Healer's Touch: The Fae-touched Chronicles, #2

By Christen Stovall and Jennifer Sanders

A Fae-touched healer who can't access his magic-and whose death has been foretold.

 

A child of the Fae with no magic of her own, kidnapped by mistake.

 

Disillusioned by his life as a doctor in Victorian-era London, Ross McInerny plans a new start in the wilds of Colorado-but on the very eve of his departure, his future is predicted: death--by murder most foul.

 

Elsie Brentwood longs for adventure and a life that's truly her own, but when she is mistaken for her sister-in-law, she finds herself taken captive by an old family enemy who threatens everything she holds dear.

 

Injured, hungry, and chased by both a vengeful murderer and inexorable fate, Elsie and Ross must rely on their wits and each other to find their way home-alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boundless Fantasy
• Release date: Apr 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781736266250

Christen Stovall

Christen is an avid reader who enjoys going on adventures whenever she can. Her love of fantasy started at an early age with fairytales and The Hobbit. She lives in Kansas in the home she shared with her late husband. She first discovered a love of storytelling on the stage. In her late teens she began writing, a hobby that helped her through her husband’s death. She is the author of the Song of Souls trilogy, and its prequel, The Twisted Path. Christen enjoys spending days in her gardens and having adventures with her friends and family. Seer’s Choice is the first book in the Fae-touched Chronicles, and represents the first collaboration between Sanders and Stovall. What began as a birthday gift between authors has truly taken on a life of its own. We hope you enjoy our world.

Book preview

Chapter One

New Horizons

Dr. Ross McInerny closed and locked his steamer trunk, looking around the room to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. His friends would likely be angry that he was leaving Scotland tomorrow, but he had things to do in London before... 

He pulled the crumpled paper out of his jacket pocket and smoothed the letter, scanning the handwritten offer for the hundredth time in the past three weeks. We, the members of the Durango town council, are pleased to offer you the position of head physician at the Durango Hospital and Clinic.

Durango. A new town in Colorado, in the far west of the United States. Ross sighed. There were places farther away from home—India or Australia—but as far as his friends would be concerned, America might as well be the moon. And yet... the opportunity to build a medical presence in such a new and wild place drew him as little had before.  

He hated London, if he were honest with himself. The dirt, the smoke, the teeming throngs of humanity and the squalor to which most of them were subject, the never-ending stream of ills and injuries that were often entirely preventable if not for the greed of landlords and tenement owners... Working and living in a place like that made his heart sick and weighed on his soul. 

He’d answered the advertisement for the Colorado position months ago, at a particularly low point, and then had put it entirely from his mind as an unrealistic fantasy. Life went back to the relentless grind of London hospitals, working until he collapsed into his bed in a room he rented by the month, and despair began to sink in again. Then, almost as an answer to an unsaid prayer, had come this offer. The wild Fae in his blood sang out at the opportunity, and so... he’d sent a response in the affirmative right before he left London. 

He hadn’t told his friends of his plans yet. They hadn’t even been plans, merely a dream of freedom that he’d held close to his heart. Then the previous Lord Kirkleith, Geordie’s father, had been murdered, and all Ross’ attention had gone to supporting his friend. Death threats, his friends’ discovery of Ross’ Fae birthright and his more esoteric abilities, and Geordie’s hasty but happy marriage had all happened in quick succession. But now all was calm, and it was time. 

This wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to having. It would mean saying goodbye for years, if not for good. That was the painful reality he’d been avoiding. 

Ross folded the paper again and shoved it in his pocket and exhaled slowly. If he took much longer, someone would come looking for him. Besides, the new Lady Kirkleith’s family was set to arrive before dinner, and Ross thought it better to have the conversation out of the way before that. 

Hoping that the right words would come to him, he made his way downstairs to the parlor, where his old school friends Quinn Rutherford and Geordie Maclaren—no, Lord Kirkleith now, Ross reminded himself with the ghost of a smile—awaited him, along with Asher Burton, Ross’ closest friend. The mood was jovial enough on the surface, but held the same undercurrent of heaviness that always happened when they knew the end of a visit was at hand. The investiture was over, Geordie safe, and though no one had said anything, they were all sure to be parting ways soon. And yet this one was different. Their usual company was fuller this afternoon, with Geordie seated next to his wife Ione, the very image of an utterly besotted man. Ross wasn’t the only one starting a new chapter, and perhaps that would help the news go over better. 

