The Highlander Next Door (32 page)

“There’s two more things ye should probably know about Scots; the first being we don’t like losing, so we don’t. I’ll get Hazel back within the next seven hours.”

Birch closed her eyes and dropped her head on a silent sigh, actually believing him. “And the other thing I should know?”

“Scots protect what’s ours. And ye may not have noticed, but almost from the day ye moved in next door, I’ve considered you mine.”

Niall set the phone on his desk and lowered his head into his hands as he fought back an old and familiar anguish before it immobilized him, and once again found himself wondering why Titus had brought him here. Considering the elder theurgist had access to all knowledge throughout time, had he known this day would come? And was it possible that because he couldn’t interfere, Titus had decided two years ago to
invite
Niall to this century then
suggested
to Duncan he would make a good chief of police, simply so he would be here in Spellbound Falls on this particular day?

But sweet Christ, why
him
? There were any number of men living in this century who were unquestionably better prepared to deal with the Leopolds. A strong sword-arm was next to useless against technology. Hell, his sword had barely been effective against a bunch of brainless demons.

Many modern problems would benefit from an ancient perspective, Titus had said, which could make all the difference between success and failure.

And Niall had just told Birch he really didn’t care to be on the losing side, and promised he’d get Hazel back—within seven hours and possessing all her fingers. That was one hell of a boast from a man who couldn’t even keep a seventeen-year-old lass from sneaking off to a high mountain gleann to pick her wedding bouquet, and then fail to find her before she’d bled to death.

Niall remembered Nicholas saying Mac couldn’t make Duncan and Peg fall in love, but there hadn’t been anything stopping the wizard from devising a way to put two people he knew were destined to be together in each other’s path.

And Titus did seem unusually interested in Niall’s attraction to Miss Callahan.

Could Birch be his destiny? Would a powerful magic-maker manipulate time itself just to give an unimpressive mortal a second chance? Or could this be about Birch needing a second chance?

Did it really matter? Because for whatever reason, he was here.

And so were the Leopolds.

But unlike nine hundred years ago when he hadn’t even known Simone was in a life-and-death battle with a wild boar, modern technology not only made it possible for Birch to tell him she was in danger, it was also allowing them to stay in communication as they fought the enemy
together
.

And he now had weapons far more effective than swords.

Niall lifted his head and stared down at his phone, thinking of one precise and ruthless weapon in particular. Aye, maybe he should take advantage of that right of free will Titus and Mac were so determined to protect, and
feel free
to ask a
modern
god—who didn’t seem to have a problem getting personally involved—for help.

Well, provided he could find a way to contact the bastard.

Because even though, as Nicholas had pointed out, Telos would embrace the technology of
his
era, the forest god had yet to give anyone his phone number. And just like the Oceanuses, mankind’s newest magic-maker was likely walking around in human form, which meant Niall could have passed Telos on the sidewalk for all he knew. Hell, he may have even spoken to him.

For over a week now, he’d wondered how it was Telos happened to be on the bank of the river at the exact moment Birch was being forced off the road. Or how he’d known Foster Graves lay dying under his car, or that a forest fire had ignited twenty miles away. Hell, the bastard had even known a new entity intended to manifest that night on the island.

So why hadn’t Telos interceded when the Leopolds had taken Hazel? Did he only help when he was in a benevolent mood? Or only when it served
his
agenda?

Niall picked up the envelope Sam had brought this morning, opened the flap and tipped it on end, and dropped the ring the eagle had given Birch into the palm of his hand. He sighed, hoping Telos wasn’t going to be like the Oceanuses in one other regard, which was the habit of only giving obscure clues and talking around a subject instead of coming right out and saying what they meant.

Surely a powerful, modern god knew how to write; the bastard could at least have included a note with the ring instead of making them waste two days trying to—

Niall’s cell phone gave a chime indicating a text, and he set down the ring and picked up the phone, frowning when he didn’t see an ID displayed. He unlocked the screen, thinking it might be Birch, only to stiffen as he read the text.

