The Highlander's Time

tea had arrived. Jenny was still struggling with the massive number of calls but the enticing aroma rising from the brew had her taking tiny sips between conversations, mostly to soothe her own frazzled nerves. Just my luck . Ninety-eight percent of the calls were asking for some statement from the diva about a physical altercation Lila had been in with her frenemy, Sasha Blue.
    Understanding the whole pseudo-fight was nothing more than a show for the press, Jenny relayed a stock answer with a panache that came from years of working for Lila. “Once we have a statement, I’ll be sure to send it over to you.” The chipper affectation she put in her tone grated on her frustrated body more. This is ridiculous .
    “Everything okay in there?” Jenny asked once she'd cleared the lines. Making a mental note to call Jason, she peeked across the expanse of her desk. She saw Charlzie sip her tea. “Hey, you okay?” she asked again when Charlzie nearly spilled the contents of her cup all over Lila’s desk. Frowning at the two women gaping in the direction of the bathroom, Jenny shook her head. “What's up?”
    “Call 9-1-1,” Charlzie murmured, fear etching her tone. “Do it now.”
    “What has gotten into you two?” Jenny strode back into Lila’s office ready to give them a piece of her mind. She opened her mouth to tell them to stop the theatrics when she came to an abrupt stop and blinked at a whirlwind spinning in the corner. The bright pink stapler swirled around and around making Jenny dizzy. The miniature twister backed into the fake ficus, plucking off most of the faux leaves before meandering toward them.
    Jenny took a defensive position in front of Lila and Charlzie. Her fingers searched for Lila's expensive desk phone. Finding it, she ripped the receiver from the cradle. “Okay, 9-1-1 it is.”
    Scrambling to dial the number, her teeth chattered as the swirling air tore at her hair. She clamped her lips together as it moved over her hand, snatching the phone off the desk. An exquisite pain rifled through her. It wrapped the parts of her body trapped inside the whirlwind in a soothing warmth, but her other extremities felt as if they were being shorn from her torso. “Get out of here.”
    It was too late.
    Jenny grabbed Lila's hand. Their gazes met and locked. “Hold on.”
    An ear-piercing scream mingled with the drowning rumble.
    Then, just when Jenny thought the noise couldn't get any worse, silence overwhelmed her, and she was consumed by a nothingness that chilled her blood.

    ***

    The Highlands of Scotland, Late Autumn 1111 .

    “By God's bones, milord. The wind is howling like a banshee tonight.”
    Laird Iaen Kincaid thought his master of the guard, Kevin's, words a gross understatement. In all his years in the Highlands, which was all of the six and a score years he'd lived, he'd ne'er witnessed a gale like this. The rain pounded down on Castle Kincaid so hard the roof had sprung leaks and a cold draft kept slinking its way through the shuttered windows. “What be the word from the river?”
    “'Tis rising, milord.”
    Iaen heaved a heavy-hearted sigh. He had nay reason to worry for the Keep. Granted, the roof would need major repairs, but the stone walls would hold. If he had to, he'd move families inside the hall. “Have all the clansmen in the flood area been removed to higher ground?”
    “Aye, many are staying with family. The remainders were placed in the abandoned cottages per your command.” The dark-haired man hesitated. “Only Graham refused to leave, but you know how stubborn he is.” Kevin shook his head. “Naught will take him from his cottage save death is what he told me.”
    “Aye.” If that didnae sound like the old man who had followed the pipes and drums for most of his life, Iaen didnae not know what did. Graham also had the misfortune of being like his laird. They were born from the mix of Scots and Norse blood. Graham's mother was a slave traded to his father for fox pelts in the last century. Iaen's mother had married his father to seal a peace accord between the Kincaids and the Viking Wulfson clan. “Let him alone for the time being. If the river comes up to the back wall of his cottage, inform me at once.”
    “You think you can convince him to leave?”
    “Nay.” Iaen dodged a bucket catching drips from the ceiling as he strode across the Great Hall. Considerations by the dozens stiffened his shoulders. He didnae have the time for Graham's attitude,