Dark Fates

HIGHLANDER'S SHIFTER JOANNE WADSWORTH

Gilleoin — The Legend

In the twelfth century, a man named Gilleoin became the first and only known man to hold bear shifter blood, an ability gifted to him by The Most High One. His clan was called Matheson, and when he mated with a woman carrying faerie blood, they created a line shrouded in secrecy, a line guarded by the immortal fae princess, Cherub. Through the endless streams of time, she will be there for them, never forsaking her people, either in the present or far into the past.

The Seer — Nessa

The ancient House of Clan Matheson, led by Gilleoin, the Chief of Clan Matheson, Scotland, 1211.

The midnight hour struck. Filled with dread from a vision, Nessa raced downstairs and halted at the edge of the darkened great hall. The large domed room held a sweeping circlet of wooden beamed rafters rising high overhead with a hundred or so battle-weary warriors sleeping on pallets scattered before the flickering fire. In their black battle leathers and clan plaids, their claymores within arm's reach, her clansmen sought valuable rest following their latest attack from their enemy.

Two of their clan healers quietly moved amongst the men, kneeling before pallets and ensuring wounds were tended and bound. Having had only a mere hour's rest since she'd last aided the healers, she searched amongst the men and found Jamie Matheson, her beloved grandson. He'd been moved closer to the hearth, his disheveled dark hair lying matted with fresh blood to his forehead, the soaked strands gleaming red under the glow of the fire where they poked out from under the cotton wrappings. With his broad shoulders filling out his leather cotun, he clenched his fist around his sword hilt, his knuckles straining white. He held her line's strong fae blood and along with it the "power of thought," his sought-after skill allowing him to move objects or even people with naught but one thought from his mind alone.

Eyes closed and with a slight twitch of his fingers, the wrappings around his head and neck unraveled and plopped to the ground. More blood oozed forth and she staggered to Jamie's side. Her vision had shown her this very moment occurring, one she now dreaded to the depths of her heart.

On her knees, she touched the sides of Jamie's head and neck wound, the stitching no longer keeping the rising swell of blood contained. Gently, she scooped Jamie's head from the pillow and cradled it in her lap. "Dinnae allow the deep sleep yet, my dear."

"Grandmother." Sluggishly, he opened his eyes and with a dazed gaze murmured under his breath, "T-there is naught to be done to heal me. I can sense it. W-when Annabella returns from the v-village, tell her I"—more blood, and far too much—"l-love her."

"You must hold on so you might tell her yourself." Within her vision, she'd seen Jamie's death, yet she'd also seen what was to come for him. In a time so far from her own, he'd be reborn and his spirit would live on. Even as grief assailed her, the knowledge of his rebirth brought her at least a little peace.

"You've seen my death. That's w-why you're here." His dazed gaze cleared a touch. "Tell me all."

"Even though I didnae wish for you to leave us, I've seen that an even greater future awaits you in another time. Your spirit will live on and be reborn almost eight-hundred years from now. Far in the future, you will stand at Murdock Matheson's side, the seer and chief of our twenty-first century clan. Gilleoin no longer needs you, but Murdock surely does."

"Then I shall go to Murdock." He shuddered in her arms. "T-tell Annabella to come to me t-there. Wherever I lead, she follows."

"I shall, my dear."

His eyes slid shut, his hand sliding limply from his sword and flopping onto the pallet. A gentle, heavenly white glow swirled from his chest, wisped around her and whooshed through the open window.