Dark Rival (37 page)

She instantly understood that Moffat was to the north of where she now stood’

Hallo a Ailios.

Allie breathed hard. Royce would be so angry, but this wasn't a betrayal—this was a necessity. Hallo a Thormond.

His smile flickered with surprise. You know my given name?

She hadn't. His name had simply come to mind. Where is my mother?

Come to me tonight and you’ll
 
learn what you wish.

Allie tensed, acutely aware of his lust. Was there any point in asking what he'd do with her? He would either use her for his pleasure or not, but he would certainly try to use her as a Healer—that much was clear. I will come to you if you release my mother.

He smiled widely. “Ah beauty, t'is easily done.”

Demons lied. Demons cheated. No demon could be trusted. If you give me your word, if you keep it I will heal for you— once.

You have my word.

Allie was violently ill now. Their bargain was almost sealed. This was the best she could do, as she had nothing else to offer. Besides, Moffat didn't want Elasaid; he wanted her. The gods only really knew why.

Speke will meet you after
midnight
outside the south wall. He will bring you to me.

Allie hesitated. Speke was depraved and evil, and she had no wish to go anywhere with him. But Moffat was even worse, and if she couldn't bear to be led to him by Speke, how would she face the bishop in the end? And while she desperately wanted to find her mother and be reunited with her, maybe she shouldn't be bargaining with the devil's own. Maybe she shouldn't go through with this plan.

And suddenly she heard her mother sobbing.

Allie jerked and saw Elasaid on a stone floor, naked and hurt. Bruises mottled her back. She wept in despair, but she was in physical pain.

“Damn you!" Allie shouted.

Moffat smiled cruelly, locking gazes with her. Tonight. And then his image vanished.

Allie began to shake. What she had just seen was proof that she had no choice now. She hugged herself.

She had just made a pact with the devil.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ALLIE SPENT the entire evening thinking of inane things— like a fantasy shopping spree at Saks, X-Men 3, Tiramisu's thin-crust pizza, Godiva chocolate and matchmaking her three friends with Masters. Halfway through supper, Royce had started looking at her with suspicion. She'd turned her thoughts to hot, off-the-charts sex, instantly distracting him. What she must not think about was meeting Speke later that night: at all costs, she must not think about the bargain she’d made with Moffat.

She knew Royce would read her mind.

Now, she lay alone in her bed, a small fire in the hearth, listening for Royce. His chamber was next to hers, and about an hour ago she had felt his power still and soften. She was pretty sure he was asleep.

She hated betraying him this way.

Allie slid from the bed, clad in the medieval Highland version of a nightgown, and she knelt before the fire. She wished Tabby were with her, because she needed a cloaking spell. But her friend was far away in the future, and hopefully well on her way to recovery from her broken heart. She didn't do spells, so she prayed to the Ancients for their protection and guidance. If she was very lucky, one of the gods would take pit y on her and cloak her power from any who could sense it. She was afraid that, even asleep, Royce would feel her leaving Blackwood Hall. She was pretty sure he slept with one sense on her.

After praying for some time, Allie blew out the candles, certain no one had been listening to her. It was late and she couldn't delay. Her mother's Fate was at stake. She slipped on the emerald velvet dress, trying not to think about how furious Royce would be when he discovered her gone. Hurting in advance for them both, aware that reconciling him to what she had done would not be easy, she took her dagger and soundlessly left the room.

She paused outside of Royce's closed door, listening for him. She sensed that he lay still and motionless, and while his power filled the chamber, it was quiet, making Allie certain that he remained asleep. But he wasn't at peace. Tension emanated from him. Allie wondered if he was suffering from unpleasant and disturbing dreams.

She was afraid to open the door and check. On the other hand, if he was awake, she had to know, because the moment she went downstairs, he’d surely appear and prevent her from meeting Moffat. Stiff with anxiety, she grasped the door handle and gently pushed. The hinges creaked loudly.

Allie tensed and glanced into the chamber. Royce lay motionless on his back, one arm flung out, the covers pulled to his waist. He slept in the nude and his bare chest rose and fell in a steady, even rhythm.

