PROLOGUE

June 22, Present Day, New York City

She sat naked in the middle of the bed. Darkness pervaded the stone walled interior of the room making her shiver. Sheer white curtains and colorful tapestries hung all around, giving her the feeling of being enshrouded. The bedding beneath her felt soft, inviting. Yet, she felt as though she waited for someone.
Anxiousness filled her heart as it beat loudly and rapidly in her breast.
On her left a large wooden door slowly swung open, revealing a shadowy male figure behind a single burning candle. Her heartbeat fluttered into acceleration as her mind became fuzzy at the mere shadowed silhouette of him. Her nipples hardened with anticipation. Between her legs she throbbed and moistened with longing.
He’d come!
She couldn’t see his face, only the candlelit glow from his silvery blue eyes shimmering like silver fire. His gaze raked her body in a leisurely fashion. It was as though he’d reached out a hand to caress her gently, reverently. A tremor of longing shook her body for him to touch her with his hands.
He strode purposefully over to her. A swirling sensation invaded her being. She felt heady with desire. Stopping short of the bedside, he slammed the candle down on the marble topped table making it sputter. His gaze locked on her face. The pounding of her heart continued to thrum out its excitement.
He’d come for her.
His hand abruptly snaked out to roughly grasp her arm. With his fiery gaze still smiting her, he pulled her to a kneeling position in front of him. Sharp pain darted down her arm eliciting a tingling sensation in her hand. She winced. Yet her blood boiled for more. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle the groan of pain mixed with pleasure that threatened to erupt from her throat.
As if realizing he caused her pain, he lessened his hold on her arm. With gentle circular strokes, he massaged the offended area. Again, she held back voicing her aroused passions. His other hand reached up to cup her chin. His thumb gently stroked her lower lip. Fire burned through her veins. “You will tell me,” he whispered hoarsely.
A familiar ripple of awareness coursed through her as she met his steely gaze.
His thumb moved to caress her cheek, then her lower lip once more. Instinctively, her tongue darted out to briefly make contact with him. To taste him.
He inhaled sharply.
She didn’t want to talk anymore. She just wanted to feel. She leaned toward him. Heat emanated from his body. Or was that her own heat? It didn’t matter. She needed to feel his lean, hard body next to hers. Feel the warm texture of his skin beneath her fingertips. She needed to feel his male hardness between her legs.
But his hand on her arm held her mere inches from him.
“Speak to me,” he commanded softly. “I will know the truth about us.”
She shook her head violently. She shouldn’t have to tell him. Instinct told her it was written on her face.
“Tell me, my love. I will believe you.” The gentle entreaty electrified her senses.
Her gaze dropped. She saw his black clad broad chest in front of her breathing deeply, evenly. She hated him for his control.
“I will know if we are a lie,” he affirmed roughly.
Her gaze snapped up to meet his eyes traveling over her once again. His features remained in shadow.
Her throat tightened. Her heart thudded loudly in her breast. In the next instant his mouth covered hers in a hungry, brutal kiss. His body closed the gap between them as he gathered her into his powerful embrace.
His low groan of pleasure mingled with hers, inciting her to newer heights of passion. His tongue laved her lower lip, taunting it, caressing it with its sensual softness. Her lips parted on their own accord as he moved in to devour her thoroughly. She felt every delicious inch of his hard body pressed tightly to hers.
His hands lost themselves in her shoulder length hair. He both combed it and entangled it with his fingers. Then his mouth left hers to rain fiery kisses along her jaw, neck and bare shoulder. Biting her lower lip, she attempted to muffle her outcry of delight to no avail. Nothing mattered but this.
This moment.
This man.
When his hand moved to cup her sensitive breast she thought she’d die with pleasure. His love was all she wanted. Would be all she ever wanted.
Gently, reverently, he lifted the aroused mound to his lips to plant feathery kisses around her nipple. Heat pulsed through her to settle low in her swollen womanhood. It intensified a hundredfold when his hot mouth covered her tightly pebbled peak to suckle like babe.
Throwing back her head, she let him pleasure her.
His other hand slid down her back to grasp her buttocks, to pull her hard against his arousal. She gasped in sweet agony.