Asher, to Ross’ amusement, had his nose buried in the pages of Ross’ grimoire, where he’d spent years recording his medical journey alongside the development of his magic.  I will be needing that back, Ash, Ross said as he walked into the parlor and settled on the settee at his best friend’s side. 

Yes, of course, Asher glanced up from his reading. This is quite fascinating. He closed the book and passed it back to Ross. I’m curious to see where science and magic meet, though. Perhaps a demonstration? 

Ross shook his head, taking the book with a smile. I can assure you, it isn’t all that interesting. 

Asher shook his head. And I can assure you that it is, at least to me. You’re too modest, Ross—I’ve lost count how many lives you’ve saved at this point. Including my own, I make no doubt. 

Maybe once or twice, Ross admitted, smile widening. Very well, I’ll give you a potion-making demonstration before our visit ends. In truth, there was a certain level of satisfaction in showing off, now that his friends knew what he could do. You choose the potion. He stopped himself and raised a finger. Nothing too complicated, mind you; I have no notion where I would get some of the more exotic ingredients around here. But I will show you how it’s mixed together. 

Asher grinned. It’s settled then. 

Geordie wandered over from across the room. Are we settling things without the input of the local laird? he asked mildly. I feel sure I can have you executed for that. 

You’d have to catch me first, Ross replied, lifting his hand to wiggle glowing fingers at his friend. I could have you fast asleep and forgetful of the whole conversation before you could give the order. 

Not if the lady of the house—and her counterspells—has anything to say about it, Ione spoke up, raising a brow in his direction. Care to see which of us is faster? 

Ross demurred. No, I have more sense than to challenge another Fae-touched. Particularly a powerful oracle. He put his hand in his pocket to show he was beaten. You have my word on it.  

Ione laughed. Smart man. 

Ross’ fingers brushed against the paper in his pocket and with the contact came a frisson of regret. He pulled his hand out again, holding the letter, and glanced around the room, taking a deep breath. It was time. "There are a few things I might have decided on without consulting the Maclaren—or any of you." 

Ever the mischief-maker, Quinn snatched the paper from Ross’ hand. What’s this, a love letter from— He focused on the paper. "What is this? He glanced up at Ross, eyes narrowing. America? You can’t be serious." 

Quinn, give it back! Ross reached for the page, only to have Quinn dodge and raise his hand. Ross lunged at his friend, catching Quinn’s wrist and pulling the letter free. I was waiting for the right time to bring it up. 

Quinn folded his arms, his expression dark. A gift of advice from me to you: there isn’t one. 

Shut up, Quinn. That was Asher. What’s going on, Ross? 

Ross paced around the room a little, sorting his thoughts before working up the courage to begin in earnest. This was not how he’d thought it would go, though with Quinn in the room, nothing ever was. You all know I haven’t been happy in London. I— He stopped and looked at Asher. I’ve been offered a position as the head of my own clinic. In—in— 

He watched as his best friend’s face went white. In America? Asher asked, his voice quiet.  

I wanted to wait until everything was official before I told you, Ross began lamely, knowing full well it wasn’t going to make this any easier. But then things here went sideways and I felt it was better to wait until the dust settled a bit. 

When do you leave? That was Ione, her worried gaze settling on each man in turn. And now Ross felt truly miserable. 

My ship departs a week from tomorrow. I’m... leaving for London in the morning. 

He could see a muscle ticking in Asher’s jaw, and then... So this is goodbye, then. Nearly twenty years of friendship, and then just ‘oh and I’m leaving tomorrow, probably forever’? His tone was furious; abruptly he got up and crossed to the window, staring resolutely across the garden. 

Not forever, Ross protested quietly; but he knew full well that he might never stand in this room again. He looked at each of his friends and then down at the paper in his hands. It’s an opportunity I can’t walk away from. 

Geordie’s expression was sober as he studied Ross. We’ll all miss you, lad. He shook his head. We’ve been friends since we were children, Ross, the four of us. Brothers, really. We don’t live in each other’s pockets, but... America’s a bloody long distance. It could be years before we meet again. The phrase ‘if ever’ hung unspoken between them. 

I’ll be back for visits, I swear it, Ross said, as much to himself as his friends. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the lump that lodged itself in his throat and made it difficult to continue. I should have told you sooner, I just didn’t know how. Geordie nodded, though his stormy gaze was skeptical. 

Quinn, however, was not content to let it lie. Yes, he retorted drily, I’m sure as the head of your own clinic in the untamed wilds of the colonies, you’ll have all sorts of time to take the occasional visit back to the old world. He shook his head. If it’s really what you want, Ross, you’d only to say so and you know we’d be behind you. But to leave it until a week before you sail? Quinn abruptly left off and went to join Asher at the window, studying the landscape outside with deep absorption. 

