Highland Sorcerer Read Online Free Page B

remain abundant and the flip side of magic, like the
dark fairies, ghouls and vampires wouldn't get much of a foothold
in the world. Here it is." Lenore tapped a page and slipped her
black reading glasses on.
    Charity scooted her chair closer so
that their heads were side by side. Celtic writing wasn't exactly
her forte. Their grandmother had insisted that as practicing
healers, both girls at least know enough to pick out runes and
symbols for spells and incantations in several nearly dead
languages. Charity could get by, but her younger sister's huge
brain excelled in it.
    She scanned down what looked like a
listing of names—genealogical records with years and, wow, magical
abilities. Her heart jolted when she came to his name. "Toren
Limont," she whispered, making her encounter with him seem that
much more surreal. "High Sorcerer of Limont, born in Crunfathy."
Her breathing stilled, frozen in her chest. An ancient wounded
Highlander really had flung himself through time to seek her aid,
and then he was gone—to a place she couldn't reach him or help him.
The urge to somehow help was damn near overwhelming. After she came
to by the tub, she hadn’t been able to sleep all night. Her
thoughts replayed everything that had passed between them and the
more she thought of him, the more urgent the feeling to help him
grew. "Have you ever heard of Crunfathy?"
    "No. Never." Lenore's fingers swept
over hers. "You okay?"
    "Yeah. It's just weird, you
know?"
    "Do you want to stop?"
    "No, I want to know what
happened." She needed to know. She didn't understand it, but since
she'd healed Toren, saw what he'd gone through, felt his resolve;
she desperately needed to know he was okay. She frowned. Who was
she kidding? It was more than that. She knew the man, knew him
better than she knew anyone. She had felt his inner essence,
everything that made him him. From what irritated him to what he held dear. With
the healing, he had somehow gotten deep under her skin as though he
were almost a part of her now. She was going to find out what
happened to him and his story had better end up being a happy one
or else…or else what? What could she do about anything? She'd
healed him and he'd gone back to where he belonged. That was that.
That was all it could ever be. Right?
    Right?
    But she had to know, had to help him
somehow. She couldn't stop thinking about helping him. She had to
help him.
    Which was monumentally stupid to dwell
so much on, considering whatever the outcome with the witch who was
torturing him, Toren Limont was still centuries long
dead.
    "All right." Lenore was back in
research mode—all business with her glasses sliding down her little
nose. She'd twisted her Faerie-soft blond hair on top of her head
out of the way, slipping a pencil in the knot to hold it in place.
"Your Toren was the last known sorcerer before the clan vanished
for good. You see these other names below his?"
    Charity squinted, her belly
taking a tumble at the word vanished .
    Lenore traced the names with the tip of
a gloved finger.
     
    Toren Limont
    Shaw Limont
    Edeen Limont
    Col Limont
     
    "He had two brothers and a sister. It
looks like that together the four siblings kept their people safe
and the balance of magic in check. They also…" Lenore's eyes lit
up. "They also each had their own unique brand of magic. The sister
was an empath."
    "She could tap into other people's
emotions."
    "Yes, but back then when magic was part
of everyday existence and so much stronger, an empath would have
been able to do way more than feel emotions. We're talking the
ability to really get into people's heads, dive into memories they
don't even know about if she wanted to."
    "Seriously? So if she touched one of
us, she'd see everything we know?"
    "Yes. Can you imagine our healing
potential if we lived back then? Magic was in everything, as simple
as plucking it from the air." Lenore's smile was bright,
excited.
    Charity could very well imagine the
potential. She'd