Allie breathed hard and backed out, amazed he hadn't awoken. Then she turned and ran barefoot down the corridor and downstairs. She let her senses drift behind her, but he wasn't following her. She sensed no one near, anywhere, and she crossed the hall. She unbarred and opened the front door, the wood groaning, and instantly, she felt Speke's soulless presence in the near distance.

Lust for pain and pleasure wafted from outside the walls, evil and potent, lying in wait there for her.

Allie bit her lip, feeling very much like a small prey, and she had to remind herself that Speke was the least of her problems. He was inconsequential, the messenger and the guide, and she was going to have to deal. She stepped outside, leaving the door ajar so as not to make more noise. She had become somewhat of an expert on castles in the past week, and she knew that every stronghold had a small door that could admit a man on foot or a single horse and rider. Every castle also had secret exits, to be used in the event of a siege. She did not know where the tunnels were at Blackwood, but earlier, she'd found the sally-port.

Allie crossed the bailey at a run, keeping close to the buildings and the walls. She did not intend to be spotted by the watch. The sally-port was on the eastern wall, and she unbolted it and stepped through. Then she ran alongside the moat, which gleamed black as velvet in the starlight, heading south. Still keeping as close to the wall as possible, she finally turned the corner. No watch shouted in alarm.

Her heart pounded. She had made it, but she was hardly pleased. Speke's sick lust was stronger now. Allie slowed, pretty sure he was thinking about her and just as certain she didn't want to know what he was thinking. Her gaze veered to the darkest place beneath the south wall. She couldn't see him, but he was there, and as she approached, her feet began to drag. When she was a few yards away, she saw the outline of a small dinghy. His form emerged from the shadows.

Speke must have smiled, for his teeth flashed, glistening with saliva.

Her heart thundered now. Her grip on her dagger tightened. "Speke "

"Lady." He stepped forward and his gaze met hers. It was intense, bright, maddened.

Allie looked away, uneasy.

He dragged the rowboat to the moat and slid it silently into the water.

Allie didn't move. His lust was hotter now, and she felt his energy roiling. She didn't have to read his mind to know he was thinking about her in some very grotesquely sexual and sadistic ways.

How was she going to get into the rowboat with him?

How else would she cross the moat?

She could swim.

Except her long gown would make swimming almost impossible. And she wasn't about to strip down to almost nothing in front of this evil man.

"Come, Lady." His teeth flashed again. Spittle dripped from his lips.

Allie could not believe she was such a coward, when she hadn't even reached Moffat himself. She rushed past him and stepped into the rowboat, then held up her dagger threateningly. "Stop thinking about me," she warned softly. "You touch me and you're dead."

His teeth flashed—as did his eyes. He stepped into the stem and picked up the oars. “So pretty….so small. So much skin to cut and taste. Have no fear, lady. I obey my master. He has forbidden me from cutting you, from tasting your blood. I’m not allowed to touch you, alas."

Allie was not reassured. And Speke did not look upset. He looked pleased—too pleased. In that moment, she had a terrible foreboding that she would not make it to Moffat Hall in one piece.

AIDAN AWOKE

He had been chosen ten years ago, even though his father, the earl of Moray, had been the most powerful deamhan in Alba for a thousand years. He hadn't understood why the Brotherhood chose him, and even though MacNeil had claimed it was his Fate, Aidan hadn't truly believed it. He wondered if he had been chosen because of his devout mother. In truth, he hadn't cared to be turned into an avenging hero of any kind, as he enjoyed his life far too much. But once chosen, Moray had been hunting him, determined to turn him to evil.

Moray had been vanquished three years ago by his half brother, Malcolm, and his wife, Claire. Aidan hadn't believed it then: sometimes, in the midst of a nightmare, he did not believe it now. How many nights had he awoken, a lover at his side, wet with sweat, oddly afraid, only to rush into his son's chamber to make certain Ian lived and was still at Awe? But his powerful deamhan father was dead. Otherwise, he would have long since come back to destroy everyone—his own son and grandson included.

The vows were usually inconvenient. Rushing through time to protect the Innocent often interfered with his affairs, especially his love affairs. The Code he rarely bothered with. He hated rules in general, especially those handed down by the Ancients thousands of years ago.

