Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (43 page)

Dallan’s eyes narrowed with irritation. “Go away.”

“Ah, you
do
want her!
I dought so, Boyeee.
She is pretty, yes?”

“Go-a-way.”

“But are you man enough for her, Boyeee? Dis I wonder. And will you give her what she needs? Dis I also wonder.”

Dallan spun to
face him as one fi
st eagerly sought Kwaku’s face.

Kwaku calmly caught and stopped it. “Yes, you want her. She is near, Boyeee. Look to de hills. How will you go to her? What will you do when you get dere? Do you dink you can just break in and take her? Do you dink she will want you den? Such foolish
doughts
will get you no-ding, Boyeee. But patience…” He l
aughed softly and shoved the fi
st away.

Dallan turned abruptly back to the window and tried to ignore him.

“You do not have to take what is willing to come to you.” Kwaku’s voice was now serious. “But how to make her willing, Boyeee. Dat is de question, is it not? Do you go to her? Should you see her again? What will you do, Boyeee? How will you win her?”

Dallan slowly turned to face him, h
ands balled into fi
sts, eyes narrowed to slits. “And what would ye know of it? Why are ye so interested anyway? What’s in it for you?”

Kwaku’s eyes also
narrowed
as he got right in Dallan’s face. “More dan you realize, Boyeee. You will do as de Crea
tor wills,
weh
-
der you want to or not.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

Kwaku chuckled low in his throat. “You will see, Boyeee. For now, you must win de Maiden’s trust. You must
stay near her
,
protect her
. You know dere are some who wish her harm. De Lord Councilor, he
tell
me what happened at de
librareee
. You do not want to leave her unprotected, do you, Boyeee? Would you leave her to de ones who hunt? Who take?” He got even closer, pinning Dallan against the window. “Who kill?”
 

Dallan’s face fell.

“Yes, Boyeee, kill. Hunt her, take her,
kill
her.
Dey know
what she is.
Dey know
she could destroy
dem
if rescued. And
dey
know about you.”

 
Dallan’s eyes narrowed again, but his voice betrayed him. “
Wha
…what are ye saying, heathen? Dinna talk in riddles; ye ken I hate it.”

  
Kwaku laughed softly. “What does your heart tell you, Boyeee? What does it cry out for? For whom does it cry out? Does it still scream to you for vengeance, for revenge? No, de Creator has used her to kill dat voice. Now it knows only of her, yes? Now you will do what it says and be de balance between your heart and instinct. Practice dis, Boyeee. You will need it.” He took a step back, turned and silently left the room to return to his wife and bed.

After several tense moments of inner debate, Dallan also turned and silently left the room to gather his clothes and dirk then leave to settle in closer to the Maiden. ‘Twas time he set himself to the task of guarding her. It was, after all, the reason he was here, wasn’t it?

* * *

 
John slowly opened one weary eye. After realizing he couldn’t see very well, he opened the other. Sunlight poured in through the window as he looked to the large worn chair and sat up with a start.

“Dallan?” No one was there. The chair sat empty.

John went to spring off the couch but failed, groaned and slowly pushed himself to a standing position. He was too old for this. Perhaps Dallan had just retreated to the bedroom sometime in
the night, leaving John to suff
er the couch alone.

“Dallan?” He entered the bedroom, crossed to the window an
d opened the heavy curtains, fi
lling the room with light.

Lany moaned and poked his head out from under his blanket, hair standing on end, looking like a disheveled porcupine. “What is it, Eaton? Something wrong?”

John examined the bed and
put his hand to the sheets. Th
ey were cold. “I’m not sure yet. Be right back.” He left the room to go check the other bedroom. Angus, he knew, had already gone to tend his shop downtown. If Dallan wasn’t with Kwaku in the other room, then perhaps he had gone with Angus. He quickly promised himself not to start panicking until he was sure.

John knocked on Mother
MacNab’s
bedroom door before opening it a crack. “Dallan?”

“Come in, Lord Councilor.” Kwaku’s deep voice whispered.

John slowly entered. Mother MacNab snored frightfully on the bed in the shadowed
room while Kwaku sat on the fl
oor against the wall, Zara cradled in his arms like a child. “Is she…
”

“She sleeps, Councilor.” Kwaku began his voice still low. He stroked his wife’s cheek tenderly with one huge hand and then kissed her on the forehead before returning his attention to John. “She is still weak.”

John took a concerned step forward, bending toward her. “How can this be? I mean, didn’t you…” he gulped. “You know.”

 
Kwaku’s expression became grave. “Yes, I did.”

“Then why is she still weak?”

Kwaku’s face remained where it was. “Her time is coming, Lord Councilor. She will continue to grow weaker. I must caution you now that I will not allow her to do any-ding dat could end
anger her.”

 
John sank to the fl
oor in a sitting position. “No,” he began shaking his head. “Don’t tell me, she couldn’t be.”

Kwaku chuckled softly, his face beaming. “No, Councilor.
She is not with child. 
It is too soon for dat. But she is almost ready for
de process and
…” He suddenly straightened, his posture proud. “We still have time, but do not dink to waste any of it.” He put his face within inches of John’s. “De Boyeee is not here.”

John sighed wearily. “Is he with Angus?”

Kwaku’s gaze changed to loving adoration as he took in the sight of his sleeping wife. He kissed her again. “No.”

John’s eyes widened. “Then where is he? He’s not in the apartment.”

Kwaku tore his gaze aw
ay from Zara long enough to off
er him a huge grin.

“Oh no. Not that!”

