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A force pulls me away from him, trying to rip me from his grip. We clench each other tighter, trying to hold on. One heartbeat. Two. My hands sweat profusely and my fingers slip. I inhale to call out to him, but his fingers slide free and I’m alone. Lost in the whiteness.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Duncan!” I scream.
My throat is sore and raw. Every breath is painful. My voice is muffled by the fog, and no response comes. The cramping pain eases until at last it’s gone.
I wander, directionless, calling for Duncan but getting no response. The white grows brighter when I take the next step. I emerge from the fog onto bright green grass, open blue skies, and a beautiful view on the top edge of a highland cliff.
“Duncan?” I ask, my voice more of a croak than my own.
I’m not where I left him. We were heading into the lowlands, towards Glen Fruin, but I’m back in the Highlands now. I shield my eyes with one hand and turn a slow circle, trying to find my bearings. Off to my left are white awnings.
“Oh no,” I gasp.
Tents. White tents.
I’m back.
I don’t try to hold back my tears as a fresh, raw pain explodes in my chest. It’s not physical so much as emotional. I’m back in my time. Back where I started.
“Was it a dream?” I sob aloud, but when I take a step forward and the heavy skirts kick out in front of me, I know it wasn’t.
I run my hands over the rough cloth of the skirt Alesoun gave me and cry harder. Did I do enough? Did I save him? Is he…?
No. I can’t even think of it. He had to have lived. Had to. A black spiral of depression opens in my mind, so I move to avoid falling into it.
My friends and colleagues are probably at the tents. They must be worried. God knows what I’m going to have to deal with when I get to them. How long have I been gone? Are the police looking for me?
A shadow passes over the ground in front of me, and I look up. A huge black bird glides overhead. As it passes, it caws and I recognize the cry of the raven.
Great, the Fae must still be keeping an eye on me.
Which means it was real. The clothes I’m wearing should have been proof enough of that, but the raven is further confirmation. A wild storm of thoughts and emotions swirls in my head, fueling the black spiral that would be entirely too easy to give in to. The moment I do, I’ll either be locked away or put on medication to numb it all away.
Exactly as the Fae were talking about. Our modern society is really all about quiet. No matter how much we rant and rave on social media, it’s rare anyone does something and when they do, they’re quickly silenced.
Our lives are spent on screens. Televisions, computers, and the ever-present cell phones. And when we get too far astray, there’s plenty of chemical assistance to balance you out. To keep you calm. Keep you quiet. Keep you from dreaming too much or too loudly.
I had a friend who was an artist. She was a beautiful dreamer, but she was always stressed. Always worried about everything. And when she was put on medication, all her drive to create art was gone. She tried, but she said it didn’t hold her interest anymore. She became an accountant.
As I confront my fears and emotions, I find something I didn’t expect: resolve. I’ve been ripped from my world and thrust into another. A life that on its surface is much harder, but one where the people still dream. They hold true to ancient ways, and they believe. Believe in the Fae and in each other.
A life where I found a man I can love.
Duncan. I see him so clearly in my head. Even just from the memory of him, my body flushes. He could, with a single look, make me feel like the only girl in the world. It was special.
And having found him, having found the love of my life, I’ve been ripped back here. The Fae Queen named me Destroyer. Well, if that’s what it takes, then I’m going to destroy whatever gets in my way. I don’t know how, yet, but I know one thing: I’m getting back to him.
Hitching up my skirt, I stride forward to meet destiny head-on.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It has taken three days of interrogations by both friends and officials to alleviate everyone's concerns about my disappearance.
I excuse my absence by telling them I was lost in the fog. This of course led them to asking about my clothes. I’ve never been much of a liar, but I was creative enough when put on the spot. I told them I found a lady living alone who took care of me until I could find my way back. My story is lame. I know it, they know it, but since no one can prove anything different, they’ve had to accept it. Time travel. Huh. Who knew it would be so difficult? In this place and time, I was missing for three days. It doesn’t matter that I spent weeks with the MacGregors. I guess the old stories are true; time runs differently when the Fae are involved.
An empty ache throbs in my guts as I watch the Highlands roll by outside the van window. The mood is subdued, much quieter than when we arrived. I don’t want to leave, but I know I must.
