Highland Shapeshifter (11 page)

But this felt different, a lighter touch, feathery soft. He felt the difference in the two healers’ essences. One was brisk, forceful in her attention to detail, a bit detached, a bit jaded, while the other was unsure, almost hesitant, yet determined and brimming with such a raw compassion for life and humanity ‘twas staggering. She shimmered, his Lenore. The healing magic within her glowed so bright he could see it outline her slight frame like a nimbus of light. He’d never witnessed anything like it among all the Sorceress Healers. Ever.

He felt her essence inside him, while at the same time he watched her without, drawn inexplicably to everything Lenore. Her brows scrunched in a wrinkled V, concentrating hard on what she was doing. A line of perspiration slid along her pale hairline. Her shiny violet eyes stared hard at her hand, which was locked beneath her grandmother’s over his own heart.

For a senseless moment, he wondered if she was somehow stealing it. His heart. Because he’d never felt so instantly connected to anyone in his entire life.

‘Twas her essence, her soul.

‘Twas her.

She was a rare miracle of nature.

She was the kind of lass that fate conjured only once every generation.
By the rood
, in any generation. Had circumstances been different, he’d already be seeking her father for her hand, willing to pay any bride price…He blinked, a little unnerved by the turn of his thoughts.

The tingle of magic filtered away from him along with the women’s hands and Col swallowed hard at the loss of their touch. Her touch.

Her gaze flicked up to meet his, shyly beneath long lashes, and he saw it within her too, a myriad of emotions. Wonder and unease so intense his heart clenched up into a tight little painful knot. ‘Twas just a flash, that emotion, before she let her eyes drop, but he’d seen it, knew that she’d been affected as much as him.

He rucked up his shirt to inspect the bite marks above his hip bone. Both women leaned in to see as well. ‘Twas better, if not fully healed. The skin was tight where the creature had bitten into him, the edges raw and puckered, but closed together as though the beast had bitten him days ago instead of a short time past. ‘Twould leave him an impressive scar. They hadn’t done much to the other cuts and scrapes. He’d simply have to endure those longer, which in a way made him smile. The healers of his clan doted on him far too much and would never have tolerated leaving him with any wounds. He’d never been allowed to retain a scar before.
 
  

“My gratitude.” He nodded to Lenore’s grandmother, unable to look at the lass so reality again, not with the residue of the intimate thoughts about her swirling in his head.

If either suspected, or felt what he’d been focused upon while rooting around inside him, it wasn’t apparent.

Lenore blew out a weary breath. “Grandma, how are you here?”

“Your boyfriend called me.”

“Gabe? He is not my boyfriend.”

“Well, he was in enough of a frazzle over you. Good thing too, luv. I was nearly to your sister’s apartment when I saw those nasty creatures attacking. What are those things?”

“You don’t know?” Lenore’s tone was so shocked, Col couldn’t help swinging his gaze to her. She clearly expected her grandmother to have recognized the hideous beats.

The older woman’s eyes narrowed. She was a handsome woman, this Judith Greves, who introduced herself to him as he carried Lenore into this strange little room. She had a regal air about her and lines at her eyes, betraying a lifetime that had known both joy and unhappiness. She wore her dark hair short with touches of gray softening the drop of bangs over intense intelligent eyes. “No.” She shook her head.
 
“In all my days I’ve never seen or heard of the likes of those. They’re something new.”

“New.” Lenore’s nose crinkled “A new breed of supernatural creatures. Terrific.”

“I don’t know exactly, but I intend to find out.” Her eyes sharpened. “Now then, young man, we’ve much to discuss, you and I.” The woman lifted her hand as though to cup his cheek, and something indefinable tempered the curl of her mouth. “Ye favor your sister.”

Out of anything he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them. Shock stole his breath, rooted him like a dead weight to the edge of the bed. His tongue was thick, hard to form a word around. “Edeen?”

This time she did touch him. Her soft wrinkled palm was warm upon his chilled hand. “I know a great deal about your family.”

Col launched off the bed, wobbling, and strode across the small space. Because how was that possible? The newly scared wound in his side pulled.

“She was my friend.” She stood, a fluid moment right behind him, causing him to flinch. He sought Lenore for confirmation, finding only a confusion matching his own. Apparently Grandma hadn’t confided any of this to her before now.

Judith held a folded parchment toward him. “I’ve had this for seventy years. It was meant for Charity, but…” She pressed it into Col’s numb fingers. “I think maybe fate meant it for you.”

Fate. His forehead creased. What did this have to do with his sister? Taking a deep breath, he unfolded it. The parchment was old, creased and carried the weight of the world.
 
‘Twas written in Gaelic by his sister’s hand. He walked in small circles as he read, dropping tiny broken pieces of his heart across the floor behind his steps.

Edeen wrote of a long slumber, awakened by a vampire in the year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred Forty-One in an era of great war where machines dropped burning death from the sky.

She wrote of finding love and finding her purpose in a way only a woman writing to another woman would share, but she also warned Charity about the darkness in the world and the wrongness of it all. She warned of Aldreth capturing Shaw long ago on that day upon Crunfathy Hill and the darkness deep within Shaw’s magic becoming the catalyst that destroyed the magical balance of the world.

