Page 91 of Treachery in the Highlands
"A Dhia," I gasp as the book pulses with blue light, illuminating Joey's face in an ethereal glow.
"Rachel, your eyes---they're glowing," he whispers, awe replacing uncertainty."Like actual blue fire."
I cannot break my concentration to respond, so I merely squeeze his fingers and continue the incantation.The words feel ancient on my tongue, each syllable vibrating with power as the veil between times grows thinner.
"Is it supposed to---" Joey begins, but his words cut off as a sudden gust of wind whips around us, bringing with it the scent of heather and peat smoke---aromas that don't belong in this modern park.The magic is working, pulling elements from my time through to this one.
The book between our palms flares with blinding light, and I hear Joey gasp.The pages flutter wildly.Then suddenly, the commotion snuffs out.
And we are standing in the solar at Dùndubhan.
My parents and the aunts rush to embrace us, smothering us with their excitement and love.
Aye, 'tis good to be home.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Joey
Once everybody stops trying to hug and kiss us, Rachel hands the book to Efrica.Okay, maybe Kieran didn't hug and kiss me---thank God---but I swear his eyes teared up just a little.Yeah, the Big Guy missed me.Ain't that sweet?
Kieran smacks my arm---hard."Joey Finnegan, 'tis good to see you alive and well.I know Rachel would return, but you...well, we assumed the mafia would recapture you and drop your erse into a bottomless pit."
"Gee, thanks for the heartwarming welcome speech."
His smug smile proves he's razzing me.
"I missed that razor-sharp wit," Kieran says, the corner of his mouth quirking upward."'Tis a wonder the mafia didnae kill ye just to silence your tongue."
I rub my arm where he smacked me.For a medieval guy, he's got a modern understanding of how to bruise without breaking bones.
Rachel stands beside her father, the smile on her face and in her eyes proving she's glad to be home.The Highland sun catches her golden-brown hair just right, giving her the aura of a fashion model who belongs on the cover of a "Visit Scotland" brochure---if they had those in the seventeenth century.Yeah, I kinda doubt those exist yet.
"The book, Father," Rachel says, nodding toward Efrica who's turning the ancient tome over in her hands."The timeline has been restored, aye?No more interlopers can force their way into the wrong era?"
"Patience, child."Efrica's fingers trace the Celtic symbols embossed on the leather cover, then she flips the book open.The wrinkles around her eyes deepen as she squints at the text.Efrica mutters wordlessly, not bothering to glance up."Ancient magic doesn't reveal its secrets to those who act hastily."
Rachel sidles closer to me.After everything we've been through---mobsters with guns, witches with grudges, time portals that fling us from one century to another like some demented carnival ride---I don't blame her for wanting reassurance.
I slip my arm around her waist, and she leans into me, fitting perfectly at my side.My brain still short-circuits a little when I remember that this gorgeous, fierce, time-traveling witch actually chose me, Joey Finnegan, former mob errand boy with a talent for getting into trouble.
"Well?"Kieran demands, his patience clearly wearing thin."What does the book say, Efrica?"
His aunt throws him an annoyed glance."The ancient ones didnae write their secrets for impatient warriors who cannae wait two minutes for an answer."
I bite back a laugh.Watching Kieran---all six-foot-something of Highland warrior---get scolded like a schoolboy by his plump, gray-haired aunt never gets old.
"The timeline..."Efrica says, her finger tracing the faded script.Her gaze flickers with something between relief and concern."It has been mostly restored."
"Mostly?"Rachel and I blurt out in unison, our momentary comfort evaporating.
"What does 'mostly' mean?"I ask as I pull Rachel closer to me."Because in my experience, 'mostly fixed' is like saying someone's 'mostly alive' or a bomb is 'mostly disarmed.'It's the kind of qualifier that ruins your whole day."
Efrica rolls her gaze up to mine without lifting her head."The book shows that the major pathways between times have been sealed, but there are...ripples.Wee disturbances where the fabric hasn't fully mended."
"Ripples?"Rachel repeats."Such as when a stone is cast into still water?"
"Aye," Efrica nods, her fingers dancing across the ancient text."The magic recognizes your efforts.The book speaks of warriors who traveled the impossible path and returned victorious."She glances up at us, a hint of pride in her eyes, before bowing her head again to study the yellowed pages."But magic that powerful leave scars."
