Dark Victory (26 page)

But he was trying to change history, and it was not allowed.

Criosaidh laughed and this time, her black magic brought hail upon him. He withstood the onslaught somehow, refusing to cower, refusing to release Coinneach, who remained untouched by the debris. When it was over, he was bleeding and breathless and furious.

“You dare to fight me?” she called down to him. “I am the most powerful here!”

He looked up, wiping blood from his eyes. And then he saw the other witch at her side, pale, blond and diminutive in size.

Furious and aware of being weakened, he flung his power at them both—with no results.

Criosaidh roared and lightning cut across the bright blue skies. Macleod tensed. If she could strike him with the lightning, he would become very mortal, he had not a doubt.

Leap away.

Macleod looked past the Highlanders at Nick and the woman. Nick was telling him to flee like a coward. He wasn’t a coward but he needed his power to vanquish Criosaidh. There was no other possible way.

“Macleod!” Tabitha screamed.

Stunned, he turned. In doing so he accidentally released Coinneach, who ran into the safety of the MacDougall soldiers. And he saw her standing with Royce and Allie, her face pale with fear, her expression imploring him to run and hide.

“Get her gone!” he shouted in alarm. He was afraid Criosaidh would try to destroy her again and, this time, succeed.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the lightning bolt came.

He saw it come from above, veering toward him. And as its fork sizzled toward his heart, he knew he was going to be struck and that he would die.

Tabitha screamed in horror.

The lightning blazed into him, fire meeting flesh, searing it, and going through tendon, muscle and bone.

Macleod fell.

Blue flashed before his eyes—the bright blue Highland sky—and then there was only darkness.

T
ABBY SAW THE LIGHTNING
bolt go through Macleod’s chest and she screamed again as he collapsed. It was Royce who reacted first; he flung his power at Criosaidh. As the tower where she stood began to collapse, he rushed forward, heaving Macleod onto his shoulder, a feat impossible for a normal man. He shouted at Allie, already running for a sally port. Allie seized Tabby’s hand and as they started for the exit, a man standing there slammed the small door closed.

“Dinna let them escape,” Coinneach screamed. “Seize them!”

More power blazed and the man fell over, but two other Highlanders had reached the sally port. Tabby had never cast a spell while on the run, but as the man seized the door, she did so now.
“Highlander stand aside,”
she gasped,
“mindless and let us pass!”

He whirled and Tabby cried out when she met Nick’s blazing blue eyes. He flung the small door open as a hail of arrows began. Tabby cried out but Nick seized her, jerking her past him and into the small doorway, Allie on her heels. A moment later they were all outside Melvaig, and Allie was kneeling over Macleod. Royce flung his power back at the men on the ramparts, and Tabby saw a dozen men fall from them.

She rushed to kneel by Macleod. He didn’t appear to be breathing. He was white as a ghost when he was normally a swarthy man.
He could not be dead.

A strong hand clasped her shoulder, pulling her to her feet. “Stand back an’ let Ailios heal him.”

Tabby looked up at Royce, terrified. How could he die? He was larger than life, and he meant everything to her! “He won’t die, will he? Allie can save him, can’t she?”

“I dinna ken.”

That was not reassuring. Tabby trembled wildly, sick with fear, as Royce went to stand behind Allie, guarding her so she could heal Macleod. He lay unmoving, his pallor deathly. Tabby could not control her fear now; it was consuming. And she wondered if she’d ever told him that she loved him.

But he had to have known. He was always invading her thoughts—and she’d give anything for him to be doing so now.

Suddenly Tabby felt an intense and vicious hatred aimed at her. She glanced up warily at the ramparts. Coinneach stood there.

She tensed, dismayed. He’d been released and returned to Melvaig but the feud had drastically escalated, she thought uneasily. And she recalled Allie’s insights. In the Highlands, grudges were held for life.

Then two women appeared on either side of Coinneach.

They were some distance away, but one was dark, the other petite and fair. There was no mistaking Criosaidh and Kristin. The sense of their hatred and rage escalated impossibly.

“Damn it to unholy hell.”

Tabby turned as Nick paused to stand beside her. What on earth was he doing in the thirteenth century?

He flashed a brief, chilling smile and stared at the witches silhouetted above them. “I want that bitch,” he said.

“You’re hunting Kristin?” She glanced back at Allie and Macleod and cried out. Macleod was visibly breathing now and the color was rapidly returning to his face. He was going to make it!

Nick seized her arm before she could rush to him. “Mr. Tabitha is fine. How are you holding up?”

Tabby was trembling, tears flooding her eyes. She needed to go to Macleod and tell him that she loved him. She had never been so relieved. But even as her heart exploded with the power of her emotions for him, his lashes lifted slowly and their gazes met. When he saw her, he seemed relieved, too.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, instantly understanding his concern for her.

Macleod sat up, rubbing his chest, Allie still kneeling by his side. His focus was on the ramparts, where Coinneach stood with the witches.