You’re absolutely right, Ross answered guiltily. What Quinn said was true: visits were likely to be few and far between, and might not happen at all. Ross put a hand on Geordie’s shoulder. I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of this. He shook his head and looked at each man in turn. I should have told you before today. I know that. Ross let out a breath. I charged ahead, like I always do, and then when it came to telling you all... I was a coward.  

His friends were silent for a long moment, but at long last Asher sighed. No. No, if this is what’s best for you... and only you can decide that. Things can’t always be shaped as we fashion them, and if this is your choice, Ross, then it’s mine too. He sighed sadly and left his post at the window and came to stand in front of Ross. But I am going to miss you. 

We all are, Geordie chimed in, and Quinn nodded in agreement, coming to join the other two. 

Ross silently studied his friends. He’d known this was going to be goodbye—for a long time, anyway—and he’d known it was going to be difficult. I don’t want to leave any of you behind. But I’m not happy with my life as it is. I haven’t been for some time. He shrugged helplessly. I don’t belong in London, but you, Asher... you and Quinn are agents of the Queen, and you love that adventurous life. Geordie has all this, he gestured to the elegance around them, and Ione, and his clan to look after. You’re living lives that you take satisfaction in. It’s time for me to find that as well, and you’re the reason I can do it. He tried a smile, which only half-worked. If Ione hadn’t made that prediction, if Asher hadn’t stepped in during that challenge, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. 

Don’t forget who saved whom when Hamish Maclaren decided to have a go at me, lad. There’s no debt to be paid here. Geordie essayed a chuckle.  

Asher shrugged. You’d have done it for any of us, Ross, he added. And the obvious conclusion, he went on like the scholar he so often pretended to be, is that you should go and we should stay, and we’ll just have to make sure the twain meet once in a while. He clapped his friend on the back. And we’ll have to make this last week in London a rousing sendoff, so you don’t forget us. Asher paused, clearing his throat. Sorry about earlier. You just caught me by surprise. 

My fault, as usual, Ross replied, and found himself caught in a hug from the usually-undemonstrative Quinn, followed by his other friends. 

The hug broke off and was followed by a round of congratulations from his friends. Despite the obvious forgiveness he’d been granted, Ross still felt miserable and shaken. The news had gone over worse than he imagined, though he should probably have expected the reaction he got, having waited as long as he did. But the atmosphere had lightened perceptibly, and that was all to the good. 

Ione, having remained silent while the friends worked things out, rose with a calm grace. I’ve had a thought: we need not part with things so uncertain. I could have a peek ahead and find out when Dr. McInerny will be able to grace the castle with his presence again. 

Or maybe give him a reason to reconsider, Quinn added. 

Well, Ross, what do you say? Ione held her hand out to him. Care to see what adventures await you? 

For a moment, Ross considered declining, then shrugged. I suppose it would make travel plans easier. He put his hand in Ione’s. Besides, it can’t possibly be as bad as last time.  

Ione took hold of his hand and closed her eyes. The room went silent. Ross watched her. Her brow furrowed, and then her eyes flew open, lips trembling. 

Ross jerked his hand back. That... is not a happy face. 

She looked up at him with an expression that left no room for doubt. Ross... I... She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. It doesn’t entirely make sense. A light broke apart and extinguished at your feet. You were alone in an alleyway—or some sort of dock—it was night and raining, but your face was stained with black tears. A dark and shrouded figure stepped out of the shadows, clutching a knife. He was changing you somehow, and then he... he stabbed you and you fell and then... she swallowed, shook her head, I saw the life leave your body. 

No—that’s not— Ross stepped back, shaking his head. No, we prevented it. I’m fine, Ash fixed it. I’m going to America. I’m... He kept backing away as if putting distance between Ione and himself would remove the sudden tension in the room. No. 

Asher too was in shock. We fixed it, he repeated. Didn’t we—Quinn, Geordie... we fixed it, we changed it! 

Geordie knelt before Ione and took his wife’s hand. Is there any way you can have misread this? he asked quietly. 

Ione shook her head again miserably. It was not as easy to understand as the other vision, but there can be no mistaking it. He was in an alleyway, or on some sort of pier. She rubbed her forehead. It was narrow, with buildings or... or crates on both sides and wooden planks underfoot. Ross was different—his face twisted with anguish and rage. But he seemed strangely distorted, or... I don’t know how to explain it, but something about his appearance was unclear. Thunder rolled, and then I saw a blade flash in the lightning and Ross... She stopped and looked at each face in the room. It was different this time, not as detailed or literal as the last—as if there were elements hidden from view, or the vision was not entirely determined. 

