Dark Victory (24 page)

He jerked. The fourteen-year-old boy knelt beside him, eyes wide and filled with tears.
Why?

I dinna ken.

He had never felt so helpless.

Rob ran into the room. He took one look at her and said, “Her neck looks broken. Is she alive?”

He hadn’t wanted to think it. Was her neck broken? The angle did not look right. “She’s alive, but barely.” She could not die—he could not live without her.

He had done this to her.

“Can ye use yer power to summon MacNeil?” Rob asked. But now, he was looking wide-eyed at the utter destruction in the chamber.

She was in so much pain.
“Ye will live, Tabitha. Ye have some broken bones an’ they will heal.” He meant to reassure her. “I ken ye can hear me. So fight, Tabitha, fight to get well.” Where was MacNeil?

He felt the slightest pressure on his hand and then he heard her.

Allie…

She wanted him to get the Healer.

I love you.

“Ye willna say goodbye!” he cried, aghast.

Take your vows…be my hero…

And the pressure on his hand disappeared.

“Nay!” He realized his tears were falling. “Tabitha, dinna give up, damn it!” But she was still now. Her life felt distant, as if it was getting farther and farther away by the second.

“MacNeil!” he shouted, and for the first time in his life, he felt powerless and lost. But MacNeil was not coming. Because if he’d heard Macleod, he would have already come to them.

He wanted to hold on to her tightly, forcing her to stay with him. “Ye will live. I will make certain,” he whispered to her. Getting to his feet and leaving her was one of the hardest moments of his life. “Rob, ye willna move from her side.”

Rob nodded. “An’ how will ye do what ye’ve never been able to do?”

Macleod stood, ignoring him. He pushed his fear aside. He was the grandson of a great god and the power of the leap was his
right.
He pushed his awareness of Tabitha aside. He could not think of her now. He had to find the power, before it was too late and she died.

Everything in the chamber faded, blurring. He closed his eyes. He strained. There was only the struggle to go inside himself and grasp the power that had eluded him his entire life.

And as he delved, the crux of his life became crystal clear. It was all meaningless without her. It was his need for vengeance which had done this to her. In the end, the vengeance he was sworn to was going to destroy her.

And he hated the vengeance.

It served no one now.

The chamber became stunningly still and he felt their presence.

Light was pouring through the chamber’s single window: white, bright, shimmering light. He inhaled. The figures in the light were vague and indistinct, like ghosts. The power was so bright, so holy, so fierce, so majestic, power he had never encountered this closely before, that he was mesmerized. He could not look away, even as the light intensified, hurting his eyes. “She canna die,” he cried.

There was no answer.

His life flashed before his eyes. The massacre at Blayde in 1201—the day that he had lost everyone he loved, the day that had changed his life. The first time he had seen Tabitha, when she had come to him through her spell, an apparition summoning him with her magic to her time. And then he saw the face of every MacDougall he had ever murdered in the name of vengeance.

There was so much regret.

The brilliant white light became blinding.

He could not find the power because the gods were furious with him.

And he was furious with himself. Why had he fought this war for so long? Yes, his father had been betrayed and murdered, and it had been his duty, but he had had more than enough revenge. Had he given up the clan war against the MacDougalls long ago, she would not be dying now. He was certain that Criosaidh’s ghost would not be stalking her so obsessively.

Tabitha was more important than his damned war of vengeance.

“Fine,” he screamed at them. “I will give up my vengeance. Ye have my word. But give me the power to leap!”

And the gods briefly became visible—a handful of powerful immortals, male and female, in long, flowing gowns, all striking in power and beauty. And then they vanished.

The white light faded.

Silence fell.

He jerked his gaze to Tabitha, who remained still and silent on the floor. He could not feel her life now.

Horror consumed him anew.
This was how he would feel at An Tùir-Tara….

The floor tilted.

The air moved.

Macleod cried out as he was hurled through the stone ceiling, through the clouds, and past this sun and too many other ones to count.

T
ABBY SLOWLY BECAME
conscious, swimming in pain. Criosaidh had hurt her this time, she managed to think. She had almost died. But as she opened her eyes, warmth began seeping through her entire body. With the warmth, there was so much relief.

