“Cian,” he bellowed, rushing toward the light.
He ran past a dazed Mrs. Dawson and gawking children as the light swirled in every color of the rainbow.
Outside, the wind had kicked up, sending leaves to the ground.
Simon felt the presence of his family behind him as the wind settled and a lone woman stood in the center of light.
She turned to him and his heart skipped a beat.
Helen.
He didn’t take a breath until she was locked in his arms, her body flush with his. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
“Not dreaming,” she mumbled. Her arms held him tight.
“I thought I’d lost you.” He shifted back long enough to stare deep in her eyes. That was when he noticed her face.
Everything inside him turned stone cold. “Who did this?”
She stiffened. “I’m okay.”
“Who?” He’d kill the person responsible for marring her face. Simon brought a finger up to the purpling bruise under her eye and cringed when she winced under his soft touch.
“Calm down.”
“Do not tell me to calm. Tell me who dared to touch you, lass.”
Helen grasped hold of his hand. “Not until you swear to wait to do anything. Ian told me you’d kill him.”
“Aye, Ian would be right.”
“Ian also agreed that we need Ph…we need the man who did this to take back to your time. To stop the war.”
Simon blinked the red from his eyes and focused on Helen’s swollen lips. He could see the harsh lines on her skin where someone had bound her. What else had she suffered?
Simon placed his lips on her temple, wishing he could heal her with a kiss. Though he felt nothing but tenderness for the woman in his arms, inside his body rage ruled. “Who, Helen?’
“Ian and I both believe that Philip’s brother Malcolm has somehow gotten a hold of one of the stones. We think he’s the one in your time raging war. We need to capture Philip and drag him to the sixteenth century.”
“Philip did this?”
Helen’s lower lip trembled, her gaze met his. “We need him alive, Simon.”
He had his answer.
Every nerve in his body shimmered in the need to shift…shift into anything, any animal that could take him to the man who’d touched his woman.
“We’ll find him. No one wants him tied and quartered more than me. But we do this right.”
He wanted to argue, but needed Helen to elaborate on where Philip might be hiding. Simon had already cased the man’s home and office and found nothing.
Simon tightened his jaw.
Helen relaxed in his arms, slumped into him really. He kept her from falling and placed a possessive arm around her waist.
He’d honor Ian’s request.
Philip would return to the sixteenth century alive.
Barely alive.
* * * *
Unlike any time before, Simon sat in the circle with the women. The flickering of light cast from the glow of candles shot their silhouettes on the walls. His palms itched with inactivity. It took his mother over an hour to come up with the right words in hopes of finding Philip before he had the chance of running too far.
“Are we ready,” Lizzy asked.
“Yes,” Simon barked.
Helen shot him a stern look.
“Let’s hurry this along.” Myra rubbed her protruding belly. “The baby’s active tonight.”
“You’re not in labor, are you?”
Myra shook her head. “Heavens no. Simply tired.”
Lizzy and Amber sighed.
Simon’s gaze fell to Myra’s stomach and without thought, his gaze moved to Helen’s thin waist. Is she carrying my child? It was too soon to tell.
Helen reached for his hand and his gaze traveled to her once battered face.
His stomach twisted and his grip tightened.
“I’m okay.”
So she said. Cian may have healed her wounds, but there was still a haunting behind her eyes.
“Let’s begin,” Amber said.
Simon captured Amber’s hand and waited for the others to join. Amber’s fingers twitched in his and he saw her eyes flitter between Helen and him. Her lips turned up briefly, before her attention moved to his mom.
Cian stood beyond the circle observing along with Mrs. Dawson. The furniture in the living room had been swept aside and candles sat in a circle around them. One solitary candle sat in the center for them to focus on.
Once Myra grasped Lizzy’s hand, the flames around them grew an inch. Even without words, the power crackled in the air above them.
“Picture Philip in your head as we search,” Lizzy instructed. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Aye.”
Simon brought up Philip’s image in his mind and rested his gaze on the flame.
“In this day and in this hour, we ask the Ancients for this power. Help us find our enemy, wherever he’s gone wherever he may be.”
The flames around them rose, the center one by a foot. Soon the center flame balled into a sphere and in it, the image of Mrs. Dawson’s home appeared. For a brief moment, Simon didn’t think the image would change, making him think that Philip was nearby. Then the picture shifted and rose before it headed east away from the setting sun. The lights of the city drifted behind and the cactus trees of the desert dotted the landscape.
They started to levitate off the floor.
“Do you know where this is?” Simon asked Helen.
“Could be anywhere.”
The image weaved over and around the hills until it came upon a rocky bluff. All movement in the images stopped.
“It’s too dark.” Amber peered forward.
Movement darted before their eyes.
“Coyote,” Helen murmured.
Simon tilted his chin and closed his eyes. He pictured the coyote hunting in the dark with nocturnal vision. Come back into view, he coaxed the animal with his head.
“There it is again.”
“Simon, can you reach it?” Lizzy asked.
He felt the cold of night nipping at his nose and felt the familiar heartbeat of a wild dog. “Yes.”
“Reach what?” Helen asked.
Let me in. Simon spoke to the animal through the connection the Ancients had given them while Lizzy explained to Helen what he was doing.
“Simon can speak to animals, see through them. He’s had to do this once before in a circle. If he can get into its head, maybe we can find out where it is.”
As his mother finished speaking, Simon felt the animal’s will move aside and his own jump in. Simon shook his head and opened the coyote’s eyes. The world spun in muted black, white, and grey but the images were sharp. He picked up the scent of oil and campfires. Simon turned the animal around in search of light. His gaze landed on a lone car sitting in an unoccupied campground.