Ross reached for the back of a nearby chair and slowly slid into the cushioned seat. Not entirely determined? He had to repeat Ione’s words, trying to make sense of what seemed like a series of small explosions in his head. 

Asher moved to stand in front of him. We fixed it once, he was practically growling. We’ll just fix it again. 

Ross stared at the floor. Breathe in, and now back out. In and back out. Predictions could be changed, they’d proven that. Asher had the right of it, they changed it once and would do it again. Why should this time be any different? That was it—he simply needed to approach this with logic and... and think through it. All would be well; he would make a plan just as they’d done before.  

A knock at the door heralded the approach of the Maclaren butler, Pickett. My lord, he announced in stentorian tones, the Brentwoods have arrived. 

Geordie was the first to respond, issuing brief orders to the butler, and the sudden change to the practical helped defuse the tension in the room. He picked up Ross’ grimoire and gave it to Quinn, directing him and Asher to the door. Take Ross to the library, through the back halls. Pour him a very large whiskey. Ione and I will greet her family, and once they’re settled I’ll come check on you. Then he put a big hand on Ross’ shoulder, his accent broadening. Take heart. We willna’ let harm come to you, then or now.    

I know this seems grim, but I’m certain there is more to the vision than what this brief reading revealed, Ione said gently. She reached for Ross’ hand and gave it a squeeze. The more I think on it, the more I realize that I did not see all there was to see. I will read you again after dinner and we can determine what to do from there. Ross nodded, and Ione allowed Geordie to escort her out of the room. 

Ross took a deep breath and stood up slowly. Everything would be fine, he would be fine... yes, it was all... fine. The vision isn’t clear—as long as I’m careful, surely I can safely avoid it. All will be well. Ione seems confident, and she hasn’t steered us wrong yet. He took a few aimless steps into the middle of the room, nodded and turned to look at his friends. Even if the vision is predicting death or injury, she already gave us everything we need to know. In fact, the answer is even simpler than all that. I can handle it on my own and the two of you need not whip yourselves into a frenzy. Ione said I was in an alleyway, during a storm. Well, that’s easy enough to deal with. I’ll avoid alleys, and if it’s—it’s raining I won’t go outdoors. And my going to America guarantees my safety for some time. 

How does going to America ensure you any measure of safety? Asher asked, eyeing him with concerned skepticism. 

There are no alleyways on ships, and Colorado is landlocked, no piers, Ross replied. Really, Asher, I should think it would have occurred to you first. He took his grimoire from Quinn, hand shaking as he did. Now, I have to go finish packing and... and... I’m leaving first thing in the morning—setting sail in a week, much to do, and very little time to do it. 

He nodded, yet again and started for the door. He was but a step or two away when something pierced his left shoulder. Ross clapped a hand over his shoulder and came up with a feathered, needle-like object. His eyes went wide and he spun to face his friends, staggering a little. 

Quinn was calmly tucking a blow gun back into the pocket of his jacket, while Asher’s face bore an almost comical expression of shock and astonishment. Reality dawned on Ross as his magic flared up, trying to fight whatever’d been on that dart. He took a stumbling step, and then another. The room tilted sharply; Ross’ vision blurred. 

Quinn, what the hell have you done? Asher exclaimed, though the sound was oddly muffled. 

I’m keeping him out of harm’s way, came the distant reply. Ross could feel his Fae blood guttering out and all at once the battle between drug and magic was lost; hands slid under his arms to catch him, and everything went black.

Chapter Two

Welcome to Scotland

Elsie Brentwood craned her neck as she tried to take in the splendor of Castle Maclaren’s great hall. It seemed that Ione had landed on her feet as usual. Engaged again, and to all this . She hadn’t blamed her sister at all for refusing to marry Theodore Gibson—if she were being honest, she’d never really understood why Ione had agreed to the match. Papa had been absolutely beside himself at being thwarted, and then Ione’s letter had come, announcing... this . 

And now Papa was beside himself again, though from an entirely different cause. If his transports alone could have sped the journey, they’d have arrived at the castle ten minutes after their departure. 

Ione was to be wed—again—and Papa had insisted on refurbishing Elsie’s wardrobe, for she was to be the sister of a Viscountess and Society must become all agog at her sudden blossoming, or so her father’s narrative went. Elsie herself, though glad to be looking well, wondered what it must be like to have parents who weren’t the lead actors in a drama writ for an audience of two. Still, one could not choose one’s parents. Nor one’s sister, but Elsie wouldn’t have changed Ione if she could.  

