Timeless Vision (7 page)

Her lips were pressed into a flat line as she shook her head. “No.”

“No?” he echoed, stunned by her denial.

She sat up straight, the chair creaking with the sudden movement. “I want to know what happened here just as much as you do.”

He wasn’t as certain of that. She didn’t know what would be required or the dangers involved. He’d given his life to keep evil at bay and until a few hours ago she believed she’d been robbed of a family heirloom.

“Don’t look at me that way,” she said. “You think I’m not as invested in this.” Her green eyes turned sharp and cold as she held his gaze. “You’re wrong. The dagger was stolen on
my
watch. You have no idea what an embarrassment that is or how violated I feel. Someone invaded my space and stole something invaluable.” She tucked a wayward strand of curling red hair behind her ear. “According to you, that someone has who knows what sort of bad intention. Do whatever you came here to do, but I’m staying.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The more time he spent in this cramped room, the more he wanted to finish the task. Quickly. He’d thought himself above any distraction - until he met her. He needed to find a lead and then escape her enticing scent, stunning body, and challenging attitude.

She was unlike any other women he’d known. While logically he understood people would have to change along with their world, her candor continued to shock him. Women of his time rarely spoke as boldly and never dressed as provocatively. He struggled against the urge to drape his jacket over her shoulders to hide her figure. He fought the automatic demands for her silence. He’d been a forward thinking man in his time, but even he had not foreseen this kind of result.

“Stay if you insist.” He pointed to the corner. “Stand there and remain still. Movement could distract me at a critical point.”

“Hang on.” Her brow furrowed with worry as she moved into position. “Are you putting yourself in danger?”

“Magic always has a price and involves some risk. You will be safe.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Wayne exchanged a look with his hound. He found no sympathy in the large, dark eyes. “None of us will be in any serious danger with the spell I will use.”

“Okay.” She relaxed, leaning her shoulders back against the wall.

That issue settled, Wayne reached into the small pack the squire had left for him. He withdrew his familiar scrying mirror and murmured the words that would focus his vision on the mystical plane.

The mirror was more prop than tool, protecting the secrets of his magic from Tara while he searched for the residual traces of the thief. He wanted to trust her. The dog’s immediate approval alone would be enough of an endorsement in his time. Here in this century there were too many variables he didn’t fully understand yet.

He angled the mirror’s reflection toward the desk drawer where the dagger had been stored as he studied all of the faint images floating through the small office. It was quickly obvious Tara had spoken the truth. The primary energy here was entirely of the squire’s descendants.

Sliding the mirror back into his pocket, he noticed the fading ward on the door leading out to the pub. A similar ward on the opposite door was frayed with an oily darkness that resembled black lace. He sucked in a breath, recognizing the pattern as one of Morgana’s.

He swallowed down the instinctive fear. Focusing on that darkness, he found traces of the only person not of the squire’s blood that had been in the office. He extended his vision to his hound, reaching out with a hand to reinforce his connection.

Beside him, Sterling growled as they retraced the activity of the previous day. A man of limited magic had entered the office from the storeroom door, aided by tools both practical and magical. Wayne and Sterling watched the echoing images as the thief held up something small and round and followed it unerringly to the dagger.

“May I show you?” Wayne turned to Tara, her beauty blurred by the magic swirling through the room.

“What do you mean?”

“If I touch you, you may be able to see what I am seeing. I want to know if you recognize the thief.”

Those auburn eyebrows winged upward before knitting together in another frown. “What should I do?”

He held out his free hand. “Just take my hand and look with me.”

“All right.” She set her palm in his.

The sizzling jolt of her energy nearly pushed him out of the vision. For a moment he was overwhelmed with her vibrancy and his vision zeroed in on her movements within this space. He waited until he regained control, showing her how the thief had invaded her space.

Her soft, furious curse let him know she was seeing it all quite clearly.

“What is he holding?” Wayne asked.

“It looks like a compass... wait.” She leaned unerringly toward the filmy image. He moved with her. “It’s an old pocket watch. How would that help him?”