“Tabby?” Nick drawled, sounding impatient. “We need to talk about your little adventure.”

She jerked to meet his very direct and intense blue gaze. “Do you want the short version or the unabridged one?”

His mouth tilted up at the corners. “Got some sass at last, Tabby?”

“Kristin followed me here from New York. And that demonic ghost is after me, too. As it turns out, it’s Criosaidh.” She nodded at the women on the ramparts, but glanced at Macleod, still thrilled he was all right. “She came from An Tùir-Tara and she’s gone back in time to haunt me. We’re trying to figure out how to get rid of her.”

Nick’s gaze moved from Criosaidh and Kristin and then back to Tabby. “It looks like the Middle Ages have done you some good. Got you out of that straitjacket you were so fond of.”

Tabby gave in to the urge to let him have it, once and for all. “I have always respected you, Nick, and I have no idea how you got back here, but I don’t like you.”

“I know—I’m too macho and controlling for sweet little you.” He actually chuckled and glanced at Macleod, who was
standing and having a rushed conversation with Royce. “What an amazing match, huh? The gentle schoolteacher and the big bad barbarian.”

Tabby flushed. “Macleod is difficult, but he’s a product of his time…and he’s evolving.”

He leaned close. “Not that anything I say matters, but never think you can change a man. You’re stuck with him.” His grin vanished. “I need a debrief, kiddo.”

Tabby was annoyed. Her relationship with Macleod was none of his business, but even Allie had said that Macleod would be a challenge for a while. It didn’t matter. She didn’t mind. Challenges were great! He was alive and that was what mattered. “Later, Nick.”

She started to walk away from him, but he said, “Sam has been worried.”

Tabby stopped in her tracks and turned. Thinking about her sister, whom she might never see again, hurt. “When you see her, tell her I’m fine and that I miss her. Is she okay?”

“She’s a winner, Tabby, and a survivor, but you know that.” Nick nodded at the two women standing on the ramparts. “Ten minutes, Tabby. That’s all I need.”

She sighed.

“W
E HAVE TO GO
,” Allie said.

They had leaped back to Blayde. Allie and Royce stood with Tabby by the front doors of the hall. Tabby couldn’t look at her, and not because Nick and his agent, Jan, were wandering around Macleod’s hall with great interest. Or rather, Nick was roaming the hall with interest—Jan seemed really uptight. But MacNeil had appeared on their heels, and he and Macleod seemed to be having a very intense and mostly one-sided argument. In fact, MacNeil was doing most of the speaking. It was obvious that he was deeply angry with Macleod.

Tabby thought she knew why. He had gone to Melvaig for the wrong reasons. He hadn’t gone simply to hunt evil and protect Innocence. He’d gone to destroy Criosaidh, in the hopes that she wouldn’t be Tabby’s adversary at An Tùir-Tara. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he didn’t care about history or Fate.

If only he could be more cautious, more circumspect!

Tabby realized she was still staring at Macleod, who was poker-faced, and MacNeil, who was furious. Allie plucked her sleeve. “It’s a really bad idea to mess with time. He knows better—but he doesn’t care.”

Tabby gave her best friend her full attention. “You’re so right. I thought his giving up mortal vengeance would change him, but I don’t know, Allie. I’m worried.”

“You should worry. Fate is written by the gods for a reason—their reason—and we’re not allowed to interfere.”

She inhaled. She knew where Allie was going with this tangent.

“Which of the witches belongs to the ghost?”

Very defensively, Tabby folded her arms across her chest. “Criosaidh. If I had known what Macleod intended, I would have stopped him.”

“Really? Tabby, I am going to take a chance and tell you something but I hope I don’t pay for it. In my time, you and Criosaidh are arch enemies.”

Tabby stared, surprised but not shocked. The fact that she would be around in the fifteenth century made her exult, but she understood the point her friend was making. Criosaidh wasn’t meant to die in 1298. But she already knew that, because she knew her ghost came from An Tùir-Tara. And Macleod had known it, too.

He had chosen to destroy her before her time so he could protect Tabby.

“He’s so strong-willed,” Tabby whispered. “Maybe the gods don’t know what he’s done.”

“They’re pretty benign most of the time, but when push comes to shove, they make their wishes and feelings known. Guy is impossible when he makes up his mind. I’ve never seen MacNeil like this,” Allie said, appearing uneasy. “He’s mad as all hell, and his usual approach is logic and persuasion. Not only that, MacNeil thinks of Guy as a little brother, because he took Guy under his wing, so to speak, after the massacre. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Tabby did, too. “We have to be through the worst,” she said. But she didn’t believe it, not for a moment. Criosaidh was alive and enraged, just to the south, and so was her son; her ghost hadn’t been vanquished, so it was undoubtedly preparing another attack; and An Tùir-Tara was in their future.

And just how was she going to live for a couple of centuries?

