Of Scars and Secrets (Time Walkers Tales Book 2)

7

Nicholas braced himself against the blow of the heavy longsword. The crisp air of early evening anchored him, each strike he delivered to his opponent sending him back to that place in time when he was a different man. The fingers of both hands gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of his own weapon, his fists butted against the round pommel.

It was an ancient Scottish claidheamh mòr, exquisitely honed from the finest of fifteenth century Scottish steel. He extended the weapon at Bash as he considered the balance of the blade. It was heavy, intended to be wielded with a dual grip, yet decidedly deadly when mastered. Bash insisted Nicholas try training with it, and with each measured swing, Nicholas enjoyed it even more. It felt good to hit something, to unleash that frustration on something tangible.

“Found your weapon, have you, old man?” Bash asked, his chest heaving. The younger man kept a wary distance, his taunts bold, but his eye remaining intent on Nicholas.

Nicholas uttered a low snort, flexing his fists on the grip. “I’d say it suits me,” he agreed. Bash lunged, and Nicholas struck, the scream of steel clashing ripping through the air. Nicholas dug his heels into the earth and was pleased when his efforts forced Bash to stumble backward, and once he straightened, he lowered his weapon.

Bash wiped the sweat from his forehead with a bent elbow, and shot him a surly grin.

“Well, it’s bound to you, I suppose. It was made by your grandfather,” Bash said. Nicholas looked down at the sword, turning it over in his hands as he caught his breath. His chest heaved a bit too much for his liking, the exertion he spent fighting the younger man more than he was accustomed to of late.

“Alec Klassen?” he asked. Alec Torquil Klassen, to be exact. It was a curious thing, the inlaid rune marks embedded deeply, some layered, as if they had been changed. The Bloodstone in the pommel, however, was dark, nearly black, barely a hint of red flakes scattered throughout.

“Yes. They called him Alec the Nameless, didn’t they?” Bash replied. Nicholas nodded. His memories of his mother’s father—and Alec’s namesake—were few; the first time Nicholas impulsively used the Bloodstone, he encountered his own grandfather in the past. The man died before Nicholas was born, and although every moment Nicholas shared with him was stolen, he cherished those times, all the same.

“So the legends say,” he replied. Bash sheathed his weapon on his belt, and Nicholas did the same, slipping the heavy sword into the leather keeper crossed over his back. He liked the way it felt, as if it were part of him and something greater, as if he could glean a bit of the honor of the ancestor who crafted it. “I’m sure my grandfather never imagined his weapon would be used to kill immortals one day.”

Bash made a low chuckle. “I’m sure he didn’t,” Bash agreed. They left the lawn and walked toward the mansion, finding the gravel path that led to the garden. Crushed gravel crunched beneath their feet, punctuating the evening air. “Well, he left you a useful gift. Killing an immortal isn’t easy, but a good weapon sure comes in handy.”

Nicholas nodded, letting out a slow breath. With the talk of ending immortals, there was a question lingering in his thoughts, one he could not seek answers to from his uncle or Sophia. Nothing was off limits with Bash, however. The young Guard was eager to please, and glad to share any knowledge he had. Although they trained that afternoon in order to prepare for an attack by immortal mercenaries, it was another type of immortal death Nicholas wondered about.

“Ronan told me they offered you immortality,” Nicholas said, his tone careful. “Is that what you want?”

“Of course I do. I’ve earned it. I will be an asset to our kind. I worked my entire life to get to this moment,” Bash immediately replied. His response was quick, almost mechanical, and Nicholas wondered if it was a speech he used to justify his commitment to the Keepers.

“Are you afraid of the Madness?”

Sebastian cast him a curious gaze, his head cocked. “No. It won’t happen to me.”

“How are you so sure?” Nicholas asked. If Bash was so certain he would avoid the Madness, then why was it such a risk for Sophia?

“Because after I take the Elixir, Julius will give me a peaceful mortal death. It will be controlled. I’ll awake as an immortal, and that’s that,” Bash insisted.

“What are you talking about?”

Bash continued, rolling his eyes. “For a Time Walker of such legendary prowess, you don’t know much about the immortal side of our kind, do you?” he quipped.

Nicholas grimaced. Bash had a point. “I know enough to get by,” Nicholas interjected. Bash shook his head, slowing the pace of his gait.

“The Madness is a risk in two situations. One, when there is a traumatic mortal death. That’s why the Keepers make it a controlled thing, they even do it in the medical bay. It’s all very modern, you see,” Bash explained. “When the mortal death is peaceful, the immortal mind stays that way.”