“No matter where you go you shall always belong to me,” he whispered huskily against her feverish skin. “Forever.”
His mouth came up to capture her lips in a long sensual kiss…
She wanted to scream, “Yes!” as he devoured her thoroughly. She belonged to him beyond forever. Nothing could take him away from her.
A loud knocking suddenly interrupted the moment. He pulled away.
She tried to pull him back.
“Leave us alone,” she snarled irritably at the unseen intruder.
But the knocking persisted.




CHAPTER ONE

Danielle Coraletti awoke with a start, her breathing coming in short gasps. Her heart hammering wildly.
Where was she?
Her body tingled and felt flush all over. The core of her womanhood throbbed with unreleased energy. She looked all around her trying to find something familiar. Her bedroom appeared almost foreign. Then she saw the glow of the alarm clock beside her bed.
Her breathing slowed.
A dream.
The realization struck home with thunderous proportions. A crazy, wild, preposterous dream. Dani shook her head vigorously as she sat up in bed.
If only she could meet a man like that—in real life. She’d marry him in a New York minute.
The pounding at her front door came again, loud and steady. Her hand immediately shot under her pillow, grabbing her .38 revolver, hidden there in case of emergencies. Her already rampant adrenaline peaked to a new height, making her senses come alive in a much different way. No one knocked on her door at this hour of the night. No one that wanted to live to the next sunrise, that is. Glancing again at the digital clock she saw 3:21 in big bright, red numbers.
Sliding off the bed, she stomped into the living room of her small apartment. Dressed in an oversized tee shirt that hung to her knees, she held the gun firmly in a trained grasp. The room was dark, the only light coming from the partially opened drapes over the large window overlooking the city street three stories below. Brooklyn had its normal night sounds of cars, occasional shouting and party noises. Tonight was no different. Except for her visitor.
“Someone better be dead,” she muttered to herself. “Who is it?” she called out.
“Dani?” A familiar voice replied back.
Cautiously, she unlocked and opened the front door as far as the security chain would allow.
“Morgan?” She peered out to see an older male version of her own auburn haired, blue-eyed looks, standing in the dimly lit hallway. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Her paternal uncle. She’d allow him to live…this time. But they were going to have to talk about phones and using one before dropping by at this hour.
“I must speak with you. It’s an emergency.” A weariness crept into his face as his voice shook with overwrought emotions. “I’m terribly sorry to be calling on you at this ungodly hour, but I had a helluva time getting here from London. Heathrow was closed and Gatwick was overflowing,” he gushed in a flurry.
Dani slammed the door shut, removed the chain in one fluid motion and opened the door to usher him inside.
“What is it, Uncle? What’s happened?” Dread filled her. She’d said someone better be dead to wake her up this early in the morning…. She gulped back the growing lump in her throat. Some instinct told her this visit had to do with death. “Is it Grammy? Has she…has she died,” the last word barely escaped the chokehold now engulfing her throat. She tried to swallow back the suffocating lump and failed.
Her uncle’s sad expression tore at Dani’s soul.
“I hate to be the one to tell you, “ he shook his bent head, not able to look her in the eyes.
“Tell me. I can take it.” Tears poured from her eyes. Poor Grammy. How she’d loved the dear old lady, even though they hadn’t known each other long. Five years. Not nearly enough time.
Morgan took in a ragged deep breath, then held it. “Your father was murdered yesterday.” He sobbed at last, his shoulders shaking with his sudden outpouring of grief.
Dani’s world spun out of orbit.
Her father?!
Had she heard him correctly? Her father?
She barely heard Morgan cry, “We need you… your…expertise…to hunt down…Matt’s killer. Our plane is waiting…we don’t have much time.”
* * *
Glastonbury, England, June 23

“Have you all lost your collective minds?” Dani shouted, feeling the hysteria rise.
All five foot seven, one hundred thirty pounds of her was wound tighter than a cord. She paced the antique crowded parlor floor in front of Morgan, Grammy, a nun named Blanche, and the mysterious, impeccably dressed Lord Marcus Kimball. The room was warm and homey in its every nuance of knick-knacks, books and quilts.
