Time of a Highlander (Arch Through Time, #12) Page 3

  “Can’t get the equipment these days can you?” she said brightly, holding up the broken chisel.

  She got no reply other than a hard stare and was glad to duck inside the tool shed away from their hostile expressions. She found the interior of the tool shed as meticulously tidy as her father’s. A host of equipment hung in neat racks, all made from copper or bronze with not a hint of iron or steel anywhere.

  Georgie put the broken chisel into a bin set aside for that purpose and took down another from a rack on the wall, logging it on the sheet on the clipboard.

  Let’s hope this one lasts the day, she thought. She was eager to get back to work, finish this contract and get out of here. The whole set up had begun to make her feel decidedly uneasy.

  She turned to leave but paused with her hand on the door as something in the corner of the shed caught her eye. A wooden cabinet had been left slightly ajar and the afternoon sun caught the gleam of a gray metal inside.

  Iron! Georgie thought. Maybe Adaira does have some proper tools after all!

  If she could get hold of a proper chisel, it would make her job a whole lot easier. She crossed over to the cabinet, pulled open the door—and froze. A chill swept down her spine.

  The cabinet was not full of tools. It was full of guns.

  Georgie stared, unable to quite comprehend what she was seeing. What the hell were they doing here? Guns of this nature were illegal in Scotland – you even needed a license to own a rifle—so where had Adaira gotten them all from? And, more to the point, what was she planning on using them for?

  Her heartbeat quickened. She glanced around to check nobody had seen her then quietly closed the cabinet and edged towards the door. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, to get as far away from Adaira Campbell and this site as she could.

  But she’d almost completed the contract and they needed the money so badly. Without it, they might very well go under.

  One more stone, she said to herself. Just finish the keystone and get the money. Don’t even stay tonight. You could be on your way home by this evening.

  Clasping the chisel to her chest, she fled back to her workshop.

  She’d never worked so fast. Bending over the carving, she chipped and shaped with a reckless abandon that sent bits of stone flying off in all directions and clouds of dust billowing into the air. If her father could see her, he’d be appalled. There’s never an excuse for shoddy craftsmanship, he would say.

  But Georgie was pretty sure this was an exception to that rule.

  She forced herself to concentrate on the work. Forced herself to forget about the cabinet full of guns, the hostile security guards who seemed more like trained soldiers, about Adaira Campbell and her cryptic ramblings about revenge.

  Get it done. Get out.

  Sooner than she’d expected, she finished the last of the shaped edges, added a final decorative Celtic knot to the very center of the keystone, and it was done.

  She exhaled, stepped back and examined her work with a critical eye. It was pretty damned good, even if she had worked with half an eye constantly on the door in case Adaira turned up.

  The keystone which lay on her workbench was an exact replica of the one drawn on the parchment, right down to the smallest details. The size, the shape, the decorative edging, the knot work, the strange rune-like markings that covered it, all were as close to the original as she could make them. Georgie doubted even a computer driven laser would have been able to complete such a detailed replica— which is exactly why Adaira had hired her, of course.

  With a sigh of relief, she pulled off her gloves and tossed them onto the workbench. She glanced through the open door and saw from the position of the sun that it was late afternoon, getting on towards evening. She’d finished the job earlier than expected.

  It’s amazing what motivation can do, she thought wryly. And finding out your boss has a stash of illegal weapons sure counts as motivation.

  She hesitated. Adaira wasn’t expecting the finished piece until later tonight but the sooner Georgie let her know it was finished, the sooner she could collect her pay and leave.

  At this time of day Adaira was almost always in her office. It was a small cabin brought onto the site on the back of a big truck and it sat right at the edge of the site, as far away from the dirt and grime as possible. The usual security people were hanging around, but they didn’t challenge her as she threaded her way through the half-restored walls and doorways, around the pits and trenches, to Adaira’s office.

  The door stood open to allow in some much needed air in the stifling heat. Georgie was just about to knock on the frame to announce her arrival but paused at the sound of Adaira’s voice speaking to somebody on the phone.

