Dark Victory (21 page)

The young Highlander spoke abruptly to her. Tabby did not have to understand Gaelic to know that he was telling her not to leave the keep. She ignored him, vaguely aware that she was enchanted and this was treachery, but too worried about the child now to think clearly. She had to find this child. There was simply no choice.

She rushed through the arched gateway and across the drawbridge. The crying became louder. The child was terrified.

The young man shouted at her.

Tabby lifted her skirts and ran toward the road. The sound of the crying shifted. Tabby veered off the dirt. The child screamed as if it was being murdered. Tabby ran harder, branches scraping her face, her breasts. And then there was a shocking silence.

She halted, confused, panting hard. The fog lifted and she stilled, shocked.

She had just been lured away from Blayde with powerful magic. There was no child!

For her senses had returned, as clear and as acute as ever. “Highlander,” she cried, turning. And she did not know where she was. Huge, towering pines surrounded her. She was in the forest, where it was dark with shadow and brush. She could
barely see the sky through the canopy of boughs above her—and she could not see Blayde.

Comprehension stabbed through her. She was lost.

Branches rustled, snapped.

More comprehension came. She was not alone.

Alarmed, Tabby fought the sudden fear. The calm that always preceded evil came. Becoming still, she put a protective spell on herself, finally turning to the sound.

Five darkly cloaked figures emerged from the forest, their appearance shocking. They were adolescent boys, all fair in complexion, with black, empty eyes. They were obviously medieval boys. As Tabby was surrounded, the comprehension was even more stunning now.

There were sub gangs burning witches in 1298, too.

They began to smile, their expressions evil, approaching.

Tabby turned to run.

Her heart thundered as her arms were seized from behind. She struggled but it was futile and she was dragged back. She heard someone else approaching, but she was pushed hard to the ground. She cried out, landing on the rough ground on her hands and knees, her face.
They wanted to hurt her.

How far would they go?

The possessed always had unnatural strength, and she did not have the power to escape them, she thought, carefully getting to her hands and knees. Begging would accomplish nothing. Evil did not know the meaning of mercy.

“Bind her and start the fire.”

Tabby cried out at the sound of Kristin Lafarge’s voice. She was dragged to her feet and she whirled, incredulous. Kristin was striding into the small glade, grinning at her maliciously, her eyes overly bright. She was clad in medieval Highland garb.

Tabby’s hands were jerked behind her and tied with rough rope. Her fear vanished and calm descended. “You enchanted me.”

“Yes, I did. Hello, Tabitha.” Kristin approached, clearly relishing the moment.

Tabby straightened, ignoring the pain of the cord. “Are you from this time or my time?”

Kristin touched her cheek lightly with her nails. “I’m hardly a medieval woman. Do I appear to be?”

She didn’t have the slightest trace of a Scot brogue, Tabby thought. “You could pass for a Highland woman in those clothes.”

“I have
relations
at Melvaig.”

“Are you a MacDougall?” Tabby asked swiftly. Everything was tied to An Tùir-Tara, she thought.

“You ask too many questions. And how are
your
relations, dear?”

Tabby went still. “What?”

Kristin grinned. “How is your warrior-bitch sister? I wonder.”

The calm vanished. Icy fear returned. “If you have hurt her, I will kill you.”

Kristin laughed. “And how will you do that? Fire, arise,” she said smoothly.

Tabby heard the flames crackle and she whirled. The boys had gathered up a huge amount of brush and a fire instantly blazed in the center of the glade. Fear slithered through her. “What did you do to Sam?”

“Sam survived my magic, but she probably still has a tummy ache.”

Sam was okay, Tabby thought, relieved. She reached out for the calm and it came swiftly to her. “What do you want? Why did you follow me into the past?” And then she wondered at the coincidence—two evil things had followed her into the past from New York City. “Wait a minute. Was it you at the Met? Did you try to get into my loft? Did you attack me the other night in Macleod’s chamber?”

“I wish I had that kind of power. Unfortunately, I have to be present to use my magic on you.”

