Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (49 page)

“Well, well, well, I must say, your daughter certainly has learned the value of silence over the years hasn’t she, Maggie?” Philip’s voice had an odd tone to it as he spoke, almost as if he was conveying some sort of threat to her mother.

Shona
looked at him, smiled, then off
ered a light shrug.

“Shona, don’t be rude.” Her mother’s own voice hinted at desperation.

What on earth could be going on? Shona swallowed hard. “I did… did not mean to be rude, Philip. It is just that I have not seen you in such a… a long time.” Oh, thank God her voice
was back. “I am sorry if I off
ended you.”

He patted her leg, sending a chill up her spine. “Quite all right, no
harm done.
Tell me, how are your studies coming along?”

She wanted to cry, to scream out her anguish. Acute longing suddenly assailed her out of nowhere. She should never have left him. What if she never saw him again? Where was he now?
Still at the library?
Would he be waiting for her under the tre
e when she got home? Th
e thought gave her
hope and the strength to answer. “Very well, thank you.”

“And what language are you studying now?”

She could see him assessing her out of the corner of one eye.
S
he faced him boldly
,
back stiff
. “Russian.”

“Ah, excellent. Tell me, would you like to visit Russia one day?”

“I suppose. One day.”

“And so you shall, my dear. There and a good many other places as well. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Philip. She’ll call you on them.” Maggie watched them in the rearview mirror as she spoke. Philip couldn’t see the worry in her eyes; Shona, sitting behind her, could.

“Come now, Maggie. You of all people should know that I am a man of my word. Remember, I do not make idle promis
es.” Th
e threat in his voice
was well muted, but Shona could hear it. She watched as her mother’s eyes narrowed in the mirror.

“
Who
were you talking to at the library, Shona?” Philip asked calmly.

Warning shot through her like lightning. “Oh, just someone who spends a lot of time there as Kitty and I do.”

Philip was silent for a moment. “Does this someone have a name?”

Pain shot through her, causing her warning stance to waver.
She still did not even know his
name. The knowledge turned her voice into a hoarse
whisper. “I do not know
it
.”

Philip’s entire face curled into a mock smile. “Don’t you?”

“I do no
t know,” she repeated, voice fi
rm once again.

His smile grew. “Well then, he doesn’t matter. What does is that I’m famished. How about you? Hungry?”

Shona merely nodded, her sense of warning exploding once again.

“Good. We’re almost there.”

They drove to the university where Evan Whittard waited, tired, disheveled and none too happy to see Philip from the way his posture suddenly changed from straight to crooked. It was his favorite way to convey to Shona and her mother his opinion of things. Her father’s face was impossible to read; the rest of him certainly wasn’t.

“Philip! You old blighter, how are you?
” Evan threw his briefcase into
the car and
then jumped in
. “Felt bad about missing you yesterday, but couldn’t be helped. Meetings all afternoon.”

Philip’s mock smile returned. “So glad to see you too, Evan. How long has it been?”

Shona watched her father glance quickly at her mother, a brief
exchange taking
place.
One of warning.
She’d seen them do this before, every time Julia got testy about something.

“Well, let’s see,
for Maggie and I
a good three years I’d say. Wouldn’t you,
Mags
?”

 
Her mother nodded, her face expressionless. Shona could tell: for whatever reason, her parents weren’t very happy to see Philip at all.

“We have so much to talk about this visit, Evan. You see
,
it will probably be the last. But of course Maggie told you that already.” Philip dished his words out to her father like a punishment.

Evan turned slowly around in his seat to face him. “No, she didn’t mention anything about this being your last visit.”

“Really? How very interesting. Well, now you know. Tell me, how does it make you feel?”

Shona watched her father’s face drain of color. His shoulders tensed and
one hand balled into a tight fi
st. She thought for a moment he was going to hit Philip, and almost wished he would.

“Say there, Philip, where’s your cohort, Graves? I thought you never left home without him?” Her father’s question was not only a diversion, but an obvious insult as well. Maggie blanched.

Philip smiled brightly. “He had to take care of some business I felt needed his immediate attention. We
most likely won’t see either Graves
or Kent until much later, if at all. But don’t worry, they’ll get along.”

“Is that why Julia left them off just past the library? Do you have dealings in that section of town, Philip?” Maggie’s voice was genuinely curious, but with an edge.

Philip crossed his legs in a casual gesture. “Ever the observant one, aren’t you Maggie?
To answer your question, only recently.
But Graves can take care of it.”

“What sort of business is it?” Shona asked without thinking, the word
‘library’ repeating itself over and over in her mind.

Philip smiled and patted her leg again. “Very brief business, my dear.
Surplus that needs to be eliminated.
Trivial, really.”

She cocked her head at him.

He studied her a moment and stroked his beard. “Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Dinner is the more pressing business. How much longer, Maggie?”

“We’re almost there.”

“Good.
Hungry, Evan?
I’m starved myself.”

Her father turned to face forward again. “I was.”