“I’m not going anywhere!” she announced. “I have a life here--in this time. I have a career I just spent the last two years of my life training my butt off for, and you expect me to just blow it off? For another version of Arthurian Legend? Sell your story to someone else. I’m not buying.”
“He’s going to kill the king and queen,” Lord Kimball argued heatedly, his pale, thin face going completely red as he followed her movement back and forth. He could be considered handsome if he’d put on some weight and get outdoors more often.
“They’re not my king and queen. I’m American, remember?” Grief had made her family loopy. It was the only explanation. They were taking her father’s favorite piece of British history and twisting it into something unreal. And supposedly this Lord Kimball was her father’s best friend. They were all nuts.
“He’s important, Dani-girl,” Morgan retaliated with a pleading look. “His children and grandchildren are essential to history. They must all live.”
“And you’re a High Priestess,” Lord Kimball reminded her guilelessly.
“And you’re a kook,” Dani shot back evenly, keeping her stride as she paced. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me I have to find the Cup Of Christ, too!”
Her grandmother entered the argument on a softer, gentler note. “What about your father…my son, Danielle? He devoted his life to protecting our historical and sacred past.”
Dani’s pace slowed. Attending her father’s funeral this morning had shattered her heart. She more than felt her grandmother’s pain. It tore at her soul much the same way.
Murder.
Not even a lingering illness. No one should die so horribly—least of all her father. He’d been no more than a scholar and Knights Templar. A peaceful man dedicated to preserving the past.
Pausing her stride a second, she argued softly, “But we didn’t follow the same teachings, Grammy. He was Druid. I’m Wiccan. It’s two very different disciplines.” Her grandmother’s blue-green eyes were filled with tears. Dani could tell this whole situation was overwhelming her. No mother should bury her child—no matter his age, or hers.
“It’s not that different,” Lord Kimball sneered, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. “Both are grounded in Earth magic. Surely you have learned something of the Male Mysteries by now. Your father claimed you’ve been studying the craft since age twelve.”
The sting of his words hit their mark. Dani stopped pacing. With hands on hips, she faced Lord Kimball, her eyes radiating her impatience and said, “That’s right. Ten years now. And I’m educated well as a Wiccan High Priestess. Well enough to know I don’t know enough to take this on. Unlike my father--I am not a Templar in your sacred order.”
Lord Kimball’s brown eyes lighted with triumph. “You are now,” he answered felicitously, withdrawing an ancient-looking cross from his breast pocket.
He held it out to her. It was about eight inches long with a golden dragon wrapped around the top. On the opposing side she barely discerned foreign words etched into it.
“Your father bequeathed this to you,” Kimball continued in a mild tone. “According to law, which grants him this right, you are now a member of our order of Knights Templar. You will ‘Protect All That Is Holy’—with your life if need be.” He stopped to clear his throat. An uncertainty clouded his expression a moment, then vanished. “Your first mission is to follow Father Lazarus, find him with the discreet help of Lord Stephen Beauchamp, and dispose of Lazarus before he murders King Henry the Seventh and his wife. Prince Arthur can never be king. Henry the Eighth must be born and be crowned king when his time comes.”
“Then I am to kill Lazarus,” Dani muttered low, shaking her head. The thought held some appeal. Killing that son-of-a-bitch would serve her growing anger well. But, “I’m an officer of the law, not a vigilante,” she countered automatically. “What about due process? Hell, what about my free will?”
“The Templars have their own laws,” Lord Kimball answered smoothly.
“You’re just trying to get rid of me. I’m a woman. That’s it—isn’t it?”
The stuffy Lord Marcus Kimball actually grinned. “Your being a woman definitely is part of it. Indeed. But it’s not like you think.” The grin faded. He bowed his head, then raised it, a serious expression firmly in place. “Believe it or not, Miss Coraletti, I would love nothing more than to keep you here. I have my own reasons for which I hope you will understand someday. But orders are orders. Mine are to make sure you go through Merlin’s Mirror and travel back to 1490. Yours are to track and dispose of Father Lazarus permanently.”