“Tabby, you have to persuade Macleod to obey some of the rules! He can’t decide to change history, no matter how much he loves you.”

Tabby’s heart lurched with dread, but there was joy, too. Did Macleod love her? “When I first met him, I assumed him incapable of love.”

“Ha,” was all Allie said.

Tabby turned to glance at him. He was brooding by the hearth, alone. “Sometimes I’m afraid he’s a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“He is. But he’s strong, powerful and blessed—he just needs a guiding hand.” Allie smiled at her. “Good luck.”

Suddenly Tabby clung to her. “Allie, I wish you didn’t have to go!”

Allie stroked her hair, reaching up to do so. “But I do have to go. Royce and I belong in the fifteenth century, and you know the rules. Before you know it, we’ll be drinking wine and
fighting evil together again! And you’re not alone, not anymore—not ever again.”

Tabby couldn’t smile. Allie was right—she wasn’t alone. And while she wanted to know how she’d wind up in the fifteenth century, she decided not to ask. She could be flung there in five minutes, but Allie had said she’d been with Royce for almost sixty years—and she still looked twenty-five.

Maybe time travel changed the aging process.

Or maybe there was something to that family joke about the Rose women getting better with age. Maybe MacNeil had known Grandma Sara when she was really young and time travel hadn’t been involved. It was a mind-blowing notion.

Allie hugged her another time, taking Royce’s hand. He nodded at her, and then they slipped outside into the dusk.

Tabby turned, her heart racing. Macleod remained at the fireplace, arms folded across his chest, and MacNeil was still seated at the table. He stood and walked over to her. “He tasks even my patience, finally.”

She tensed. “He does have every right to hunt evil.”

“He went to destroy Criosaidh to change the future.”

Tabby tensed. There were no secrets. “He’ll leave Criosaidh alone. I’ll make sure of it.”

MacNeil was skeptical. “Put a leash on him, then.” He paused, his green eyes suddenly concerned. “They’re so enraged they took his powers from him when he needed them most—and they’ll do so again. I am worried about him.”

Tabby inhaled. She had the certainty that MacNeil rarely worried about anything. “Maybe they don’t know…It was only one time!”

MacNeil laughed mirthlessly. “He’s been defying the gods fer a century. He’s misused his powers time an’ again. He swore to take his vows—but he then goes to change history. He walks a very fine line, Lady Tabitha. An’ whatever he
intends next, he’s blocked me from his thoughts. I’d guard him well now—and send him swiftly to Iona, so he can take his vows afore the gods change their mind about him.”

“Okay,” Tabby whispered. That was two threats, not one, she was certain. The gods were going to take his powers from him another time, and maybe, just maybe, refuse to make him a Master of Time.

MacNeil glanced at Nick and Jan. They were staring at him, too. “The Brotherhood is secret fer many great reasons. I dinna care much fer intruders.”

“Nick fights evil with all of his heart and his entire soul. He’s not here to spy. He’s hunting Kristin.”

“Aye, but he has too many questions. We live by the Code, Tabitha. It is clear. We dinna speak openly to Outsiders.” MacNeil gave the duo another cool look and vanished.

Nick said, “Shit.”

T
ABBY STARED INTO THE
bedchamber she shared with Macleod. The moment MacNeil left, he had gotten up from the table and stalked upstairs. Tabby had followed him. “Are you all right?”

He paused, about to unlock the chest at the foot of the bed, and smiled at her. “Ye worry like a wife.”

His eyes were filled with affection and Tabby’s heart hammered. “I love you.”

He knelt and unlocked the chest, then took out the amulet in its cloth wrapping and stood somberly, holding it tightly. “Ye almost died because of me.”

Tabby shook her head. “We don’t know why Criosaidh’s ghost is hunting me, Macleod.”

“She hunts ye because of my war, my vengeance. Dinna ye feel their hatred and fury today? ’Tis worse now than before. ’Twill become worse with every passin’ day.” Anguish strained his face. “Ye almost died!”

“And you almost died today, too!” Tabby cried. “We’re in this together.”

“I brought ye back here,” Macleod exclaimed.

Tabby breathed hard, aware that she must convince him this was not his fault. “The ghost found me in New York,” she reminded him.

“Aye, because ye fought with it at An Tùir-Tara!”

“And that is written, Macleod.”

He shook his head grimly. “When ye can leap, ye can find anyone at any time, Tabitha. Each moment in our lives will always be happenin’. Ye call it
parallel dimensions,
but the cycle has to have a beginnin’.”

“What are you getting at?” she cried worriedly.

“MacNeil said ye have never been at Blayde till now. I started this when I brought ye here.”

“I’m glad you brought me here!”

He appeared ravaged. “I only wanted to keep ye safe. I failed ye, Tabitha.”

Tabby cried out and rushed to him, suddenly seeing him as a boy on the beach, bloody, sandy and weeping. She embraced him. “Let me help you!”