Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (56 page)

“Get him off me!” John breathed from under the Scot.

Kwaku jumped to his feet and immediately started to laugh hysterically as he pointed to Dallan sprawled out on top of the Lord Councilor.

“
Aaaagh
!” Angus exclaimed coming out of the kitchen to see what he’d hit. “By the Saints, I’ve
kilt
’
im
!”

“I can’t believe you missed Kwaku. I mean how can you possibly miss someone who’s dressed like that?” Lany chastised as he
rolled the Scot off of John then
peered at the rising lump on Dallan’s forehead.

“I best get the bottle down. He’ll be needing a shot or two when he wakes up.” Angus grumbled as he turned back toward the kitchen.

John
sat up,
took one look at Dallan’s lump and threw h
is hands in the air. “Kwaku!  We're trying to keep him in one piece, remember
?
  By the Creator, what else can go wrong?
”

“Don’t say that, Eaton,” Lany
replied nervously. “We might fi
nd out.”

“What has happened, Lord Councilor?” Zara, fed and rested, entered the small
apartment with her usual fl
uid grace and went directly to the fallen Scot. “Kawahnee?” She called suspiciously to her husband, who had immediately taken on an air of innocence at her arrival. He shrugged and looked at the Scot as if he’d just appeared on the scene as well.

“Do you wish for me to remove Dallan’s injury?” she asked Kwaku.

“De Boyeee will be fi
ne, my pretty one. Do not trouble yourself.” He suddenly eyed his wife appreciatively. “Are you still hungry, Beloved?” he asked, his voice dropped seductively.

“Not in
my
house, ye disgusting heathen! Ye can do
that
someplace else if ye dinna mind!” Angus screamed, waving a full whiskey bottle at him. “Begging yer pardon, Lady Zara, I meant no disrespect. I know what ye need to do now and then. But Tomy will be bringing mother home soon and I mean,” His face went crimson. “I dinna see how
wi
’ so many in the house…”

“I understand,”
Zara
replied with a smile as Dallan began to groan.

“Go to de bedroom now, Beloved. You
can
do someding for de Boyeee. I will call you when you are needed,” Kwaku ordered gently as he helped her to her feet. She took a last look at Dallan then went to wait in the bedroom they shared with Mother MacNab.

Dallan pushed himself up to a sitting position as he gingerly rubbed his head. He looked about for a moment before his eyes focused on Kwaku. “What happened?” He ground out between clenched teeth.

Kwaku shrug
ged. “You got in de way of a fl
yin
g cook pot.” He shook a long fi
nger at the Scot. “Very clumsy of you, Boyeee.”

 
Dallan glared at him. “Why,
ye good-for-nothing heathen. You
were antagonizing Angus again, weren’t you? I told ye to stay away from him!”

“Now, laddie, there be no harm done to me. He
re, pick yerself up and I’ll fi
x ye something special
fer
yer lunch,” soothed Angus.

Dallan growled in response
a
nd picked himself up off the fl
oor.

“You are only angry at your performance wid de Maiden, yes?” Kwaku teased.

Dallan glared at the heathen with barely controlled rage. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Kwaku smiled. “You were not able to win her yes-dar-day, were you, Boyeee? You did not have what it takes to conquer a little Maiden in de short time allowed. Ha! Tiny Padric could have had her eating from his hands. But you! You were not man enough, yes?”

 
J
ohn’s mouth fell open
,
his eyes round as saucers
.
Why was Kwaku
purposely provoking
Dallan? He looked helplessly to Lany.

“Would it help if I covered your ears?” Lany whispered.

Dallan narrowed his gaze on the heathen ano
ther notch
and looked up into Kwaku’s grinning face. “I’m leaving,” he pushed out and turned on his heel toward the door. Kwaku grabbed the Scot by his tank top and roughly pulled him back. Dallan spun and took a powerful swing at his assailant.

Lany quickly covered John’s eyes instead as the two warr
iors began to have at it
.

“
Aaaaagh
! Me house! Me house! Ye stop it!” Angus screamed, hopping up and down like a mechanical monkey.

Dallan absorbed another punch from Kwaku before he let go of the heathen’s own collar, took a reluctant step back and bellowed, “I’m through! I’ll no more to do with any o’ it! I’m leaving!”

Kwaku bellowed right back. “No, Boyeee. You are not
droo
!”

“Dallan,” John began calmly, “You can’t leave. You’ve had a rough night and I know you don’t remember everything. Please, let us explain.”

“Explain what? There is nothing to explain, John. I’ve had enough of all o’ this and I ha’ especially had enough o’
him!””
Dallan yelled and
glared daggers
at Kwaku.

“You can’t leave, Dallan,” John repeated.

“Why not?” he shot back, causing John’s calm face to slip slightly. He swallowed Dallan’s attack and looked to Lany, who did not at all like the Scot’s treatment of his superior.

Lany’s eyes narrowed as he caught Dallan’s venomous stare. “Because if you leave, the Maiden will die.”

Dallan’s eyes lessened in their intensity. “What?”

“Sit down and we’ll explain.” Lany growled in a tone one would normally use for a disobedient seven-year-old, which to Lany was exactly how Dallan was acting. Just like Vyn in a bad mood.

“Everything?” Dallan asked suspiciously.

John and Lany exchanged a look. “Everything,” Lany replied as he shot Kwaku a dirty glance. “Right, Kwaku?”

Kwaku nodded his agreement, his mouth showing a hint of a smile.

Dallan sat in the nearest chair and still glared at John and Lany.

