daughter of Grand Master Maximillian,” George said, “and his wife, the sorceress Ellyn. Rebeka has the powers of both her parents even though they are dormant. Born in your century, she spent a long time in mine. When the time came for her to return to you, something went very wrong. A descendant of yours, Emily Parsons, put the pieces together and before her death charged me to locate her. I searched for years to find her. Maximillian hid her well. When I located her at last, I realized she had no memory of the past. Her father took great pains to keep her hidden from Bran.”
“Yes, that was my finding as well.” George was telling the truth.
“I’ll do all I can to help you both return to your time. But you can’t take her back now, without her memory.” Arik bristled at being denied. He needed time to think.
No memory of him? He brushed the idea away. Their feelings for each other were deep. Once she saw him she would remember.
They came to the bottom of the tower steps. Seeing nothing amiss, he hurried along the hallway. “Have you…touched her mind to find why she can’t remember?” George said nothing. Arik stopped and gave George one of his tell-me-right-now-or-else looks. George’s hesitation made him wary.
“Touching minds in this century can have deadly effects.” George’s words hit him hard—not because of the spoken danger but at what other magick would not function here. “We’ve learned to keep our minds guarded all the time.” The quicker he got her away from here the better.
“Where is she?” he demanded as he marked a quick pace. George followed a few steps behind.
“She’s in the ballroom.” He stopped abruptly. George slammed into him and lost his grip on Rebeka’s staff, sending it tumbling to the floor.
“What ballroom? I don’t have a ballroom.” The notion never occurred to him that his manor would be changed.
“You do now.” George took the staff from the carpeted hall. “You’ve had one for the last 165 years,” George said.
Curious, and with great caution he peered past the top of the grand staircase at a hallway filled with doors that stood like silent sentinels—a hallway he’d never seen before. He turned back to George and gave him his full attention.
“Your descendants renovated the manor several times in the past four hundred years.” George brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Some things may be familiar to you but others,” he nodded toward the blank doors, “will be very different. I suspect most things will be very different,” he muttered in haste. Arik didn’t plan to be here long enough to take note. It was as simple as a highland border raid. Go in, get his wife and get out.
“I’ll take stock of the improvements later. Tell me where to find this ballroom.” He knew this place. It was his home but now it had a foreign feel, as if he’d never seen it before. He covered his unease by giving George his best intimidating glare.
“Come with me. You’ll see Rebeka.” George stepped to the other side of the staircase and stood in front of a door tucked neatly in an alcove. “Here, in the minstrel gallery above the ballroom,” George said in a conspiratorial tone as he inched the door open a crack. His finger touched his lips for silence before he signaled Arik to enter.
Inside the small room, in the deep shadows, he stood hugging the back wall. Remaining still, he peered out from the small balcony into an almost empty room.
He took a deep breath and amid the musty smell of history he found the scent of lavender and rose—he found Rebeka.
His breath caught at the sight of her standing below him. The ballroom, with its one oversized table, had various documents spread over the floor like giant pieces of a puzzle. Large beveled glass doors bordered the terrace, letting in streams of sunlight that landed in a pool around her.
But Rebeka held his attention.
A quickening beat drummed in his chest and pulsed in his ears. His
“Yes, that was my finding as well.” George was telling the truth.
“I’ll do all I can to help you both return to your time. But you can’t take her back now, without her memory.” Arik bristled at being denied. He needed time to think.
No memory of him? He brushed the idea away. Their feelings for each other were deep. Once she saw him she would remember.
They came to the bottom of the tower steps. Seeing nothing amiss, he hurried along the hallway. “Have you…touched her mind to find why she can’t remember?” George said nothing. Arik stopped and gave George one of his tell-me-right-now-or-else looks. George’s hesitation made him wary.
“Touching minds in this century can have deadly effects.” George’s words hit him hard—not because of the spoken danger but at what other magick would not function here. “We’ve learned to keep our minds guarded all the time.” The quicker he got her away from here the better.
“Where is she?” he demanded as he marked a quick pace. George followed a few steps behind.
“She’s in the ballroom.” He stopped abruptly. George slammed into him and lost his grip on Rebeka’s staff, sending it tumbling to the floor.
“What ballroom? I don’t have a ballroom.” The notion never occurred to him that his manor would be changed.
“You do now.” George took the staff from the carpeted hall. “You’ve had one for the last 165 years,” George said.
Curious, and with great caution he peered past the top of the grand staircase at a hallway filled with doors that stood like silent sentinels—a hallway he’d never seen before. He turned back to George and gave him his full attention.
“Your descendants renovated the manor several times in the past four hundred years.” George brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Some things may be familiar to you but others,” he nodded toward the blank doors, “will be very different. I suspect most things will be very different,” he muttered in haste. Arik didn’t plan to be here long enough to take note. It was as simple as a highland border raid. Go in, get his wife and get out.
“I’ll take stock of the improvements later. Tell me where to find this ballroom.” He knew this place. It was his home but now it had a foreign feel, as if he’d never seen it before. He covered his unease by giving George his best intimidating glare.
“Come with me. You’ll see Rebeka.” George stepped to the other side of the staircase and stood in front of a door tucked neatly in an alcove. “Here, in the minstrel gallery above the ballroom,” George said in a conspiratorial tone as he inched the door open a crack. His finger touched his lips for silence before he signaled Arik to enter.
Inside the small room, in the deep shadows, he stood hugging the back wall. Remaining still, he peered out from the small balcony into an almost empty room.
He took a deep breath and amid the musty smell of history he found the scent of lavender and rose—he found Rebeka.
His breath caught at the sight of her standing below him. The ballroom, with its one oversized table, had various documents spread over the floor like giant pieces of a puzzle. Large beveled glass doors bordered the terrace, letting in streams of sunlight that landed in a pool around her.
But Rebeka held his attention.
A quickening beat drummed in his chest and pulsed in his ears. His
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