“Ye best listen to yer mother, lad,” his father said. “Ye may be grown, but I can still give ye a swift kick in yer arse.”
Gray opened his eyes and nearly choked at the sight of his parents standing arm in arm in front of him. “What is this?” He stumbled to his feet and turned around, railing at the darkness. “What cruel trick have ye played, Nia Sinclair? Have ye not an ounce of compassion?”
“Gray,” his mother called again. “Stop yer caterwauling and listen. Yer father and I are not dead. We both live and breathe just as surely as ye do.”
“I saw ye die ... the first time. And then ... just now, I saw ye disappear. How can ye stand there and tell me ye both live? Is this some wicked cruelty that spirits do for amusement? What witchery is this?” He stumbled sideways, searching for an escape. He had to get free of this infernal darkness.
Alistair MacKenna clapped a broad hand atop Gray’s shoulder and clamped down. Hard. He yanked his son back over to stand in front of Isabeau. “Ye always were a hardheaded lad. Ye get that from yer mother.”
One of Isabeau’s dark brows arched a notch higher than the other. “Ye err, my love. Yer son is just like yerself.”
Gray sucked in a deep breath. Even as ghosts, his parents playfully bantered, as they had in life. He took little comfort in that realization. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the corners of his burning eyes. “If ye swear ye are not dead, then where are ye ... living?” And why, by all the fires of hell, had they allowed him to believe they had suffered such a terrible death? Gray didn’t voice that part. One question at a time.
Alistair rolled his eyes and looked toward where the heavens might be if they weren’t floating in some strange field of darkness. “Talk to the boy, Isabeau. He always seemed to listen to ye better.”
Isabeau stepped forward, took Gray’s hand in hers, and smoothed it against her cheek. “Ye see, my son? Warm flesh. I am no ghostie.”
“How?” It was the only word Gray could force out through the chaos churning through his mind and emotions.
“Yer father joined me in my last leap,” she explained. “Most think the bodies are left behind, but it doesna have to be so. If we are content with our forms, we are permitted to take them with us.”
She really lived? Gray reached out and barely touched the tip of his finger to his mother’s smiling lips. Warm flesh. Aye. She lived. A sudden rush of resentment shoved aside the relief that his parents were truly alive. “Why would the two of ye put me through such suffering? Do ye have any idea or even give a damn about the sorrow ye both caused me?” He turned until he stood nose to nose with his father. “Ye might not give a rat’s arse if yer son suffered, but did ye not give a thought to what all this would put yer clan through?” Gray shoved forward, bumping his father back a step with his chest. “What the hell were ye thinking, man?” Gray bumped his father again. “What the hell were ye thinking with?”
Alistair squared off like a bull about to charge.
“Now, Alistair,” Isabeau said in a soothing tone as she barely touched his shoulder. “Mind yer temper. The boy has been through a great deal.”
Alistair’s face darkened to an enraged shade of purple as he knotted a fist tighter and slammed it with an upward thrust squarely under Gray’s chin.
Gray flew backward through the darkness. He rolled, knees over head, and landed on his stomach.Damn.He rubbed his jaw and blinked hard against the pain. Dead or alive, the old bastard still gave one hell of a punch.
Alistair MacKenna stomped forward until he stood staring down at his son. “I willna have ye disrespecting myself or yer mother. Now, if ye are prepared to listen, we will explain as best we can.” His father spared a quick glance back over his shoulder as he scratched his head. “I’m not so sure I understand it all myself. All I ken for certain is that I am a happier man than I have ever been.”
Gray held up a hand to his father. “Help me stand, old man. This darkness throws me balance.”
Gray’s father chuckled. “Aye. And that punch to yer chin didna do verra much for it either, I’ll wager.”
“Aye,” Gray agreed. His father made a valid point. Still rubbing his jaw, Gray threw the other arm around his father’s shoulders. Alive. The strangling knot in the center of his chest finally loosened and disappeared with the acceptance that what had seemed impossible—wasn’t.
“Ye live.” Gray knelt before his mother.
“Aye, laddie,” Isabeau laughed as she rumpled his hair. “I ken ’tis verra difficult to understand but trust me when I say yer father and I are alive and well. We have traveled to the next place.” Her voice trailed off in a pleased sigh before she continued. “I canna describe the joy we now know. Life is only filled with happiness. There is no hatred or suffering. All we meet coexist with love and respect. Only kindness is known in our land.”
“It sounds truly like heaven,” Gray said. “But why did ye not tell me where ye had gone?”
“Fate must play out its destined course.” Isabeau’s smile faded and her eyes darkened. “If we had warned ye, told ye what truly was, we might have unknowingly altered things yet to take place.”
“Ye are a time runner,” he whispered as the realization hit him. “Why did ye not tell me?”
A sad smile returned to his mother’s face as she leaned against his father. “I never traveled through time again after I met yer father. The gift only passes from mother to daughter, so I saw no point in troubling ye with that knowledge.”
A distant moaning like a slow, steady wind began filling the darkness. Alistair and Isabeau met each other’s gaze, then both turned toward Gray. “We must return now. Our time here grows short.”
Gray grabbed both their arms and pulled himself into their joined embrace. “Will I ever see ye again? Will ye ever be allowed to return?”
“Aye, lad.” Alistair grinned as he clapped Gray on the shoulder. “Dinna worry. Yer mother would not be the happy woman she is if she couldna watch over her son and ken him to be well.”
Isabeau pressed a kiss to Gray’s cheek and smiled up into his eyes. “I promise ye will see us again soon. I swear to ye, we watch over ye at all times.”
