Unseen Magic: A Guardian Novella Set in WWII: The Guardian Trilogy

By M.J. Putney and Mary Jo Putney

Mary Jo Putney writing as M.J. Putney...

 

Jane Macrae is a Guardian, a member of the magically gifted families who quietly use their talents to aid humankind.  During the darkest days of WWII, Jane's abilities make her invaluable to British military intelligence.  But when a powerful instinct sends her home to Scotland, she doesn't expect to be sought out by a wild-eyed Canadian RAF pilot in desperate need of her help. 

  

For Wing Commander David Sinclair, fighting the Battle of Britain is challenge enough.  Becoming Warden of the Grail when he visits his ancestral home in Scotland is way, way outside his experience.  Then his newly discovered powers lead him to a cool-eyed Scottish beauty who must become his partner in retrieving a stolen mystical treasure that could bring victory to the Nazis and destroy Britain forever.  

 

Only if they survive might there be time enough for love….

 

(Originally titled "The White Rose of Scotland," Unseen Magic was first published in the Chalice of Roses anthology. )

 

About the Author:

New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney was born in Upstate New York with a reading addiction, a condition with no known cure.  Her entire writing career is an accidental byproduct of buying a computer for other purposes.  Most of her books contain history, romance, and cats.  She has had eleven RWA RITA nominations, two RITA wins, RWA's 2013 Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award, and she's so distractible that she's amazed that she ever finishes a book. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Jo Putney
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223024095

M.J. Putney

M. J. Putney is the author of the young adult fantasy novels Dark Mirror and Dark Passage. As Mary Jo Putney, she is the New York Times bestselling author of historical romances. M. J. is fond of reading, cats, travel, and most of all, great stories.

Book preview

Chapter One

Scotland, May 1941

Jane Macrae’s heart was in the Highlands. Unfortunately, her weary body was on a crowded wartime train crawling its way north from Edinburgh. She woke from a restless, unsatisfying doze to find that the young soldier snoring next to her had a hand resting on her thigh. It was the most fun she’d had in months.

She removed his hand, grateful that she had chosen to look fast by wearing trousers. These last horrible months in London during the Blitz had made her a dedicated trouser wearer. So much more convenient when running to an air raid shelter or pulling survivors from collapsed buildings, as she’d done more than once.

Jane was good at finding people in the rubble. If she tired of working for military intelligence, perhaps she’d join one of the rescue services.

She glanced at the window, wishing she could see the Scottish hills beyond. Railway blackout regulations required blinds over windows and painting all the light bulbs blue. The effect was eerie, to say the least. But soon she’d be home.

Closing her eyes again, she tried to find a more comfortable spot on a deeply uncomfortable seat. She was one of the few civilians on the poky train. Most of the passengers were soldiers, sailors, and airmen heading north to serve at some of Scotland’s many military installations. The young, earnest, and doomed. Damn Hitler!

Jane’s work had kept her in London for these last crazy months, and on the whole, she’d coped reasonably well with the constant threat of German bombing. But two days before, she’d been hit by a fierce need to head home to Scotland. The pure, calm energy of her family estate at Dunrath would clear her mind.

Macraes had lived at Dunrath since before the family was called Macrae. The glen had been a grand place to grow up, and not only because it had the best weather in Scotland. As the youngest of a large family, she’d been teased and indulged and taught. Those had been golden days between the wars, though she’d been too young to fully appreciate them. Such times were gone forever. But the peace of Dunrath endured, and it was calling her home.

Though the distance between Edinburgh and Dunrath wasn’t that great, the train was a slow one that halted at every tiny station in the empty hills. She kept track of them, since name signboards had been removed from most stations. It would be easy to get off in the wrong place.

Her compartment cleared out two stops before hers since that station was a transfer point. Already the peace was getting into her bones and unwinding her tension and grief. She yawned. Only an hour or so more…

Jane woke when the train lurched to a halt at the next station. This was remote moorland, with only a sprinkling of crofts and villages. She was settling down again when the door to her compartment opened and a wild-eyed lunatic surged onto the train.

Not a lunatic—a pilot. She would have known that even if the stranger wasn’t wearing a leather flying jacket like hers. Near thirty, she guessed. He was tall and tawny and fit, with a pilot’s quickness and the confidence that can seem arrogant.

But what caught Jane’s attention and brought her sharply awake was his aura. Magic blazed around him like a city in flames.

The pilot’s fevered gaze swept the compartment and locked onto Jane. Two steps brought him to her seat. "You must come with me now! he said in a North American accent as he loomed over her. It’s…it’s life and death."

She jerked awake. A wise woman didn’t go off with a complete stranger, particularly one who was half crazed. Though her Guardian powers meant she had little to fear from the average man, this man wasn’t average.

But Guardians were sworn to serve, and the pilot was in need. As Jane hesitated, a flash of intuition told her that this madman was the reason she’d felt such a compulsion to return to Scotland.

"Please! he said tautly. Before the train leaves!"

Making a swift decision, Jane said, Lead on. She rose, swept her rucksack onto her shoulder, and followed the pilot into the night.

This late, no one was on duty at the tiny station. Nor were there lights or identification signs. But the familiar shapes of the hills told her she was at Glenberrie, the station before Dunrath. She knew the place well.

Jane almost fell as she stepped onto the platform in the dark. A hard male hand caught her arm. Power flared between her and the pilot with lightning ferocity. She felt seared…and in some strange, unfathomable way, bound to him.

As the train rumbled into motion, rattling the platform, Jane jerked her arm away, breaking the unwelcome connection. "What are you? And what the devil do you want?"

The fitful moonlight revealed the pilot’s face. He was as stunned as she. I…I don’t know. He rubbed his temple, expression baffled. I just knew that I had to find someone, and that someone turned out to be you.

Frowning, Jane studied him with mage vision. The hot reds of his aura had turned spiky and uncontrolled. She guessed he was unused to being a focus of magic, and didn’t know how to handle it. So where had the power come from? As it dimmed, she guessed that the pilot had exhausted his strength searching for her and was now near collapse.

Wondering what she’d got herself into, she said more calmly, Tell me who you are and what has brought you here.

He swayed on his feet. You’ll think I’m barking mad.

It takes a lot to surprise me. She examined his face in the fitful moonlight. He was a handsome devil. She guessed that a naturally buoyant disposition had been tempered by war. It’s obvious you’re a pilot. What is your name?

David Sinclair. The words dragged as if saying his name was an effort.

My name is Jane Macrae, she offered in return. Your accent isn’t British. American?

Canadian. From near Halifax. His voice eased a little as he mentioned his home. You guessed right, I’m a fighter pilot with the RAF.

So is one of my brothers, she said, feeling the familiar tightness around her heart at the knowledge of how dangerous a pilot’s life was. Squadron Leader Jamie Macrae. Do you know him?

You’re Jamie Macrae’s sister? His eyes narrowed, as if he was looking for a resemblance in the dark. I’ve met him a few times. His reputation is well known.

Jamie has been lucky so far. She prayed that would continue. Not like Philip.

It isn’t just luck. As pilots get more experience, we get a lot harder to shoot down, Sinclair said. "Did he give you the