“Don’t move, don’t speak, just let me heal you.”

Tabby blinked and saw Allie Monroe kneeling beside her. Her surprise vanished. She was so happy to see her best friend in the entire world. She wanted to hug her and hold her, hard.

“Do not move yet,” Allie murmured. She was a tiny, beautiful dark-haired woman, who was now radiating intense white light. Tabby smiled at her, but Allie was entirely focused.

She had never been this powerful when she had lived in New York. Tabby was stunned by the intensity of her healing power, her pain already easing. As it receded, her recall of the recent attack returned. As excited as she was to see Allie, she instantly thought of Macleod. As Allie hovered over her, pouring her white healing power into her, Tabby started to sit up. But Macleod wasn’t in the room with her. Instead, she saw Royce standing behind them, watching them carefully, his massive arms folded across his powerful chest, that gold cuff glinting.

“Hey, I’m good, but not that good,” Allie said with a cocky smile. “Can you relax and give me another moment?”

Tabby looked at Allie. She realized she was worried, but
couldn’t quite pinpoint why. And now she saw that Allie was wearing tight jeans, high-heeled boots and a tiny leather jacket. But of course she was. “Are you a medieval fashionista now?”

Allie grinned. “That would be you—no longer the country-club hostess but lady of the manor! I
hate
medieval clothes. I refuse to dress like a medieval woman and that is that.”

Tabby was hardly surprised. She glanced at the velvet gown she was wearing, thinking of Macleod. “I love this dress.”

“You would.”

They smiled at each other.

But the prickling of worry came back. “Where’s Macleod?”

Allie sat back, apparently finished, the radiant light diminishing. “He brought us here and then he left. He was very upset.”

Tabby thought that she recalled his absolute and abject fear for her. Had she hallucinated his making a pact with the gods? Had she heard him swear he would take their vows and give up his vengeance? “How did he find you?”

Allie seemed puzzled. “He found me at Carrick, Tabby, in the fifteenth century. Since we don’t know each other—yet—I assume you sent him to me.”

“I did.” Tabby wet her lips. “But he can’t leap.”

Allie slowly smiled. “Uh, honey, he can leap, and if he’s said otherwise, he’s telling a big fat lie, although I cannot imagine why.”

Tabby collapsed back onto the pillows, tears forming. He had made a pact with the gods and they had given him the power to leap. He was going to take his vows and become a Master, giving up the dark and bloody life he lived. She was thrilled.

“What is going on?” Allie cried. “Those are tears of happiness, aren’t they?”

“He has been suffering so,” Tabby whispered unsteadily. “And, yes, I’m happy, considering all that has happened.”

“Welcome to the world of big, bad and oh-so-sexy medieval men.” Allie grinned. “Oh, and did I forget to mention how superstubborn they are?”

Tabby looked at her, her tears falling. She had survived Criosaidh. She wasn’t sure how that had happened. Criosaidh had been far more powerful than she, Tabby, had been. Had she simply decided to leave, with the plan of coming back again to finish what she’d started?

But she was supposed to die at An Tùir-Tara. Tabby tensed in dread.

“What is it?” Allie asked quickly.

No, she told herself. Macleod had made a pact with the gods. He would not go to An Tùir-Tara to change history and defy them another time. But she cringed inwardly, because he was so reckless and arrogant. She didn’t think his character would change overnight. When he made up his mind to do something, nothing would stand in his way—not even a god.

She turned to smile grimly at Allie. “So they’re all impossible?”

“Honey, they’re
medieval.
”

“No kidding. The first time I met Macleod, he beheaded a sub—while I was in that boy’s arms.”

Allie winced. “Ow. I bet that did a ton for your romantic relationship.”

Tabby started to laugh. Allie grinned with her. Automatically they both reached out and held hands, clinging. “I love it,” Allie said softly. “You are the gentlest soul I know. And he’s one of the hardest of souls. Life with him won’t be easy,” she warned.

“I never said we were going to make a life together,” she began, then stopped. Her heart shrieked at her.

Allie gave her an “are-you-crazy” look. “So you’re going to walk away and leave him hanging around here without you? When another woman looks at Royce, my claws come out!”

Tabby sat up straighter. “I can’t
stand
the idea of him with another woman.”