Wayne filed away his questions about the devices she mentioned. “Do you recognize him?”

“No. I’ve never seen him. I searched the security camera feed while I waited for Nick to call me back, but this guy didn’t show up. No one did. How did he stop the cameras?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t even know what a camera was, though he guessed it was a visual tool of some sort. Her every statement raised more questions about modern developments as well as the theft. For now, he’d work with the details he understood. “What are those tools he applied to the door?”

“Old-school lock pick set,” she replied. “The bastard. The camera should’ve caught him.”

Wayne chuckled at her crude outburst, feeling marginally better now that he was certain the thief wasn’t someone from her family. He watched the shadowy residue of the thief hide the dagger in his coat. If he’d had doubts about why he’d woken from his bespelled sleep, they were gone now. The thief had clearly employed magic to accomplish his task.

Wayne prodded at the shadow image of the thief, seeking any identifying marks, and found none. He readied to dissolve the images and break the spell when he felt a power prickling at the edges of his own, like burrs caught in the weave of soft wool blanket.

The hound growled again. Wayne released Tara’s hand but it was too late. They were caught. A powerful talent was working against his magic, following it back to the source. To him.

Tara cried out, instinctively curling away from the invisible attack and covering her face with her hands. He sheltered her body with his, casting a protective spell. It wasn’t as simple as shutting down his own scrying spell, not with Tara and Sterling caught in the crossfire.

Pushing back at the invasive magic, he barely stemmed the threatening tide. His choices were limited by not knowing his opponent. The hound growled again and Wayne followed the hound’s vision. A tiny water droplet gleamed on the glass of a picture near the main office door, vibrating with potent energy.

He focused all of his effort on that small spot, an archer aiming an arrow at the center of the target. As he fought, he found the invading magic more foreign than familiar. It seemed the wicked sorceress had changed her tactics. Behind him the dog whined and Tara groaned in pain. As owner of the dagger, she was tied too closely to come out of this unscathed. Whatever the source of this dark spell, he would have to track it down another way, once Tara was safe.

He called on a rudimentary spell he’d learned early, a variation on glamour that should confuse the opposing force, filling the office with a crush of people. Almost immediately the tension in the air eased. Wayne crossed the office in one stride and scraped the bit of offending magic from the glass, crushing it beneath the heavy sole of his boot.

Tara was curled into a tight ball, her back to the wall. Her breath hissed through her clenched teeth in pained gasps.

“Are you well?” He dropped to a knee beside her. Although it was reasonable that his skills were rusty after centuries of sleep, this kind of error was unconscionable. His mistake only proved his mother had been right labeling him as a reckless threat. The shrill, fearful voice from his distant past ricocheted through his mind before he could shut it out.

“Where are you hurt?” Needing an answer, he gave her shoulder a little shake. His hound nosed at her face and hair, whining encouragingly.

Tara tensed even more, resisting their help.

Wayne gentled his voice, kept his hands off her and signaled his hound to back off. “You must talk to me, Tara. Tell me what ails you.”

“Fi - fire. My eyes.” She sucked in another breath. “Everywhere.” She pressed her fists to her eyes. “I’m burning.”

“There is no fire, lass.” He held a grudging admiration toward the one who’d wielded such dark magic so effectively. “You’re not burning. Your eyes are unharmed.”

He cupped his palm and held it above her exposed temple, pulsing a gentle healing light over her. Slowly, one heartbeat, one breath at a time, he stretched that healing force out until it covered her like fine netting.

Gradually, her hands relaxed and inch by inch her body eased until her breath calmed and she rested on her back. Her eyes remained closed, and at last he could confirm that no part of her was burned or otherwise damaged.

His hound nestled beside her, adding a comforting touch, and Wayne’s physical and magical senses returned to normal. In all his time with magic, despite his mother’s dire warnings, he had never brought harm to an innocent. This would be the worst time and place for such an error.