  “Are ye losing yer nerve?” she snapped. “Or do ye doubt my ability? No? Good. Remember who’s in charge here. It’s nearly done. That American fool is better than I thought. Better than any I’ve seen. She’ll have it finished by tonight and then we can start the ritual.”

  Georgie bridled, her nostrils flaring in outrage. American fool? How dare she? She almost burst into the office, an angry retort on her lips, but she made herself remain still and leaned closer to listen.

  “Have yer men ready, as many as ye can gather. I have the weapons we’ll need. It’s almost time.” Her voice went low and dark, filled with menace. “I’ll soon avenge my brother.”

  A chill went through Georgie. What was Adaira planning? Nothing good, that was obvious. And she knew that if Adaira discovered Georgie had been listening, it would not go well. Coming over to the office suddenly seemed like a bad idea.

  Turning silently, she padded away from the open door and back through the site to her workshop. Once there she wrestled the stone into a handcart, picked up the handles and pushed it out of the workshop. She was glad it was small enough that she didn’t have to bother getting one of the forklift drivers to move it for her.

  She trundled through the site, past scaffolding holding up crumbling walls, through piles of supplies, round groups of workers and security guards until she finally reached her destination.

  She came to a halt, staring upward. A half-restored arch reared above her. It was the remains of a large doorway, perhaps the main door into the ruined church if its height and width were anything to go by.

  When she’d first arrived there had not been much left of this arch but over the last few weeks, following the designs on Adaira’s parchment, Georgie had been carving the stones to rebuild it. Now it was almost complete. It was shored up with scaffolding and all that remained was the final stone, the one that would sit at the apex of the arch—the one in Georgie’s cart.

  She quickly secured the stone using the ropes from the block and tackle set up for this purpose and hoisted the stone up to the level of the arch before tying it off. Then she huffed up the ladder and came out onto the platform at the top of the scaffolding. The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon and streamers of light shot through the arch, making the stone seem to glimmer.

  Fitting the stone would normally be a two-person job but Georgie wasn’t about to delay by asking someone to help her. Besides, if she was careful she was sure she could manage it.

  Using the levers on the block and tackle, she carefully manoeuvred it into place in the wedge-shaped gap at the top of the arch and then released the ropes. Trepidation made her heart thump. This was it. If she’d miscalculated, even by a millimeter, the stone wouldn’t fit and all her work would have been for nothing.

  But to her relief, the stone slid easily into its slot, leaving only a tiny gap around it which would soon be sorted out with a few short taps from her mallet. Then the keystone would fit snugly against its fellows and the arch would be complete.

  She dug into the pocket of her apron and pulled out her mallet. It had a rubber head, soft enough that it wouldn’t damage the stone but strong enough to exert the force needed. She lifted the mallet, ready to knock the stone into place—

  “Stop!”
<
br />   Georgie jumped at the sudden, sharp command. She looked down to find Adaira Campbell glaring up at her, flanked by several of her security people.

  “What exactly do ye think ye are doing?” Adaira snapped. She seemed furious.

  “What does it look like?” Georgie replied, a little puzzled by this reaction. “Finishing the arch like I’m being paid to do. I told you I’d have it done by tonight.”

  Adaira stared at Georgie for a second then her eyes moved, roving over the completed arch.

  “It’s perfect,” she breathed. “Exactly as I’d hoped.” She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a second but then her gaze snapped back to Georgie. “But I didnae give ye permission to place the stone. I will do that. Come down from the arch. Now.”

  From her tone, she clearly expected to be obeyed. Annoyance flared in Georgie’s stomach. She was getting a little tired of being spoken to like this. She remembered the way Adaira had referred to her on the phone and the anger intensified. An American fool was she? Well, let’s see how foolish she could be!

  She turned away from Adaira, focussed on the arch, and gave the final stone three short taps with her mallet in exactly the right places. There was a grating sound as the stone settled into its final position.

