CHAPTER FIVE #3
And now she was beginning to fully understand.
There was no question that the three books were incredible historical artifacts.
But these men believed the books to have great powers given by the old gods.
They were powerful and empowering holy relics.
Of course, factions would form to fight over those relics and kill to acquire them, or to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.
This power game had nothing to do with her—except that she owned a store filled with rare and old books and Malcolm had brought her back in time with him.
And Moray’s men had tried to kill her, too.
She changed her mind. This war had everything to do with her now.
Somehow, she was smack in the middle of it.
What are you defending God from? What are you defending the Ancients from? What are you defending the books and people like me from?
Evil.
Claire did not want to theorize about evil in the Middle Ages. Her plate was full. Moray was probably an ambitious, ruthless and clever nobleman, and nothing more. He had the Duaisean, but he did not have extraordinary powers, no matter what Malcolm claimed. And he wasn’t her enemy—or was he?
She became grim. If she was under Malcolm’s roof and his protection, then she probably was Moray’s enemy. She did not like the thought.
Uneasy, Claire walked over to the narrow window and instantly, she was diverted.
The Highlands stretched away into eternity, a blend of the sparkling blue waters below and emerald-green hills beyond.
The sun had risen, high and bright, in a cloudless, vividly blue sky.
The water was almost iridescent, and the forests glittered, too.
The view was majestic, breathtaking, and it made her suddenly feel that everything was almost worth it.
She gripped the sill. Last night she had been in New York, packing for her trip to Scotland. She had been bound for Dunroch and she had yearned to meet Dunroch’s laird. And he had appeared in her store, whisking her back to his time. How could this be a coincidence?
Claire touched the stone pendant. Malcolm felt she had some connection to his world, other than the obvious one. She was starting to wonder if he was right. And every time he was near, there was that intense physical pull, mostly desire, but there was even more than that.
She did not want any more internal debates.
She was missing a thousand answers, but she wasn’t going to figure it all out now.
This scene was exactly what she needed, a brief respite, a moment of cleansing beauty and peace.
She left the chamber, determined to enjoy the view from a better vantage point.
She really needed to chill out, big-time.
The ramparts had been a story above her chamber. She didn’t hesitate, finding a small, winding staircase at the end of the short hall. She hurried up. The moment she stepped onto the walkway, not far from a corner watchtower, she inhaled deeply, finally smiling.
Claire walked to the crenellated edge of the ramparts, overwhelmed by the beauty of the land. Where in Morvern were they, exactly?
“Hello, Claire.”
The voice was frighteningly familiar. Claire whirled to face Sibylla. Her heart skidded as she met the other woman’s black, fathomless eyes.
Sibylla was smiling. She wasn’t dressed like a modern cat burglar, and Claire recognized the style of her gown.
The style was popular in France among the wealthiest noblewomen and far more immodest than its English counterpart, low cut, the bodice and sleeves fitted.
But now Claire saw the glitter in Sibylla’s eyes. Her expression was one of sheer lust.
Sibylla had time traveled, too. “How did you get in here?” Had somebody been stupid enough to lower the drawbridge for her? Or had she leaped from the future into the past, right inside Carrick Castle? “Malcolm is inside.”
Sibylla’s smile stretched. “I don’t want Malcolm, I want you. You don’t have to be so frightened, Claire. I won’t hurt you. I let you live, didn’t I?”
“What do you want?” Claire cried, not reassured.
“I want the page,” Sibylla said harshly, suddenly enraged. “You have it, I am certain. I went back—I went through every damn book. It’s not there!”
Claire gasped. “I didn’t even hear about the damn page until last night! Why do you think it’s in my store, or that I have it? I don’t!” She glanced over her shoulder at the tower. Where was the guard?
Sibylla laughed. “They’re dead. And I have changed my mind. You did not tell me what I wish to know, so I will have to hurt you, won’t I?” She smiled. “The pleasure is mine, Claire.”
Claire turned to flee when she was seized from behind.
Sibylla whipped her back around with stunning strength.
Before Claire could react, she had her pressed against the crenellated wall with so much force Claire thought her spine might snap in half.
And then she put one powerful hand on Claire’s face, increasing the terrible pressure to Claire’s back.
Her eyes shimmered with bloodlust. “I have waited so long for this, Claire.” And she bent close and slowly licked Claire’s pulsing jugular artery.