Of all the gall. Dani walked over and hunkered down next to the over-stuffed rocker her grandmother sat in. “I can’t do this, Grammy. I just can’t. You see that, don’t you? I took an oath to uphold the law. It’s not for me to chase down my father’s murderer. I could loose my job for stepping out of my jurisdiction. I’ve been dreaming of becoming a police officer ever since I was a little kid and my mom was killed. Why can’t someone else do this? What makes you all think the king’s own guards won’t stop him?”
Grammy shook her gray head and closed her eyes. Her thin lips were compressed as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t.
“It was your father’s duty, now it is yours,” Lord Kimball responded instead in his deep, stilted tone. “Your grandmother understands this.” His dark brown eyes glittered with impatience. “You will see it done. Magically. It will be the only way to defeat him. With Merlin’s magic in his possession you will have no alternative.”
Dani rose, squaring her shoulders. “Well then.” She lifted her chin. “I pass it on to someone who is more qualified than me. Send someone else on this holy quest. I don’t even believe it. Time travel. Fairytales and nonsense.”
“And who might I send instead? Do you have a name?” Kimball quirked a brow. “Hmmm?”
This man was really getting on her last nerve. “Whomever in your organization,” she spat angrily. “Surely you have people already well-trained in the Druidic arts? Someone who knows the Male Mysteries by heart?” If she thought the challenge would ruffle his perfectly tailored feathers, she was instantly disappointed. She looked to the nun and her uncle for support. They each bowed their heads.
Lord Kimball smiled benignly, but it was Morgan who finally said, “Dani-girl.” He unfairly used his pet name for her. She bristled uncomfortably. “Matt left the cross to you. It’s your destiny. A legacy you can’t ignore.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s yours now, Dani. Your father would want you to go.”
Dani shook off his hand, stood up and smoothed her plain black sheathe dress over her hips. “I can’t believe my father would want me to leave all I know behind on some wild fairy-tale mission. I think this whole thing is preposterous.”
Kimball cleared his throat, looking painfully uncomfortable. “Your father was my best friend. You have no idea how his death pains me. I admired him like a brother. And I’d like to think he thought the same of me. And he always expected you to replace him in his duty when he died. You’re the only one.”
Glancing away for a second to compose his features, he continued. “We know the king will be meeting with Lord Beauchamp over the Summer Solstice near Tintagel in Cornwall. According to King Henry’s personal diary, Lord Beauchamp is scheduled to return home and then report to Sheen Palace by July first. Your destiny begins in June, 1490, England,” Lord Kimball said tightly, the sorrow in his eyes now erased. “Get used to it, young lady. I will tie you up kicking and screaming, and send you there myself. Don’t think I won’t. This assignment is yours. That’s final.”
Dani felt the bile rising in her throat. “You also said I wouldn’t be able to come back. What the hell am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? Knit? I hate knitting!”
“You will find a husband like all other women of that time.” Kimball reasoned with an easy shrug. Too easy.
Her eyes widened. “You have lost your mind,” she laughed harshly. “I will never tie myself to a barbaric, medieval, gum-smacking-because-his-teeth-have-rotted-out-of-his-mouth battle lord. They don’t even bathe in that time. And they burn witches, for hell’s sake. I’d rather eat dirt,” she proclaimed defiantly.
“Dirt is not on the menu, I’m afraid,” Lord Kimball responded dryly as he took a seat on the couch opposite her grandmother. “But you’ll get used to your new surroundings. Your father said you are quick to learn. That’s good. And you must marry or be housed amongst nuns. I doubt the good sisters of the fifteenth century will take kindly to a Wiccan High Priestess. How about you? Think you could live with them every day for the rest of your life?”
Angry heat suffused Dani’s cheeks. He already knew the answer to that question just as she did. Not as long as she lived and breathed would she enter The Church.
“The past is not as bad as you may believe, my child,” the aged nun who’d been oddly quiet throughout said softly. “I think you may be pleasantly surprised by how the nobility live. They bathe and eat the best of foods. They can be very clean people.”
