I focused on the hooves then the shouting voice.
Though I wasn’t usually the kind of girl to run towards angry voices, today it was different. Today, my curiosity got the better of me. I pushed up and over the crest of the hill. There, I saw a man on horseback, riding madly towards me.
Though he was far-off, though the sun was in my eyes, though the wind whipped my hair over my face, instantly I recognized him. Max. Except, he was unlike I’d ever seen him. He was dressed in tanned skins and rough hessian like a Highlander, a long broadsword bouncing at his side.
Once he saw me, his eyes widened. He charged across the distance between us, and suddenly his lips split apart as he spat, “There you are, witch.”
For a second, my heart went out to him, vibrated with warmth and happiness at the sight of him. But that moment ended as I realized what he’d said and his face twisted and contorted with rage once more.
I turned on my foot, began to run, but I didn’t have time. The horse charged up behind me, swept in close, and before I could scream and jolt back, one of Max’s strong arms wrapped around my back and plucked me off the ground.
Showing his strength, he pulled me up onto the horse in front of him.
I fought, but I caught a glimpse of his face, and it stilled me.
It was Max, alright, same handsome face, same eyes, even. But everything else? Everything else was different. It was like I was staring at another man from another time.
He growled at me, spat in my face as rage contorted his. “You won’t escape from me this time, witch,” he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips and dashing against my cheek.
I stared at him with wide, frightened, crazed eyes. “Max, it’s me. Max, it’s me, Chi. Max, snap out of it,” I begged.
He wrapped an arm around my middle and pulled me to until I no longer faced him and faced the front of the horse instead. We continued to madly gallop across the grassy moor, until finally a mountainous path opened out before us, slicing up a rocky, treeless hill. “Max, please – where are you taking me? What’s going on? I’m still in the warehouse, Max. You have to save me before Fagan—”
“Quiet, witch,” he hissed by my ear. “You will not trick me with your wiles again. I fell to you once – and I will make you pay for that,” he promised.
There was something so unquestionably dark about his words, menacing about the way they shook through his throat and vibrated into me as he pinned me against his chest.
It wasn’t Max. Or this wasn’t my Max, at least.
“No, Max, please—”
“Not another word,” he hissed right by my ear, “witch.” He tightened his grip around my middle until I could hardly breathe.
Tears began to soak my cheeks as I wondered what the hell had befallen me. I may have just dodged death with Fagan, but who knew what this Max would do?
The scenery was stunning, stark, craggy mountains plunging off into rolling meadows and thick, knotted woods. In the distance, I even caught a glimpse of a large, crystalline lake. Max pushed the horse, and it powered over the bare dirt path beneath us. I wanted to press him, beg him to answer my questions so I could find out where the real Max was, where I was, when I was. I did nothing. His words – not another word, witch – echoed in my mind.
As the minutes slipped past into almost an hour, we came upon a village. From the make of the stone and mud-brick buildings with their thatched roofs, I figured we had to be in the 1600s, 1500s, maybe. In other words, a long, long time from home.
My gut kicked, bottomed out, buzzed with fear as I tried to figure out what I should do. If I pulled myself from this vision, I’d only end up back on the blood-soaked floor at Fagan’s feet. And yet, as Max brought the horse to a skidding stop, and yanked me off it, I wondered if a worse fate waited for me here.
I felt watchful eyes on me as Max pulled me down and I fell by his feet.
Though the village had appeared empty before, now doors creaked open, faces pushed out from behind the buildings and trees and stables.
“I have brought the lying witch,” Max bellowed as he struck his chest like an angry ape.
The watchful faces sneered, and jeers split the air, echoing around me.
I’d never felt colder in my life. At first, I tried to huddle against Max, but he hissed and kicked me back, boot tracking mud across my jeans.… Because I was still in jeans and my torn, bloodied blouse.
Wasn’t this a vision? Or was this something more? It was clear I could interact with it, and just as clear from my now bruised ass that it could interact with me. And time had gone past – almost an hour if I was any judge. I really doubted Fagan would have left me at his feet for a whole hour, not when the clock had been ticking down to 7:07.
Max continued to call to the crowd, and they continued to cheer and call back. One of them even picked up a stone and threw it at me. I was quick enough
