Chapter 8 #3
He helped with the petticoats, then moved behind me and laced my corset.
Tavish withdrew something wrapped in cloth from his pocket.
Eyeing the cliffs, he pulled some kind of berry-filled pastry from the cloth and took a large bite.
The wind tugged his hair away from his face, exposing his square jaw and rugged profile.
With his size and tattoos, it wasn’t hard to picture him as an invading conqueror.
The pastry kind of ruined it, though.
He swung back around and caught me staring. “Tart?” he asked, extending the pastry in my direction. His teeth marks indented the side. He noticed and hastily shifted the pastry around.
“No, thanks.”
“This way,” Albie said, moving toward the cliffs. We walked for ten minutes, our boots sinking into the sand. Wind plastered my skirts to my legs and sent my hair flying into my mouth. The cliffs rose higher around us, blocking out the sky until we walked in shadow.
Albie paused next to a group of moss-covered boulders. He pulled a small book from inside his jacket and flipped through the pages, squinting at the text.
“The guidebook says there should be a passageway…” He looked around, frowning.
I spun in a slow circle, searching for anything that resembled an opening. But there was nothing but rock and sand. And Tavish, who loomed at my shoulder like he feared I’d shift and bolt toward the sky.
Albie approached the largest boulder. He brushed sand from its surface, revealing smooth stone underneath. He rubbed harder, clearing more sand until—
A rune appeared. Carved deep into the rock, it glowed faintly blue.
“There you are,” Albie murmured. He pressed his palm flat against it.
The rune lit up, blue light spilling from under Albie’s fingers. He lifted his hand, and the glow spread over the boulder. The ground beneath our feet trembled, and Tavish grabbed my arm and tucked me behind him.
With a grinding sound that vibrated my bones, the two largest cliffs shifted apart. As quickly as they started, they stopped, leaving a sliver of space.
“Perfect,” Albie said, starting toward it.
Tavish caught his elbow. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, his narrowed gaze on the gap.
I was with Tavish. The opening looked like a death trap, with cliffs rising hundreds of feet on either side. Wind whistled through it, and the smell of damp stone and something metallic soaked the air.
Albie turned and patted Tavish’s chest. “I know,” he said, “but I’ve studied the texts. This passage has been here for centuries. It’s safe.”
Tavish gave the opening another skeptical look before muttering, “You and your bloody books.”
“My books haven’t led us astray yet,” Albie said.
Tavish straightened Albie’s spectacles. “Except for that one time.”
Albie ducked his head, pink spreading over his cheeks. But when he looked up, his eyes were steady. “I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”
Tavish’s expression softened. He sighed, then chucked Albie under the chin. “All right, love. Lead the way.”
Albie’s smile returned. Eyes bright, he turned to me. “Ready, lass?”
Before I could answer, Tavish grabbed my hand. “You’ll go between us.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Albie leads. You follow.” He winked at me. “I’ll be up your rear.”
I sucked in a startled breath.
“Bring up the rear,” he amended.
Was he really joking right now? “You’re not very funny.”
“You’ll go between us,” he repeated, his blue eyes suddenly serious. “If those cliffs shift, you’ll be crushed. I’m not losing my woman before I’ve even properly claimed you.”
Heat flooded my face. And just as before, more heat rushed to places I didn’t want to think about. Embarrassment followed, and I squared my shoulders. “I’m not your—”
“Between us, Princess.” He gestured to the gap. “Or we don’t go at all.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“It is until you’re capable of stopping me.”
Anger flared hot under my skin. “You’re a—”
“Swine,” he said. “Aye, I ken.” He patted my ass. “Get in the gap, Princess.”
I swung for his face. He caught my wrist before my fist connected. My angry cry echoed off the stone as he jerked me against him.
His chest was a wall of muscle. Heat radiated from him, seeping through my jacket and corset.
It sank straight through my chemise and kissed my skin, tightening my nipples and scalding my bones.
It slid south, streaking to my pussy, which clenched so hard that I bit my cheek to hold in a moan.
Every cell in my body screamed at me to stop fighting and sink into him.
To let him hold me. Claim me. Keep me.
No.
I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron. And worse, I wasn’t sure I wanted to escape. Part of me wanted to press closer, to feel more of his heat, to—
“Easy, lass,” he rumbled. A soft, knowing look gleamed in his blue eyes. He could scent my arousal. He knew exactly what his touch did to me.
He brought his free hand up and stroked his thumb over my jawline.
