Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (13 page)

“Again, I fi
nd nothing mystical about the things I can hear, feel…” Dallan’s eyes narrowed as his shoulder, still healing, began to throb. “Taste and touch. It’s the things ye canna touch, hear, taste or feel that are truly mystical.”

“Have you had an experience like that?” John asked his voice intense.

Dallan’s one eyebrow lifted slightly. “Aye, I have,” he spoke quietly, almost evasively. He didn’t want to share it. It was his and his alone. Nay, he didn’t want to share
her
with any
one. A fierce possessiveness came over
him, encompassing everything around him
, including the Lord Councilor.
He wouldn’t let any of them know of her. She was all he had left to himself.

“Tell me.” John insisted.

Dallan threw a penetrating
stare,
giving John the same feeling of helpless captivity he’d had the day of Dallan’s shoulder injury.

“No.”

“I need to know, Dallan.” John breat
hed out as
Dallan’s stare held him prisoner like an invisible vice. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes intense. “Tell me about her.”

Da
llan fought a sudden urge to fl
ee, totally taken aback. “What?” he pushed through clenched teeth, knowing full well what the Lord Councilor was after.

  
John looked apprehensively at his writing instrument and sat quietly, as if waiting for something. He smiled at Dallan. “Tell me. Tell me about her.”

“I dinna ken what yer talking about.” Dallan said evenly, his facial twitch doing a warm-up.

Lany Mosgofi
an slipped silently into the room to stand near the door, quietly observing his superior and the big Scot, neither of which glanced in his direction, both too intent on the other. John was smiling a warm, knowing smile, Dallan glaring viciously back.

“Your mystical experience. Will you tell me?” John asked again gently.

“No!” Dallan stood, his glare threatening to strangle John. Lany continued to stand quietly in the doorway and watched the big Scot pace.

“Calm down, Dallan,” John began softly. “What can sharing her with me hurt?”
       
   

Dallan's
mouth
opened and snapped
shut
a few times
, his jaw tense,
before he
spun on John. “Nay, how could ye know? No one knows!”

Lany swallowed hard at the desperate look on Dallan’s face, then glanc
ed quickly to John, who held fi
rmly to his legendary compassion.
Lany knew his boss wouldn’t budge an inch on this; it was what had made him famous through out the Known Lands.

“I know, Dallan,” John spoke gently. “Tell me about her.”

Dallan
began to pace again, the small room not big enough for his frustration. How did John know? How could he possibly have found out? He had told no one!
No one!
He spun again on John, features full of rage, and Lany moved to stand beside his superior protectively. Dallan growled as he turned aw
ay from the two, crossed to a small
table against the wall, and stood there slowly sucking air through his nose. He stared intently at the tired piece of furniture and fancied John sp
rawled across it like a sacrifi
ce
on an altar stone, one huge fi
st waiting to take his life.

H
e closed his eyes tightly to fi
ght against the anger,
then
opened them and again stared at the table, John’s image replaced now by Lany’s. Dallan softly snarled and growled at the vision, then closed his eyes again.

Kwaku now sat on the conceptual altar, grinni
ng and wagging one long dark
fi
nger,
about to go into one of his appalling lectures he mercilessly subjected Dallan to.

That wa
s all Dallan could take. His fi
st exploded through the
table which
sent its tattered fragments fl
ying.

Lany instinctively moved in front of John, who calmly sat, a smile on his face. They both glanced up at the Scot, who now faced them, jaw dancing with anger, eyes oddly seeking.

“How did ye fi
nd out about… her?” Dallan softly demanded through clenched teeth.

John shrugged, his smile broadening, and looked Dallan right in the eye. “You, um… talk in your sleep.”

Lany had to turn away to hide his tight-lipped smile and stay out of trouble. Oh, but this was good! Nobody but Eaton would have dared.

“I…
what?”
Dallan choked out. “Ye c
anna be serious.” His balled fi
sts relaxed as his mind raced over the past ten years in Genis Lee. No one was ever allowed in his cottage while he slept, and if anyone somehow had managed to get in, he would have surely woken, his warrior’s senses too keen to miss anything. He shook his head and paced. Nay, he thought, no one was eve
r with him while he slept. How…
?

Vyn.

Dallan slowly turned to face John. Lany, his forehead against the opposite
wall,
shook in silent laughter. The sight made Dallan’s rage reignite. His intense green eyes narrowed on the Assistant Councilor as he took a threatening step forward.

John quickly stood and placed himself between his assistant and the seething Scot. “Lany, calm down. Dallan
, he had nothing to do with it.
Vyn approached me on his own, concerned about you.”

Dallan stopped in mid-stride. “Concerned? About me?” he whispered surprised, his eyes still on Lany who stood
erect now, his usual apathy fi
rmly back in place. Dallan raised an annoyed eyebrow at him, to which Lany shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face, as if to say
that’s Vyn for
you.
Dallan still wasn’t sure whether to like the man or throttle him, his presence irritating like the heathen’s, yet strangely comforting like John’s.

“Very concerned about you,” John began again. “He was upset after watching you have one of your nightmares.”

