At the great hall door, there was a bang.
“They’re here,” Chloe whispered, her emerald eyes wide with fear.
“What do we do?” Brianna asked. “This didn’t work the last time.”
“You said mend the stone,” Evie replied. “How do we do that?”
Another bang on the great hall door. The wood cracked. Nothing happened other than the faint click of the stone. The lines continued to glow. The stone continued to hum.
“Blood magic,” Evie whispered. “We need blood on the stone.”
She squeezed her cut hand into a fist, then held it over the keystone. One drop of blood eked out and dripped onto it. Chloe did the same. It was up to Brianna then. She squeezed her hand into a fist, held it over the stone and watched as the slow trickle of blood dripped onto the stone.
When the last drop of blood landed, the stone hissed. The jagged lines of the stone emitted a bright yellow light. A strange sensation came over her as she peered at the glowing lines of the stone.
Suddenly, the words bubbled up and out of her.
“By our blood, mend this stone. What once was broken is now our own. Bound by magic, sealed in bone. Our destiny written, our power shown.”
As she said the last words, the stone exploded in a blinding light. Evie and Chloe both cried out in pain and released it, stumbling back a step. She clutched the now-whole keystone in her fist. As she did, the great hall door cracked again and splintered.
A man barreled through, holding a glowing great axe in one hand. His face was a menacing mask as his terrible sharp-eyed gaze landed on Brianna. He was a large brute of a man with broad shoulders and a face that was nothing more than a map of wrinkles.
“Seize the lass,” he ordered.
Two men shoved past the leader and grabbed her by her upper arms. She realized, too late, what was happening. Two more men entered the great hall. One with sharp, dreadful blue eyes who immediately pinned Chloe with his nasty gaze. She sucked in a breath when she saw him. The man following him looked familiar. Brianna, clutching the stone in her hand, recognized him as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He was the same man who had chased her across the museum terrace. The same man who tried to steal her piece of the keystone.
This man was John MacDonald from her future.
Her first thought when she saw him washow? How had he managed to come back in time when she was certain she’d left him standing on the terrace.
The second thought was panic skipping through her at the thought they had somehow got past Jamie, Malcolm, and Callum. Where were they? Had they been captured? Or—worse—dead? She didn’t want to even consider they might be dead because that meant all of this was for nothing. Holding the newly mended stone in her hand hadn’t done a damn thing to shift the timeline. She cast a quick glance to her sisters. They huddled together, the same look of worry creasingtheir faces.
John MacDonald walked right up to her, halting in front of her to give her a good once-over. His gaze drifted over her face and down her body in a way that made her want to cover herself. The vibes coming off him told her he was bad news.
“We meet again, lass.” His face split into a smile she didn’t like.
She said nothing, merely gripped the stone in her blood-and-sweat-dampened fist.
“I’m sure ye’re wondering how I got here.” He said it as though it was a pressing topic. As though it was top of mind.
She wasn’t interested. All she was interested in was finding out where Jamie was. Her gaze flickered to the men behind him at the splintered door, but she saw no sign of him.
“Och, he’s alive. Dinnae worry,” he said, watching her intently. He knew she was looking for him.
“Where is he?” she asked, her voice strong and sure. She was proud of herself for that.
Movement caught her attention as the other man approached Chloe. She lifted her chin in defiance as he halted in front of her.
“I told ye I’d see ye again.”
Her sister glared daggers and then spat at him. Her spittle landed on his cheek. Anger flared bright in his face as his fist clenched. He drew back his arm, but John stopped him.
“Leave her, Bruce,” he snapped.
Ah, sothiswas Bruce MacDonald. The one who had followed Chloe through time.
John turned his attention back to Brianna. “Hand over the stone, lass. I ken ye have it. It calls to us.”