Philip laughed, clearly amused. “Come, Evan, now is not the time.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You know perfectly well it’s not.” Philip chuckled lightly. “I suggest you save it for later.” He leaned forward and whispered in her father’s ear what sounded like, “much later,” in a voice that no longer laughed.

“I’m looking forward to it. I have a few things I’d like to say to you, Philip.”

Shona looked at Philip, waiting for his response, trying her best to learn how to read him.

He sat there, face void of emotion. “As do I to you.” He uncrossed his legs, reached over and picked up a long lock of her
hair which
had escaped from the ribbon holding it
back. Rubbing it between his fi
ngers, he smiled warmly at her and spoke to her father. “Of course you already know what I have to say. You’ve been waiting for me to say it for quite awhile now, haven’t you, Evan?”

Shona’s father turned again to face
him,
saw what he was doing and began to reach into the back seat, rage in his eyes. “Why you dirty…”

“Evan!” Maggie screamed. “No! Calm down!”

Shona could stand it no longer. “What is going on?”

Philip ignored
her,
his eyes still intent on her father. “She has beautiful hair, doesn’t she?” He raised the lock to his face and inhaled deeply. “Ah, perfection.”

“Philip, please. Not here and not now.” Maggie begged.

“You are so right, Maggie. Please do forgive me. I apologize, Evan; I shan’t upset you again.
Nor you, sweet Shona.
Please accept my most humble apologies.” He let go of her hair.

Shona shuddered. She had no idea what was going on between her parents and Philip. The only thing she did know was that she now not only felt sick to her stomach, but that it promised to be a very long evening.

Oh, where are you? Do you know that I need your help? Philip, he frightens
me. Something is terribly wrong here. Please, help me…

But the mysterious man was too far away to answer.

* * *

Dallan’s long legs carried him throughout the downtown area in pointless circles until well after sunset. She was in danger. He sensed it, could feel i
t, but he didn’t know how to fi
nd her.

He was halfway back to the shop before he realized he was being followed. He cursed himself for not having noticed
the fellow before. The fact
did little for his already lousy mood. He would like nothing better than to take it out on someone. Anyone would do; it might as well be whoever was tracking him.

Dallan made his way past various small shops, remembering a narrow alley not far ahead that would serve well enough for dealing with the sneaky fellow behind him. He d
ucked into the alley, realizing
the pain had lessened while his senses seemed to work better. He pondered on the cause as the hairs on the back of his neck rose in warning.

His arm shot out and grabbed the next person to walk by within range. He pulled the gangly form roughly into the alley with him and threw him up against a wall, smiling.

“You!” Dallan bellowed into his victim’s face.

“You were expecting perhaps Queen Mary? Put me down!”

“What are
you
doing here?” Dallan tight
ened his grip on Lany's
shirt, pressing him up against the cold brick wall even furth
er, causing his
ribcage to creak.

“Put ... me ... down,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

Dallan shrugged and pro
mptly let
him drop the two feet to the pavement.

Lany brushed the newest set of wrinkles out of his shirt and glared
at Dallan
who had gone to the
other side of the alley to
le
an against the wall and seethe
. “Dallan, just what the… the… do you think you’re doing?”

Dallan’s expression became sardonic. He raised one eyebrow at the Assistant Councilor in answer.

Lany glared back and resisted the
urge to ball his hands into fi
sts. “Don’t pull that with me! Not after you’ve just tried to paint the wall with my back. What are you doing here? I’ve been following you around for hours! It’s dark and dangerous out,
not to mention well past
dinner
time
. You should have gone back to the shop hours ago.”
    

Dallan pushed himself away from the wall and took an intimidating step toward Lany, who made an equally intimidating move to the entrance of the alley and
stood fi
rmly, hands on hips. “Don’t even think of it. You are not going anywhere until you explain yourself.”

“I might ask the same of you.” Dallan’s voice was low, his head cocked to one side. “Just what might you be doing following me?”

Lany noted the Scot’s formal speech. It was not a good sign. He knew full well that Dallan was using every means to control himself at the moment. What could have set him
of
f ?
He decided he had better fi
nd out or the company was in for a long night of
warrior-sitting
.

Correction.
Lany
would be the one in for a long night of
warrior-sitting
. “Well, if you must kn
ow, I’ve been watching your
back ..
.”

“Quiet,” Dallan commanded.

Lany looked around himself and the
n listened… to the heavy traffi
c…to the tens, twenties, perhaps hundreds of people in th
e street
mere
feet away from the alley.

“He’s lost it.” Lany mumbled to himself.
And I’m the one stuck with him.
“Heaven help us all.”

Dallan quickly left
the alley
without warning.

“What are you doing?” Lany asked, annoyed but re
lieved as he caught up to the Scot
.

Dallan didn’t even look at him. “Be quiet and stay with me.” It was clearly a
nother
command.

Lany suddenly felt the goose bumps rise up over various parts of his anatomy. He’d had this feeling once b
efore, twelve years ago specifi
cally. One never forgets what it feels
like to be
followed.