“So why is Sophia convinced she’s at risk if it can be controlled?” Nicholas asked. For a moment he had a surge of hope, that perhaps there was no need to fear if Sophia took the Elixir. Yet seeing the way Bash dropped his shoulders and shook his head took that hope quickly away.

“Because the second risk is if it’s happened to a blood relative. With what happened to Sophia’s mom, I can’t say I blame her for avoiding immortality.”

Nicholas turned away. He ran both hands over his face, gripping his head for a long moment as he stared up at the sky.

“God damn it,” he swore. “We don’t know for sure it will happen, right?”

“No, we don’t. But Nic, she loves you. I’ve known her since we were kids, and when that woman loves, she’s all in. Of course she wants to live, that’s why she goes through all those stupid tests with Julius. But she won’t risk the Madness, and then needing you—or Connor—to end her suffering. It’s just not how she operates. If you don’t know that by now, well…well, maybe you need to step back and let her be. Let her live a mortal life, and you live yours.”

Nicholas flinched. Bash was right.

“I would never hurt her, Bash,” he said.

Bash shrugged. “You’d better not. I have a sword here with your name on it, and I know how to use it.”

The threat was noted, and in all truth, Nicholas respected him for it. He nodded his agreement and turned away from the younger man.

He needed to find Sophia; he needed to make things right.

The study”s heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a sanctuary of knowledge where the past met the present. There, amidst the scent of old parchment and the soft whisper of turning pages, was Sophia. She sat at a grand table scattered with volumes of ancient lore, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Nicholas”s gaze lingered on her for a moment, admiring the steadfast determination that marked her every move—the same determination that had drawn him to her from the very beginning.

His eyes then shifted to the object of her scrutiny—a Bloodstone dagger that lay ominously before her. Its blade was forged from the darkest of metals, inscribed with runes that seemed to writhe and pulse with an otherworldly power. The hilt was inlaid with a bloodstone, crimson as a fresh wound, and it glinted wickedly in the dim light of the room. The gem”s surface was smooth, yet it held depths that seemed almost sentient, as if it harbored secrets of its own.

Nicholas felt a shiver crawl up his spine, a silent alarm that thudded in the back of his mind. He knew well the weight of history that such artifacts carried, each etching a tale of blood and sacrifice—an echo of his own tormented past.

”Remarkable, isn”t it?” Sophia murmured, unaware of Nicholas”s presence. Her fingers hovered over the blade, careful not to touch the sharp edge as she traced the runes with her eyes. ”The craftsmanship... the history.”

Nicholas lingered in the shadowy threshold of the study, a silent observer to the tableau within. Sophia sat ensconced amidst an ocean of scattered tomes, her focus a tempest caught between the words on the page and the earnest voice of Alec.

”Do you think about it, Sophia?,” Alec said, his tone light, ”Going back, I mean? Using the Bloodstone, and the world shifts around you—new sounds, new scents, a different sky above.”

He leaned closer, his hands painting invisible arcs in the air, trying to capture the essence of his reverie. Sophia”s nods were courteous, but her attention drifted, tethered to the weight of the Bloodstone dagger before her. Its presence, a tangible piece of history”s puzzle, seemed to anchor her to the here and now.

“I’d rather not think about it. It was not an easy thing to do,” she murmured, eyes on the book.

”I think about it all the time,” Alec continued, breaking into a whimsical smile. ”Would you go back, Sophia, if you had to?”

Sophia glanced up, her brow furrowing as she weighed the notion against her scholar”s skepticism. ”Alec,” she murmured, ”it isn”t something to be trifled with. It disrupts... everything.”

”But Nicholas has done it. He’s traveled all over the world, like an explorer.” Alec pressed, his eyes alight.

Sophia offered a half-hearted chuckle, the sound echoing strangely against the high shelves. ”Yes, he has,” she agreed, ”but I’m happy here in the present. You will be too, you’ll see. You’ll like it here, you just need a little time to adjust.”

Nicholas felt the moment to intervene unraveling like a thread pulled loose from the fabric of their conversation. He stepped forward, his presence casting a longer shadow across the chamber as he entered the sphere of their discourse.

His gaze sharpened as he watched Sophia, whose focus had shifted back entirely onto the ancient tome splayed open before her. She traced the ornate lettering on its pages, absorbed in the book. Her finger paused over an illustration, a rendering that mirrored the very Bloodstone dagger resting innocuously beside her.