Dallan sidestepped once and sank heavily into his
chair
. He closed his eyes tightly and swallowed hard. So, they knew about the nightmares too…

He leaned back
and
opened his eyes as a long sigh escaped
him.  He then
looked John in the eye, trapping him again. He might as well get it over with.

The Lord Councilor calmly reclaimed
his own chair as Lany positioned himself again in the doorway.

“When I was verra young, I used to play with my grandfather’s hounds back behind the Auld Fox’s summer house at
Gleannleac-
na-muidha
. We
stayed there with him every year. One da
y I set to teasing the dogs
when I suddenly felt someone watching me. The dogs must ha’ felt it too as they started a-barking at s
omething. I looked
, but
coul
dna see what
might ha’
upset them.
Odder yet, they didna take to chasing whatever it was as hounds are prone to do. I tried to get them to calm down. I…”

“How did you get the dogs to calm down, Dallan?” John suddenly interjected.

Dallan cocked his head. “I told them to be quiet, o’ course.”

“In English?” Lany asked, coming away from t
he door
way to stand behind John, face still intense.

Dallan’s head tilted even further. “I
dinna remember. What’s the diff
erence, sir?”

Lany looked at John, not able to see his face from where he stood. It was just as well; he could sense the tension coming from his superior. “Nothing,” he said quietly.

Dallan sighed again, though shakily. “’Twas then I smelled it.”

“Smelled what?” John urged mildly.

“A scent like wild fl
owers. The fi
nest scent I’ve ever kent the likes of. It suddenly was all around me, in the breeze.”

Lany gave John’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and John nodded silently.

“Then I saw her,” Dallan sighed, his v
oice low and silky. Either from
relief at the admission or a caress meant for the source of his most cherished memory.

John and Lany both smiled, hoping…

“She was a wee
y
ounger than I, smaller too, a
nd
had the most glorious hair I’ve ever seen. It was full of colors. Cinnamon, honey, rust and gold.” Dal
lan smiled.
"
’Twas a bonny sight with the sun on it, the wind lifting
it
away from her fac
e. Made her look like something magical
.” He straightened in his chair, his stare gripping John harder. “I ken
t
right away she was one o’ the Faerie Folk. I should ha’ run for my life, but I didna. I just stood there, stared at her. I couldna ha’ looked away if I’d wanted to.”

John’s face beamed appreciatively despite the stare that held him. He nodded again.

“Then… she looked right at me, a peculiar expression on her face.” Dallan paused in recollection, searching for words. “Ye ken
how it is
when so
meone looks
, recognizes who ye are. Mayhaps they've no
s
een ye in a verra long time.
Th
ey want
to f
i
nd out how ye’ve been and ask after yer folk and wee bairns…” He sighed softly, almost shakily. “That’s how she looked at me.”

Dallan leaned
forward. So did John. "Like she recognized
who I was, John.” He
sat back in his chair. “She
wa
s the most beautiful thing I
ever laid eyes on. She just
stood there and stared at me, s
miling
.” He smiled himself, automatically causing John and Lany to do the same. Both were too encouraged now to do anything else.

“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful since. Nay, not since her.” His eyes gripped John with everything they had. John winced slightly. “I gave my heart away then, gave it to the wee lassie, like… I dinna ken how to explain it. Like a gift?”

Lany’s grip tightened on John, who leaned forward even further.

“I didna speak to her, nay, didna say a word. Somehow she kent what I was th
inking, feeling.  W
hat I off
ered too. My only hope and prayer
‘twas she wouldna give it
back. If she would take
and keep it forever.” Dallan’s voice trailed off on the last few words, his eyes smiling
. “And she did. She took it,
kept it.”

Dallan’s eyes released John suddenly
as he abruptly looked away. Th
e
action not only broke the spell
,
but
startled both the Lord Councilor and his assistant. John pitched forward unexpectedly, Lany moving with him. The questionnaire
in John’s lap dropped to the fl
oor. John shook himself, trying
to dislodge the mesmerizing eff
ects of the Scot’s stare.

Dallan glanced back to John, watching him as
he and Lany picked up their eff
ects and repositioned themselves as they were before. His look had turned to the window by the time they were done. “I’ve been thinking about her, the wee lassie,
wondering if she still has it.”

Lany’s hand clutched John’s shoulder anew. Both men tensed. “Has…
your heart?” John managed to whisper.

Dallan turned his attention back to the two men. “Aye.”

“What makes you think she might have it?” Lany asked cautiously, gripping
John’s shoulder so hard his fi
ngers became white.

Dallan gave the two men a condescending look and shrugged. “She must. I havena ever gotten it back.” He quickly looked away, his voice barely a whisper. “But what does it matter? ‘Tis naught but dreams now. Only dreams. And nightmares…”

Lany released his grip on John’s shoulder and moved to stand in front of him. “Eaton, you okay?”

John looked up at his assistant, lips white from pressing them together so tightly. He could only nod and smile, and Lany nodded in response.

This was the new
s they had been waiting for. Th
is was the sign the
Muirarans prayed daily to see. At last, there was no doubt about it. Dallan MacDonald had already seen the Muiraran Maiden… and had
bonded
with her! Preliminary bond though it be.

Now, the Councilors could proceed as planned.