Timeless (31 page)

Regan drew a deep breath to try and quiet the runaway beat of her heart. MacLeod’s sudden appearance had set her nerves to jittering. Or was it the fast advancing storm? “Would you like me to carry some of that?” she asked as they strode up the path. The wind kicked a leaf across her face and she brushed it aside.

Quinn quickened his pace. “And destroy the manly image I’m trying to project?”

She smiled. “You don’t have to project anything. You walk into a room, and every woman there knows you’re a man. Sheary says it’s a testosterone thing.”

A stiff wind struck them as they topped the hill. They passed the conservation lab and moved on to the main office. With its roofed portico, the entrance of the building acted as the perfect shelter. The exterior light’s buttery glow stretched out over the surrounding area. Quinn stepped up on the concrete porch and set the basket down. Regan turned off the flashlight and laid it and the umbrella against one of the roof supports.

“Let me set up the chairs. You need to rest your hand,” she said as she reached for one of the long cases. She tugged the portable seat out of the carrying case and set it up.

“I know you don’t drink, but I brought a bottle of wine to go with the cheese and fruit.”

“One small glass will be all I can tolerate.” She set the other chair next to his and folded the cases together.

“What happens if you drink more?” he asked offering her a hand as she climbed the steps with her chair. She set it next to his.

“I get a terrible headache.”

“One glass for you, and ‘twill leave the rest of the bottle for me.”

Lightning flickered close overhead and she jumped. Quinn dragged the chairs further back from the edge of the structure. Rain beat the tin roof in a monotone, staccato rhythm.

“Taranis sounds angry.”

She looked up as she settled into her chair. ”Taranis?”

“He’s the Celtic God of Thunder. He carries a lightning bolt in one hand and a wheel in the other. He’s also a God of fertility.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to strike us with any of that.”

He laughed.

“Do you know a lot about Celtic myths?” she asked.

“Some. When you live in a country steeped in history and myth you have to soak up some of it.” He sat down in his camp chair.

She shifted her chair a little forward. She leaned close and raised her voice as the storm intensified. The air held an electric feel to it that increased her tension. What if the storm had the same kind of effect as the song? What if either of them went into a fugue state and approached the stones? Would she be strong enough to keep Quinn with her? Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She bit her lip. It was too late to do anything about it.

“What does the wheel represent?” she asked to distract herself.

“’Tis called the wheel of the year. It represents the eight pagan festivals on the calendar. Samhain, which is All Hallow’s Eve, like your Halloween, but it falls on the first day of November. Yule falls around Christmas. Candlemas is the first of February. Ostara falls on the twenty-second of March. Beltane which is May Day. Midsummer falls during the summer solstice. Lughnasadh is a harvest festival the first day of August. And Mabon is between the twenty-first and twenty-fourth of September, another harvest festival. All eight are spaced equally about the wheel.”

“I need to do some research on all that and see if it could tie into the monoliths in some way.”

“Do you believe Coira a witch then?”

“No.” A vein of lightening streaked across the sky right over the site. Regan yelped and jumped to her feet. She covered her ears as thunder hit with the strength of a bomb blast. The vibration of sound worked from the bottoms of her feet to the top of her head. The next flash of lightning struck one of the lintels sending up sparks.

“Jesus—“ Quinn’s expletive was drowned by the next crash of thunder. He caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him.

“Where did Kennedy go?” she shouted above the din, quick concern knotting her stomach. Had he finished his sweep of the site and gotten away from the monoliths in time?

Quinn stepped closer to the edge of the small porch.

Her heart stuttered, and she grasped his arm to tug him back.

“He’ll be back at the guard shack by now,” he said, though his expression held concern for the man.

A blinding flash lit the sky, and he dragged her further beneath the tin awning into the alcove where the door was set. His large body pressed into hers as he shielded her.

An instant response shimmied through her, but the violence of the storm overrode the reaction. It seemed as though the front had settled over the site and sought to beat the monoliths into the ground. The lightning strikes came one after the other, the thunder a nearly continuous bass rumble that shook the earth and vibrated through the concrete of the portico.

