Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Dunstaffnage, Present day

John looked over at the Fae Fable Book. Mere days ago, he saw it in the past, almost new. The book, older in the future, made the time between John leaving and arriving back seem even longer. The glass case was gone, and he touched and read from the book at leisure. He supposed Morrigan wanted it that way, so he stayed a willing participant. He skimmed the pages until he got to the Stone of Fear fable.

"Here it is. God, Da."

John read aloud so everyone in the room heard.

The father faced the devil, and his son's love strengthened him. The devil perceived the man's love for his son and turned his destruction upon his son's true love. The father's fears grew, and he called upon God's help. God asked, "Do ye believe in me?"

The father yelled, "Yes!" and the cross from his vision appeared in his hands. For his fear of losing his son became great, the father prayed harder than before. The Stone of Fear glowed purple, and the father cast his fear out through the stone. But the devil hadn't finished. He thrust the fear back toward the son's true love to kill her. The man covered his son and his love with faith and love. The man destroyed the devil, thus sending him back to hell, but he suffered a death wound.

As the man lay dying, he realized he had gained the love and respect of his son. The father became content to die in exchange for his son and the son's true love's life. He told his son as much and died peacefully, knowing he spent eternity with his true love, his wife. He felt blessed to have his true love and such a dutiful son.

The father thanked God, for our best blessings are often the least appreciated.

The room remained silent as John whispered, "God, Da, I hope this is worth it."

John stood over the book. He blinked, and the glass casing reappeared. John took a deep breath, then another. He turned and faced the room's occupants.

Colin leaned against his desk, arms and feet crossed in his all too familiar stance as he regarded his wife. His wife, Bree, sat in a chair before the desk and looked at John with tears. Marie, his true love, sat next to Bree. His gaze fell on Marie, and a tear rolled down her cheek, but she smiled.

John took a deep breath. "The last thing he said to me was he loved me. God, I miss him. 'Tis been hard to find them both and then lose them again."

John turned and stared out the window. Memories of his parents echoed. His mother looked happy and smiled with his da in the past. The extra time his da bargained for—was it worth it?

His gaze focused on the window's reflection and the room's occupants reflected in the glass. His eyes roamed over each one, and he observed their expressions clear as the day before him. Colin was composed as he watched his wife. Bree held Marie's hand and patted it as she whispered to her good friend. Marie. His gaze finally settled on her. Her eyes connected with his, and another tear trailed down her cheek.

Colin approached John and patted him on the back. "It was how he wanted it, John. I can understand the love a father has for his children. Aye, ye would do anything for them."

John nodded in silence. Bree handed Marie a tissue and hugged her. As she stood, she nodded at Colin toward the door.

Bree whispered to Marie, "If you need anything, just ask."

Colin cleared his throat. "Aye, well, Bree and I must check on the hellions."

Bree rolled her eyes. "Your children, and you love them."

She took Colin's arm, but he stopped at the door. "Ye both know we love ye and will be here if ye need anything."

When neither responded, she and Colin left the room and closed the door softly. The click announced he and Marie were alone.

****

Marie rolled the tissue in her hand as she stared at the reflection of John in the window. His expression did not indicate his inner emotions, only a stoic glare. They returned to the present a couple of days ago—the time from her rescue at the priory to Dunstaffnage and the trip through the portal, a blur. She knew the experience continued as turmoil for John.

He gathered his parents' bodies and worked with Laird MacDougall in the fifteenth century on arranging funerals and burials. John insisted they stay until the end of the memorial service. Marie never questioned his choice. John needed a last moment with his parents.

Laird MacDougall wouldn't permit them to remain in the same room because she and John hadn't wed. They spent little time together as John prepared for his parents' funeral. What time they spent together, he hadn't brought up the subject of his proposal or his desire to wed since the night he proposed, the night before the priest kidnapped her. That night seemed so long ago to her, and Marie wasn't sure if he had changed his mind. John's father saved her life by sacrificing himself. Did John hold resentment against her? If he did, she wasn't sure she could handle it.

