Views of his siblings, contented and joined with their mates, shimmered across the surface. His lost brother, Ronan, appeared first upon the looking glass. His brother’s once dark hair now glinted with streaks of gray, and his face was lined with the roadmap of advanced years. His body bent; Ronan limped along an unfamiliar beach arm in arm with his still beautiful wife of many years.
His cursed brother, Latharn, appeared in a strange place filled with strange structures of frightening shapes made of materials he’d never seen. Faolan watched him smile down into the eyes of a tiny woman holding two babies cradled in her arms.
Aveline, the baby, his only sister, danced among the clouds. Her laughter echoed across the sky as she spun, just out of reach of the laughing man trailing just behind her.
What sort of madness had Ciara brought forth with her powers? All the lost members of his family flickered upon the surface of the water. All the people he had loved and mourned when they’d each left him behind, all the ones who had broken his heart and deserted him. Yet by these images, he could see they were all happy, wherever it was they had gone.
Faolan staggered away from the ledge and ran from the memories stirred upon the waters. He blindly searched the surrounding pines, oblivious to everything around him. His thoughts and emotions battered through his being like a storm lashing its way through the trees.
He frowned as he watched the branches whipping about in the wind. The shushing needles of the pines whispered his name. He almost swore he heard his family’s voices; it was as if they traveled to him through the trees across the web of realities.
If the images were true, he was glad they all were happy and at peace. But that didn’t alter the fact that he was still alone. It still didn’t change his reasoning that if he ever opened his heart again, he risked being hurt.
Ciara sat and waited on the ledge. “Faolan.”
Faolan ignored her call.
“Faolan, you saw they are all at peace.”
Faolan remained silent; his face lifted to the rising wind. The woman couldn’t understand the depths of his pain; his family had been his life.
Rising from the stone, Ciara picked her way across the rough ground to where her horse sipped out of the spring. She turned to Faolan, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she bent to scoop up the reins. “Faolan, you can spend what precious little time you have left on this earth bemoaning all you have lost. Waste your allotted time in complete misery. Fritter away your days until death finally comes to end your sorrow and pain.
Or you can honor your loved ones, bid them farewell, and celebrate the peace they have finally found. I advise you to embrace every form of happiness until your short time has passed and it’s time to cross through the Veil. The choice is yours, Faolan: a lifetime dedicated to misery, or a celebration of every opportunity you are given.”
With a flip of her plaid, she then led her horse back to the road where she mounted and rode away.
Faolan just stood upon the stone and stared out into the trees.
ChapterSeven
Salt spray stung her cheeks as the waves crashed against the rocks jutting along the shore. Her body eased, relaxing in the saddle with the sounds of the incoming tide. A shiver rippled across her flesh. The wind’s bite sharpened here in the north. She had forgotten the harshness of the Highland shores, especially during this time of year.
Ciara pulled the hood of her heavy woolen cloak closer about her face and snugged her scarf tighter around her neck. With a heavy sigh, she adjusted her bodice as Alec’s warm little mouse body nestled in a tighter ball between her breasts. Alec had always detested the cold. She had always thought a better form for him would’ve been a lizard somewhere in the tropics.
She waited on her mount as Faolan and his men stood at the door of a weathered croft. Glancing around the grounds, it reminded Ciara of the small dwelling where she had found the ailing boy and his mother from the last village. However, this well sodded home stood even closer to the shore and appeared a bit better kept.
Ciara’s interest was piqued when she noticed Faolan appeared more concerned about whatever went on inside. Peering at the thatched roof, she just made out the faintest curl of smoke as it fought its way from among the woven bundles tightly lashed together.
Ciara wrinkled her nose; she dreaded the smoke-filled interior. Maybe she wouldn’t have to go inside. She’d never relished the choking smoke of the damp peat fires. The roofs of these crofts allowed the smoke of the fires to rise and filter out through the highest point in the thatching. The ceiling of the croft would be sooted black from the smoky fires. Inside the dwelling would be cozy and warm but unpleasant to breathe.
“Then don’t breathe,” Alec squeaked from his warm position between her breasts.
With a hissing whisper down the front of her cloak, Ciara jerked her scarf as she replied, “How many times have I told you to stay out of my mind? And I have to breathe or they’ll catch onto the fact that I am an immortal, you little fool.”
At that point, Faolan returned to her mount, his face white-lipped with desperation. “Do ye know anything about bringing a bairn into the world?”
Ciara caught her lower lip between her teeth, glancing toward the house then back to Faolan’s tensed face. That question coupled with Faolan’s dire expression couldn’t be good. “Isn’t there a midwife nearby we could fetch?”
“There’s nay time. Her husband says her pains have been going on since early yesterday and she canna seem to get any relief. She wouldna let him leave to fetch the midwife. She says she didna want to die alone.”
Ciara stifled a groan. Mortals suffered so when they thrust new life into this world. This did not sound promising at all. Holding out her hands for Faolan to help her down, she risked another glance at the house. “Help me down. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do, but it sounds as though I’ve at least got to try.”
As soon as she ducked her head inside the croft, Ciara’s heart fell. Her eyes locked with the Shadow of Death. The cloaked figure stood in the farthest corner with his arms folded across his chest.
The young mother was right. She hovered near death and more than likely her child would go with her. Ciara frowned hard at the quiet specter but he merely shook his head.
Untying her cloak, she shoved it into Faolan’s hands and knelt beside the woman on the floor. At Ciara’s disapproving scowl, Faolan explained her husband had fixed her a pallet on the floor when she had shrieked that she didn’t want to die in their marriage bed.