When the event finally ended, a numbing silence settled over the site. For countless moments she and Quinn stood together holding each other.

“This place is dangerous. How can they open it to the public if these sodding things act as lightning rods?”

She drew a trembling breath. As the tension of her muscles relaxed, her arms and legs shook with reaction. “I think we need to go check on Kennedy.”

“Aye.”

Quinn scooped up the flashlight while she raised the umbrella. Regan looped her arm through his as they walked down the gravel path.

The ache in her calf intensified as they hit the upgrade, and Quinn slowed his pace to match hers. “He’ll be fine, Regan.”

“I hope so.”

The guard shack was actually a small building set above the site. Lights shined out the two windows on the eastern face of the structure. Regan stopped as she spied Kennedy sitting in a chair before a desk reading a book.

“Well that’s a relief,” she said on a sigh as the tight band of anxiety tying her stomach into knots released.

“Let’s leave him to his book and go back and open the wine.”

“Or we could go down and see what effect, if any, the lightning had on the monoliths. The strikes have to screw with the magnetic field of the stones?”

“Have you not tested it yet?” he asked, his tone laced with surprise.

“They’ve kept me busy analyzing the data from our dive and helping in the preservation lab for the last few days.” It had more to do with liability for her injury than the need for her help in those areas.

“We could go down and see if they register any type of magnetic qualities now that the lightning has passed,” he suggested.

“We didn’t bring anything to test it with.”

Quinn withdrew a pocketknife from his jeans. “If they’re magnetic this will stick to the side of a stone. It won’t be scientific, but we’ll be able to tell if the lightning charge has had an effect.”

The crunch of the gravel beneath their feet had a soggy sound. The rain stopped as they reached the scaffolding, and Regan lowered the umbrella and folded it into its compact form.

Quinn caught her hand as they strolled through the arch of the first monoliths. The air felt waterlogged, almost muggy, and smelt like the loch.

He paused by the second stone, the one that had received a direct strike, and touched it with his pocketknife. The metal adhered to the stone as though glued there.

“I’ll be damned.” He pulled free the blade and replaced it several times.

Curious to see if all the monoliths were affected or just a few, she tugged at his hand and they strolled around the henge in a counter clockwise direction. In a random pattern, they stopped at several stones to test them. Each showed the same magnetic ability.

“I’ve never seen anythin’ like this,” Quinn said.

“Neither have I.”

She paused before the stone she’d been working on before her dive. Hannah had finished removing the algae. The flashlight’s illumination made the hieroglyphs look as though they writhed upon the face of the stone.

“I haven’t looked at the markings up close. They appear alive somehow,” Quinn said as he rested his hand on the side of the stone and rubbed his fingers over it.

“Alive. That’s a good way to put it.” Regan touched one deep groove in the center of the monolith. Warmth seared her fingertips, and the stone latched onto her skin with the ferocity of a hungry leech. A shudder, soul deep, raced through her system as prickles of fear and power raced through her system.

“Quinn—“ His name was jerked from her, a plea and a warning. But it was too late.

Light blazed between the monoliths, bathing Quinn’s tall form in fire.

CHAPTER 28

“No—“ Regan’s voice, sharp with panic, traveled to Quinn as from a great distance.

Blinded by the sudden intense light, he threw up a hand to block it. Liquid warmth enveloped him, as though he’d been plunged into a hot tub. The sensation of weightlessness permeated his muscles, his bones.

He lowered his hand and looked into the blaze to find a green field before him. The ebb and flow of the image rippled as a current eddied through it. The loch, just behind a small rise, glistened, the sun’s rays dancing across it. Wispy clouds feathered the deep, clear, azure blue sky.

A bountiful peace infused him. Was this what his mother had felt as she’d waited for death? Was this why she hadn’t fought to live? Was this what Regan had experienced while sucked into the stone? If he took that last step, would he learn what had drawn them both away from this world into another? Or would he be lost forever? The idea offered him no fear, only curiosity. He took a clumsy half step toward the meadow.