John took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy, and he prayed
it wouldn’t be too painful. “The Maiden is… well, she’s… not like us.”

Lany cringed and leaned ov
er to John. “Well, that clarifi
ed it for him.”

J
ohn eyed his assistant levelly. “Any better ideas?”

“The Mai
den… is Muiraran.” Lany said fl
atly.

“Oh, that’s good,”
John
whispered in a monotone voice.

“I’m not fi
nished,” Lany shot back.

Kwaku began to chuckle.

“Oh no! Yer not?” Angus interjected.

“A good idea, little bro-dar!” Kwaku bellowed.

“Ye canna just spring her on the l
ad without explaining things fi
rst!”

" It worked for you, did it not
?” Kwaku countered.

“Either someone explains this whole bloody thing or I’m leaving. Ye can all go hang as far as I’m concerned!” Dallan was nearing the boiling point.

John threw up his hands and looked helplessly at Lany. Lany took the cue. “Okay. Shona is one of what you would call… um, the Faerie Folk. Like the one you saw as a boy.”

That got Dallan’s attention. His eyes suddenly widened as the color drained from his face. “How could that possi
bly
…
”

“Long story. But she is.” Lany furrowed his brow. “Sort of.”

Dallan was still not grasping it, attention gotten or no. “Who is?”

Lany rolled his eyes then said,
“The
Maiden,
Dallan.”

Kwaku, bored with John and Lany’s explanations, or lack of them, shouted something in Azurti, obviously meant for someone outside the room.

Angus knew what was coming. He took a swig from his whisky bottle then passed it to an uncomprehending Dallan, who downed a couple of shots anyway for safety’s sake.

A nervous John shu
ddered and gulped audibly.
He looked to Lany, fear in his eyes. “Kwaku wouldn’t. He couldn’t…”

The look in Lany’s eyes said it all:
Are you kidding? Kwaku?

Dallan turned to Angus. “What’s this all about?”

Angus nodded sagely back. “Zara.”

Dallan still didn’t understand. “What’s wrong with Zara? Other than she’s married to the heathen…”

“Take a few more swigs, laddie,” Angus interrupted. “Ye’ll need
em
.”
 

Unfortunately
Dallan didn’t have time before Zara glided into the room.

Kwaku began to chuckle louder as he gave Dallan an almost sadistic smile. “Zara,” he began as he took a seat, his voice suddenly silky-smooth. “Heal de
Boyeee’s
head for him, please.”

Zara looked to her husband, awaiting the real command to be given; she knew he had spoken in Engl
ish only for the other’s benefit
. Kwaku lowered his voice a notch and spoke to his wife in Azurti, causing her body to shudder slightly in response. She began to slowly approach Dallan.

“My wife, Boyeee,” he continued, “is Muiraran… as will be yours.”

 
Dallan’s attention was drawn to Kwaku and his unusual statement, then back to Zara as a familiar feeling came over him. “What’s he talking about, lass?” He asked quietly.

Zara smiled as her instinct to obey her husband took over. “Let me show you.” She breathed.

Dallan’s mouth dropped open i
n shock as
Zara’s features melted into one of the Faerie Folk, causing the breath to catch in his throat and his head to spin. Perhaps it was the whisky, or the odd sensations of emptiness and memory loss, or the knowledge that Kwaku had been telling the truth all along and he had refused to heed it.

At the moment, Dallan didn’t care. All he did care about was the hope he never
awaken
from the sinking blackness now overtaking him. Or, if he did wake, that he’d be someplace else.

* * *

“Great, he’s fainted,” Lany announced sarcastically
.

“Ye know,” Angus began
, “ye had better prepare yer words quickly, Master Lany. The lad won’t be out for long.”

"What?" Lany squeaked.

"Good idea little bro-dar!
Mos
-go-fi-an will convince de Boyeee!"

 
Lany suddenly knew what the expression “having your life flash before your eyes” meant.  And what he saw convinced him that his life was too short to end here.  “Uh, um, no, I really don’t think that would be a
good idea.”

“I think it’s a perfect idea!”  John replied, a wry smile curling his tired face. 

 
“So it is dec
ided,” Kwaku blurted
before Lany could add anything in his defense.  “
Mos
-go-fi-an will talk some sense into de Boyeee once he wakes up
, while we
go to
enjoy de bee-
yoo
-
tiful
afternoon.”  He stood up to leave.

“No.  I mean, no, no, you can’t leave …” Lany had found his voice, if not a suitable excuse.

“Here,” Angus remarked, setting the bottle in front of Lany, “Ah know ye don’t nip any, but ye might need it for him.”

“But … b-but …”

 
“Lany,” John shot back, “this is an order.”  He followed Kwaku and Zara out the door, Angus quickly shuffling after him.

 
“We who are about to get pulverized salute you,” Lany muttered as the door to the room closed with an air of finality.  He was now alone in the room, save for an angry, frustrated and unknowingly engaged ancient Scots warrior, who’s only redeeming characteristic was that, at the moment, he was unconscious.

 
Wish I was,
Lany thought to himself. 
But the
n that will happen soon enough…

 
His reverie was suddenly interrupted as a large fist launched itself from the floor to grab his collar and yank him into the face of a seething Dallan MacDonald.

Lany did his best not to show fear.  “Oh, good, you’re awake!  We were worried.”

Dallan didn’t care what Lany said at the moment or even that it was Lany.  He just wanted something to grab.  “Where’s the heathen?”  He whispered threateningly.

 
Lany was trying to figure out where his composure had run
off to.
  “He, um … he went for a walk.”