Tabby began to shake. She believed her. Not because of what she had said, but because this woman did not have the same imprint of evil as the woman from An Tùir-Tara. Kristin was a diluted version, somehow. “How are you related to An Tùir-Tara?” she demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kristin’s pleasant smile and demeanor vanished. “I was there.”

Tabby stared, surprised. “And I’m going to be there, too, aren’t I?” She didn’t know how she knew. Or maybe she did—all those emotions were just too intense not to belong to her.

Kristin grinned. “Hmm, how shall I answer? No, you will be there…Wait! Yes, you
were
there.”

Tabby felt ill. And she knew suddenly that if she looked at the fire, she was going to feel all of the evil and hatred, the rage and outrage, despair, loss and love associated with An Tùir-Tara all over again. She kept her eyes on Kristin. “What happened?”

Kristin gave her a disparaging look. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is I am going to destroy you, Tabitha. And I just can’t wait to feel your pain.” She licked her lips.

Tabby inhaled. Kristin was demonic. Not completely—but somewhere in her genes, she was tainted with Satan’s blood.

Tabby prayed for courage and strength. Then she dismissed Kristin and dared to look at the fire. She stared into the flames, feeling sick, beginning to feel the hatred, the evil, the rage—the love. The sight blinded her. Sweat trickled from her brow. She could not let the emotions paralyze her now.
“Fire obey me, fire go out.”

The fire hesitated, and then it began decreasing in size.

“Fire obey me, fire go out!”
Tabby cried.

As the fire shifted, becoming even smaller, Kristin hissed,
“Fire arise.”
And the flames blazed.

Tabby realized Kristin had great power—more than she did. She breathed hard and fought the dizziness brought on by those terrible feelings, and said,
“Fire obey me, fire go out.”

The fire subsided into a few small flames, and then into embers. Tabby was surprised and relieved, but Kristin seized her by the hair, crying,
“Fire, arise.”

The fire blazed and she shoved her face toward the flames. “Who is stronger, bitch? And don’t you want to know where your
protector
is?”

Tabby tensed in alarm. She reminded herself that Macleod could take care of himself.

“He went out with his men this morning. Not only is he far to the east, he is under my spell.”

“I don’t believe you,” Tabby gasped. “He’s too powerful for a petty magician like you.”

Kristin hissed,
“Fire arise!”

The flames roared, becoming a bonfire the size of an entire room. Tabby began to struggle, because if she was pushed into that inferno, she was dead. Kristin laughed and the five boys grabbed her and started dragging her closer to the bonfire. Tabby clawed at them. Heat engulfed her, and she was so close to the flames Tabby thought her dress and hair would catch on fire.

“Fire obey me,”
she panted.
“Fire go out!”

The fire wavered, its hesitation clear.

The boys pushed her closer.

Thunder sounded.

In confusion, she looked upward as the thunder rolled more loudly, but the small patch of sky she glimpsed through the boughs overhead was brightly blue. And then the ground beneath her feet moved.

The thunder stopped.

She was abruptly released and she fell, hard, flames not far
from her hands. Tabby rose. On the other side of the bonfire, she saw a woman on a horse.

She went still. Behind her, she heard the boys running away into the forest. She glanced back. Kristin stood as still as a statue, her expression livid.

Tabby looked back at the woman. She was dressed like a male medieval Highlander, in a belted thigh-length tunic and a royal-blue and black brat, and she held a full-size sword effortlessly in one hand. She rode her gray charger slowly forward. Hundreds of riders filled the forest behind her.

Branches snapped.

Tabby jerked—Kristin was gone.

Tabby looked at the fire.
“Fire obey me, fire be gone.”

The fire became the size of a large man.

Tabby repeated the command, and the fire was reduced to a few dancing flames and embers. Tabby glanced back at the woman.

The woman returned her stare. She had long, curly reddish-blond hair, a striking face and searing eyes. She looked as if she lifted weights and ran triathlons. Her power came from the other side, white and bright. It was very much like Sam’s. But Tabby didn’t have to feel that to know that she was a Highland warrior.

“Macleod is here,” she said in heavily accented English. She turned the horse and galloped into the forest, her vast army following her.

As the thunder subsided, Tabby began to shake, collapsing against a tree.