Alec, meanwhile, seemed to drift closer to the edge of some unseen precipice, his whimsy ebbing away. His hand hovered above the table, fingers outstretched toward the weapon as if drawn by an invisible current. The gleam in his eye danced with a dangerous spark, a prelude to the storm Nicholas knew all too well.

With a suddenness that snatched the breath from the room, Alec seized the dagger. The blade sang a discordant note as it sliced across his palm, crimson blooming against the steel. His other hand shot out, aiming to ensnare Sophia”s wrist.

”Come with me, Sophia!” Alec cried out, the air around him starting to shimmer with the stirrings of distorted energy.

Nicholas” instincts roared to life, propelling him forward. He lunged across the room, his movements a blur of desperation. In one swift motion, he caught Alec”s arm mid-air, yanking him backward. The charged atmosphere crackled, the connection fizzling into nothingness under the force of Nicholas” intervention.

”What the hell are you doing?” Nicholas bellowed, pinning his brother”s arm behind him. The dagger clattered to the floor, its runes weeping blood as if mourning the transgression of its wielder.

“Let me go!” Alec screeched, his eyes wild. “Give me the dagger, give it to me!”

Nicholas shook him hard, the glare of pure malice in his brother’s face sending a ripple over the fine hairs on the back of his neck. “No!” he growled. “Stop it, stop this madness!”

Something seemed to snap inside the boy then, like a curtain falling down across his gaze. Alec”s face crumpled, the mask of malevolence melting away to reveal the raw anguish beneath. ”I—I didn”t mean... Please,” he stammered through tears that spilled unchecked down his cheeks. ”I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The boy repeated the phrase over and over, his body losing purchase, and Nic held him as he crumbled in a heap, sobbing. His pleas hung heavy in the air, a lament that echoed the timeless regret Nicholas bore within his own soul.

Sophia recoiled, her breath catching in a jagged gasp. The air still hummed with the remnants of Alec”s aborted magic, and fear glazed her eyes as she stared at the weeping boy before her. The Bloodstone dagger lay deserted on the floor, the insidious gleam of its blade betraying the chaos it could unleash. She edged away from Alec, the terror of what might have been—a forced journey through time—etched into her face.

”I’m taking you to Julius,” Nicholas declared, his voice unsteady. He hardened himself to his brother’s tears, refusing to let the anguish affect what he must do. He did not release Alec”s arm, his grip an iron vise.

Alec”s sobs hitched in his throat as he nodded fervently, his tear-streaked face searching Nicholas”s for absolution. ”Please, Nic, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, his desperation palpable in the thickening tension of the room.

Nicholas held Alec”s gaze, searching for signs of the jovial boy he”d once known, but found only shadows and confusion. He felt Sophia”s presence behind him, her quiet strength a balm to the fear that raged within. He knew he had to protect her from the darkness that had ensnared Alec”s soul.

”I’m sorry, Sophia,” Alec whimpered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own betrayal.

”Stay away from her. We’re leaving,” Nicholas warned, the command leaving no room for dispute.

Nicholas”s mind raced as he measured the gravity of the situation. This was no mere lapse in judgment; the malevolence that had spurred Alec”s actions burned deep. Alec knew exactly what he was doing. It pained Nicholas to see his brother in such turmoil, but the safety of Sophia, and indeed all that they held dear, hinged upon decisive action.

He glanced back at Sophia, her gaze brimming with dampness. There was no question that Alec meant to use the Bloodstone—and he meant to take Sophia with him. Nicholas had no choice.

Nicholas guided Alec through the winding corridors, the chill of the underground facility seeping into his bones. Sophia walked beside them, her face etched with concern, as they descended into the belly of the world hidden beneath the estate. The air grew denser with each step, heavy with the scent of damp stone and the silent whispers of ancient secrets.

”Please, Nicholas,” Alec sobbed, his voice echoing off the walls, ”I don’t want to stay here. I didn”t mean to—I was just—”

“Julius can help you,” Nicholas replied, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. He put a hand on Alec’s shoulder, looking down at this brother. “You’re not thinking straight. I need you to stay here for now so we can figure this out.” He could not afford the luxury of mercy, not when things had gone so terribly wrong.

Alec nodded, eyes wide.

They arrived at the vault-like medical bay, its door a grim sentinel forged of glass and shining stainless steel. Two solemn guards snapped to attention as Nicholas approached, their gazes fixed on Alec with wariness.

”Ensure he is watched at all times. Tend to his needs,” Nicholas instructed, his tone leaving no space for rebuttal. The guards nodded, taking Alec gently but firmly by the arms. As they ushered him inside, Alec”s tears clawed at Nicholas”s resolve, begging for the forgiveness that seemed an ocean away.