Claire couldn’t breathe now. She was afraid she’d be broken in half if she struggled. She tried to stay still, as Sibylla sent her tongue up and down her throat, but she couldn’t stand it and she cried out, “Please stop!”
“Tell me where the page is or I will kill you,” she murmured, her mouth close to Claire’s. “After I make you weep in pleasure.”
Claire felt tears begin because the pain in her back was unbearable. Just when a vast gray world began to descend upon her, Sibylla released her.
Claire straightened, gasping in pain, and then went down on her knees, reaching for the stone at her throat.
The gray shadows receded, replaced by vivid blue skies and Sibylla’s frighteningly dark, hollow eyes.
“I’ll tell you everything,” she lied, her back against the stone wall. She slowly pushed herself to stand.
Sibylla smiled. “Take your time. No one will look for us here and I don’t mind if you resist.” Her eyes gleamed.
Claire closed her eyes, sweating in fear, her back throbbing. She had to lead Sibylla on and she needed help. The woman had superhuman strength and if she didn’t need Claire, she’d probably kill her in the most unimaginable way.
The stone was scalding her hand. Suddenly she knew what she could do. She could tell Sibylla the page was hidden at her store, and the woman would take her back there to find it.
She would be home in her relatively safe world—but she would never see Malcolm again.
Claire realized there was no decision to make. “It’s in my chamber just below us.”
“If you are lying, I will torture you before I kill you. There will be so much pain, Claire. You will beg me to take your life, but I won’t do so quickly.”
Despite Sibylla’s threat, her fear had entirely receded. Now she could think clearly, effortlessly. “No one was in the hall when I came up here. Malcolm believes I am sleeping. I doubt anyone will see us if we go inside.”
“You go ahead of me,” Sibylla ordered and she gripped Claire’s shoulder, her nails breaking Claire’s skin through all of her clothing. “If we are espied, you die.”
“Fine.” She walked slowly ahead, still holding the stone, which was cool now. When she realized she had been clutching it to her throat like a child’s ragged security blanket, she dropped it. She started down the narrow, circular staircase carefully. Adrenaline began.
Sibylla was a single step behind her.
Claire whirled and seized her ankle, pulling her forward as hard as she could.
As Sibylla fell, Claire dashed to the steps above her, screaming as loudly as possible for help.
Sibylla started to leap up, her expression murderous.
But as she straightened, Claire was waiting for her.
She kicked her in the face, a front kick her personal trainer would have been proud of.
But Sibylla only teetered slightly backward and then she kept on coming.
Claire turned and ran, reaching for her Taser, thinking, holy shit! The woman was a female Terminator and she was two steps behind her. Pissing off that woman was not a good idea. And then she heard racing footsteps coming up the hall below them and Malcolm shouting for her.
Of course he would save the day! Claire burst onto the ramparts, then realized Sibylla was gone.
She turned, shocked, breathing hard, as Malcolm, Royce and six men leaped through the open doorway, swords ringing as they were unsheathed.
“She’s gone!” Claire was in disbelief. Sibylla hadn’t passed her and she couldn’t have turned to flee back into the keep without running directly into the men. She had vanished into thin air.
Malcolm sheathed his sword, reaching for her. Claire didn’t think twice; she went into his arms. “It was Sibylla.”
He tilted up her chin, his eyes blazing, as Royce barked orders to the men. “She hurt ye.”
“I’m fine.” She began to tremble. “That woman has the strength of a dozen men.”
His nostrils flared. “Yer bleeding on yer shoulder.” But he was looking at her throat, as if he knew what Sibylla had done.
“I’m fine,” she cried as Royce strode over, looking even more enraged than Malcolm.
“Sibylla will pay,” he said. “No one enters Carrick without my pleasure.” He turned to Malcolm. “Two men are dead.”
That woman had so casually murdered the guards, Claire thought, shivering. But Sibylla was pure evil. She had seen the darkness in her soulless eyes—and she prayed she would never look into her eyes again.
But it was worse than that. Like Malcolm, she could time travel.
Royce turned to Claire. “If she wanted ye dead, ye’d be dead, as well.”
Claire wet her lips. “She thinks I have the page.”
Both men stared, eyes wide. Malcolm turned to Royce. “Sibylla does nay ha’ it, but I ken who does.”
Royce looked unhappy then. “Malcolm.”
“Nay, dinna try t’ stop me now.”