Read Online Time Everlastin' Book 5 by Mickee Madden - Free Book Online
Authors: Mickee Madden
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his
six-year-old brother, Kevin, sprinted across the room. They
squealed in protest when Winston snatched them into his
arms.
"Quiet, lads," he said in a
low tone.
"Let go of my brother!" Kahl
demanded of Cuttstone, his hands clawing at the arm encircling his
middle.
Lachlan's insides turned to
cold marble at the sight of The Phantom's slow-forming grin of
malice. A man born in 1811 and murdered by his bride and her lover
in 1844, a man still renowned as Scotland's most famous
ghost—although eight months prior he had been granted life—Lachlan
believed little could shake him. He quaked now. The killer's left
arm was wrapped about Alby's middle, securing the flailing boy to
his side as one might a sack of grain.
"Alby!" Kevin
wailed.
"Laddies, quiet down,"
Winston said, the tenderness he meant to project, overcome by his
rising fear.
From the corner of his eye,
Lachlan spied a blink of movement in the air. Swift and tiny. Then
another, both swallowed up in the long shadows on the far
wall.
"This is atween you an' me,"
Lachlan said to Cuttstone. "Let the lad go."
The Phantom's rictus grin
remained. Only the icy blue eyes altered, becoming harder, more
intense.
Cuttstone swung Alby up,
imprisoning him between a thick arm and broad chest. The boy went
limp, his round eyes beseeching the adults to rescue
him.
Lachlan's heart thundered.
His blood heated and flames licked at his willpower. The Phantom's
eyes, mouth, left arm, portions of his chest and legs, were solid,
while the rest of him was illuminated green mist contained in the
outline of the man he'd been.
In Lachlan's spirit days, he
would absorb available energies in the "grayness," the between
world, to venture among the living for intervals of time. He had
believed he alone had that ability until he had taught Beth after
her death.
Somehow, Cuttstone had
discovered its use. Minute claws of energy reached out from the
grayness, fingering the remaining parameter of the killer's
luminescent form, each stroke revitalizing him, bringing him
inexorably into the realm of the living.
Stephen Miles wasn't privy
to the offerings of the grayness. He hovered off to one side
between Lachlan and Cuttstone, gnawing a thumbnail as would anyone
caught up in a stressful situation.
Cuttstone released a low,
rumbling chuckle. The mist remaining on his chest and right leg,
solidified.
Lachlan breathed
sparingly.
A rumbling, reverberating
cackle came from The Phantom as his head solidified inch by
inch.
Lachlan took two steps
forward, his hands fisted at his sides. "I killed you once. God is
merciful to give me a second whack at you."
Cuttstone's grin faltered
but a second.
"Let the lad go," Lachlan
said. "Mon to mon. You and me. I can hurt you a wee or hurt you a
lot. The decision is yers."
With a snarl that spewed
foaming globules of spit from his mouth, Cuttstone flung Alby
aside. For a brief moment no one breathed, knowing the boy's impact
on the foundation wall would seriously injure or kill him. Two
winged apparitions appeared from the shadows, no longer four inches
but full human height, and two sets of arms whisked Alby from the
air and into their embrace. Deliah, Winston's fiancé and Baird
House's own fairy occupant, swung the boy fully into her arms,
freeing her queen, Blue, to fly and hover to Lachlan's
right.
"Die!" Cuttstone roared, and
lunged at Lachlan.
"No' likely," Lachlan
growled and surged forward.
Beth Staples came to an
abrupt halt at the bottom of the basement steps when her eyes
zoomed in on two men locked in a deadly struggle across the room.
She was oblivious to the other occupants. Fear riveted her
attention on the combatants, the hammering of her heart deafening
her to all other sound. A red, pulsing aura surrounded them,
growing brighter as seconds passed. Her mind couldn't decide
whether Lachlan was somehow dead again or if Cuttstone had somehow
learned to use the energies in the gray domain.