“I’ve waited a thousand years for you,” he said, his brogue thicker.
“I’d wait ten thousand more, through fire and madness and the death of our kind.
I’d wait until the stars fall from the sky and the seas run dry.
” His eyes held mine, flames dancing in their depths.
“You’re worth waiting for, Princess, even if you’re not ready to accept it yet. ”
I forgot how to breathe. I could only stare, mesmerized by the ancient, powerful beast staring out from his eyes. My mind flashed to the words every dragon knew by heart.
But should a female wander into a dragon pair’s sight, she is theirs to claim…and the lairds of the sky do not relinquish what is theirs.
Tavish released my wrist and stepped back. “Now get in the gap.”
I went, my throat dry and my insides shaking from the searing look he’d given me.
Albie led us, his wide shoulders dislodging pebbles that sifted to our feet. The cliffs pressed close on either side, forcing me to turn sideways. My chest scraped one wall, my back the other. I shuffled forward, the stone cold even through my layers of clothing.
Behind me, Tavish cursed. “Albie, I swear—”
“Keep moving,” Albie called back in a cheerful tone. “You’re doing fine.”
Tavish’s snarl ruffled the hair on my nape.
The gap seemed to stretch forever. My breathing echoed off the stone. Above, the sky was a thin ribbon of blue. If the cliffs crumbled, the three of us could just shift to smoke and escape.
Right?
I clung to that thought even as panic beat a wild rhythm in my chest. But I couldn’t even turn my head.
I could hardly breathe, my corset stays and the cliff walls squeezing me like a tube of toothpaste.
My knuckles scraped stone. Damp seeped through my clothes, and pebbles caught in my hair.
Just when a scream formed in my throat, the walls seemed to ease backward.
The path widened. And the light…dimmed?
I looked up as the cliffs closed over our heads, forming a roof. Change swirled in a blur, and we were suddenly in a cave. Dark walls rose around us. Somewhere, water dripped. But we had space, the three of us shoulder to shoulder in the gloom.
“Fuck,” Tavish muttered, his voice echoing.
“Almost there,” Albie said, taking my hand and tugging me forward. Tavish grabbed my other, his fingers tight around mine. Our footsteps bounced off the walls. The wind was gone, I realized, and the cave continued to grow.
The passage ahead of us twisted, a square of light forming in the distance. Albie walked faster, and the light grew. Golden and warm, it expanded until it filled the air.
We stepped into a meadow.
I stopped, blinking in the sudden brightness. Warm sunshine bathed my face. Wildflowers bloomed in all directions, their colors like gems scattered over gently swaying grass. Birds chirped, and butterflies fluttered in the air.
And a wooden cottage sat in a small clearing, its mullioned windows winking in the sun. Smoke ascended from a stone chimney. A well-tended garden grew along one side.
A ticking sound filled the air.
No, several ticking sounds. I strained, gazing around, because I could have sworn the sound hadn’t been there a second before.
The moment the thought entered my head, the ticking multiplied. Now, dozens of rhythmic, constant ticking sounds pushed against my ears. They overlapped, out of sync and building until my eyes threatened to cross.
“We’re here,” Albie said.
“Great,” Tavish said, sounding anything but pleased.
The cottage’s door swung slowly open. The ticking sounds swelled.
“Come on,” Albie said, leading us forward.
As we neared, a harried, masculine voice drifted through the open door. “Come in! Come in! Time is wasting.”
Albie led me over the threshold. Tavish stayed glued to my back. The ticking grew thunderous. Inside, the cottage was larger than it appeared on the outside, with a high ceiling and walls lined with shelves. Clocks covered every available surface. There were hundreds of them—maybe thousands.
Grandfather clocks with pendulums swinging in hypnotic rhythm.
Cuckoo clocks with tiny birds poised to emerge.
Pocket watches hanging from hooks. Hourglasses of every size, sand trickling in endless streams. Sundials.
Water clocks. Something square and black caught my eye.
I moved toward it, drawn by the flash of what appeared to be a digital screen.
“Is that a—?”
“Welcome, I guess,” a man said, bustling from somewhere. Short and thin, he wore a long velvet coat the color of plums over a leather apron. White hair stood up from his head in all directions. Square, silver glasses perched on the end of his bulbous nose.
“You’re late,” he barked, moving behind a workbench I hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe it hadn’t been there before. I turned back to the iPhone I’d spotted, but it was gone, replaced with a wooden cuckoo clock carved to resemble a Swiss chalet.