As if summoned by the thought, Ione herself emerged from the depths of the castle, hands held out to her family. Papa, Mama, Elsie, you’re earlier than expected! Her tone bore a note of surprise, and an unmistakable joy that Elsie hadn’t heard since the eve of the first ball of the season. Welcome to Castle Maclaren. This, and here she paused to exchange a look with the impressively large, copper-haired man at her side, is Lord Kirkleith, my... husband. Then, without letting the span of a full breath pass, Ione smiled brightly and reached for Elsie’s hands. I have missed you, dearest. I am sorry you missed the wedding, but there were other concerns to consider. I’ll tell you everything, not a detail spared, once you are settled in your chamber. I took great care in selecting a room for you. It’s quite lovely, with emerald green velvet bed curtains, and a painting of water lilies. 

Elsie glanced over at her father and very nearly laughed aloud as he gaped like the proverbial fish. Husband? he managed at last, and his tone was so perfectly balanced between gratification and outrage that it was clear he wasn’t sure which side of the fence to fall upon. My dear child, what can you mean? 

Ione stopped short and her cheeks blazed pink. Yes, Papa, Geordie is my husband now. There were concerns that required the wedding to take place sooner than originally expected. 

Elsie’s mother looked to her husband and then turned her attention to her oldest daughter. Ione, darling, whatever can you mean? Her manner was not as dramatically amusing as Papa’s, but Elsie could hear the concern in her voice. 

John Brentwood’s eyes moved from his daughter to her husband and back, drawing himself up wrathfully. WHAT concerns? he thundered. Have you—are you with—what have you done, Ione? His eyes flashed, his face turned first red and then purple. 

And now Ione’s entire face, all the way to the tips of her ears, blazed red. Oh—heavens, Papa! No—it was nothing like that. She stopped herself, taking a deep breath and put her hands out before her as if to physically tamp down the tension level of the room. There were matters of business and clan politics that a wedding served to appease. She lifted her chin, and looked for all the world like the dignified lady she’d become. I realize the circumstances surrounding my departure from London society were awkward, but I was acting in the most honorable way I saw fit. I did nothing wrong then, nor have I done so now. It was more confidence and resolve than Elsie had ever heard from her sister.

Lord Kirkleith spoke up. I would not dishonor my Viscountess, he said quietly, though his tone was pointed. And I would justly have words with any man who intimated any lack of honor on her part, let alone my own, no matter what the relation. But I realize this is a shock to you, sir, and you, ma’am, he bowed to Mrs. Brentwood. Let me only assure you that I will do everything in my power to ensure her happiness and comfort, for the rest of her life. His gaze shifted to Elsie, who was watching these proceedings with interest. Hello, Miss Brentwood. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. 

And I yours, sir. Or—shall I say brother? she asked, feeling very daring. 

Geordie’s handsome face lit with a bright smile. Brother and sister we are, he agreed, and y’may call me what y’like. Elsie found she liked this response very much indeed.

Darling, Elizabeth Brentwood placed a placating hand on her husband’s wrist. Elsie recognized the voice of calm and reason. It seems our visit will not be quite what was expected. Here she offered Ione and Geordie a smile. But no less happy. We are still welcoming a new son into our family. Her smile broadened to include John. And such a delightful one, she added, which Elsie interpreted to mean ‘mind your words, he’s a wealthy Viscount’. Elizabeth continued. John, it seems our Ione showed greater wisdom than we supposed when she refused Mr. Gibson. Surely we cannot hold such perspicacity against her. 

I—well, yes, their father sputtered slightly. Elsie could practically see the thoughts in his head running circles like a dog chasing its tail. There seemed to be an inner conflict happening between a father who’d been utterly bypassed in the business of his daughter’s marriage, and the undeniable fact that Ione had landed a far greater match than the one she’d refused. It was obvious his eldest daughter was happy in this new life. After several seconds of consternation, he relaxed and held a hand out to his new son-in-law. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly. I did so out of shock, and weariness from a long journey. I can see you’ve made my Ione happy, and that you hold her in the highest esteem. It’s my pleasure to count you as family: a son, in fact. 

Ione smiled at her father. He has made me happy, Papa. Geordie is a wonder, truly. The look Elsie’s sister fixed on her new husband was one of utterly besotted bliss. I would marry him a thousand times over if I could.