Page 2 of Owen

The guilt was enough to make me feel like I was choking. I’d paced the mouth of the cave nearly enough times to wear a groove in the earth, waiting for them to return. Every minute without them had been a minute closer to my breakdown.

“You can’t go looking for them,” Miles and Gate had warned when I’d decided to go after them. “Not in this storm. You could be killed out there.”

“What of them?” I’d demanded. They might have been killed, too, while the rest of us had waited in comfort and luxury.

“I can’t allow it,” Pierce had decided, standing between me and the world outside.

At that very moment, a towering pine had crashed to the ground and blocked the entrance to the mountain road. As if Mother Nature herself had stood against me.

None of them had understood, and I hoped none of them ever would. The sense of guilt crushing their chest, knowing their stupidity might lead to the deaths of those they were meant to protect. The desperation, the need to do something to help.

I needed to put them behind me for a while, if only while hiking the mountainside. There would still be downed trees in the way, but the skies were clear, and any wind was long gone. I was accustomed to walking the woods in the dark back home, and there was no reason to believe this would be any different.

The storm had passed a day earlier, and from the news reports Isla and Leslie had been watching that evening, it seemed no one was prepared for the force or longevity of the violent wind, rain, and hail. Homes and businesses in the valley were no more. Lives were lost. Flood waters were still receding.

“They weren’t calling for anything half as strong,” Isla had mused aloud. “I don’t understand. Do you think it has to do with us?”

Such a thing was impossible. Then again, our very existence was supposed to be impossible, as well, yet there we were.

Could Isla have a point? Did the storm occur because of our approach? The notion was laughable.

Why, then, was I not laughing? I wasn’t in a laughing mood, I supposed, as I walked the length of the long tunnel which wound its way around the inside of the mountain, the floor slanting so gently that it was easy to forget one was climbing out of a cave.

Then again, the cave itself was equipped well enough to make one forget they were in a cave at all. Even more so than the one I’d spent my entire life in, which I’d had a hand in updating with the latest technology.

Pierce and his group had outdone us. Just another reason for me to feel I was about to crawl out of my skin. Nothing about this trip had left me with anything but a sour taste in my mouth and a pit in my stomach.

Not that we’d flown across the ocean for the sake of a holiday. Not that I’d expected to enjoy myself. We were here to protect the witches, who were here to translate the runes. Nothing more.

Though I’d be doing quite a bit of updating to the security system when we returned home, for certain.

The first breath of fresh air upon stepping out into the dark, damp night was like heaven.

I’d always preferred the out-of-doors, away from recycled air and fluorescent lighting. Filling my lungs, I looked about and found most of the valley at the foot of the mountain chain was dark. They were still without power, poor humans. The generators that kept the cave powered were running smoothly, and praise be for that.

I could almost imagine, looking down at the scant smattering of lights below, that we had stepped well back in time. To a time when the area was sparsely populated, and the dragons lived in greater solitude than during the present day.

We’d lived that way in Scotland, sure enough, but modern times had crowded in, along with enough humans to fill Edinburgh and the surrounding area to bursting. We were still well away from there, but it seemed they crept closer with each passing year. So long as the coven managed to fortify the spells cast on the surrounding wood, we’d be safe.

What of this mountain, however, and this branch of the clan? What was still keeping humans away? I knew they hunted here from time to time, but none of them drew near enough to the peak to pose a threat. At least, not according to Fence, who’d given me the rundown on their patrol habits.

Fence was currently in the sky, somewhere overhead, circling, watching. I couldn’t see him, but I heard the flapping of his wings. It was almost comforting. I’d heard it my entire life, after all.

Over a thousand years.

I hadn’t flown about yet, and, in fact, felt the need to.

The thought of volunteering to patrol had crossed my mind, as I needed something to occupy my mind, and taking flight had always gone a long way toward easing any mental or physical distress I happened to be struggling with.

There was nothing stopping me, now that Dallas had returned. I had nothing holding me in place. I could shift anytime I wished and take flight over the mountain peak, where none below would be able to see me. Just the same as it had always been.

Anything to get away from the guilt. I had almost killed them all. I was the responsible one. None of them appeared to hold it against me, yet there was no telling their private thoughts.

My dragon sensed discord, though. Whether it was of my own creation or no was still up for question.

I looked down the mountain, into the darkness.

And saw a light.

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