Though technically correct, I don’t care for being referred to as a bastard.

Son of a bitch. The bas— Telos was
texting
him.

And as much as it pains me to admit, I find myself agreeing with the great Titus Oceanus . . . on this occasion. So having heard it said everyone needs a reason to get out of bed in the morning, I didn’t include a note because I felt you might as well earn the air you breathe by saving your Miss Callahan and Hazel yourself. And since protecting what’s yours appears to be a matter of personal pride, I also didn’t want to steal your thunder. But I wouldn’t mind tagging along for the ride, and maybe you’ll even be generous enough to let me lend a . . . human hand?

Son of a bitch! Niall tapped letters.
You can goddamn read my thoughts?

Not exactly or completely. But just like your faithful first officer, I can choose to tune in to your energy—which at the moment is blasting off you like an erupting volcano. I’m sure you’ve noticed Shep’s mysterious habit of showing up whenever your mood darkens? Well, for reasons only he knows, the beast has chosen to link his energy to yours. Don’t worry, MacKeage; with only a little effort you can control when you want me to know your thoughts. Then again, this is the twenty-first century; you could always just shoot me a text. I don’t have an actual number, but you—and only you—will find me in your list of contacts.

Niall typed again.
Where’s Hazel?

You’re really willing to risk angering Titus by ignoring the very thing he’s spent his entire existence protecting by asking me to directly intercede in this matter?

Niall typed,
Whatever it takes to get Hazel back.

Your heritage is showing, my friend. I’m sorry, but it appears I’m not willing to risk starting a mythical war—yet.

Niall glared at the screen, undecided if Telos merely got his jollies toying with mortals, or if something—or powerful some
one
—was making him keep his distance.

Not really caring since neither way was any help to him, Niall stood up and typed,
Fuck off, you bastard,
hit the send button, and shoved the phone in his pocket.

He walked onto the porch to wait for Shep, and stared out at Bottomless as he thought about the problem at hand—calmly, so he wouldn’t be broadcasting like an erupting volcano. Finally deciding on as much of a plan as he could without fully knowing his enemy, Niall took out his phone, opened the timer he’d set right after Birch’s call, and saw they were down to six hours and fifty-three minutes.

He closed the timer and called Sam. “Did ye once tell me there’s such a thing as an electronic tracking device,” he said without preamble when Sam answered, “that’s small enough to hide on a person . . . or a dog?”

“I must have,” Sam said, his voice alert. “Why?”

“Do ye happen to own one?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Why?”

“Can ye get it to me in the next . . . Fifteen minutes is all the time I can give ye.”

“Why?”

“The Leopolds have Hazel, and she’s going to start losing fingers in less than seven hours if Birch doesn’t find and turn over two DVDs to them. I’ll bring ye up to speed when you bring me the tracking device.”

“I’ll have it to you in five minutes.”

Niall lowered the phone, found Jake’s number, and called him. “Exactly how good are ye at blending in,” he asked when Jake answered, “in a town where you’ve been standing out for over a week now?”

Niall heard a heavy sigh in his ear. “I could fool my mother if I had to. Why?”

“How long before you can turn yourself into a tourist?”

“That depends. Caucasian—three hours. An old black guy—one. Why?”

“Ye have thirty minutes to be blending in enough to fool
me
. Text Sam when ye get to the Trading Post as a tourist, and he’ll go up and fill you in on what’s happening. And Jake? Make sure there’s room in your disguise for a couple of weapons and enough ammunition to deal with an army of two dozen.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then, “I’ll come loaded for bear.”

Niall called Cole and made the same request, but gave him forty-five minutes to drive up from Turtleback. He lowered the phone again just as Shep came racing down the lane, took a moment to quiet his mind, and called Claude. Their conversation not nearly as succinct, Niall explained what Sam had discovered as well as Hazel’s and Birch’s situations. And as he’d expected, Claude was halfway out the colony road by the time they finished their talk, having agreed to keep his eyes and ears open sitting in the Bottoms Up until he got the signal they were moving.