“We didn’t have an appointment,” Albie said. When I turned back, he’d approached the workbench.
The man, who could only be the chronomancer, propped his fists on his hips, the two halves of his jacket parting to reveal more of his leather apron. Several pocket watches dangled from chains around his waist.
“Oh, really?” He looked at his wrist, where at least a dozen watches climbed up his forearm. “Could have fooled me.” He dropped his arm. “I’m kidding,” he said deadpan. “I can’t be fooled.”
Albie frowned. “Kidding?” he said, sounding confused.
The chronomancer waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind.” He looked at me suddenly, then pointed. “She gets it. Am I right?”
“Um. Yes?”
A shrill chiming sound made me suck in a breath. To my right, a little wooden bird thrust from an opening in one of the cuckoo clocks. Tavish growled, looking like he contemplated snatching the bird from its perch and crushing it.
“Well?” the chronomancer demanded. “What do you want?”
“I need your help,” I said. “I traveled through standing stones. I belong in 2048, and I need to get back.”
The chronomancer looked me up and down, taking in my jacket and long skirts. “You sure about that?”
“I borrowed these clothes.”
He turned and rummaged through a drawer in a cabinet full of them—and the cabinet most definitely hadn’t been there a second before.
But it filled the wall now, the drawers like a card catalog in a library.
He opened and shut them as if he hunted for something.
The clocks ticked around us, several chiming in a discordant, jangling song.
Albie stepped closer to the workbench with a determined expression on his face. “Portia is—”
“I’m very busy,” the chronomancer said without turning.
Frustration formed a tight knot in my chest. “Please, I need to know if it’s safe to go back through the stones.”
“Yes, yes,” the chronomancer said, still opening and closing drawers. “Everyone wants things they shouldn’t. Time isn’t a river. It’s a web, and a sticky one at that.” He paused, his shoulders lifting. “Or maybe it’s a rapids. Still just as deadly to flies.”
Tavish’s growl drowned the clanging and ticking of the clocks. “I don’t like riddles, witch. Will you help us or not?”
Albie shot Tavish a nervous look.
The chronomancer turned and flung a small, velvet bag onto the workbench, where it landed among gears, tiny screws, and springs the size of a thumbnail. Tied with a golden cord, the bag was the same plum color as the chronomancer’s coat.
“One rule,” the chronomancer said, his gaze suddenly sharp as he focused on me. “Do not try to change the past.”
“What?” I gasped, my mind racing.
“You wanted a spell, yes?”
“Yes,” Albie said.
I put out a forestalling hand. “Wait.”
The chronomancer gestured to the bag. “Take it or leave it. I’ve got shit to do.”
Tavish stepped in front of me. “Watch your tongue,” he told the chronomancer.
I shoved around Tavish. “There’s a spell in that bag?”
The chronomancer looked at me like I’d just said something incredibly stupid. “Do you want to go home or not?”
“Yes! More than anything.”
“Then have at it.” He lifted another warning finger. “But no messing with the past. You start fiddling with things, and large-scale disaster is almost guaranteed. We’ll have a whole Butterfly Effect situation on our hands.”
“A what?” Tavish asked.
The chronomancer jumped, his eyes widening as if he’d just noticed Tavish for the first time. “You’re awfully large.”
“How do I know if I’m messing with the past?” I pressed, my heart pounding.
A clock behind the chronomancer chimed. He yanked a pocket watch from inside his coat. “I knew I was missing something.” Shoving the watch away, he snatched the velvet bag from the workbench and tossed it at me.
I yelped as I caught it.
“I have to go,” he said. “And, listen, I don’t know how many jumps that thing contains. If you mess it up the first time, you might not get many chances to fix it.”
My stomach pitched. “What do you mean by jumps?”
An ear-splitting noise blared, the sound like the old bedside clock Mum bought Malcolm when he kept sleeping through our morning tutoring sessions.
“Gods, I’m late,” the chronomancer said. The alarm rose, the sound piercing my skull. Beside me, Albie winced and clutched at his head.
“Albie?” Tavish said loudly.
The chronomancer hurried toward a doorway that appeared in a gap between wall clocks. “Don’t just stand there,” he called over his shoulder. “Open it!”
Albie doubled over, his glasses slipping as he grabbed his head. The clocks and the cottage began to dissolve. Tavish gave me a frazzled look.
“Open that bag!”
Heart pounding, I fumbled with the string.
Albie cried out.
Finally, I wrenched the bag open.
Something exploded in my face.