Kristin had followed her through time; Kristin wanted to kill her; Kristin would be at An Tùir-Tara.

Hoofbeats sounded. Tabby looked up, feeling Macleod’s power. Relief made her weak. He galloped through the trees, a handful of mounted men behind him. He leaped from his
black stallion before it halted, reaching her in a stride. He clasped her, pulling her forward. Tabby went into his embrace.

“Kristin followed me from New York.”

“The deamhan-ghost?” he demanded.

“No, she’s a black witch—and a powerful one.”

His intense gaze moved over her face. “I felt her, Tabitha, an’ I felt yer fear. I followed yer fear until I found ye. What are ye doin’ so far from Blayde?”

Tabby breathed deeply. “She cast a spell and lured me out. Macleod, a warrior woman with great white power appeared in the nick of time. Kristin was afraid, and so were the subs. She chased them away. Who was that?”

“The Lady of An Roinn-Mor,” he said abruptly. “Some say she’s a goddess. I dinna ken, but she can rouse two thousand mortal men an’ each one will die fer her.”

Tabby absorbed that.

“Are ye tellin’ me Kristin is more powerful than ye?” Macleod asked. His hands moved to her face.

Tabby didn’t hesitate. “Way more powerful.” His eyes darkened. “Macleod. She seems to be allied with Melvaig and she wants me dead.”

His eyes burned with anger. “Then I will ha’ to kill her.”

“There’s more.” She clasped his arms tightly. “You’re not the only one who will be at An Tùir-Tara. I am going to be there, too.”

T
ABBY SIGHED AND CURLED
her toes and sighed again, smiling. It was late. The sky outside was gleaming ebony, but spangled with a billion stars. She stared at Macleod, her smile widening. He knelt naked before the fire, which he was starting with a tinderbox.

She leaned up on one elbow, so she could admire every inch of his body. Starlight illuminated him, highlighting his
bulging muscles and powerful build.
“Fire obey me, fire begin. Fire obey me, fire come in,”
she said.

Macleod turned, sending her a slow and sexy, very satisfied smile. Behind him, the fire started, a few small flames crackling. He glanced at it and stood.

Tabby actually felt herself blush. “More?”

“Aye, if ye can manage to match me.”

“A challenge I can hardly refuse.” She wet her lips, trying not to stare, but then she decided to give up. Why not stare when he was so magnificent? She glanced at the fire.
“Fire obey me, fire rise up.”
The fire grew, its flames filling the hearth.

Macleod sat beside her. “A useful spell. I wish a word, Tabitha.”

His tone was somber and she tensed. Macleod was not inclined to conversation much less discussion. They had been making love ever since he’d found her in the forest. She straightened. They certainly had a lot to discuss.

“This war betwixt us is over,” he said, and it was not a question.

That feeling, which was half satiation and half anticipation, receded. Dismay rose up. She searched his gaze and thought it softened almost imperceptibly. She would never accept his treatment of Coinneach or any other such prisoner, but she did not want to resume warring with him, either. So much had happened in such a short time, it felt as if they had been together for ages, not days. And most importantly, he had been so concerned when he had found her in the forest—as if he did care about her as a woman, not a sex object.

Her heart opened. Comprehension came slowly. She was starting to really care about him, too. She couldn’t help but admire his courage, his determination, his power. Sure, he was medieval in a lot of ways. But that was to be expected, and his heroism made up for it. And they were more than lovers now.
They were partners in this life-and-death struggle against evil. She needed him and he needed her, as MacNeil had said. Their Fates were so clearly intertwined.

And they would both be at An Tùir-Tara.

It was a frightening thought. Tabby hugged her knees to her chest, aware of his watchful stare. Going through all that they had, even the conflict over Coinneach, had increased the intimacy in their relationship. Their relationship felt as if it was growing in leaps and bounds. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore, either. He wasn’t as daunting and intimidating as he’d first seemed. They might even be on the path to becoming friends, because friends looked out for one another; friends cared about one another.

It felt huge, eternal and irrevocable.

But of course it did. Otherwise she wouldn’t have seen and felt him across centuries, as he’d seen and heard her. And she wondered if he was her soul mate.