Highland Protector
Page 16
Simon shook his head. “Then why weren’t we sent there to live? Why here?”
“That I don’t know.”
Simon gripped the steering wheel hard. “Now’s a good time to hide your thoughts. Amber doesn’t need to worry about what’s going on in your head.”
“And who will cloak your thoughts?”
When Simon didn’t answer, Kincaid knew he couldn’t, and that Amber would suffer the knowledge and worry of her cousin.
****
The soup Helen had brought Amber earlier was now stone cold and untouched.
Downstairs she felt Helen and Mrs. Dawson’s pain. They knew it was nearly time for her to leave this world. Even though Simon was far away, she felt him inside her, too. His anger rose with the thought of her life washing away like a tide and removing all evidence of her existence.
Amber clutched the edges of the sink in an effort to hold herself upright. In the mirror, a reflection stared back at her. The dark circles under her eyes and distinctive cheekbones were a living testament of her failing health. The heat billowing inside Amber’s head grew to an impossible girth. Her fevered skin should have left her flushed. Instead, she was sheet-white and appeared to have been drained of all her life-blood. In the center of her chest, her heartbeat sped too fast, making her gasp for air. Around her neck was a sacred stone centered in a necklace that could take her back to her family. In a moment of weakness, she scraped a razor against her finger and placed it on the stone. She didn’t want to die here. She wanted her mother and father at her side.
A lone tear fell as she placed her bleeding finger on her necklace and closed her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t make the trip. At least she’d know her parents could place her next to her ancestors and mourn her properly.
They would survive. They always did.
A shuddering breath left her burning lungs and she began her chant. “In this day and in this hour…”
Light glazed the back of her eyes and the bathroom started to spin.
Her last thought before her body hit the floor was, ’Tis over.
****
At least there’s a gate around the main house. Kincaid couldn’t believe the lack of security for the Manor. He felt no magical wards protecting the house, the property. How can this be?
Simon pressed a button and killed the engine.
Kincaid stepped from the car and stared up at the familiar fortress. The landscape had changed, and the house itself wasn’t as large as in his time. Yet it still felt like home.
The front door of the home hit the wall and a petite woman ran down the stairs, ignoring him, and franticly screamed at Simon.
Tears ran down her face as Simon caught her. “What is it, lass?”
“It’s Amber. She collapsed. I can’t wake her, Simon…I can’t wake her.”
Simon ran toward the house, Kincaid followed. His stomach turned stone-cold. Were they too late? The walls of the home shot past him as he took the stairs three at a time, keeping pace with MacCoinnich. They spiraled up, turned down a hall, and ended up at his bedroom door. Or it was his bedroom in the future.
Simon skidded to a halt and entered the room at a slower pace.
Kincaid took in the scene slowly. An old woman sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed from where Simon knelt. The woman who’d informed Simon of Amber’s state hugged the banister of the bed and cried. The only familiar face in the room was Giles. Kincaid met his eyes and he nodded to the woman lying on the bed.
Dressed in a nightgown he’d only seen several hundred years back in time, Amber MacCoinnich had the complexion of Sleeping Beauty and a slow pace of breathing that couldn’t sustain her for much longer. The long dark hair framed her head and fell past her waist. Even under the sunken eyes and drawn features, her beauty was unmatchable.
Simon touched the side of her forehead, which had a trickling of blood. “What happened?” he asked.
“I heard a noise and ran in. She was in the bathroom on the floor.”
Simon lifted her thin hand and placed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t leave us, Amber. We’ll find a cure.”
Kincaid wasn’t sure they could find a cure fast enough. For some reason, the thought of this woman dying before he could see the color of her eyes made him ill. He nodded toward Giles and indicated the hall.
Giles stepped around the woman at the foot of the bed and started toward the door.
“You’re not going anywhere, Kincaid,” Simon demanded.
MacCoinnich didn’t need to spend these last hours with his family worrying about him. Kincaid said the only thing he could to put the man at ease. “I will see this through, Simon. You have my word.”
Content with that, Simon turned back to the bed.
“Am I glad to see you,” Giles said once they were out of earshot of the others.
“What do you know?” Kincaid asked.
“Is that the woman from the portrait?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s safe to say something forced me here to find her. They’re desperate to save her life.”
“I can see that.”
“Do you know who she is?”
Kincaid tasted her name on his lips again. “Amber MacCoinnich. Youngest daughter of Ian and Lora.”
Giles lowered his voice. “All the books say she died young. We might just be witnessing her death.”
That didn’t feel right. “Or we’re here to help find a cure.”
“I’ve looked, Kincaid. There isn’t a way to remove her gift. It’s part of her.” Giles swiped his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Then I’ll go home, gather a healer, and bring them back to buy us time.”
“That won’t work. Her brother Cian is a healer. More powerful than any you and I have seen, and he wasn’t able to help. The only thing that has brought her any solace is the cloak the family charmed for her. It acts as a buffer but according to Helen, it’s growing weaker.”
“A cloak is her shield?”
“A filter really. Mutes but doesn’t stop everything from penetrating completely.”
He blinked several times, feeling the answer…or at least a temporary reprieve… was close.
“What are you thinking?” Giles asked.
Every Druid had some ability to read the intentions of others. Though to be honest, Kincaid had never worked hard to peer into others’ minds. To do so would mean he’d have to open himself, lower his shield, and allow someone in.
He said nothing and stared at the door leading to his room. The wooden barrier was easily breached…a swift kick and someone could walk right in.