“No. Don’t leave me Quinn.”

Regan’s shrill voice pierced his dream-like state. He glanced toward her. Her eyes looked wide and dark with fear, her skin bleached white by the glow projected between the stones.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. In the distance, from the loch, he saw a man approaching. The way he moved seemed familiar. As he drew closer, recognition rocked him. The sturdy knee high boots, the snug fit of his brays, the wide belt about his waist and the loose flow of his shirt were all details he’d seen, had felt first hand. The man looked up, his eyes narrowed against the sun. As he saw Quinn, his features grew pale and blank with shock. The odd shaped basket he carried dropped from his hand, spilling fish onto the ground. He swayed and leaned heavily on the wooden rod he gripped.

Braden, it was Braden, but it was him as well.

Regan’s fingers locking around his wrist dragged his attention back to her. Tethered to the stone by one hand, she’d plunged her other through the light and latched onto him. “You can’t live in his world any more than he can live in yours, Quinn.”

So she saw him too. He wasn’t hallucinating.

Her tone rose to a demand. “Come back to me. Step out of the light.” Her dark blue gaze held his as she pulled at his arm. “You’ll die, Quinn. I don’t want to lose you.” Her eyes brimmed with tears that spilled over and streamed down her face.

Her pain cut across the numbing effect of the power cradling him.

What was he doing? Bloody hell. A quick biting anger pushed his apathy away.

Logan and Rob’s faces thrust their way into his mind. He had to stay with them. They needed him. Regan needed him.

He took a staggering step toward her, the resistance similar to moving through water at depth. His knee and one calf thrust free of the light and the power slid like liquid down his body tugging at him. Regan’s grip tightened, and she fought against its force. Shoving through the blaze, he stumbled and fell to his knees upon the scaffolding. Regan caught him against her with one arm.

The light shrank to a pinprick then died. With a gasp of pain, she jerked her hand free of the stone. Kneeling, she looped her arms around his neck and held him close. Her tears wet his cheek as she stroked his hair.

Clumsy, Quinn’s arms closed about her. His muscles shook as though he’d spent too long in a Jacuzzi. “’Tis all right, lass. Just another stroll about the dig.”

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped her. Her arms tightened.

For a long time they held each other.

Quinn swore repeatedly as they staggered back to the boat. His legs shook, his balance was off, as though he’d drunk the bottle of wine he’d brought to share with her. He dropped into the passenger seat of the boat and laid his head back. The cool air cleared the cloudy haze from his mind and revived him.

By the time Regan eased the skiff in against the dock at the cabins, he’d grown steadier. Afraid of putting too much pressure on Regan’s hurt leg, he forced his feet forward, one step after the other, until they reached his bungalow.

At the door, she helped him remove his jacket. “Quinn—” Something in her voice, in the stillness of her posture, arrested his attention. Her gaze focused on his hand, the hand that an hour before had been bruised an ugly purple. He raised it so the dim overhead light fell across his fingers. The swelling was gone. The color looked normal. He made a fist then opened it. His hand was healed.

*****

Fear and concern continued to tighten like a knot beneath Regan’s ribs. Quinn continued to exhibit such weakness—“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?” she asked again.

“Enough, lass.” Quinn threw up a hand brushing aside the question. “I’m fine. The experience just drained my strength for a time.”

Regan tugged at the t-shirt Quinn had loaned her to wear, and nestled closer. She listened to the steady beat of his heart for several moments and allowed the sound to ease her anxiety.

Her mind too active to rest, she asked, “How do you suppose Coira got the people she cured into the light without them knowing it? They couldn’t have known. They’d have spread the word far and wide.”

“Perhaps some kind of concoction to put them to sleep.”

“And she’d have to have some way of moving them in and out of the magnetic field. It has to be some kind of magnetic field.”

“Aye. She’d use a platform of some kind on wheels?”

“She’d have put it inside the chamber.”

“Aye.” Quinn yawned.

Her arms tightened around him. “I thought I’d lost you.”