“The operative word here is ‘can’,” Dani shot back with little heat. Nuns still held the greatest of respect from her. She’d been brought up in parochial schools since age eight. And no one argued with a nun without getting in trouble. Where Wicca had been her chosen religion, Catholicism had been her formal education.
Sister Blanche gave her that nunly, patient smile. “You will have Morgan to guide you. He has been a student of medieval history as long as I’ve known him.”
“Reading history and living in it are two different things, Sister,” she grumbled in a low voice. “You know?” she snorted softly. “I’ve never really read much about the past. I’ve always been interested in the future. My future.”
Lord Kimball cleared his throat. “Then this should interest you greatly, Dani. Because, it is your future that’s at stake. Think about all the history that will be changed because of this. Your own country stands on the precipice of discovery and Lazarus will alter it. No more Freedom of Religion.” He wagged his forefinger. “And that will only be the beginning.”
Dani frowned. “You will use anything to get to me—won’t you?”
“If it gets you through Merlin’s Mirror, then, yes, I will.” He stood up and straightened his already straight black tie. He pinned Morgan with his brown eyes. “See that she gets to the ruins atop the Tor by midnight. The timing must be perfect.” He turned back his gaze to her. “Take nothing with you that cannot be explained away or destroyed. That means no watches, pens, identification, money, or modern clothes. Women wear gowns only. No jeans or short pants.”
Dani bowed at her waist with a flourish. “As you wish, milord,” she said through clenched teeth.
Righting herself, she watched him exit the front door.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Morgan commented with a grin and a wink. Scowling back, she said, “Why isn’t this upsetting you? I knew you had a thing for knights in shining armor and all that hoopla, but this is going too far. I feel like this is some sort of cruel joke. Tell me it is and we’ll just forget about it.”
“I wish that I could, Dani-girl,” Morgan said sadly. “Since my darling Colette’s death last year, I’ve been looking for a reason to leave this world without killing myself. Now with Matt gone.” He sighed. “I need a purpose to live again. You are that purpose. This assignment is that purpose. I can’t look around here anymore without seeing her face or Matt’s. I believe, Dani…no, I know Father Lazarus traveled back in time. Kimball’s people witnessed it. Lazarus found Merlin’s Mirror and used it. His plans are more dangerous than we can imagine. He must be stopped.”
The nun stepped forward. “Take this ring, child.” She held out a large cabochon ring with a gold lion surrounded by roses emblazoned on one side and three spiked wheels on the other. “It’s a family heirloom that may be of some help. The Beauchamp’s are related to the Beaufort’s. This ring was given to my mother who bore the Beaufort children. It is all I have to give you. It may open the right doors for you.”
A tear slid down Dani’s cheek. “I wanted to become a cop. I wanted to marry a man who would love me and respect me. We would be able to laugh together, cry together and build a future with mutual interests and ideals. I’m being robbed,” she sobbed, no longer able to hold back the tears of desolation and grief. First her father, now her own life. Gone!
It was the nun who came to hold her and rock her. “I know, child,” she whispered brokenly. “I know.”
Dani cried her heart out.
Her father was dead. Her childhood plans and dreams of spending time with him, gone forever. She’d been given less than twenty-four hours to mourn his loss before a sacred duty called. It wasn’t fair.
To top it all off, her personal life’s dreams of a happy, solid marriage and children were abolished because a loony priest had committed a crime, and intended another more horrendous crime in the past. It figured she was going to be the one to do time—in another century. The fifteenth century—Goddess help her. Could the men be any less desirable?
She shuddered with distaste and apprehension.
* * *
They arrived at Glastonbury Tor an hour before midnight. The solitary mound was enshrouded in darkness as the moon was nearing its final stages of waning. The lights from the tiny town in the distance looked like miniscule diamonds scattered across a piece of black velvet, mirroring the stars above.
Dani, her grandmother, and Morgan slowly began the long, steep ascent up the narrow, worn path that would take them to the top. Silhouettes of grazing cattle dotted the grassy embankment. The placid beasts allowed them passage as they climbed over five hundred feet. A slight breeze stirred the air around them.