Sophia lingered at Nicholas”s side, her own sorrow a silent echo of his. They turned to leave, only to be met by the Connor, flanked closely by Ronan and Julius. Julius, eyes sharp with disapproval, scanned the room, his gaze darting from Alec to Nicholas and then to Sophia’s stricken face in rapt assessment mode. Ronan seemed to absorb it all, taking in a slow, deep breath. He took Sophia’s hand, and Nicholas watched as the ancient empath realized what happened. Ronan looked to Alec, shaking his head sadly, giving Nicholas little comfort in light of what he must do.

“What happened?” Connor asked.

Ronan, who already read it in Sophia’s touch, answered with a low, careful tone. “Alec experienced a break. He tried to use the Bloodstone and take Sophia with him. He cannot be trusted alone right now.”

“Christ,” Connor cursed. “Are you all right? And how the hell did you let that happen, Nicholas?”

”I’m fine,” Sophia insisted. Locking him away like some feral creature won”t solve anything.” Sophia”s voice cut through the tension, her conviction a flame amidst gathering shadows. ”He’s hurting. He needs help, not imprisonment.”

”His mind has been corrupted, Sophia,” Julius countered, his skepticism a sharp blade. ”We must quarantine the threat until we can be certain of his control.”

”Yet, he is still a child in many ways,” Ronan interjected sadly. ”Surveillance is necessary, true, but we must also provide the guidance he requires to grow, to understand his immortality.”

The room became a battleground of ideals, every argument a volley shot with the intent to sway. Nicholas stood at the center, torn between his duty and the shards of his shattered heart. His gaze fell upon Alec, sitting curled up in a ball on the stretcher, arms around his knees. His face, streaked with tears, appeared despondent. His eyes, however, were hollow orbs, an unnatural contrast on the face of a child who seemed so contrite.

”Enough!” Nicholas”s command halted the debate as decisively as a tolling bell. ”Alec needs more than what we can give him in this time.”

”Nicholas—” Sophia began, but her words withered under the finality in his eyes.

“Nicholas is right,” Ronan announced. “Each of us have made the same choice, at one time or another. Aging in a time more like the one he was born to may help the boy.”

Sophia clamped her mouth shut. He wanted to go to her, to explain, as he could see that she already knew what the decision would be, and the disbelief blazed across her face.

Nicholas stood firm, his gaze locked with Sophia”s as the gravity of his decision settled upon the chamber like a suffocating shroud. ”Alec is my responsibility,” he began, his voice low and steady, ”I could not change his death, but I gave him the Elixir and made him immortal. It is now my duty to guide him through this, until he can be trusted to live among us. He needs time.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, words hanging heavy with the inevitability of parting. Sophia”s face blanched, her lips parted in a silent gasp of realization. ”You can”t mean—you”re taking him away?” she whispered, the tremor in her voice betraying the storm raging within.

”It is the right choice,” Julis interceded. ”He requires tutelage that only the past can provide.”

”No!” The word erupted from Sophia, raw and anguished. She recoiled from Nicholas when he moved toward her, her eyes brimming with a betrayal that cut deeper than any blade. Without another word, she turned on her heel and fled the room, the echo of her footsteps a harsh cadence against the stone floors.

”Go,” Connor urged, his voice a baritone command that brooked no argument. ”Make her understand.”

Nicholas hesitated for only a heartbeat before his long strides carried him swiftly through the corridors. The distance between them closed as he rounded the corner, finding Sophia moments before she reached the elevator. His hand slipped around her arm, halting her escape, and he pulled her into his embrace.

”Please, listen,” he implored, his arms encircling her trembling form. ”I know what Alec is going through, trying to become part of this time; it claws at me with every tick of the clock. But I am a man—he is a child. It was a mistake to think he would simply wake up and be normal, in this modern world with his child’s mind. I have to give him a chance, Sophia.”

Sophia”s resistance faltered, her body leaning into his. ”I want him to be happy, and whole. You know I do...” she said quietly.

”Alec needs a brother’s guidance now,” Nicholas breathed against her hair. ”He must learn to accept his new existence, just as I have struggled to find my place within this modern world.”

She looked up at him then, her gaze searching his, seeking the anchor in the storm that was his steadfast presence. ”And what about us, Nicholas?”

Nicholas”s chest tightened, the answer lodged like a stone in his throat. ”You will barely notice I am gone. No matter how long I spend in the past, I will return to you here, in this place, in this time.”

