I dressed in the damp skins I’d roughly cleaned the night before. We had agreed it would be best for me to go alone. Velloc didn’t need to have the last image of me to be of my vanishing into thin air.
A short walk back from the copse of trees led me to the structure that housed the box. No guards barred my way. No security seemed necessary when a god served as an interdimensional alarm system, returning the stolen artifact to its rightful owner.
Had it been returned to the rightful owner? Possession had dictated my involvement on every end of each jump. Where the box went, I followed. The nuances of the realization made me remember Iain’s statement back in the professor’s office: I think it found you. Even the apparition had beckoned me to journey to Drust’s village. My calendar had rapidly filled with days where my path followed a custom-made, freshly paved, yellow brick road.
The box hummed with energy more than ever before. I wondered if it had grown in power due to its own travel between dimensions . . . or wherever it had been. A charge filled my body, matching the intensity of the artifact that sparked into the surrounding air.
I took a deep breath and placed my hands on its cool, metallic surface. A warmth spread beneath my hands, but nothing happened. I stood there for several minutes, waiting.
How anticlimactic.
The electricity flowing through everything, including the atmosphere in the room, felt greater than on any other attempt, yet nothing completed the circuit. I drummed my fingers on the lid wondering what I could do to mimic what Iain had done.
In frustration, I circled the pedestal, then went back around again, pacing. Minutes ticked by. Sunlight streamed further into the doorway, sending a shaft of light directly onto the box’s front surface. The sun’s radiant heat warmed my hands, and the box surged. We needed more power. Whatever blocked my easy transfer would only be overcome by a greater force on my end.
I focused. Deep breaths inflated my lungs as I opened myself up to everything around me. Vibrating particles flowed into me from the air, the box, and the sun’s radiation. On an exhale, I forced every ounce of energy I’d collected down onto the box as I touched the surface again.
The familiar orgasmic jolt shot through my body, and the box disappeared.
I blacked out.
CHAPTER Twenty-seven
Brodie Castle—Thirteenth Century
Loud groaning interrupted a deep sleep. Pain behind my temples finished the job, extricating me from the sticky hold of a vivid dream forgotten the moment my dry eyes pried open. A scratchy growl rumbled from my throat as my hand flew up to a throbbing head that acted more like the victim of a hangover than a neutral body part topping my shoulders.
I blinked slow and heavy, willing moisture beneath my lids to focus on the blur above me. Something very wrong had happened. My prone body felt like lead, fused entirely to the floor. A soundless vibration pulsed into the air, quivering every cell in my body.
I shot upright, and my lungs seized.
Iain’s wall hovered so close to me, if I moved my right arm a fraction of an inch, I’d brush against the rippling surface. Fear gripped me as I scrambled away from the so-not-innocent architectural element while staring up at it openmouthed. I thought the enigma had seemed sentient before, but the slab that spanned the entire side of the room had come fully to life.
The sparkling gray stone had transformed into what looked like molten platinum. Slight air-current disturbances made tiny waves undulate like invisible dragonflies had dipped onto a mirrored pond. Points of light that had once pulsed in response to my touch now streamed bright beams across the room, animating dust particles in luminescence.
Unable to overrule my curiosity, I poked a finger at the liquid façade. A membrane resisted my touch, bowing fractionally before giving way. My hand disappeared, and incredible energy flowed into my arm from the connection. Startled, I pulled back.
I jumped to my feet, hyperventilating, disoriented by the shock of electric energy and my unexpected locale. Whoever punched the time-machine coordinates had miscalculated the landing pad, sending me into the thirteenth-century plane nowhere near the box that had always been my portal. The unstable game kept throwing me curve balls.
I felt nauseous. Someone needed to arm travelers with a cure for time-jump sickness or, at the very least, a bag.
For breathing.
Or . . . puking.
With my arms spread wide for balance, I spun in a slow circle, scanning the room for the box, confirming that it hadn’t been moved there. Laser beams from the wall hit every part of my body, across my skin and the deerskin clothing I wore. I felt some residual heat, but only a fraction of the voltage charging through the actual wall itself.
“What are you?” I addressed the light-show maker as if expecting a response. None came.
The wall had clearly been the travel gateway in my recent go-round. Iain held the only knowledge to help me decipher the change in protocol.
I darted through the doorway in search of him. As I moved through the castle toward the front door, queasiness unsettled my stomach. Like a dry-lander on the deck of a ship for the very first time, I shuffled sideways as the floor seemingly swayed beneath my feet.
Everyone seemed unconcerned about, or totally unaware, of my arrival. People in the kitchen carried on with their duties as usual; I passed soldiers finishing a meal in the great hall; the wolfhounds sat at the end of a table, brows raised in anticipation, eyes fixed on their treats for the day.
I burst out the front door into a day so bright, my hand instantly shot over my eyes to shield them. Squinting alleviated only some of the blindness. After several hard blinks in an attempt to adjust to the vision-shocking sun, I lowered my arm. And my jaw dropped with it.
No sun caused the sensitivity, because it had gone missing from the sky. In fact, the blue sky had gone MIA too. No ice-capped mountain panorama framed the landscape. All that appeared above the horizon line beyond the curtain wall was a misty iridescence, ebbing and flowing with atmospheric currents. It looked like a white aura borealis had swallowed the castle whole.
Soldiers trained on the fields, women tended the garden, and a dark-gray plume of smoke still rose from the smithy’s smokestack. The entire clan acted as if the day held no properties different than any other day.
Iain. Brigid. Someone needed to explain what the hell had happened to the world in the week I’d been gone, before I slipped into complete and irrevocable insanity. I glanced skyward, toward a Heaven I hoped still existed somewhere up there.
“Really? Still with the tolerance lesson?”
Determined to get answers to every question I’d restrained for far too long, I charged into the courtyard. Iain stood alone to the far side, overseeing about a dozen of his youngest soldiers training with claymores. He lifted his face and our gazes locked. I closed the distance between us as the anger of a thousand volcanoes threatened to blow.
In a fluid movement, Iain twisted, tossed his sword point down into the soft earth, and strode toward me. Had I not stopped a few feet from him, we would’ve collided.
“How dare you—” I yelled.
“What the hell—” he shouted.
“—keep valuable information from me—” I clipped out.
“—do you think—” he growled.
“—when I have every right to know?” I finished.