Morgan carried the two bags that held their change of clothes, a few personal items, gold pieces, and her father’s journal. She’d also brought her own Book of Shadows—just in case. She still couldn’t believe how her life had suddenly changed by horrific proportions in such a short time.
A gust of wind came up to blow at Dani’s cumbersome long green velvet outer dress, combined with the long yellow under dress, the double skirts nearly tripped her as she put one foot in front of the other. The outer dress reminded her of a type of coat as it was open from shoulder to toes and cinched underneath her breasts. The large, puffy sleeves were adorned with lace and embroidery of gold. A matching green caul seeded with tiny pearls covered her shoulder length auburn hair. A necessity since women wore their hair long and hers was too short for the times. At least it would grow out soon. The cross and ring hung from a long heavy gold chain around her neck, and was tucked inside her corseted bodice so no one would see them and cry “witch”. Never in her life had she worn so much clothing.
“Sister Blanche so much wanted to come with us,” Grammy panted as she lugged forward.
Dani looked at her grandmother with growing alarm. It wouldn’t do if the dear old lady had a heart attack right here and now. “Should we stop a moment so you can catch your breath? Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for you to have come either, Grammy.”
For a slight woman, she always appeared to have the fortitude of an Amazon warrior woman. Nothing would stop her—not even cardiac arrest. Stubborn didn’t even begin to describe Grammy.
“We’re not stopping. I’ll be fine,” she scoffed. “I’m losing all that’s left of my family tonight. I want every precious second with you and my son.”
Dani felt her heart lurch. The ever-present lump of grief stuck in her throat swelled. “This isn’t right. I can’t go.” She started to turn around.
Her grandmother reached out a strong hand to stop her. “You must, Danielle. This is the life we Smylie’s lead. It’s in our blood. It’s in our heritage. This is what we do. We protect time. Your father’s before you answered the call, so shall you.” She took Dani by the hand and began walking, swinging their arms back and forth. “Did you know Merlin the Magician created this doorway fifteen hundred years ago?” She went on. “Though back then, this place was called The Isle of Avalon. It’s secret has been safe for nearly seven hundred years. That’s how Blanche came to us. She traveled from the year 1401. Her stepbrother was King Henry the Fourth—of Bolingbroke. He learned of Merlin’s Mirror and Merlin’s Book of Mysteries through a quirk of fate. If Blanche hadn’t used the time travel spell in the book, Lord knows where we’d be now.”
Dani pondered her grandmother’s shocking revelations. Now the players were starting to make sense. Lord Kimball was one of the Elders, or ruling High Priests of the English Knights Templar. That had been easy to figure out.
The hard part had been figuring out a nun’s role in this. So, Sister Blanche and the book were England’s piece of the “holy treasure” that Templars were sworn to protect. Then a thought struck her. “If Father Lazarus has stolen this magical book and traveled back in time, how on earth do you expect me to defeat him? He’ll have all the power.”
Morgan answered, “We have your father’s notes in his personal Book of Mysteries. He kept an account of all the spells within Merlin’s book—including the one you’ll probably have to use to defeat the bastard. Lazarus will most certainly protect himself with the magic contained in the book. But he’s not properly trained to use the magic. You are. He’ll have a much harder time making the spells work than we will. We’ll work it out. Don’t worry, Dani-girl.”
“I saw my father’s Book of Mysteries once,” Dani mused. “He wrote in Oghms. I can’t even read that ancient Druidic language. So, I think we’re already doomed to failure, unless you brought your little decoder ring with you, uncle.”
“Tsk, tsk, so ready to give up the opportunity of a lifetime. But do not fret, the ring’s tucked safely in my doublet,” Morgan answered with a wink and pat to his chest. “I’ve become pretty adept at deciphering Oghms with it.”
“That’s reassuring.” She snorted softly. It seemed nothing was going to stop them from sending her back in time—short of a miracle.
Her grandmother squeezed her hand. “It will all work out in the end, my dear. You’ll see. I have complete faith in you and Morgan.”
Dani wished she could have such blind faith.