Col’s stomach roiled violently and the walls squeezed around him.

Shaw had been right all along. He must have felt the darkness inside him. Shaw knew he had to ferret the clan away into the Shadowrood, take that part of the Fae’s magic that never did belong to this world back to whence it came. Shaw must have known he didn’t belong either when he decided to flee into the ether with the clan—yet he had returned to save his family.

And destroyed himself.

Destroyed the world.

Brutal heat coursed through Col’s veins, leaving him suddenly weak and shaky.

Soft fingers curled around his arm. Violet eyes found his face beneath the lowered sweep of his hair. “Are you all right?”

How could he be all right when the brother who he fixed the rising and setting of the sun upon was branded as the destroyer of the world?

This was Shaw.

Shaw who had found him in the forest when at the age of five, Col ran off in fear at the onset of his first transformation. The change had been bad, strong, overpowering, and Col had nearly not survived it, had been too frightened, too young and without guidance from another shapeshifter to know what to do. Shaw had found him, had guided him through, cautioned him to concentrate on an animal he knew the best, but unfortunately, the first beast that came to mind was a little lynx he’d seen as he fled wildly through the forest so he became the lynx, lost his own mind to the animal enough that when Shaw threw his cloak around him as a net before he could run off, the lynx had fought back in pure animalistic instinct to escape. But Shaw wouldn’t lose him, wouldn’t risk letting him go. He wrestled the cloak bound lynx close to his own body, giving Col the time for his mind to catch up and remember who he was. ‘Twas a dark confusing memory and to Col’s horror, Shaw came out of it with deep bloodied gashes that ran below the left side of his rib cage.

And when it was over and Col poured out of the shift as himself, an exhausted panting child, Shaw held him, rocked him through the night in the woods away from the prying gazes of the clan as Col wept, afraid of ever going through another shift again.
  
  

Nor would Shaw go to the healers afterwards or let anyone else in the clan know what a disaster Col’s first transformation had been.

To this day Shaw bore those scars for the sole purpose of sparing a little brother’s humiliation.

Nay, Shaw could not have a darkness within him capable of destroying magic’s balance. Col could no more believe that than he could believe all the stars had fallen from their perches in the night sky.

His throat column jumped and he handed Lenore the letter, relieved when her penetrating eyes lowered to the parchment.

He turned to her grandmother, his voice raw and cracked. “Where is my sister? Where’s Edeen?” Seventy years. She’d have lived a lifetime without her clan. Alone. Without him or any of her brothers to protect her.

Judith looked away, bony shoulders bowing with her true age. “She’s gone, Col. I’m so sorry. She’s gone. A long time ago.”

A cold numbness crept into the hollowed out center of his chest. A low buzzing stuffed his ears though it did little to dull the clarity of what she was saying. Each word struck with the penetration of an arrow.

“…coming back from gathering intelligence…hospital ship, the St. David off the coast of Africa…Luftwaffe planes…bombed…she and Roque, her husband…killed, with many others…ninety-six lost…”

He didn’t understand half of what she was saying. Dead. Edeen couldn’t be dead.

Everything closed tight in around him. The walls and the very air moved, hemming him in. Without a word, he swung open the door and walked outside, getting as far as the end of the long balcony.

He stopped, curling his fingers around the cool iron railing and stared down at the row of unmoving
carriages
, cars.

He felt her presence before Lenore’s shoulder settled against his arm. She didn’t say anything, not a word, just stood quiet and patient beside him.

Chapter Fourteen

It was simple really. What he had to do.

Stop Charity from going back to yesterday. If he could keep her from grabbing onto Toren’s time rift, he could keep her from following him back to the thirteenth century.

Col’s heart clenched.

That also meant Toren would be left to the witch’s torture and most likely perish. Yet Edeen would not be caught within a magical slumber to perish seven hundred years later, nor would Shaw be captured, his magic turned and misshapen into a dark ugly thing by the witch.

And Col would not be thrown into the time rift and…his gaze slanted to the lass, who was aiding her grandmother to her feet.

He would never meet Lenore. Or ever know of her existence within this far distant future.

Grief as shattering as he felt for Edeen’s passing, speared his heart with loss, graying everything at the edges, throwing him into a blind panic to grasp onto her tight, to not let the possibility of what they could have together sift away.

He was all too aware of what he would be sacrificing, knew with a surety he didn’t fully comprehend that she was meant only for him and he for her.

And when he stopped Charity, when everything returned, righted itself, back to the beginning, he would not even remember what it was that he had lost.

But his heart would know, wouldn’t it?

Somehow, he believed, it would.

His heart had to know why a large chunk of it would never fill.

He knew exactly what he was sacrificing for Edeen, for Shaw, and for the world.

Hopefully for Toren as well. Col had to believe that. He and Edeen had planned a rescue before Charity plunked into their world. He had to believe they’d be successful on their own without her. Even without the healing she had performed upon his battered brother.