Redeeming Vows (6 page)

“Oh, Liz, what happened?” Tara asked, concern filling her voice.

“Nothing, we were practicing with balls of fire.

I’m fine.”

“I think not.” Lora stood and left the room, most likely in search of a medieval remedy to help the 41

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pain.

Liz took the opportunity to whisper to Tara. “Do you have any Advil or Tylenol?”

“I knew you pushed yourself too far.” Tara stood and left as well.

Amber shook her head. “You don’t have to learn everything overnight.” She moved to a pitcher of water and poured some onto a cloth before returning to dab her palm with moisture.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” Fin stood in the doorway.

His face set with anger.

“What is the matter with everyone? It’s just a burn.”

“No, Elizabeth, it isn’t
just a burn.
” Fin lowered his voice and stepped closer. “Burns often lead to infection. With infection comes illness. We don’t have your medicine here to fix such a thing in this time.”

Liz drew back and her gaze drifted to her burned palm. Already the swelling doubled. She hadn’t though of that. The convenience of modern medicine wasn’t something she’d concerned herself with in the past. Doctors were nothing more than a few blocks away.

“I’m sure it’s okay.” But her voice wavered. She didn’t meet Fin’s eye. She couldn’t. He was right.

She should have stopped when she felt the first twinge of pain.

Lora returned and lathered her palm with a foul-smelling, sticky, thick liquid. Tara offered her two brown pills from the coveted stash of the futures medicine. Fin turned on his heels and left the room.

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Liz picked at her food with her good hand, thankful that Tara had insisted that they eat with utensils. Managing the lamb on her plate would be much harder if she had to eat it with her fingers.

“What’s this?” Todd waved the paper in the air to no one in general.

“Looks like a bad science book to me,” Simon replied.

“More like microbiology.” Tara glanced at it sideways. “I had nightmares for weeks after that class. Anytime someone sneezed I thought for sure I was going to die of some exotic illness.”

“Who drew it?”

“I did,” Cian spoke from the far end of the dinner table. “Tara suggested I sketch what I see when I try to draw my power. This is what I see.”

Tara raised her hand to Todd. “Can I?’

Todd handed her the picture.

“What do you see, lass?” Duncan asked at her side. “Cells. See here…” She pushed her plate aside and spread the paper out in front of her. “These lines look like veins or maybe arteries. Here are the cells.

Oh, man, if I’m not mistaken, these are mitochondria, a nucleus, everything.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Can you tell if it’s a human cell or animal?”

Todd asked.

“I hated micro. There isn’t much that actually stuck after the final. I know it’s a cell. Because of the 43

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shape I’d say human, but I wouldn’t bet money on it.” “What do you think it means?”

Liz glanced over to Ian. “You said our heritage and gifts stem from nature. Earth, fire, water, and wind. Yet Simon is experiencing telepathy with animals, maybe even changing shape into one.

Amber’s empathic powers aren’t exactly any of the elements, neither are Lora’s premonitions.

“True. But all Druids have some ability over the elements. The others draw from a deeper connection with the Ancients, with the energy surrounding us.”

“Didn’t some scientist say that humans only use ten percent of their brain?” Todd asked.

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it safe to assume your ancestry has learned to tap into the other ninety percent?”

“I think Todd’s right.”

Liz glanced at her aching hand. “Lora, was there a time when anyone of you have been really sick?”

“Of course. Duncan and Fin both fell ill after the two of them decided to catch fish from the stream in the middle of winter. Had they used traps, they wouldn’t have had a problem, but they thought it would be better to catch the fish with their hands.”

Duncan raised a brow to Fin who shrugged.

“What about Cian? When was the last time he was sick?”

Lora tilted her head to the side in thought.

“Well, he… No, that was Fin.” She spoke almost to herself. “I don’t recall a time where Cian was ill. Do you remember anything, Ian?”

He shook his head. “Nay, my boys were always healthy growing up.”

“Why do you ask?” Fin asked.