They crested the top. A single standing torch illuminated the ancient stone tower, all that remained of St. Michael’s church founded upon the site of the first Christian church founded by Joseph of Arimathaea nearly two thousand years ago. The Holy Grail was once rumored to have been hidden around here. And that was one of a hundred such rumors that surrounded this area. From fairies to Celtic Gods to King Arthur. The stories were endless.
But tonight, in the fading moonlight, it appeared empty, lonely and cold. And somewhere, deep underground a chamber allegedly existed that housed Merlin’s Mirror. Their time portal to the past.
She’d believe it when she saw it.
She believed in reincarnation.
She believed in the Mother and the Father.
She believed in magic—and not the kind Hollywood depicted in movies.
She believed in true love based on common values and lifestyles.
But time travel? No way. It defied logic and common sense.
If Merlin’s Mirror did exist and she ended up back in time, then fairytales would cease to exist. Fantasy would become reality. And man’s greatest fear would be realized. There is someone more powerful than himself. Dani wasn’t certain she wanted to be party to this destruction of beliefs.
Lord Kimball greeted them near the entrance. He held a gas lantern to light their way in the pitch-black tower. Her jailor would be on time, she thought sardonically.
“It’s nearly midnight,” he said as he ushered them inside. “We must hurry.” He quickly stepped inside the arch. He bent over the stone bench on his left and lifted the seat, revealing a stone staircase that went steeply down. “Come. I’ve already prepared the room. Watch your step. The first thirty steps are steep. It will smooth out as we descend deeper inside the mound.”
Dani snorted softly. “We climbed to the top only to descend to the bottom. That makes perfect sense. Why not build an entrance at the base and make it easier, Lord Kimball?”
“The ninety steps to the bottom are considered spiritual. They are broken into three sets of thirty. A triad on top of a triad. The druids rely on this system for most everything they do.”
Dani contemplated this as she stepped deeper into the bowels of the Tor. She’d learned a bit about the Tree Of Life and the basic triads from her father. She just wished she’d paid closer attention to his lesson. For the life of her she couldn’t remember the first three triads. She felt doomed to failure already. Why did her father choose her to succeed him? She wasn’t ready for this.
The stone chamber beneath the ruins was cold and damp. In the center stood a large black obelisk that measured at least seven feet tall and three feet wide. Precious and semi-precious stones, along with runes, adorned the edges.
Merlin’s fabled mirror in the flesh.
A dozen white candles surrounded the magical mirror in a circle. Two men dressed in black hooded robes systematically lit the candles one to the next so as to create a stronger circle of energy. The tomb-like room glowed eerily.
Reading the runes across the top, she said, “What does that mean? Passage of time be mindful of thee.”
“It’s a warning to time travelers, Miss Coraletti,” Lord Kimball responded with a grin. “It means; don’t change what you already know to be true.”
“What if I travel to the distant future? What would I know to be true?”
“The past.” He nodded. “But you can only travel in one direction. That’s the rule. The warning in the spell itself is quite explicit. Choose wisely thy path. `Tis death to cross it,” he quoted solemnly. “You can’t go forward, only backward. I doubt you’d want to travel back any further in time.”
“Yeah, but—“
Lord Kimball wagged his finger. “No buts, young lady. You go to 1490, accomplish your mission, and you live out your life there. That’s it.”
Dani crossed her arms over her mid-section. “I was just going to point out Merlin supposedly traveled back and forth through time. If fables are to be believed.”
Lord Kimball gave her an understanding smile. “Merlin was far more powerful than you or I could ever hope to be. He was the master of masters. No more arguments. Once you dispose of Father Lazarus, I want you to destroy the book in ceremony on the first full moon. I have written a spell that should work nicely.” He handed her a folded piece of paper sealed with sealing wax. “It’s written in runes instead of Oghms. Don’t lose it. It’s one of a kind.”
Dani tucked the paper into her bag. “I won’t. But if there’s a way back, I’m taking it. I just can’t see myself living and marrying in the fifteenth century. It doesn’t compute.” She exchanged a sad smile with her grandmother. “Besides, you need me, Grammy. When I get back, I’ll take you to America. You should meet the Coraletti’s. They’ve been a wonderful family to me.”