Marie stood and took a deep breath. She stared at John's back, broad and firm, as he gazed out the window. Her gaze traveled over him as she took in each detail. The light shone on his warm brown hair. It was lighter than usual. His powerful legs stood braced apart. His stance looked firm as if he carried the world of Dunstaffnage on his shoulders. Her gaze traveled to his hands at his sides as they clenched and unclenched, the only movement about him. She wanted to say so much, thank him for his father's sacrifice. Express gratitude since he risked his life when he traveled in time to find her, save her, and bring her home safely. To tell him she loved him with all her heart. She remained ready to wed him and start a new life together—the two of them together to conquer the world. Yet as she stood there, everything paled in comparison. He had lost his parents, and he needed more time. Maybe time alone wouldn't be enough. Perhaps she had lost him and, with that, a bit of herself.

She sighed and turned toward the door, quietly opened it, then paused as she glanced at John. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she turned and left the man she loved with all her heart.

****

Much later in the night, Colin held Bree in his arms. The tang of a fresh, loved woman floated through the air, making Colin feel satiated.

Bree stirred in his arms and mumbled a little.

Colin whispered in her ear, "Mo chridhe, what is it?"

Bree shifted and sighed. "Nothing, dear. Go to sleep."

Colin smiled into the darkness. He knew his wee Bree better than that.

He flipped her over, so he stared into her eyes, glossy orbs in the darkness. "If ye don't tell me, I will torture it out of ye." He kissed her, but she didn't return the kiss.

Colin pulled back and brushed a curl away from her face. "Bree, what is troubling ye?" She sighed, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Colin brushed it away with his thumb and kissed the wet spot.

Bree took a breath, and it hitched. "I don't know what is wrong. Only something has bothered me since John and Marie's return."

Colin rolled to his back and pulled Bree to his side so her head lay on his chest. "Try to tell me. Ye'd be surprised what I can understand these days."

She blew out a laugh, but it came as more of a huff. "A feeling of doom. I sense evil has returned, or doom is upon us."

Colin hugged her tightly. "Now, Bree, nothing has happened, and their return signals the return of a stone. The Fae should be happy."

Bree sighed, "I know, and yes, finding the Stone of Fear is good. But I can't shake the feeling we head toward disaster."

Colin kissed her forehead. "'Tis likely the fact they haven't returned that damn stone yet. Anytime I get near it, my greatest fears surface. John says the same. Once we return it to the chapel, all will be well."

Bree nodded. "I know. Marie wanted to study and record the cross, since we aren't sure if the cross will disappear with the Stone of Fear." She shivered, and he hugged her closer as she whispered, "It still bothers me."

Colin yawned and mumbled as his wife carried on with her commentary.

She often rambled about her work, and Colin loved her for it, but tonight he felt tired.

"The cross and the remaining stone are a mystery. One Marie believes she needs to solve. I told her I feared there was more to it than that." She lay silent momentarily, and Colin hoped she drifted off to sleep.

Bree jolted in the bed.

Colin sat up and pulled her into his embrace.

She patted his arm. "It's okay, Colin. Go back to sleep."

He grumbled and kissed her as he lay down.

Bree whispered in his ear, "Colin?"

He mumbled a half-asleep reply. "Um, mm."

"Colin, I want you to keep the broach, the Brooch of Lorne. I want you to keep it with you wherever you go."

Colin's eyes snapped open; he remained wide awake now. The Brooch of Lorne remained a MacDougall trinket lost after the Battle of Dalrigh in thirteen hundred and six. John of Argyll, chief of the Clan MacDougall, ambushed Robert the Bruce of Scotland, where he ripped Bruce's cloak off and kept the brooch for the family. Colin recalled the story well, and the family believed they had lost the pin until Marie dug it up a few weeks ago. Designed to carry two magic stones, one atop another, they claimed the pin held powers. The base stone setting was shaped like a heart, and the top showed an oval.

Colin's heart dropped. "Why would I be needing the brooch, Bree?"

She sighed, "A feeling I have. You must keep it nearby. Promise me."

Colin's brow frowned. "Aye, if keeping one of yer old things will make ye happy. Aye, I promise." He tried to make light of her worry, but her request sent chills though him.

Bree sighed and curled up in his arms. But the sense of doom didn't leave Colin.