Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (81 page)

To Julia’s utter horror, he began to lift
her off the fl
oor by the neck. She grabbed and clawed at his hand with her own, her struggles useless. Philip was going to kill her.

“Curse you witch! See that I don’t make idle threats! Do you think I care anything for you? Do you? I don’t care if you live or die!”

She kicked at the air, held at arms length from him, her feet striking nothing as his grip began to crush her windpipe. She hated him in that moment, hated his words of love from years past, the way he’d rescued her from her own execution and brought her into a world of life again. How he did it she had no idea, and at the ti
me didn’t care. She’d been fifty
-two when he took her from her world and struck the bargain that would give her back her youth and a chance to see her life’s dream fulfilled.

As consciousness left her, death imminent, one thought permeated the rest. Philip wasn’t the fool. She was.

He suddenly dropped her, the Scot again on his feet if precariously. Philip spun to face him, his whole body prepared to spring. He lunged and caught the Scot round the midd
le, bringing both men to the floor. Th
ey slid to a stop
and Philip began to slam his fi
st into his enemy’s face.

Julia, knowing this to be her only chance, crawled from the room, one thing driving her, making her ignore the pain. No matter what it took, she would have her revenge on Philip Brennan.

* * *

Dallan raised his head slowly, painfully and glared at Brennan.

Brennan brutally struck his face again. “You fool!” He screamed. “Did you honestly think you could best me? I am the stronger! It is I who will master the Maiden! Not you!”

Dallan, on his knees, blood oozing from a dozen wounds, clenched his teeth. “Dinna touch her, ye
Sassenach
dog!”

Brennan erupted into hysterical laughter. “Why my dear fellow, as I told you before, touching her is all I plan on doing!” He continued to chortle as he bent to Dallan. “So pleasant to have you on your knees before me.” He began to circle him. “Pity it will be the last time.”

Th
e nightmare from Genis Lee fl
ashed through Dallan’s mind, its reality bent again in front of him. His hands mercilessly chained behind his back, he retorted with what he had and spit in Brennan’s face.

Brennan calmly wiped away Dallan’s hatred and stood. “She’ll submit to me here, in this room, while you watch. And I may even let you
live long
enough to see her join with me. If I time it right, your heart will die about the same time I take her.” He smiled wickedly. “Life is glorious, isn’t it?”

Dallan watched Brennan back away. The man’s eyes were wild and
glazed with lust, darting back and forth between Dallan and the door leading to the hall.
To Shona.
M’eudain?
M’eudain, can ye no hear me? He
means t
o harm ye lass. Ye’ll ha’ to fi
ght him. Ye may ha’ to kill.

Nothing. She still could not hear him.

“
M’eudain? M’eudain
, can you not hear me?” Brennan mimicked his voice high-pitched and mocking. He threw his head back and laughed wickedly. “I can
hear your heart! Wonderful! Th
is means I’m more compatible to her than I thought. I’ll take her easily.”

Dallan’s face twisted in an odd combination of rage and shock. “How?” Pushed
itself
out through still clenched teeth.

“I was a Time Master, or were you ignorant of that? I may have lost my own mate recently, but not so long ago that I’ve lost my ability to read another’s heart. My wife was very powerful.”

Dallan’s eyes narrowed with hatred. “Ye dinna deserve a wife.”

Brennan chuckled at that. “My dear fellow, I cared very much for my wife. It’s a pity she died.”

Dallan watched as Brennan’s face began to change from passive remembrance to maniacal lust. His eyes changed as well, darting about the room as his breathing slowed.

Brennan began to pace. “I did love her, you know. She was everything to me until you took her.” He turned from
Dallan,
his voice lowered somewhat and pushed out on a rasp. “Then
why did you kill her?” Brennan
spun to face him again, his voice soft. “Because you told me to, remember? I always do what you ask.”

Dallan swallowed hard as he reassessed the situation, one thing clear. Philip Brennan was insane. And insane men were totally unpredictable.

“Lissa was everything to me. I helped her feed her heart in the garden.” He looked right at Dallan. “She fed off beauty and pleasure. A wonderful combination to give.”

Dallan again watched as Brennan took a few steps back and began to examine the va
rious cuts and lacerations infl
icted upon his own body. He wiped some blood from his
chest and licked it from his fi
ngers. He repeated the action over and over; his movements frenzied like a starving man feeding himself.

Dallan’s stomach lurched at the thought of this man with Shona. He closed his eyes and concentrated as best he could, his loss of blood great.
Shona, listen to me. Ye must escape this place. He means to take ye, lass. Dinna
let him. I am…
I am dying
,
Flower
. I’d rather ye die along with me than allow
him to make ye suff
er.

Brennan again burst into laughter. “Listen to him, Philip. Hear how he pleads with his mate? He wishes her death rather than see her joined to me. How like a Scot! Well, I’ll tell you something, she will join with me. My blood will become one with hers. My wounds will heal while yours bring you to death’s door!”

Dallan’s head dropped to his chest.

Brennan chuckled low in his throat. “Did you know you have the power to heal yourself? I bet Kawahnee never told you, did he?”

Dallan slowly looked at him, face expressionless,
eyes
void of emotion.

“No, I see he didn’t. Just as he never told you how to utilize the power you have.” He began to circle him again. “Did you know you possess enough power to control the planet? Did you know you could rule the world if you chose? And did you know I am about to take it all away from you?”

Dallan’s heart followed Brennan as he circled. He pushed with it, forcing his way into the heart of his enemy, instinct the only thing guiding him.