Wayne sagged in relief, though he kept that healing light draped over her. He wanted to beg her forgiveness, though he knew she’d recover fully within minutes. When would he be free of this persistent weakness? The memory of his mother’s eyes filled with fear, hate, and blame for a talent he didn’t understand forever haunted him. Nothing he’d done had earned her favor or affection.

His sister and the Avalon priestesses had shown him what was possible. Those revelations amid encouragement and confidence had soothed the worst of those emotional wounds. And yet...

Yet nothing. His relationship with his mother was a lost cause. His quest was not. He rubbed his temples and deliberately focused on what they’d just learned. His bleak past could not be changed and his king had given him an opportunity to use his gifts to protect others. Recovering the dagger and keeping Morgana trapped would be satisfaction enough.

It had to be.

Chapter Four

Tara’s eyes stung, her skin prickled with alternating sensations. Hot and cold. Fear and comfort. She wasn’t sure which were real and which were illusions. She’d seen a white-hot, blinding flash of fire and doubled over with the pain of it. Expecting smoke, she’d dropped to the ground, immediately plagued with a sense of failure, knowing the pub would burn to the ground.

Wayne claimed she was fine and she told herself any minute now she’d believe it.

“Open your eyes, Tara. It is over.”

She heard him, of course she did, but fear held her in a ruthless grip. “What if -” She didn’t want to catch her reflection in a mirror and prove him a liar.

“We were attacked by an illusion. A strong one, to be sure,” he said gently. “I am looking at you, lass. You are as lovely as ever.”

What a thoughtful thing to say. She wanted to believe him. She could feel him doing something near her head, the shadows and light shifting over her closed eyelids. Was he covering her injuries with a spell?

“Breathe now. Open your eyes.”

She felt Sterling’s wet nose near her hand and she placed her palm on his soft head. It was heartening to have him beside her. “I’m being a wimp, aren’t I?”

“I wouldn’t know, having never heard of such a creature.”

His admission made her laugh. Wimpy or not, lying here sure as hell wouldn’t get her dagger back. On a deep breath, she cautiously opened her eyes. The ceiling looked the same. At least it didn’t show any signs of smoke or fire damage.

Gingerly, she sat up. Wayne smiled. The dog bumped her hand. “I’m fine. The office is fine.”

“As I said.” Amusement danced in Wayne’s blue eyes. “Take your time.”

“Shouldn’t we be racing off to find the thief?” His whole body seemed weary, from the tight lines bracketing his mouth, to the slump of his shoulders. How had this incident drained him more than his late arrival to the 21
^st
century?

“Once your cousin arrives, I will seek out the enemy on my own.”

“No way. You did that once and it backfired. We’re in this together.”

He started to say something and changed his mind, dropping his gaze to his empty hands. His hair fell over his face, blocking her view.

“Talk to me,” she said. She needed some help putting everything context. “I’m as tied to this dagger as you are.”

“More so,” he admitted, lacing his fingers. “To my ongoing regret. I’m not exactly sure I can explain it.”

“Try, please.” she pressed. “Just don’t try to avoid the answer.”

He tilted his head just far enough to glare at her with one eye and half a scowl. “Very well.” He pointed to the framed picture of her parents on their honeymoon in Ireland. “The thief left a spyglass of sorts behind. It allowed whoever sent the thief to watch and intervene if someone with magic unraveled the theft, as we just did.”

“Spyglass?” She didn’t like the idea of being watched. “Like a bug?”

“Not at all.” His brow furrowed. “Though I crushed it.”

“Pardon me. A bug is a modern term for a listening device, but you’re saying this was a visual thing, yes?”

“Yes. At first glance it was as innocuous as a droplet of water. Only very powerful sorcery could exploit and attack us through such a small portal.”

Sorcery, portals, and magic were as foreign to her as her slang and idioms were to him. She couldn’t in good conscience allow him to search out this magic in the modern world alone. While Sterling was a great partner, the dog couldn’t serve as the translator Wayne obviously needed.

“Were you able to learn anything about the thief?”

“He wore the magic like a cloak, but he was not the one with the power.”