  “There!” Georgie announced. “It’s done. I’m done. So pay me what you owe me and let me get the hell out of here. If you think—”

  A sudden burst of light erupted from the arch, so bright that Georgie threw up her arm to shield her eyes. She heard gasps from below and the sound of footsteps. A moment later the light winked out. Georgie stared at the arch in astonishment. The keystone was glowing, the Celtic knots and strange runes seeming to shimmer as though alive. And she could no longer see through the arch. The space beneath it was distorted, opaque, and shimmered like heat-haze over a fire.

  “That isnae possible!” Adaira cried. “Nobody can open a portal without the proper ritual! How did ye do that?”

  Georgie didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at Adaira. All of her attention was fixed on that rippling curtain beneath the arch. She was unable to look away. She felt drawn to it, like iron filings to a magnet. Dimly she was aware of movement around her as Adaira and her security men approached the scaffolding although none of them tried to climb up.

  With a thumping heart, Georgie found herself stepping closer to the shimmering curtain. Through it she thought she saw images: a castle, a tomb, a ruin sitting high on a hillside. Then she heard voices, distant, as though coming from a long way away.

  “It’s open!”

  “Quick! Get the lord!”

  Slowly, Georgie reached out a hand, halting a fraction short of the heat-haze. She felt a tingling along her skin and a wash of warmth.

  Suddenly Irene MacAskill’s words flared in her memory. A choice is coming yer way. One that will rip everything ye know from under ye. Strange. Why would she think of that now?

  She moved her hand closer until it touched the heat-haze. The tingling increased and with it came a strange sensation. A longing Georgie couldn’t explain overcame her, a deep ache for something she had never found. For something other.

  “Dinna touch it!” Adaira screeched. “Step away from it!”

  Georgie heard a click. She tore her gaze away from the arch and her eyes widened in shock. Adaira Campbell had drawn a gun—and it was pointing right at Georgie.

  The woman’s eyes were filled with a cold fury. “I willnae allow ye to upset my plans, girl. Step away. Now. This is the last chance ye will get.”

  Georgie’s heart thundered. What was this all about? Why was Adaira threatening her? Pulse racing, she glanced around for a means of escape. Adaira’s heavies waited at the base of the scaffolding and would grab her the moment she set foot on the ground. From their hard expressions, she knew it would not go well for her if they did. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

  Only the arch.

  Do ye have that courage? When yer choice comes will ye take it?

  Georgie swallowed. She glanced at Adaira and then back to the shimmering curtain of energy.

  Then, closing her eyes, she jumped from the scaffolding and through the arch.

  Chapter 3

  Georgie expected to hit the ground on the other side. She didn’t. For one, two, three, heartbeats everything went black and she felt a sensation of plummeting through empty space. Her stomach rose, and a scream ripped free of her lips.

  Then it was over. Her feet hit and her knees crumpled at the impact, sending her crashing to the ground. The sudden smell of earth, straw and animals filled her nostrils. She pushed to her hands and knees and shook her head, trying to get her bearings.

  “Don’t just stand there!” snapped a male voice. “Help her up!”

  Hands grabbed her and yanked her to her feet. Georgie blinked and found herself facing two large, bearded men wearing traditional Scottish plaid and with swords strapped to their waists.

  Wait. Swords? There was something strange about that but she couldn’t quite figure out what. Her thoughts were muzzy and muddled.

  One of the men took her arm and turned her so that she faced a third man, who was dressed more richly than the others. He didn’t wear plaid but his clothing was just as strange. He wore a rich velvet tunic and leggings with a fur-trimmed cloak fastened at his shoulders with a silver brooch. He had short gray hair, receding at the temples, and a nose like a hatchet.

  The man’s eyebrows rose and a flash of annoyance flared in his dark eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Georgie began to respond but her words trailed off in shock as her gaze moved beyond the man and she saw that she was standing in some sort of courtyard. A stone arch decorated with exactly the same carvings she’d put into the one she’d made for Adaira Campbell stood behind her and beyond this reared a huge stone castle with banners flying from the turrets.