“That I don’t know.”
Simon gripped the steering wheel hard. “Now’s a good time to hide your thoughts. Amber doesn’t need to worry about what’s going on in your head.”
“And who will cloak your thoughts?”
When Simon didn’t answer, Kincaid knew he couldn’t, and that Amber would suffer the knowledge and worry of her cousin.
****
The soup Helen had brought Amber earlier was now stone cold and untouched.
Downstairs she felt Helen and Mrs. Dawson’s pain. They knew it was nearly time for her to leave this world. Even though Simon was far away, she felt him inside her, too. His anger rose with the thought of her life washing away like a tide and removing all evidence of her existence.
Amber clutched the edges of the sink in an effort to hold herself upright. In the mirror, a reflection stared back at her. The dark circles under her eyes and distinctive cheekbones were a living testament of her failing health. The heat billowing inside Amber’s head grew to an impossible girth. Her fevered skin should have left her flushed. Instead, she was sheet-white and appeared to have been drained of all her life-blood. In the center of her chest, her heartbeat sped too fast, making her gasp for air. Around her neck was a sacred stone centered in a necklace that could take her back to her family. In a moment of weakness, she scraped a razor against her finger and placed it on the stone. She didn’t want to die here. She wanted her mother and father at her side.
A lone tear fell as she placed her bleeding finger on her necklace and closed her eyes. Maybe she wouldn’t make the trip. At least she’d know her parents could place her next to her ancestors and mourn her properly.
They would survive. They always did.
A shuddering breath left her burning lungs and she began her chant. “In this day and in this hour…”
Light glazed the back of her eyes and the bathroom started to spin.
Her last thought before her body hit the floor was, ’Tis over.
****
At least there’s a gate around the main house. Kincaid couldn’t believe the lack of security for the Manor. He felt no magical wards protecting the house, the property. How can this be?
Simon pressed a button and killed the engine.
Kincaid stepped from the car and stared up at the familiar fortress. The landscape had changed, and the house itself wasn’t as large as in his time. Yet it still felt like home.
The front door of the home hit the wall and a petite woman ran down the stairs, ignoring him, and franticly screamed at Simon.
Tears ran down her face as Simon caught her. “What is it, lass?”
“It’s Amber. She collapsed. I can’t wake her, Simon…I can’t wake her.”
Simon ran toward the house, Kincaid followed. His stomach turned stone-cold. Were they too late? The walls of the home shot past him as he took the stairs three at a time, keeping pace with MacCoinnich. They spiraled up, turned down a hall, and ended up at his bedroom door. Or it was his bedroom in the future.
Simon skidded to a halt and entered the room at a slower pace.
Kincaid took in the scene slowly. An old woman sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed from where Simon knelt. The woman who’d informed Simon of Amber’s state hugged the banister of the bed and cried. The only familiar face in the room was Giles. Kincaid met his eyes and he nodded to the woman lying on the bed.
Dressed in a nightgown he’d only seen several hundred years back in time, Amber MacCoinnich had the complexion of Sleeping Beauty and a slow pace of breathing that couldn’t sustain her for much longer. The long dark hair framed her head and fell past her waist. Even under the sunken eyes and drawn features, her beauty was unmatchable.
Simon touched the side of her forehead, which had a trickling of blood. “What happened?” he asked.
“I heard a noise and ran in. She was in the bathroom on the floor.”
Simon lifted her thin hand and placed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t leave us, Amber. We’ll find a cure.”
Kincaid wasn’t sure they could find a cure fast enough. For some reason, the thought of this woman dying before he could see the color of her eyes made him ill. He nodded toward Giles and indicated the hall.
Giles stepped around the woman at the foot of the bed and started toward the door.
“You’re not going anywhere, Kincaid,” Simon demanded.
MacCoinnich didn’t need to spend these last hours with his family worrying about him. Kincaid said the only thing he could to put the man at ease. “I will see this through, Simon. You have my word.”
Content with that, Simon turned back to the bed.
“Am I glad to see you,” Giles said once they were out of earshot of the others.
“What do you know?” Kincaid asked.
“Is that the woman from the portrait?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s safe to say something forced me here to find her. They’re desperate to save her life.”
“I can see that.”
“Do you know who she is?”
Kincaid tasted her name on his lips again. “Amber MacCoinnich. Youngest daughter of Ian and Lora.”
Giles lowered his voice. “All the books say she died young. We might just be witnessing her death.”
That didn’t feel right. “Or we’re here to help find a cure.”
“I’ve looked, Kincaid. There isn’t a way to remove her gift. It’s part of her.” Giles swiped his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Then I’ll go home, gather a healer, and bring them back to buy us time.”
“That won’t work. Her brother Cian is a healer. More powerful than any you and I have seen, and he wasn’t able to help. The only thing that has brought her any solace is the cloak the family charmed for her. It acts as a buffer but according to Helen, it’s growing weaker.”
“A cloak is her shield?”
“A filter really. Mutes but doesn’t stop everything from penetrating completely.”
He blinked several times, feeling the answer…or at least a temporary reprieve… was close.
“What are you thinking?” Giles asked.
Every Druid had some ability to read the intentions of others. Though to be honest, Kincaid had never worked hard to peer into others’ minds. To do so would mean he’d have to open himself, lower his shield, and allow someone in.
He said nothing and stared at the door leading to his room. The wooden barrier was easily breached…a swift kick and someone could walk right in.