Neither prospect was
bearable but one or the
six-year-old brother, Kevin, sprinted across the room. They
squealed in protest when Winston snatched them into his
arms.
"Quiet, lads," he said in a
low tone.
"Let go of my brother!" Kahl
demanded of Cuttstone, his hands clawing at the arm encircling his
middle.
Lachlan's insides turned to
cold marble at the sight of The Phantom's slow-forming grin of
malice. A man born in 1811 and murdered by his bride and her lover
in 1844, a man still renowned as Scotland's most famous
ghost—although eight months prior he had been granted life—Lachlan
believed little could shake him. He quaked now. The killer's left
arm was wrapped about Alby's middle, securing the flailing boy to
his side as one might a sack of grain.
"Alby!" Kevin
wailed.
"Laddies, quiet down,"
Winston said, the tenderness he meant to project, overcome by his
rising fear.
From the corner of his eye,
Lachlan spied a blink of movement in the air. Swift and tiny. Then
another, both swallowed up in the long shadows on the far
wall.
"This is atween you an' me,"
Lachlan said to Cuttstone. "Let the lad go."
The Phantom's rictus grin
remained. Only the icy blue eyes altered, becoming harder, more
intense.
Cuttstone swung Alby up,
imprisoning him between a thick arm and broad chest. The boy went
limp, his round eyes beseeching the adults to rescue
him.
Lachlan's heart thundered.
His blood heated and flames licked at his willpower. The Phantom's
eyes, mouth, left arm, portions of his chest and legs, were solid,
while the rest of him was illuminated green mist contained in the
outline of the man he'd been.
In Lachlan's spirit days, he
would absorb available energies in the "grayness," the between
world, to venture among the living for intervals of time. He had
believed he alone had that ability until he had taught Beth after
her death.
Somehow, Cuttstone had
discovered its use. Minute claws of energy reached out from the
grayness, fingering the remaining parameter of the killer's
luminescent form, each stroke revitalizing him, bringing him
inexorably into the realm of the living.
Stephen Miles wasn't privy
to the offerings of the grayness. He hovered off to one side
between Lachlan and Cuttstone, gnawing a thumbnail as would anyone
caught up in a stressful situation.
Cuttstone released a low,
rumbling chuckle. The mist remaining on his chest and right leg,
solidified.
Lachlan breathed
sparingly.
A rumbling, reverberating
cackle came from The Phantom as his head solidified inch by
inch.
Lachlan took two steps
forward, his hands fisted at his sides. "I killed you once. God is
merciful to give me a second whack at you."
Cuttstone's grin faltered
but a second.
"Let the lad go," Lachlan
said. "Mon to mon. You and me. I can hurt you a wee or hurt you a
lot. The decision is yers."
With a snarl that spewed
foaming globules of spit from his mouth, Cuttstone flung Alby
aside. For a brief moment no one breathed, knowing the boy's impact
on the foundation wall would seriously injure or kill him. Two
winged apparitions appeared from the shadows, no longer four inches
but full human height, and two sets of arms whisked Alby from the
air and into their embrace. Deliah, Winston's fiancé and Baird
House's own fairy occupant, swung the boy fully into her arms,
freeing her queen, Blue, to fly and hover to Lachlan's
right.
"Die!" Cuttstone roared, and
lunged at Lachlan.
"No' likely," Lachlan
growled and surged forward.
Beth Staples came to an
abrupt halt at the bottom of the basement steps when her eyes
zoomed in on two men locked in a deadly struggle across the room.
She was oblivious to the other occupants. Fear riveted her
attention on the combatants, the hammering of her heart deafening
her to all other sound. A red, pulsing aura surrounded them,
growing brighter as seconds passed. Her mind couldn't decide
whether Lachlan was somehow dead again or if Cuttstone had somehow
learned to use the energies in the gray domain.
Neither prospect was
bearable but one or the
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