Pursuit (Through Time 1)

Royce watched the two old friends as she sipped her blackberry brandy. They were easy with each other, and she wondered what their backstory was. Trevor leaned into her and said, “What do you think, Red?”

“I think he is just the man to have on our side, don’t you?”

“Well, for a human, I suppose. He is at least a Druid high priest …” Trevor answered thoughtfully.

Royce rolled her eyes. “Trev …” she objected.

Chance spoke quickly, bringing MacBathe up to date, and his lordship held both of the Milesian’s shoulders and squeezed as he expressed his sympathy for the loss of Chance’s sister.

“Aye … it will never be the same without her … and m’da … he is just so broken up.”

“And ye, ye want yer ounce of blood?” MacBathe said on a sigh.

“Och aye, but an ounce—nooo, I want to drain him.”

“Right, but tell me more and how I can help.”

“In a nutshell all wrapped up for ye, Doug, the Dark Prince Pestale is still on the loose and using black magic to try and get through the time barrier,” Chance said grimly. “And ye can only imagine why.”

“Impossible! Queen Aaibhe mentioned that something is off … and that even she can’t get through.” His lordship snorted.

“So I’ve been told, and yet the bastard has created a dimension he calls the ‘in between’, which is just that. We doona know which way he means to travel—to the past or the future—but we have to stop him.”

“Aye, but black magic as I know it can only take him to the past,” MacBathe said thoughtfully as he pulled at his lower lip.

“Worrisome … and as of now, there is only one object that can help us stop him,” Chance answered.

“And that is where I come in. What object?” MacBathe came right to the point.

“The Peckering,” said Chance.

“Ah, the Peckering—well, well. I had long forgotten about that Hallow and my despicable ancestor.” He sighed heavily and added, “I am afraid my ancestor took the secret of its location with him to the grave … I doona know where it could be.”

“Would ye mind if we had a go at it?” Chance asked and turned to Trevor. “Apparently Trevor can locate Fae Relics, and Royce has exceptional abilities as well, so the two of them together may be able to get a sense of its location if it is in the castle.”

“Mind?” His lordship rubbed his hands together. “’Tis a great adventure. I’ll be helping ye in any way I can.”

“The question is where do we start?” Trevor said, a frown drawing his brows together as he glanced around.

“Aye, if only we had an inkling of what it looked like—somewhere it had been kept during the years before it was hidden away. We might then get a ‘feel’ or a scent of it to track,” said Chance, thoughtfully looking at Royce. “Isn’t that right, lass?”

She nodded. “Yes … I need something, even a place where it might have been kept during the Fallen Druid’s reign would, as you say, be helpful.”

“Well, that’s something, Princess, that I can help ye with,” his lordship said, hurrying towards a set of shelves on the far wall. A dark, richly carved mahogany cabinet that had been well oiled and polished stood against the wall between shelves and shelves of books. It was a beautifully preserved testament to many centuries past, and Royce watched with keen interest as his lordship pulled open a middle drawer and withdrew an ornately carved oak box.

With all eyes on him, he walked back towards the sofa and set the long, rectangular box on the coffee table. “Go ahead then, open it,” he told Chance. “I haven’t looked inside since I was a boy.” He took up a place on the sofa and motioned for Royce to sit beside him.

She smiled, plopped down on the edge, and anxiously waited for Chance to open the box.

“What are you saying? The Peckering was inside here?” Chance was clearly astounded.

“Aye, ’tis all we have left of it, but it was proof of its existence, proof that the legend was true. See the engravings …”

Its name in Gaelic was deeply etched into the lid of the box. Chance bent and opened it to display a black velvet casing within. It certainly had an indented shape where the Peckering had once reposed. On the inside of the lid in ancient Danu lettering again was its name, ‘Peckering’. A drawing of it was etched into the inside of the lid as well. It was a dagger with a hilt ornamented with jewels.

“A dagger? The Peckering is a dagger? How the bloody hell is a knife going to help us stop Pestale from breaking the time barrier?” Chance demanded, dropping down onto a large leather-bound chair.

“Well, of course it is a dagger—thought ye knew that—and as to helping ye? Well, ought ye not to remember that it is a Sacred Seelie Hallow? Aye, it holds the key to Dark and Light Magic. It can do almost anything, and it was to m’own clan the Seelie Queen entrusted it …” He lowered his head. “Much to our shame …”