“Good!”

“Why are you cheering for us?”

“Because you love him. Because he obviously loves you.”

Tabby stared.

Allie’s brows lifted. “I am meant to be with Royce. He is my other half. I couldn’t live without him—and he certainly couldn’t live without me. We are a team, Tabby, in every way, even the silly ways, and certainly in the life-altering ones. It is meant to be.”

Tabby nodded, wondering if she and Macleod could ever get past their differences and become partners and soul mates like that. She sobered. He was giving up his vengeance and taking his vows. It was a step in the right direction.

“Why do you look so uncertain?” Allie exclaimed. “Because he can behead his enemy without blinking?”

Tabby smiled grimly. “He can be cruel and he is ruthless.”

“He’s a Highlander, girlfriend. And in case you haven’t figured it out, grudges are carried for life around here, his mortal enemies are as cruel and as ruthless, and given a choice, these machos
like
using their swords. Hey—they are real men.”

Tabby almost smiled.
Ye need a real man….
“You’re so cool about it.”

“I want Royce alive, Tabby, and at my side.”

Leave it to Allie to find the bottom line, Tabby thought. “He put a boy in stocks, without food and water, intending to let him die there. I couldn’t allow it, Allie. But I could barely reason with him.”

“I never said the medieval-modern thing was easy, but it’s worth it. But you already know that—and I know it.” Her grin was saucy.

Tabby sighed, thinking about all the good times and all the
bad times—and all the nights they’d shared. “He cares about me and he’s proven it time and again. He’s even sworn off vengeance. At first it was just sex.” She blushed. “Maybe it is worth it.”

Allie said softly, “Yeah, Tabby!”

They’d had many late-night talks, discussing their love lives and Tabby’s problems. “I don’t even know how this has happened, but I really care about him, too. I care so much.” Her heart thundered. “I love him,” she whispered, and the moment she’d spoken, she realized it was true.

Allie touched her arm. “You are his better half,” she said softly. “And, Tabby, gentle soul that you are, he is your other half.”

Tabby bit her lip, wondering exactly how much Allie knew about her future.

Royce came forward, his gray eyes hard. “Ye canna divulge the future, Ailios,” he warned. “Not even to Lady Tabitha.”

Tabby looked back and forth between them, wondering what his words meant, exactly. Did he know her, too, in the fifteenth century? Was she going to choose to stay with Macleod in his medieval world? It sounded absurd! But leaving him felt crazy, horrible…and impossible.

Allie smiled. “Royce is uncompromising. Before I came along, the Code was his love and his life.”

Royce gave her an annoyed look. “We have overstayed our welcome.”

Tabby started, alarmed. “You are totally welcome!”

Allie took her hand and gave Royce a dark look. “I am not ready to leave her yet, when she is confused and upset.”

Royce said softly, “Macleod would confuse an’ upset any lass, even Lady Tabitha. He confuses ye, most o’ the time! She an’ Guy need to help themselves—as we did.”

Allie gave him a long look and he flushed. “I will make this up to you, Royce,” she finally said, very softly.

Tabby looked away, but not before she saw him hesitate. Then he sighed and stalked from the room. Tabby looked at Allie. “How long have you both been together?”

Allie laughed. “Almost sixty years, and, yes, I can still manipulate him with sex! He is supersexed and the promise of my best behavior in bed always gets me what I want.” Then she became pensive. Her dark stare was direct. “I love him so much.”

“I can see that. And I am so happy for you.” Tabby stood and paced to the window. Her smile faded. She wished Macleod would walk through the door so she could go into his arms. Was he the love of her life after all? Was it possible? She was never going to forget how frantic he had been when she’d been dying. And he’d given up his vengeance so he could leap to get her help.

Tabby wondered if she was remembering that correctly. It was such a blur of pain and fear. And where was he?

She turned. Allie and Royce were a super couple. There was no doubt in her mind that they were attached at the hip, the heart and the soul. There was something obvious, powerful and natural about it. Suddenly she wanted that bond for her and Macleod.

Allie stood and came over to her. “So what’s going on here? What attacked you?”

Tabby shivered. “A ghost…that came from the sixteenth century.”

