instinctively clamped them shut to protect myself. I pushed my hair out of my face and took a deep breath, then tried again, squinting to let just a fraction of light in this time. Blurry shapes and shadows were all I could make out, which only added to the panic clawing inside me.
A iden! I screamed in my mind, but he didn’t respond.
Questions whirled through my brain like a tornado: Am I dead? Is he dead? Did I die and he lived? Did he come forward after three hundred years, only to be left on Earth alone? What have I done? Where the hell am I?
Oh, God. It was my stupid fault. I knocked us off the cliff. I sent us hurtling to our death, or my death, or what?
“This can’t be happening!” I wanted to scream, but I was so beyond freaked out that only a squeak came out. Pressing my hands to my eyes, wishing I could see clearly, I tried to make sense of the madness. If I’m dead and Aiden’s not, will I be able to hear him the way that he could hear me before? But wait, after we fell, he said he couldn’t see me, that he was in the dark. So maybe he died, too. But if he did, where is he? And why won’t he answer me?
The acrid scent of cannon smoke assaulted my nostrils, making my lungs burn. Cannon smoke? I recognized the smell from the day of Aiden’s death, when the English had blown up the castle with the Scots’ gunpowder and Aiden had taken his own life.
Confusion pummeled me from all sides . If I was dead, why would I cast this scene?
Casting! I just about smacked myself on the forehead.
Taking a deep breath, I envisioned the beautiful meadow where I’d first met Aiden, and waited for the familiar shimmer to pass through me to indicate that I’d changed the environment.
Nothing happened.
An explosion of cannon fire to my left made me jump. I raced to try it again. Still nothing.
My arm ached where I’d landed on it—another mystery. If I was dead, nothing should hurt, right? It didn’t the first time. I reached up to massage my shoulder. The fabric under my hand was coarse, thick, unfamiliar. The intense brightness that had stolen my vision began to recede. I looked down at myself and saw that my jeans and sweater were replaced by a drab, eighteenth-century wool dress. Did Aiden cast me in this? Why would he do that? And if he did, where was he?
Tears pooled in my eyes while I fought to keep hold of my sanity.
I stood up with some difficulty, as the heavy skirts felt odd, tugging at my hips, the corset tight around my chest. The scene before me was just as I’d remembered: three English warships in the loch, the castle on fire, debris from the explosion littering the ground. I swung my gaze from side to side, looking for Aiden. When he’d been my transporter, he’d always been beside me, looking over the scene like a ghost, unable to touch or interact with anyone but me. But now, he was nowhere to be found.
I was caught in this reenactment of his worst memory, alone.
Squinting through the smoke, I spied Aiden’s bleeding body lying crumpled next to a boulder at the water’s edge. Instinctively, I moved toward him, my dense skirts and the uneven ground making it impossible to walk quickly. I knew I couldn’t touch him. I knew I couldn’t affect anything that had happened in the past. I knew my hand would pass right through, but I reached for him anyway.
My fingers landed on hot, solid flesh.
I jerk ed back like he’d burned me. My palm was covered in his blood. What in the hell? Everything I knew about the Between realm was turned upside down. I couldn’t cast, I couldn’t find my transporter guide, and now this.
Aiden’s groan snapped me out of my shock. He was reaching for his pistol. Instantly, I knew what he intended to do. He was going to load the gun, point it at his temple, and pull the trigger. The last time I was here, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I couldn’t touch him. I couldn’t stop it. I just had to stand there and watch it happen.
Not this time