But, oddly, he cared about Innocence, and he had done so even from the Choosing, when he was so ambivalent about the Brotherhood. He could not comprehend why, as he was well aware that his nature was a selfish and hedonistic one, except, of course, when it came to his small son. His greatest love, after little Ian, was beauty, and the pleasure that came from it in bed. Every time he turned around, another beautiful woman awaited his attentions, or so it seemed. And while he’d rather seduce Innocence than protect it, in the last decade, he had become a great defender after all. He'd even heard bards sing his praise as if his powers were legendary. That had amused him to no end.

In the past few years he had come to care about his vows, too, although he would never openly admit it, and he was certainly not as fervent as the great Masters, men like his best friend, Royce. Ruari Dubh had never condemned him for the fact of his paternity, he had never objected to his hedonistic ways and he had never criticized his failure to truly embrace the Code. Most importantly, he had been more of a father to him than anyone. Royce had even begged Malcolm to be a true brother to him, when Malcolm had first hated him, because of what Moray had done to their mother. Aidan owed Royce more than he could ever repay and was acutely aware of it.

And his powers kept growing, month by month and year by year. At first, there had been the stunning strength, the impossible stamina, the endless virility and the ability to leap time. Then a healing power began—at first awkward and elusive, then increasingly steadfast and strong. In the past years, his senses had begun to hone and sharpen in the most amazing manner. He could sense evil from great distances, and identify its source. The other week, he had sensed evil in the future, and he had leapt to 1522 in a faraway land to battle a horde of demons, in order to save a beautiful widow and her child. The widow had repaid him handsomely in her bed. The child would one day be a King.

Now he sat up, fully awake, aware of evil very close to the castle walls. He focused. A relatively weak but sickly evil human was at the south walls.

And instantly he felt the Healer's white power there, as well. Aidan tensed, surprised. Her power was usually blinding, for it was such a huge healing light. But now, it faded and weak, almost imperceptible. He knew she had disguised it.

Alarm filled him.

What ruse was this?

But hadn't she wished to trade herself for her mother from the start?

Where was Royce?

He leapt from the bed, seizing his belt and swords, which lay on the floor by the head of the bed, in easy reach. He was buckling the belt as he strode into the corridor. At the far end. Royce's door flew open and he came out, his face hard. "Evil comes," he said tersely.

And Royce flung open the Healer's door. He froze.

Aidan felt his shock and then his disbelief. He hurried to him. “She’s nay there. She's at the south wall—with the blackened human."

Royce turned to him, the terrible comprehension filling his eyes.

Aidan said urgently. “She’s disguised her power, mayhap with a spell. But I can sense her." His focus sharpened. "She's with evil named Speke, a henchman o' Moffat."

Royce shook. “She gave me her word that she would obey me."

Aidan already knew his friend was in love with the Healer, even if he would never admit it. It still surprised him that Royce, a true soldier of the gods, a man committed to his vows, had become smitten by a woman, for it was against the foolish rules. But he was gladdened, for he liked Allie and knew how deeply she loved Royce. It was pleasant to see actual expressions on Royce s face, to sense his happiness and even see him smile. Now, he feared for them both. He grasped Royce s arm. "We need to hurry."

Royce looked at him, his gaze as cold as ice. "She betrayed me."

And Aidan knew that comprehension was the knife in his heart, severing their bond and sealing their discordant Fate.

Sorrow crossed Royce’s features, followed by a terrible look of anguish, and then all emotion was gone. He strode down the hall. He slammed his fist on Blackwood’s door but did not stop. Aidan followed him. wishing the Healer had thought about what breaking her word would mean to a man like Royce. She was in trouble, but when the trouble was ended, Royce would turn from her. Aidan felt sorry for them both.

And then he felt her pain.

So did Royce, for he paled—and he began to run.

THEY HAD BEEN TREKKING across the rolling, wooded hills for about twenty minutes. Allie clutching her knife, her palms wet with sweat. She was acutely aware of the pressure building in Speke. He didn't look at her, but his energy had been roiling ever since they had rowed across the moat together. It had been growing hotter and hotter by the minute. His head was down now. She didn't like what was happening. She felt his mind racing in frantic circles. It was as if he was tormenting himself with his thoughts of her.