Chapter 70

JACK GINGERLY DISMOUNTED at the chapel and brought Nora inside, laying her down on the old altar.

“Nora,” he called frantically, shaking her shoulders and tapping her cheeks. “Speak to me!”

He pulled back and checked the wound. She had been shot in the back with an exit wound in her abdomen. Jack took out his knife and cut away the top of the dress she wore, revealing the wound.

“Oh, Nora,” he whispered, running a hand down his face. “No, no, no, no.”

“It is fine, Jack,” she said weakly. “It’s not mortal.”

“Oh, my love,” he said, fighting the tears forming in his eyes. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to be in front of her. He was in front of her! But at the last second, she had thrown herself in front of him to save him from a mortal wound. And he knew why. She had eternal life. He did not.

He ran to the first row of pews where he had hidden her saddle bags. “Where is it?” he mumbled as he began pulling out its contents with only the moonlight to see by.

“WHERE IS IT!?” his voiced thundered into the night.

The false bottom. He fumbled to find the release of the latch. Gold spilled out along with a small clink. Dear God, please let him not have just broken it. “No, no, no, no, no,” he said, feeling the ground frantically. His shaking fingers clasped the glass. He jumped to his feet and ran back to her.

“Is this it?” he demanded, shoving the vial at her. Her eyes were closed, and he feared he had lost her. “Nora! Open your eyes! Look at me!” She complied, and he let this breath go. “Is this the elixir?”

“Yes,” she said weakly.

“Is it enough?” When she didn’t answer, he shook her shoulder. “Is it enough?” His voice was full of agony and frustration.

“For you it is,” she murmured.

“No.” He shook his head uncorking the vial. “I will use some of it for you. It will heal your wounds faster like it did mine.”

Gently, she closed her hand over his. “I do not need it. I have already had it. It will not work in the same way it did for your injuries.”

Jack shook his head. Never in his life had he felt such fear, such helplessness, such raw desperation.

In that moment, he knew.

His decision made, he put the vial to his lips, threw back his head, and drank everything that was left. He coughed against the foul taste and the burning sensation. His body jerked in surprise as he felt a warmth spread through his body. It started in his stomach and rolled out, filling his legs, his arms, his fingers, his toes, his head. A shield of something he couldn’t name strengthened everything. His vision sharpened. His breathing slowed.

And suddenly, there was peace. He reveled in the moment of invincibility. A short laugh escaped him as he realized what had just happened and what it meant. Emotions flowed through him, ones he wasn’t sure were all his own.

“Nora!” He looked back to her with a smile on his face, and reality came crashing back down upon him.

“Get some water,” she whispered. “Clean up my wound and wrap it with a bandage. I won’t be able to ride for a few days. You’ll need to load me into the cart. We cannot stay here.”

“Days?” Jack replied. “Nora, this is—”

“Look again, Jack, and be at ease,” she said, smiling faintly.

Jack looked down and gasped at what he saw. The injury already looked better than it had just moments ago. “It is healing already,” he said, amazed.

“Remember the power of the elixir,” Nora explained. “Keep it clean and dry. I will be fine in a few days. I promise, Jack. I won’t leave you. We will always be together now. Go now and get water and something for a bandage. I should have something in my trunk if you have it with you.”

“But the pain…” With trembling, blood-stained fingers, Jack ran his hand through Nora’s hair and down her face. How unfair that he should feel so utterly amazing while she was in such agony.

“I will bear it. You can leave me for a few moments,” she assured him.

Reluctantly, Jack nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His only light was that of the moon, but on a cloudless night, it was bright enough.

If his hands stopped shaking long enough for him to get anything accomplished.

He leaned against the cart and ran his hands through his hair. A sob escaped. A moment later, he was down on his knees, gulping for air.

Oh, God, he could have lost her. A few inches higher and the bullet would have struck her heart, and it would have been mortal. How did anyone survive this? How did they live with these intense feelings? How did they function knowing their entire world hinged on one person that they could lose at any moment?

And he had an eternity of this? How many times would he have to live through this over the centuries? Would he become accustomed to it? Would he always feel this gut-wrenching pain when she was hurt?

He took deep breaths to calm his breathing because he couldn’t go back to her like this. He needed to be strong for her, and he needed to do as she had asked of him. Opening her trunk, he pulled out one of her nightgowns. Removing the flask of water they traveled with, he went back into the chapel.

He drew his breath in when he saw her there lying on the altar, still as death in the moonlight. When she faced him her beauty overwhelmed him. She was ethereal, and she was his.

When he reached her, she drew her hand to his face and smiled, wiping away the remains of his tears. She chuckled when he looked away in embarrassment. “Do not be ashamed of what you feel, Jack. To feel so much is human.”

“I love you, Nora,” Jack said. He hadn’t intended to say it just then, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. She needed to hear it, and he needed to tell her.

She smiled, a tear running down her cheek. “I know, Jack. I have known for a while now. I love you, too. I have loved you from the first.”

“I have loved you longer.”

She laughed then groaned a bit.

“Let me take care of this,” he said gently, and began to wash and dress her quickly healing wound.

“I have failed, Jack,” she said. “I lost the stone. I don’t know where it is. It was in my cloak, and it never made it to my father’s.”

“We’ll get it back. I have much to tell you when you’re feeling better. I know when and where we’ll find Bridget. We’ll find her, Nora. We’ll find all of them.”

“But without the stone—”

“You are what is important right now,” he insisted. “We’ll figure out the damn stone when you’re well again.” He tied off the dressing and pressed a long kiss to her forehead as she drifted off to sleep. Then he went back to the wagon and gathered what he could to make her comfortable. When he was sure she rested peacefully, he made preparations for their departure. He wished to be as far away from here as the world allowed.

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Lord Rogan plunged his sword into the belly of the errant man and looked down at his screaming, writhing figure in disgust.

“And what was his crime?” his second-in-command asked as he sauntered into the room.

“Shooting my daughter,” Rogan hissed, waving to the two guards standing nearby to take the man away. “He will be a lesson to the others. When I say she is not to be harmed, she is not to be harmed! How they cannot detain one girl…”

“They are fearful of what you are,” his second-in-command said. Rogan looked over at the one he trusted more than anyone else.

“How can you be so sure the same fate is not about to befall you?” Rogan asked. “You have failed, as well.”

“No, I most certainly have not.”

“She got away. Even now, she is out there somewhere, hurt and in pain. Can you not feel it?”

“We underestimated her Warrior.”

“How is that possible?” Rogan interrogated. “How is it possible you were caught by surprise?”

“He is better than I thought.” The soldier shrugged, then sat down and set his boots up on a nearby table. “Besides, I cannot be killed. Your men keep trying to kill her because they are afraid of what you are, of what she is, of what we are.”

Rogan narrowed his eyes and studied his son more keenly. Fox had served him well these past decades. Rogan thought his prayers had been answered when his son returned to him. But why couldn’t they get Nora? She had been in his grasp tonight and slipped away yet again.

“Did you let your sister go?”

“No, I did not.”

“She is gone,” Rogan hissed. “How have you not failed?”

“Because, Father,” Fox said, reaching into his pocket. Rogan’s eyes narrowed as he saw what his son put on the table between them. “I have the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Well done, son,” Rogan said, taking the stone and holding it up to the light. “We now have one stone, only two more to find.”

“Indeed,” Fox said. “He will be pleased.”

THE END

A/N: Thank you for coming along with me on this adventure. Keep your eyes open for the second installment in the series, The Scholar.