Niall called Duncan and Alec, explained what was going on and what he’d like from them, and had just gotten off the phone with Nicholas when Sam—his demeanor rather aggressive and his limp barely noticeable—came striding down the lane.

“I brought along a little something else,” Sam said as he walked past Niall and into the station. He set a small Drunken Moose box on the desk and opened it, pulled out a compact pistol, and held it up. “Since you asked if the tracking device was small enough to hide on a dog, I assumed Shep will be wearing it. How about we also secure this under his vest on the chance he can get close enough to Birch or Hazel for them to get it? Do you suppose either of them know how to handle a gun?”

“Shep’s going to carry the transmitter to Birch at the shelter, where she’s searching for two DVDs Rabideu hid in their belongings. My plan is to have
her
wearing the tracking device when she trades the discs for Hazel,” Niall explained. “And to the best of my knowledge, Birch has an aversion to guns.”

Sam grinned tightly. “I bet she’ll warm up to this one real quick when she realizes it could save her mother’s life.”

Niall looked down into the box and shrugged. “I don’t see any reason not to include the pistol. That’s the transmitter?” he asked, pointing at the tiny black device no larger than a disposable cigarette lighter.

“This is it,” Sam said, pulling out the transmitter and holding it up. He snorted. “You can take the spook out of the game, but apparently you can’t take the game out of the spook. I like to keep up on all the latest toys. This one allows anyone with the code to track it right on their smartphones, so we can all see where Birch is in real time. And the best part is the little bugger’s range is unlimited because it works off satellites.”

“Hop up, Shep,” Niall said, tapping the top of his desk. The dog jumped up, sniffed the Drunken Moose box, then stood quietly as Niall removed his vest. “There’s a pocket on either side of the vest,” Niall went on, signaling Shep to get down, then laying out the vest on the desk. He unzipped one of the pockets, slipped the pistol inside, then zipped it closed. “Aye, we’ll send Birch the gun, seeing how the pocket doesn’t bulge enough to be noticeable, especially from a distance.”

He took out the pistol, dropped out the magazine, checked to make sure the chamber was empty, then reseated the magazine and put the gun back in the pocket—all the time aware of Sam fiddling with the transmitter. Niall then picked up the Leopold ring, unzipped the other pocket, and slipped it inside.

Sam stopped fiddling and arched a brow. “Mighty generous of you to return their ring while you’re at it.”

“Birch is going to use it to buy us time to get into position.” Niall looked at the transmitter Sam was holding. “Is it on?”

“Up and running.” Sam set it on the desk and held out his hand. “Give me your phone so I can link it to the transmitter.” He then took his own phone out of his pocket and exchanged it for Niall’s. “Go ahead and look at mine while I program yours. There should be a pinging dot coming from this location on the map.”

Niall looked down at the map of the northwestern half of Bottomless and saw a small blue dot pulsing in the center of Spellbound Falls.

“You can zoom in and out with your fingers,” Sam went on as he worked on Niall’s phone. “And change back and forth from map to satellite photos. Cole and Jake already have the app on their phones, so I just have to give them the code.”

“Duncan and Alec are on their way, as well as Claude St. Germaine,” Niall said. “And Nicholas is bringing Rowan, Micah, and Dante. I want everyone to be able to track Birch, since we’ll likely all be closing in on her from different directions.”

Sam stopped tapping the screen and looked up. “MacKeages and Atlantean warriors against the Leopolds; bet you find it hard to believe,” he said dryly, “that nine hundred years after you were born, we’re still having clan wars.”

Niall snorted and set Sam’s phone on the desk. “From what I’ve read, I can’t believe mankind hasn’t blown itself out of existence by now.” He picked up the transmitter and studied it briefly, then slipped it in the same pocket as the ring and closed the zipper. He patted the desk again. “Shep, up.”