

She began to practically cry again, groped some more, and then realized the lights wer
e off
. Cursing her fool
ishness, not to mention her
new-
found
use of profanity,
she got up from the sofa, went to the li
ght switch by the stairs and fl
ipped it on.

Nothing. Darkness. For some reason the power to this part of the hou
se wasn’t working. “Oh, no.” Shona
stepped away from the stairs, her hand covering her mouth to stop the nausea assailing her.

The sinking realization that she couldn’t listen to any music hit full force and she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. “Please, I have to listen, I have to… I need to make it go away.” S
he suddenly fought against a sob
as she reached into the darkness, but for what she did not know.

“Help me,” she moaned as the unnamed thing began to take over. “Come to me…”

Shona closed her eyes, threw her head back and
unable to stop herself,
softly
began to sing.

* * *

Dallan’s
eyes sprang open as he bolted
upright
upon the bed.  F
or a moment
he felt
unsure of where he was. He looked around the darkened room and
swallowed, his throat dry, and
spotted an odd form nearby.

Master Lany. The Assistant Councilor was sound asleep on his cot. He looked around and saw John and Angus also still slept. He swallowed again and got out of bed. He’d had to sleep in odd quarters before, but not in so strange a place as this.

He quietly left the room, clad only in what John called
boxers,
the only comfortable piece of clothing he’d been introduced to since his arrival nearly two days ago. He stopped in the l
iving room, glanced at his refl
ection in the window and almost laughed. Comfort aside, the boxers were still st
range; he never thought he’d fi
nd himself clad in anything covered with funny little drawings of cows.

Dallan
smiled and went to the window.  He
rested his head against the glass, his hands on th
e sill, and sighed as he
looked to th
e empty street below
as one of the carriages—correction,
cars
—sped by. He was beginning to enjoy the way they could maneuver and race about, so long as he wasn’t asked to get into one. He shuddered at the thought and began to head back to the bedroom when he heard something. He turned back to the window, head cocked, ears straining.

Nothing.

He
shook his head as he turned, but stopped short again
.

“Saints, what
is that?” He approached the window
and stared out into the night.

Music. Yes, he could hear music, soft and gentle, yet… sad, lonely. Weeping? But how could he hear it? He saw nothing.

Dallan glanced at Mother
MacNab’s
box, but it did not glow now. He turned back to the window and the city beyond, its tall buildings across the river reaching hig
h into the sky, the lights reflecting off the water.
Beyond them were the hills, also lit with the same lights, and it was to them his gaze was drawn.

He placed his palms fl
at against the window and strained
against the glass separating him from… whatever… whoever was there. “Where are ye? Are ye out there? Nay, how could that be? Yer not any where, ye don’t exist, lass.”

He bowed his head and strained again to hear.

He wasn’t disappointed.