Instead of answering, Liz asked another question. “What about injuries?”

“Well, there is an entirely different story. Cian 44

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fell from his horse and hit a fallen tree. His shoulder sustained a deep cut. We worried for days about infection.”

“But he didn’t develop an infection, did he?”

“Nay.”

“What about a scar? Do you have any evidence of your fall, Cian?”

Cian’s gaze drifted to his left shoulder. “Nay.

I’ve nothing to remind me of that time in my life.”

Liz pushed back her chair and walked around the table. She removed the layers of bandages from her palm.

“What are you doing?”

“Humor me.” The idea formed in her head about the meaning of the cells Cian saw. Fin stood and gave her his chair beside his brother.

Cian sent her a worried stare. “What is it you want me to do?”

“Close your eyes.” Liz took his hands and held them in the air. She placed her non-injured palm under his without it touching. “Think of those cells, those images you see when you draw from your power.”

Cian shifted in his chair, his face bunched up.

After a couple deep breaths, the worried lines on his face softened. His breathing evened out. “I see the circles and lines.”

“Are they moving?”

“Aye. In an even pattern.”

“Like a pulse?”

“Mayhap.”

Liz lowered her good hand and brought her scorched one under his open palms. Neither touched him during the transition.

The expression on Cian’s face changed. His brows came together. “The color of the image is darker now. Black and gray.”

“What was the color before?”

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“Red, no pink.”

Liz glanced at Fin standing over them.

“Try and remove the dark image from your mind and replace it with the one you had before.”

“How?”

“Just try,” Fin encouraged. “Concentrate only on the color you see.”

Liz nodded to Fin. He knew what she was trying to have Cian do.

Silence settled over them as they watched Cian’s expressions. Liz closed her eyes and concentrated on the discomfort of her palm, searching for any change. She took several deep breaths and imagined her body healing itself, imagined Cian’s energy flowing into her palm.

“Oh my God,” Tara gasped.

Liz’s eyes sprung open, as did Cian’s.

A blue, glowing, pulsating light surrounded Cian’s hands. For a split second, the pain in her hand completely disappeared but when Cian’s concentration severed, the pain returned and the light faded.

Fin’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Did you feel anything?”

Liz’s face beamed, her eyes lit up. “The pain went away. For a minute it felt completely normal.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means that you are a healer, Cian.”

“How can that be? Women are healers, not men.” He didn’t seem nearly as excited as she was.

“Oh, don’t you go getting all sexist on us. Men can be healers, doctors. In fact, in our century there are more male doctors then women. Surgeons, people that save lives on a daily basis.”

Cian settled in his chair deep in thought. He glanced to his father, searching for approval.

“The Ancients said it would take all our powers to bring down Grainna. This newfound gift will aid 46

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our fight more than any I think. The ability to heal our wounds inflicted by her is a godsend,” Ian boasted.

A slow smile inched over the youngest MacCoinnich son.

“Looks like my injury wasn’t so bad after all.”

“We still need to be careful, Elizabeth. Cian will need time to learn his power.”

Leave it to Fin to be a killjoy. Without acknowledging his words, Liz thrust her palm at Cian once again.

****

Her eyes met the leader of the caravan. For one brief moment, the man dared to lift his chin in defiance. Grainna narrowed her eyes at his and filled his brain with the image of his limbs ripping from his body. His hands reached to his head before he fell to his knees in pain. Blood dripped from the tear ducts of his eyes.

Grainna moved to the next gypsy in line. “You learn fast,” she said to the man whose eyes and head dipped in respect to her power. As she moved, heads bowed, children clung to the legs of their parents whimpering. She slid into the mind of every adult as she passed and found nothing.

She pivoted and stalked several feet before facing them again. “Show yourself to me.”

The gypsies’ nervous glances spread among them, most unknowing of what she wanted. Grainna raised her hand, intent on destroying them all before a small voice called out. “’Tis I ye search for, m’lady.”

