That’s it!
Helen turned to Simon. “Do you think his hold on these men will dissolve once Malcolm’s gone?”
“Yes, but—”
She placed a finger on his lips. “Trust me then.”
“Let’s go, Helen.”
“The lass goes nowhere,” Ian yelled.
“Ian,” Helen called out. “Remember the wise words of Elise?” Helen hoped that by saying the name the others would follow along. “...wise woman, visited you some time ago?”
“She can’t help us now, lass.”
Helen glanced at Malcolm, who grew restless.
“I think she’d approve of my sacrifice for your lives.”
Malcolm smiled at that.
Fin started toward them. An arrow shot in front of his horse, stopping him.
Helen raised her hand. “It’s okay.” She grabbed hold of Simon. “He comes with me.”
“No,” Malcolm yelled.
Helen took a deep breath, filled her lungs, and blew it out slowly. “I have no reason to believe you’ll treat me with any respect at the end of our journey. Simon comes or the two of you can go to hell.”
“We’ll just kill her and cut the necklace from her neck,” Philip said.
Well damn, she hadn’t thought of that. It was time for some of her earlier years of bullshit to work. “Nice visual, boss, but it doesn’t work that way.” She fingered the necklace on her neck. “This is branded to me. I’m the only one who can make it work.”
“Is she telling the truth?” Malcolm asked Philip.
“How the f**k am I supposed to know?”
“Simon comes with me.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Simon whispered.
“Yeah. But it’s a risk. No telling what will happen when we land.”
Simon pulled her into his frame, his body molded to hers. “We take the risk together.”
God she was hoping he’d say that. She really didn’t want to land in the wrong time without him by her side. She nodded.
Together they walked hand in hand down the hill.
“Simon?” Fin called.
“It’s okay, Dad. Elise was a wise woman. Have faith.”
“I don’t like it,” Ian grumbled and lightning split the sky, spooking the horse.
“Just take care of these men here,” Simon suggested as they kept walking.
Helen kept her eyes glued to Philip.
Once she could smell the stench of Malcolm’s skin, she stopped.
She reached between the folds of her clothing and removed Simon’s dirk. Malcolm surged forward to grab her arm but Simon intercepted with lightning speed. “Relax. I just need a little blood.” The edge of the knife scraped against her finger.
Philip winced.
“Wussey,” Helen told her ex-boss.
She dripped the blood in a small circle around them, hoping it was enough to move them in time without standing the touch of either man. When she was done, she nodded to Simon who lit the ring. She grasped Simon’s hand and started to chant.
Malcolm shifted from foot to foot with nervous energy.
“In the day and in this hour, I ask the Ancients for this power.” The familiar shift in the air and heat from the rising fire ring started to ground out her voice. Instead of lifting her voice high, she kept it low so only she and Simon could hear. “Let’s go back to the United States,” she lowered her voice even more. “Back to nineteen seventy eight. If the Ancient’s will it so, take us now and let us go.”
The year specified was before Simon or Helen had been born. A time when Philip and Malcolm were only kids.
Helen glanced over to Philip, who watched the swirling vortex surround them. Malcolm was pulling a knife out of his pants, a smug smile on his face.
Weightlessness surrounded them, knocking the other men back. Helen held onto Simon’s side, her eyes never leaving her enemy.
A rush of air emptied from the circle, forcing Philip and Malcolm to the ground.
Everything stopped. Malcolm scrambled to his feet but before he made it far, he grabbed his gut and doubled over. The knife in his hand dropped.
“What the f**k did you do?”
Philip never made it off the ground. He grasped his head and his eyes shed tears of blood.
“I took you b-back,” she stammered, unbelieving of what she saw.
Helen lifted her eyes from the dying men. It was dark, the distant sound of traffic pointed to a road being nearby.
“The canyon,” Simon suggested. The same canyon they’d been in before.
Philip rolled onto his back screaming in pain. His cries penetrated the night. Hair fell from his head in chunks and skin receded from his nails.
“You bitch,” he managed before words were no longer possible.
Before her eyes, Philip’s skin stretched and folded in on itself. The stench of burned skin singed her nose. Both men writhed in place until they couldn’t move. She buried her face into Simon’s shoulder, unable to watch any more.
When the noise stopped, Helen blinked and noticed a small pile of soot. Within seconds, a wind came from the north and blew the ashes of both men all over the cold, desert floor.
The intensity of the day, the month, shook inside her as she trembled in Simon’s arms.
He stroked her hair, whispering calming words in her ear. “We’re okay.”
“I know.”
“He’ll never hurt you again.”
“I know.”
“How did you know they’d die?”
“I didn’t. Not really.” She pulled away and glanced at the ground where the two men had lain only moments before. “Your mom told me about Elise, the Ancient who came to you after Grainna died. She said not to use the stones to go back to a time where you lived before.”
Simon nodded. “She didn’t say we’d die if we do.”
“Your mom said it would be painful for any of us to be in the same time with our younger, or older selves. I thought if we could shift Philip and Malcolm back to a time when they lived, we could disarm them, bring them to justice.” The memory of Philip’s melting flesh swam in her head.
She shivered. “I didn’t know they’d die.”
Drawing her in his arms again, he said. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill them. Mayhap the Ancients decided to serve justice to their old souls, and leave their child souls alone. They’d be children now, if we truly are in nineteen seventy eight.”
The patch of desert was dark, hardly a moon lit the night.