Her breath hitched, the struggle clear in the depths of her eyes. He could see the moment the walls crumbled, the moment trust bloomed anew amidst the ruins of uncertainty. ”Then go,” she whispered, ”and bring Alec home to us, whole and reborn.”

As they lingered in their final embrace, the echoes of history”s call resonated through the chambers of their hearts—an ancient melody that promised reunion amidst the endless dance of time.

The moon, full and silvery, cast a melancholy glow through the sheer curtains of the bedroom. Shadows danced upon the walls as the branches outside swayed gently in the breeze. Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the floor as he fought back the despair thudding deep in his chest. Sophia stood by the window, her delicate hands clasped tightly together, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

”Nicholas,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the soft rustling of leaves outside. ”I know you have to go.”

He looked up at her. ”Yes,” he said, his voice heavy. ”I do.”

Sophia moved towards him. His heart ached as she reached out to touch his face. ”I understand,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of his features, brushing over his cheeks. ”But that doesn”t make this any easier.”

Nicholas caught her hand and pressed it against his lips, inhaling the scent of her skin, committing it to memory. He would carry her with him, a beacon amidst the darkness and chaos of his journey. ”I will come home to you, my love,” he whispered against her palm. ”I will always come home to you.”

Their lips met in a tender, desperate kiss, a mingling of sorrow and longing. Silver light bathed the room in a soft, ethereal glow, casting dancing shadows upon the walls. The delicate sound of their breathing mingled with the whispers of the night as she stood before him, their gazes locked.

”Let me see you,” Nicholas murmured, his voice both tender and urgent. Gently, he began to unbutton the simple ivory blouse that draped her delicate frame. His fingers lingered on each button, savoring the feel of the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. Her skin seemed to shimmer like liquid silver beneath his touch, the fine hairs on her flesh rising to attention.

”Have I told you,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving her face, “how beautiful you are to me?” She blushed at his words, her cheeks flushed with a warmth that spread through him as well. With trembling hands, she reached out to loosen his shirt, pulling it free and dropping it to the floor.

Her fingers traced the lines of his belly, finding their way to the buttons of his trousers. Methodically, she undid the fastening, her touch insistent. He yanked gently at her long skirt, and the layers of clothing fell away, revealing the curves of her body, beckoning him like a siren, making him forget all else.

”Come here,” he replied, his own hands moving to draw her closer, their bare skin meeting in an electrifying embrace.

As their lips met in a slow kiss, he swept her into his arms, placing her on the bed that lay bathed in moonlight. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only them, and they were together.

”Nicholas...please...” Sophia”s plea was barely audible, her voice a breathless whisper against his ear. He traced tender kisses along her collarbone, slowly making his way down her body. She arched up against him with each caress, each whispered word, and he savored every inch of her – committing to memory the taste, the scent, the feel of the woman who had become his world.

He felt the dampness on her cheeks when ecstasy claimed her, and he buried his head against her shoulder.

As they clung to one another, the sounds of their breathing filled the air as they lay entwined, and he held onto to the fleeting moments he had left with her. He traced his fingers gently over her skin, memorizing the curves and contours of her body.

”Promise you’ll come home to me,” she whispered. Her fingers splayed lightly across his chest, as if trying to capture the essence of his being.

He tightened his embrace around her, feeling the heat of her body melding with his own. ”I promise,” he replied, his voice barely audible. He knew the dangers that awaited him, but the thought of losing Sophia was unbearable – a pain far greater than any he had ever known. In that moment, the weight of his decision hung heavily upon him, and he silently vowed to do everything in his power to return to her side.

As morning approached, a soft golden light began to seep through the curtains, heralding the dawn of a new day. He disentangled himself from her slumbering form, his heart heavy with the knowledge that for him, this would be their last morning together for years, perhaps even centuries. For her, he would ensure, it would be only a few months. He had all the time of eternity, yet he was acutely aware she did not, and he would not miss more of her mortal life than necessary.

He studied her peaceful face, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and the way her golden hair fanned out over the pillow like an eagle”s wing.

”I love you,” he murmured, placing a tender kiss upon her forehead. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if trying to imprint the memory of her onto his very soul. Steeling himself against the tide, he pulled away and began to dress in silence.

Before leaving the room, Nicholas took one final look at the woman he loved, knowing that when they next met, he would be a changed man – aged by the trials of another time and the path he would walk with his brother. ”I promise, I will find my way back to you.”

With that, he stepped through the doorway and into the unknown, leaving behind a promise that he would return – no matter the cost.