From behind one of the boys stood a girl no more than fifteen, her ripped clothing and matted hair evidence of her poverty even among her people. As she stepped forward, the boot of the man at her side 47

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kicked out and she sprawled to the ground. The girl turned on him and spit at his feet. “I give myself up for me, Uncle. Not for ye.”

The child’s defiance sparked interest.

“Devil spawn,” he cursed.

“Which devil do ye speak of?” The girl scrambled to her feet and walked toward Grainna with confidence.

Grainna attempted to search the girl’s mind but wasn’t able to penetrate her will.
Interesting.

Her uncle, however, was a different story altogether. He despised his niece for her mere existence. Grainna dug deeper and realized why.

The man had used the girl to ease his lust and in return, the child professed to know how he would die and when. His fear penetrated his thoughts as he looked upon the child now.

The girl stopped a few feet from Grainna, her chin high.

“You do not fear me. Why?”

“Because ye will not kill me.”

“How do you know this?”

She glanced to her people; most didn’t meet her gaze. “I see the future. In it, I am here, as are ye.”

A true seer. No crystal needed to yield the power. “What is your name?”

“They call me Tatiana.” Her words sounded much older than her years. Then again, growing up under the hand of her uncle, she had little choice.

“May I call ye Grainna?”

A slow smile spread over her lips. “For now,” she replied. “Tell me, seer? When will your uncle die?”

The question brought a gasp from those who stood in line.

Tatiana leveled her eyes to Grainna’s. “Before the sun sets.”

****

Redeeming Vows

the stream. Outside, Fin, Duncan, and Simon worked together with balls of fire. The only evidence of her brush with a burned palm was a faint red mark. Cian hovered over her palm daily, healing the wound. Within a week, he accepted and used his gift whenever he could without notice.

“Wouldn’t it be great if he could help some of those in the village? Mrs. Claunch is constantly doubled over in pain with her arthritis.”

“Mrs. Claunch wouldn’t mind, but my guess is the reaction of the others would result in something resembling the Salem witch trials.” Liz pulled her dress from her shoulders. Under it, she wore shorts and a light camisole.

“I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be, next time you come remember to wear something under the dress to strip down to.”

“I will.”

The clothing proved more comfortable, but more than that, Liz didn’t want the extra material of long skirts to catch fire a second time.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Is anyone?” The time had come to work with Simon and his gifts.

“He’ll be fine.”

“God, I hope so. What if he changes and can’t figure a way back to himself?”

Tara gave a half smile. “Then it’s better we are with him when it happens. Come on, Lizzy, have a little faith in your son.”

They stepped out of the cottage together in time to see Duncan clasp a ball of fire into his palm and extinguish the flames. Unlike the rest of them, Duncan’s body didn’t burn when the flame touched him. Fin caught sight of her. His eyes swept her frame before they returned to Simon.
Does he
approve of my choice of clothing?

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“Ready?”

“I think so.”

Duncan and Fin stood on each side of her son.

Although it would be a while before Simon measured up to these men physically, Liz couldn’t complain about their mentoring of her son. Simon’s respect for them was unparalleled with any man from their time. She owed them both, Fin especially, though she hated to admit it.

Sensing her worry, Simon turned to her and said, “Are
you
ready, Mom?”

“Born ready.”

You’re a terrible liar
, Simon spoke in his head.

I know. “
I’m fine, really.”

“What will you try first?” Tara diverted Lizzy’s unease.

“A falcon. I think that would be easiest.”

“Is there anything you’d like us to do?” Fin asked.

Simon shook his head and glanced at the sky.

Liz stared on and watched her son close his eyes and steady his breath. Inside his head, he started talking to himself, then aloud for all of them to here.

“I hear the wind calling. Calling me to be a part of it. I stretch my arms…” As he called out the small command for his limbs, Liz concentrated on his fingers. He spread them wide and turned his wrists.

“In order to fly, I need to push off with my legs until the wind gathers under my wings…”