"Leave!"
His gaze searching for a
sign of her, he stated, "You brought me here."
"No. No! From whence place
ye came, I care no' to know! Leave. Leave afore ye destroy this
place!"
"Destroy?" Wincing with
pain, Winston stiffly drew himself into a sitting position. "Wha'
do you know o’ the history o’ the Baird land?"
"Go, I tell ye!" she
cried.
Refusing to empathize with
the waves of panic emanating from her, he bit out, "When I'm ready!
Now answer me."
A sharp intake of breath
echoed around him.
"Baird, I want to
know!"
"He came from the Infernal
Empire to be among humans," she said, her tone laced with pain and
fear. "But he couldna tolerate the light. He begot a son wi' a
human female. This son claimed this land, and for centuries, worked
his dark powers wi’in the walls o' his castle. I know no
mair.
"Now leave and never return.
Yer powers be drainin’ me, and I have existed too long to wish to
die now. But leave wi' this warnin’, Winston Ian
Connery."
Her voice grew weaker,
shaky. "Ye selfishly seek me, and in doin’ such have lost yer true
purpose. He waits, while ye wallow in self-pity. Take heart, ma
foolish Scotsmon. Danger closes in on Baird House. Heed the
warnin’s or...."
Her voice drifted off.
Winston was seized with the knowledge that she was indeed dying,
and instantly withdrew into himself. Again he traveled the tunnel
of channelers, but this time he awakened at the dining room table,
two pairs of eyes staring at him as though the couple were in a
state of shock.
Breathing unsteadily,
Winston pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Forgive me. I
need to go to ma room."
Without another word, he ran
into the hall and up the stairs, and didn't stop until he closed
his bedroom door behind him. Labored breaths pumped in and out of
his lungs. His head swam with alarming speed.
He?
Danger?
Had she meant his presence
in the house?
No. The "he" is someone
else. But who?
Staggering across the room,
he sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his face into his
hands.
Ma purpose here? Right. Why
are warnings always so damn cryptic?
Falling back, his arms
winged out across the bed, he blinkingly stared up at the
ceiling.
You're no' shy abou'
telling me ma failings, are you, Baird?
He grimaced. Sighed
deeply.
Oh, we shall meet again,
you and I. And I give you fair warning, ma mysterious waif: I'll
expose you for the womon I know you to be.
* * *
Back in the dining room,
Roan slapped his palm to his brow and rose from his chair.
"Darlin’, this mon is too weird for ma blood." He pushed the chair
into place and collected some of the dishes on the table. "Wha' say
we take the lads ou' and build us a snowmon?"
"Did he go into a trance?"
Laura asked tremulously, her gaze riveted on the chair Winston had
occupied.
"Don't know, don't care. Ma
skin’s crawlin’ and I need a diversion."
"The room turned so cold
when he—"
"Darlin’," Roan groaned,
"let it be."
"He was like a statue. .
.just sitting there. . .his eyes so vacant."
Roan grunted in
dismissal.
Laura stood and uneasily
looked about the room. "I keep thinking about that Phantom guy
hanging around here." She shivered and hugged herself. "I know it
sounds awful, but I'm glad he's dead."
Leaning over, Roan planted a
quick kiss on her cool, pale cheek. "A snowmon will cheer you up,
love."
Nodding absently, she began
to help Roan clear the table.
They managed to put away the
leftovers and do the dishes without bringing up the unnerving
incident again. Laura, drying her hands with a dish towel, told
Roan she'd go ahead and get the boys dressed for the outdoors. Roan
remained behind, drying the last of the silverware. When he was
done he hung the towel on a hook to the right of the deep sink,
then braced his hands against its edge and dipped his head below
his shoulders.
Despite his every attempt to
will away the unease gnawing at him, he couldn't get past it. He
straightened away from the sink. Holding out his hands, he
His gaze searching for a
sign of her, he stated, "You brought me here."
"No. No! From whence place
ye came, I care no' to know! Leave. Leave afore ye destroy this
place!"
"Destroy?" Wincing with
pain, Winston stiffly drew himself into a sitting position. "Wha'
do you know o’ the history o’ the Baird land?"
"Go, I tell ye!" she
cried.
Refusing to empathize with
the waves of panic emanating from her, he bit out, "When I'm ready!
Now answer me."
A sharp intake of breath
echoed around him.
"Baird, I want to
know!"
"He came from the Infernal
Empire to be among humans," she said, her tone laced with pain and
fear. "But he couldna tolerate the light. He begot a son wi' a
human female. This son claimed this land, and for centuries, worked
his dark powers wi’in the walls o' his castle. I know no
mair.
"Now leave and never return.
Yer powers be drainin’ me, and I have existed too long to wish to
die now. But leave wi' this warnin’, Winston Ian
Connery."
Her voice grew weaker,
shaky. "Ye selfishly seek me, and in doin’ such have lost yer true
purpose. He waits, while ye wallow in self-pity. Take heart, ma
foolish Scotsmon. Danger closes in on Baird House. Heed the
warnin’s or...."
Her voice drifted off.
Winston was seized with the knowledge that she was indeed dying,
and instantly withdrew into himself. Again he traveled the tunnel
of channelers, but this time he awakened at the dining room table,
two pairs of eyes staring at him as though the couple were in a
state of shock.
Breathing unsteadily,
Winston pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. "Forgive me. I
need to go to ma room."
Without another word, he ran
into the hall and up the stairs, and didn't stop until he closed
his bedroom door behind him. Labored breaths pumped in and out of
his lungs. His head swam with alarming speed.
He?
Danger?
Had she meant his presence
in the house?
No. The "he" is someone
else. But who?
Staggering across the room,
he sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his face into his
hands.
Ma purpose here? Right. Why
are warnings always so damn cryptic?
Falling back, his arms
winged out across the bed, he blinkingly stared up at the
ceiling.
You're no' shy abou'
telling me ma failings, are you, Baird?
He grimaced. Sighed
deeply.
Oh, we shall meet again,
you and I. And I give you fair warning, ma mysterious waif: I'll
expose you for the womon I know you to be.
* * *
Back in the dining room,
Roan slapped his palm to his brow and rose from his chair.
"Darlin’, this mon is too weird for ma blood." He pushed the chair
into place and collected some of the dishes on the table. "Wha' say
we take the lads ou' and build us a snowmon?"
"Did he go into a trance?"
Laura asked tremulously, her gaze riveted on the chair Winston had
occupied.
"Don't know, don't care. Ma
skin’s crawlin’ and I need a diversion."
"The room turned so cold
when he—"
"Darlin’," Roan groaned,
"let it be."
"He was like a statue. .
.just sitting there. . .his eyes so vacant."
Roan grunted in
dismissal.
Laura stood and uneasily
looked about the room. "I keep thinking about that Phantom guy
hanging around here." She shivered and hugged herself. "I know it
sounds awful, but I'm glad he's dead."
Leaning over, Roan planted a
quick kiss on her cool, pale cheek. "A snowmon will cheer you up,
love."
Nodding absently, she began
to help Roan clear the table.
They managed to put away the
leftovers and do the dishes without bringing up the unnerving
incident again. Laura, drying her hands with a dish towel, told
Roan she'd go ahead and get the boys dressed for the outdoors. Roan
remained behind, drying the last of the silverware. When he was
done he hung the towel on a hook to the right of the deep sink,
then braced his hands against its edge and dipped his head below
his shoulders.
Despite his every attempt to
will away the unease gnawing at him, he couldn't get past it. He
straightened away from the sink. Holding out his hands, he
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