“Great.” Allie smiled, unperturbed. “Is it human?”

“Actually, its corporeal self is a fairly immortal witch that is living at Melvaig right now, even as we speak.”

“Interesting. How are your powers?”

“Better.” Tabby smiled. Being with Allie again was great. She hadn’t changed—she remained unflappable and fearless.

“I wonder what you did in the sixteenth century to piss the witch off, other than kill it?”

Tabby froze. “Is that what you think?”

“Tabby, you just said it’s haunting you.”

“Allie, I’ve been seeing into the window of time.”

Allie’s eyes widened. “From that serious expression, I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Tabby wet her lips. “It all began at the Met. There was this exhibit about a great fire in 1550 at An Tùir-Tara. I felt the ghost’s evil and saw Macleod. He was bloody and burned. He’d been at the fire and it all felt like déjà vu.”

“What do you mean?”

“I felt that I knew Macleod, and I knew that witch. I felt that I’d been at the fire. In fact, when I first came to Blayde, it was familiar, too! But MacNeil said I’ve never been here before.”

“Maybe you’re having a flash forward.”

“What on earth is a flash forward?” Tabby cried.

“It’s that moment when your soul recognizes its Fate.”

Tabby stared, stunned.

“It’s actually that simple—a flashback in reverse. Your soul can recognize what will happen, as if it has already happened, and it feels familiar and right. Some say it happens because a soul feels itself across time, in another moment. Does it matter? Soul recognition is soul recognition. We’ve all had flash forwards at some point. I’ve had them with Royce—and it always ends with the feeling that it’s familiar and right.”

Tabby breathed hard. Was it possible that her soul had recognized Blayde, Macleod, their love—and whatever would happen at An Tùir-Tara? “Do you know anything about An Tùir-Tara, Allie?”

Allie shrugged. “I haven’t lived that long yet. You know it’s awfully risky business to zip around time—one slip and Fate is all messed up. Royce and I try really hard to mind our own business—except, of course, for protecting and healing Innocents.”

“You never mind your own business!” Tabby smiled and then she sobered. “I die at An Tùir-Tara.”

Allie paled. “Like hell you do! Royce died in my arms, do you remember? But I never gave up on him or us, and I went back and changed it! Macleod will not let you die!”

“I hope you’re right.” Tabby didn’t state the obvious. Allie knew the rules as well as she did. She knew all about Fate.

Tabby looked at the door again. “Okay, I’m getting worried. He was flipping out when I was hurt. Why isn’t he here?”

Allie hesitated. “He can be really difficult. As far as he’s come, he will still be a challenge for you for a long time.”

Dread began. “Where did he go, Allie?”

“I know you said he swore off vengeance, but he walked out of here like a man bent on revenge.”

Tabby felt her heart stop. In that moment, she suddenly knew what he intended—she knew it as if she was in
his
mind. “Oh, my God. He’s going after Criosaidh to kill her!”

T
HE FRONT GATES TO THE
baron of Awe’s home were closed. Sam stared at the closed iron gates, set between two stone pillars, from the front seat of her rental car. She saw the intercom but ignored it. The gates began to open, a simple enough task to accomplish.

She was filled with tension, so much so that her grip on the steering wheel of the Jag was white-knuckled and her entire body was vibrating. She took a breath as the gates swung wide enough to admit the car. What was wrong with her? Not only was she unusually tense, she had a damned headache. But of course, she expected a hellish confrontation with Ian Maclean. She would never let him best her. The truth was, she had hoped to never set eyes on him again.

She hit the gas and the tires screeched, kicking up gravel. She’d met him in Oban last September, just a few months ago,
when she and Brie were trying to figure out Aidan’s Fate. They’d exchanged a dozen words and he’d taken Brie back in time to find his father, leaving her standing on the corner alone. She’d disliked him immensely, instantly. And why not? He was drop-dead gorgeous, reeking of virility, power and wealth—and he knew it. He knew he was handsome, rich and mega-powerful, one of the world’s elite. His arrogance had been obvious and so had his disdain. He didn’t like women—he simply liked sex. Sam had felt it. He was an oversexed, overpowered user. It had been obvious that he expected women to fawn over him, chase him. It was as obvious that he didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.