Kwaku laughed softly.

“But he might take her! He could ruin everything!”

Kwaku’s attention turn
ed back to Zara. “He will be fi
ne, Lord Councilor. He is doing what he dinks you want him to.”

“I want him here.”

“And you want him dere.”

“You trust him?”

Kwaku captured him for the fi
rst time with a look to rival Dallan’s. “Don’t you?”

John had to swallow. “I, well…”

“He guards her, Lord Councilor. No-ding more. She must be guarded from now on, and de Boyeee is de best one for it next to myself. But I am preoccupied for a time.”

John glanced at Zara. “Uh, how much longer?”

Kwaku shrugged. “My wife enters her fertile stage slowly, Councilor.
Dis is de fi
rst sign dat it comes. She can do little dings, but will need several days rest before able to open de door to home. We may have to rely on de Boyeee to get us dere when de time comes.”

“Oh, stars… are you serious?” Lany whispered as he entered. He went directly to John, patting his superior’s shoulder as he looked at Zara, his brow furrowed with concern. “Kwaku, is she all right?”

 
Kwaku narrowed his gaze at him. “You tell me,
Mos
-go-fi -an.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

Kwaku chuckled lightly and shook his head. “You will know if you really dink on it.
But enough.
Leave here
,
check on de Boyeee
. He will be near de Maiden. Take him to de shop later today. I must prepare him.”

John glanced up at Lany, and then turned back to Kwaku. “We’ll see if we can’t get him there this afternoon. He’s not going to want to leave the Maiden, I can tell you that. How do you expect us to be able to lure him away from her?”

Kwaku grinned. “What is de
Boyeee’s
o-dar true love, Councilor?”

J
ohn opened his mouth to speak and looked at Lany, who was nodding and grinning. “Why is it
I seem to be the last one to fi
nd out what you’ve been cooking up?”

Lany’s grin broadened. “A precautionary measure in case Dallan got testy or on edge. I had never thought to use it as a means to get him away from the Maiden.”

John gave him a bewildered look.

“Angus’s shop, Eaton. Do you know what it is?”

John thought a moment, before he shook his head.

Kwaku and Lany looked at each other in agreement, for once. “Little bro-dar has been supplied wid a weapons shop, Lord Councilor.”

“Weapons?” John asked, still bewildered.

“Antique weaponry, Eaton. We’ve got Angus dealing in it up to his eyeballs. Dallan in there would be like Vyn loose in a sweet shop.”

Comprehension dawned and John smiled. “Clever.”

Lany shrugged. “Necessary.”

“Let’s go.”

They left Kwaku to tend his wife while they went in search of Dallan, happy with the knowledge there was something they had that the Weapons Master would want. There was always hope, and luck; two things
they would need a lot of from now on.

* * *

“Shona, the library just called. Your book is in.”

 
Maggie’s voice carried up the stairwell to Shona, who lay half under her bed, Kitty beside her. “All right, we will get it when we are through,” she yelled into the mattress above her head.

“What about that box there?” Kitty pointed to a small shoebox against the wall as she began to squirm out from under the bed.

Shona grabbed it, hoping it would be the one. She’d searched through every nook and cranny in her room looking for the misplaced photograph.
Perhaps her search was fi
nally over. She wiggled out from under the bed and blew several long strands of hair from her face. Tied back or not, her hair could always be counted on to fall in her eyes. “Well, here goes.” She pulled off the lid.

Letters.

Shona looked to Kitty and sighed before removing a small bundle.

“Postcard
s.” She fl
ipped through the pile. “Letters from Nana Bea, more postcards… my third grade report card
?” She put the bundle on the fl
oor and reached for another.

Kitty picked up the discarded pile and sorted thr
ough it. “Why do you want to fi
nd his picture so badly? What’s the big deal?”

“I have to know something, Kitty. I cannot remember what he looks like and I do not want to see him when I do not recall anything about him.”

“Is this the guy that gives your parents money?”

 
Shona threw her a puzzled look. “Money?”

“Geez, Shona, don’t you know what goes on in your own house?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The money your parents get every year. Don’t they own stock somewhere?”

“Stock?”

“I heard Julia once tell someone on the phone about your parents having stock or something, and that this guy sends them money once a year.”

 
Shona shook her head, returning her attention to the box and its contents. “I still do not know what you are talking about. Why would Julia know anything about it?”

“When Mom and Dad would go out of town and Julia would stay at the house with me, she talked to someone on the phone now and then.

They talked about your parents and you. Especially you.”

“Why?”

Kitty shrugged then threw her a bemused look. “Why don’t you know
anything about your parent’s fi
nances? If my folks got a lump of money once a
year, you can bet I’d be the first one to know about it! Th
ink of the shopping!”

Shona merely stared at her. “I knew they got some sort of return on something they invested in years back, but I thought that money stopped coming a long time ago.”

“Well, it must have been a good investment, whatever it was. Otherwise how could you live here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Geez, Shona, for such a high I.Q. you aren’t very smart sometimes. Your mom is a nurse and your dad is a history professor. But you’ve
had private tutors for over ten
years. You live on the Hill and have had more private lessons in more subjects than half the people in this city combined. You’ve got a ten-thousand dollar stereo system in the music room.” Kitty let go an exasperated sigh. “Ho
w could your folks possibly aff
ord all this on what they make? There’s no way. My parents are both doctors and we don’t live like this. Haven’t you ever wondered where all the money comes from? How your dad paid cash for t
his house? How your mom can aff
ord to run out and buy a brand new Jaguar?”