Lord Kimball came to stand beside them. “You do what you have to after you take care of Lazarus and the book. But I have a feeling you won’t mind the past by then.” The knowing smile on Lord Kimball’s lips made Dani shiver with an unknown kind of fear. It was like he knew something. Did he?
“Says you,” Dani retorted stubbornly, adjusting her gown. She hated the suffocating velvet already. “I can’t imagine anything that could keep me there. Not even Morgan—if he decides he can’t live anywhere else. I’m coming home, Lord Kimball. Mark my words. There isn’t anything in the past that would entice me to stay.”
Lord Kimball smiled inwardly. Lord, but she was spectacular. He now understood himself better than he ever had before. She’d shown him that today.
Years of learning and training had come down to this one moment for him. He couldn’t help feeling exhilarated by it all. She would be successful. Everything would fall into place. She had the spirit to overcome obstacles. No matter what form they took.
The desire to hug Danielle Coraletti overwhelmed him. His arms reached out only to fall empty at his sides. She wouldn’t understand. And how could he tell her? It could ruin everything.
Clearing his throat to cover his momentary lapse of good judgment, he announced, “It’s time to go. When you arrive you must contact Lord Stephen Beauchamp, Eighth Earl of Greydown in Lincolnshire. He shall aide you. He is one of us in his time.”
Lord Kimball handed another piece of paper to Morgan who stood by fidgeting in his costume. Dani thought her uncle looked ridiculous in dark blue hose, a dark blue doublet slashed with cream-colored silk and matching cape and feathered hat. There was a soft brown fur around the collar of the cape that matched the fur around her cloak. They would obviously be traveling as nobility.
“I have written the date close to the day we believe he traveled back to on that paper. Burn it in the north candle and chant the Charm of Making; Anal Nathrock, Uthvass Bethud, Dochiel Dienve--three times.”
Grammy let out a cry and grabbed Dani in a powerfully strong embrace. “I love you, Granddaughter. Never forget that.” She then grabbed her son the same way, sobbing harder.
Lord Kimball reached out and gave both her and Morgan a quick hug. “Good luck and Godspeed to you both. Step into the circle here.” He indicated a path between two candles. He then turned on his heel and ushered Grammy and the two silent men out a door behind the mirror.
“Okay, that’s one strange man,” Dani couldn’t help commenting.
Morgan grinned. “He certainly is full of surprises. Are you ready to go?”
Dani looked at the piece of paper in Morgan’s hand. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” She shrugged.
“You don’t sound very positive,” he teased with a mocking smile.
Annoyed with him and her sudden apprehension, she grabbed the paper from him and turned around. “Which one of these candles is in the north?”
Morgan chuckled. “The one opposite the mirror, over there.”
Dani stepped over and dipped the edge of the paper into the flame. The paper ignited and disappeared in a flash.
Taking up her bag, she joined Morgan in front of the mirror and began chanting, “Anal Nathrock, Uthvass Bethud, Dochiel Dienve…”
The mirror’s face immediately began to shimmer and distort as though water ran down the shiny black face of it. A low hum began to permeate the room, and the temperature seemed to drop rapidly.
When the hum reached a higher pitch after their last chant, Morgan extended a shaky hand toward the mirror. And instead of solid rock impeding him, his hand passed through it. Dani’s heart pounded in frightened anticipation. Exchanging a quick glance with her uncle, she took a deep breath and stepped into the mirror.
The solid floor inside was there and then nowhere, and for a brief moment Dani felt herself free-falling. Bright, colorful lights flashed around her, blinding her. She opened her mouth to scream, when suddenly her left then her right foot touched solid ground. She stumbled to stay on her feet. Morgan too, fell forward then caught himself.
Righting themselves in total darkness, Dani mentally assessed herself to find she felt pretty good all around. The humming was gone and the temperature normal—for an underground chamber.
A match flared beside her. Her uncle’s grinning countenance greeted her. “Well, that was certainly interesting.”
With an unladylike snort, she replied, “Uh-huh. We’ll just see how interesting that really was, and if it’s really 1490 out there.” She pointed to the door Lord Kimball had exited. Its rough wood appearance hadn’t changed one iota in five hundred years.