  What the hell? She staggered and would have fallen if the bearded man hadn’t kept a hard grip on her arm.

  The gray-haired man shook her roughly. “Answer me, woman! What are you doing here? You are not Adaira Campbell! Where is she? Where is my army?”

  Georgie gaped at him, mouth working, but no words coming out. Her thoughts raced at a million miles an hour, swirling in her head. She moved her lips, working up enough saliva to speak, but all she managed was, “What...?”

  “Answer me, curse you!” the man snarled. “Who are you? Where is my damned army!”

  “I...I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” Georgie croaked. “Where am I? What is going on?”

  Her heart began to hammer against her ribs and her breathing was becoming quick and shallow, on the verge of hyperventilating. She must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. This couldn’t be happening. Who were these people? Where was Adaira and the excavation site?

  The gray-haired man peered at her. Then he waved a hand. “Bah! I don’t have time for this. You refuse to answer my questions? Fine! Maybe you’ll feel more cooperative after a few hours in the cells. Guards! Take her away!”

  “Wait!” Georgie cried as the two big men grabbed her arms. “There’s been a mistake! Please tell me where I am!”

  The gray-haired man’s lips curled in a sneer. “In a whole heap of trouble is where.”

  Before she could reply, the guards dragged her away.

  BLAIR SPUN AT THE CREAK of the jail door. He’d been pacing again and now he sprang to the front of his cell as the door screeched open. Finally! Finally that cowardly bastard Charles Beaumont had come to face him!

  But as two guards came in dragging somebody between them, he realized it wasn’t Charles Beaumont at all. They were bringing in a woman, and she looked terrified. Her eyes were wide with fright and she had no color in her face at all. Yet for all that, she was a spirited one.

  “Let me go!” she yelled. “I’ll have the cops down on you for this! You think you can just kidnap me and get away with it? I demand to speak to
the US consulate!”

  She squirmed and fought in the guards’ grip, trying to yank herself free, but Beaumont’s guards were big men and used to handling prisoners. The woman’s efforts made no impression on them at all as they dragged her to the cell opposite Blair’s.

  “I’m not going in there!” she shrieked as she saw what they intended. “Take your damned hands off me!”

  One of the men released her arm so he could unlock the door and the woman took the opportunity to kick him in the shins. He grunted in pain and his face went red with anger.

  “Curse ye!” he growled at her. “Didnae I warn ye to behave yerself?” He raised his fist to strike her.

  “Dinna touch her!” Blair snarled, fingers curled around the bars of his cell. “Are ye so weak ye must resort to striking women? How about ye pick on somebody yer own size? Open this door and I’ll give ye someone to take yer anger out on!”

  The man glanced at Blair. His hand twitched as though he longed to strike the woman but either Blair’s words had penetrated or he’d thought better of mistreating one of the lord’s prisoners. Either way, he lowered his hand and then stalked over to the bars of Blair’s cell. He stopped just out of reach, Blair noted. Wise man.

  The guard’s lip turned up in a sneer. “Still full of yerself, eh, MacAuley? Still an arrogant bastard.” He laughed cruelly. “That will change. I doubt ye’ll wear that arrogant smirk when ye are dangling from the lord’s gibbet.”

  Blair grinned at him. He’d met this man before, when he’d been captured and Blair hadn’t gone down without a fight. “Ye will have to repeat that. I canna understand ye now I’ve knocked so many of yer teeth out. Come closer and I’ll take the rest of them.”

  The man’s face went white. His fists clenched, and he took a step closer.

  “He’s baiting ye!” his colleague snapped. “Hurry up and open the damned door!”

  The guard stared at Blair for a second longer. Blair met the man’s gaze, unblinking. Then the man turned away, unlocked the cell and pushed the woman unceremoniously inside. She fell to her knees on the flagstone floor. The guards locked the door and then turned to leave.