Brennan suddenly screamed and kicked Dallan in h
is side, knocking him to the fl
oor. “How dare you invade
me!
Stay out of my heart you rotter!”

Dallan’s eyes sprang open, his own heart still able to feel what he’d discovered. Brennan was changing inside, aging… dying. His time was almost up. No wonder he was so desperate to join with Shona. If he didn’t, he was a dead man.

“Save your strength, you fi
lthy Scot. I want you to live a while longer.” Brennan pushed out and kicked him again.

Dallan’s back racked with pain from the blow and he fought to stay
conscious. If he could only fi
gure out how to heal himself, he could still save Shona from this devil. Save them both.

Brennan stepped away from
him and sat casually on the fl
oor. He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “She should be fully awake soon. She can probably hear you now if you call to her. Care to try again?”

Dallan
remained
as he was his breathing slowed to conserve energy. He knew how badly he might need it. He glared at Brennan but said nothing.

Brennan leaned back on the heels of his hands. “Ah, nothing to say? How unlike the Scottish dog you are.
I thought once one of your kind got going
,
you never shut up
. Nothing’s changed much
in the last two hundred and fi
fty years or so, I assume. Where, or should I say, when are you from anyway? Myself, I was born November eight
eenth, Seventeen fi
fty-three.”

Dallan’s only response was a slight furrowing of his brow.

Brennan snorted. “But when were you born, I wonder? What part of the past did you come from? You were hard for Lis
sa to trace. She never could fi
nd you. Or perhaps, s
he did and wouldn’t tell me. Th
e good in her
was powerful, though not enough to save her when she needed it.”

Dallan closed his eyes, his heart searching, reaching beyond th
e room to seek out its
only other source of life
as Brennan continued with his one-sided conversation.

“I’ll take her to England, back to wher
e I came from. Perhaps we’ll fi
nd you in a history book somewhere after all.”
He chuckled. “Let’s see, you fi
ght like someone from my time so you couldn’t be far from it. Where shall I look, the Disruption? Or perhaps further back? Ah, the
Jacobite
rebellion? Hmm, French
invasion? Darien Expedition?
Th
e Massacre at
Glencoe?
Maybe…”

Dallan’s ey
es sprang open, their depths fi
lled with fury.

“Ah,” Brennan began, satisfi
ed. “I seem to have struck a chord. I know the Darien Expedition wouldn’t put that look in your eye, so it would have to be…” He laughed and stood. “How wonderfully ironic! And
tell me
,
were you there
?
Did Kwaku take you from it? Th
at’s how the Elders
like it done. They take you in the midst of calamity and chaos so you won’t be missed or have your disappearance raise any suspicion. And what a stroke of irony! Allow me to introduce myself to you, sir a second time. I am Lord Philip C. Brennan, though my last name was changed to my mother’s maiden name. Too much scandal attached to my own surname. My original name was
Dalrymple
, I am a direct descendent of John
Dalrymple
, Master of Stair to your wondrous Ki
ng William, though you won’t fi
nd me in the history b
ooks. No one ever fi
nds us in the history books. The Muirarans see to that.”

Dallan struggled to a sitting position, risking the wasted energy. He wanted to speak from a less vulnerable position. “And what of it? Why should that matter to me?”

“You were there, weren’t you?” Brennan slowly approached him. “Who are you?”

Dallan pushed himself up to a standing position. “I am Dallan Keir MacDonald of Glencoe, third in line to the MacIain.”

Brennan stood shocked for a brief moment, then narrowed his eyes and sneered. “This is better than I thought. Why, I couldn’t ask for a better way to end your life and start my own.”

“And what is that suppose to mean?”

“It means, my dear fellow, that my an
cestor, Sir John
Dalrymple
, ini
tiated a mass murder. The Elders were right: one cannot escape one’s destiny. I’d wager you were to die during the massacre and Kawahnee botched destiny up.”

Dallan staggered to keep his balance. “What are ye saying?”

Brennan laughed heartily. “I’m saying that my great-great-so-on-and
so-forth grandfather killed your grandfather. And the beautiful thing is that now I’m going to kill you!”

Dallan fell to his knees as the thing he’d wondered about for years burned its way into his mind and heart. He now knew who was responsible for the murder of his family and fellow clansmen, and, like that fateful day of so long ago, was helpless to do anything to save the ones he loved.

Shona…

* * *

Julia rested briefl
y at the stoplight, her pain great. She had crawled from the fencing room to the hall and out to Maggie’s car in the alley. After b
attling with the keys, she’d fi
nally managed to get the door open and climb inside. She had left the alley as fast as she could, the car racing through the streets to the only ones able to help at this point.

She’d never gone to an enemy before, nor had she ever fully betrayed an ally. But Philip was no longer an ally. Now he was the enemy. Now, she thought, he deserved to die.

She began the climb into the west hills o
f the city, her breathing diffi
cult. Philip must have damaged her windpipe, “I’ll get you for this,” she rasped in an unrecognizable voice. She downshifted and continued on.

They would be at the Whittards. Philip planned Evan’s murder as a distraction to keep them busy while he played with his new toys. But what if it hadn’t worked? What if they had already left the house to search for Philip? What would they do when they saw her? Perhaps she wouldn’t get the chance to plead her case. She might be dead as soon as the big black man spotted her. He was obviously the leader, whoever he was. One thing was for sure, Phili
p hated him, wanted him to suff
er as much as possible.
But why?