CHAPTER EIGHT
AIDAN STRODE AWAY FROM HIS TENT, furious with Brianna.
The moment he’d closed the flap behind him, he started to limp.
Pain stabbed through his knees and throbbed within him.
He hadn’t exaggerated. He was injured as he hadn’t been injured since he’d been chosen by the Brotherhood.
That giant had been dangerously powerful—and he knew its power had somehow been enhanced by Moray.
He had just barely escaped with his own life.
But he hadn’t destroyed the evil consuming the giant.
Head down, knees aching, his chest and arm still on fire, Aidan suddenly felt a huge and familiar white power barring his way. He halted, looking up, dismayed.
MacNeil stood before him, his green eyes dark, his expression grim.
A new, terrible tension assailed Aidan. “O’ course. How foolish o’ me not to ken ye’d be here.” MacNeil had the Sight, although he conveniently claimed he could only see when the gods allowed it. He had either seen Moray’s return or he had sensed it.
“Let me heal ye, lad,” the tall, golden man said softly.
“Fuck off,” Aidan snarled. “I’ll take power from the whores.”
“Yer in pain. ’Tis clear Moray has spent the sixty-six years growin’ his evil powers. Yer fortunate to live this day.” MacNeil swept his hand out, and white rain shimmered over Aidan.
He would never forgive MacNeil for callously accepting Ian’s death, and for knowing of it without warning him.
He would never forgive MacNeil for choosing the gods over his son.
Even though the healing shower instantly began to soothe his injuries, Aidan flung his power furiously at MacNeil.
The golden Master blocked the silver wave easily and it veered off into the woods.
Trunks cracked apart and the trees slammed to the ground, which briefly shook.
“Do ye feel better?” MacNeil asked.
“I will hate ye till I die,” Aidan snapped, breathing hard. “Did ye come to hear me beg fer help? Because I will never do so!”
MacNeil laid his hand on Aidan’s arm. A wonderful warmth swept through Aidan’s entire body, and he knew he was healed from the day’s terrible battle. “I would never expect ye to beg fer anything from anyone, Aidan. But ye need me an’ ye need the Brotherhood.”
Aidan shrugged away. “So ye’ll battle with a half deamhan?” he laughed.
“To vanquish Moray? Aye, I’ll command the brethren to aid ye. I already have.”
“I dinna want or need yer help,” Aidan said, but he began to seriously recall the events of that day. He did not know the extent of Moray’s powers and he did not know if he had enough power, on his own, to destroy him once and for all.
“Ye’ve seen his newest power of possession.” MacNeil spoke quietly.
“Aye.” Aidan finally gave in. He needed information, so he would tolerate the abbot. “Can he emerge as anyone, at any time?”
“Aye, but ’tis easier fer him to possess the weak an’ the evil.”
Aidan turned away. One of Brianna’s demonic bodyguards could turn the corner, and it could be Moray.
He faced the golden Master tersely. “He’s disguised his evil well.
He used to bring a great chill with him.
I used to feel his black power long before I faced it.
I dinna feel any chill or his particular power today. ”
“He has been carefully sowing his powers all these years. He’s learned to hide until he wishes otherwise. He managed to find a part of the Duisean,” MacNeil said, “and I think he has it hidden in yer lady’s time.”
Aidan went still. The Duisean was the Book of Power, stolen from its holy shrine hundreds of years ago. The Brotherhood had been searching for it for centuries. “So he used the book to come back from Malcolm’s vanquishing,” he said slowly.
“His return was written,” MacNeil said flatly. “I dinna ken if he had the pages of the Duisean then.”
“Like my son’s death?” Aidan cried, trembling.
“I am not a god, and I do not debate their Wisdom and writings with them,” MacNeil said, laying his hand on Aidan’s shoulder another time.
Aidan wrenched away. Ian’s death had been written. Hadn’t it?
Ian lives.
His heart filled with a savage, unbearable pain. He had been doing his best to avoid recollection of those terrible, cruel words until now. It was not true. It could not be true. Moray wished to torment him to his death this time.
“I remain sorry fer yer loss,” MacNeil said gravely.
Aidan shook with despair. “He told me Ian lives.”
“He plays ye, lad.”
Aidan trembled, staring. If Ian was alive, he could not be a ghost. Ghosts came from the dead. There was no hope. He did not want to ever have hope again.
“He distracted ye today. He’ll do so again. He’s played ye yer entire life, cat an’ mouse. He hunts ye now.”
Aidan met MacNeil’s concerned gaze. It was true. His father had started hunting him when he was ten years old and fostering with the Maclaine family. He’d hunted him lightly then, but he’d hunted him very seriously and ruthlessly from the day he’d been chosen and joined the Brotherhood.
“He’ll never forgive ye fer defyin’ him, fer servin’ the Brotherhood.
He’ll never forgive ye fer allowin’ yer lovers to live.
He’ll never forgive ye fer hunting down his three deamhan sons, one by one, an’ destroyin’ their families, their lands.
Dinna let him torment ye further, lad.” MacNeil’s large hand found Aidan’s shoulder again.
This time, Aidan did not wrench away. This time, there was so much despair.
A powerful healer like Lady Allie could have saved Ian. A god could have saved Ian.
He forced the hope away. Ian was dead and Moray would have to pay with his life.
“This war must end and there will be one victor. Let us help ye, Aidan. Ye remain a brother, always.”
“Do ye ken how Moray can be vanquished?” he asked harshly.
MacNeil shook his head.
“Then I dinna care fer yer help.” He started to walk away.
“An’ what about Lady Brianna?” MacNeil called to his back.
If you like virgins, my son, it can be arranged.
Aidan faltered. Instantly he reached out for her. She was asleep, but not dreaming. Even though she was not in danger, he did not relax.
His father had known that he’d chosen to go to Brianna in a dream, instead of taking power from the Innocent in the women’s camp.
Did he also know that Aidan had desire for her, instead of lust?
Did he know that Aidan was resolved to protect her?
If Moray knew any of those things, Brianna was in jeopardy.
His fear escalated wildly as he met MacNeil’s gaze. Clearly the Master knew all of this, too.
“She can come to me at Iona anytime,” he said, and he vanished.
If he sent Brianna to MacNeil, she would be safe upon Iona’s holy ground. She could look at MacNeil with her huge, trusting eyes; she could annoy him with her unwelcome opinions and she could covet him, body and soul, as she surely would.
He was rigid. He hated the idea of Brianna desiring the other man.
brIE DREAMED OF THE MEDIEVAL BATTLE, the sound of swords and artillery, shouting men and screaming horses ringing in her ears.
She waited frantically for Aidan to appear.
She somehow knew he was alive, but she was terrified for him.
And when he suddenly slid off his horse and into her arms, he was covered in so much blood that he slipped out of her hands.
He was going to die, she thought, panicked.
But he didn’t collapse. Instead, as if she weren’t there, he walked of his own accord into his tent.
What had happened? Who had done this to him?
And she felt the huge evil appear behind her. Brie tensed, very uncertain that she was dreaming now.
“Hallo a Bhrianna.”
That terrible voice was terrifying and somehow familiar. Brie turned and faced a handsome blond demon, who smiled at her. “It’s you, isn’t it? You did this to Aidan,” she said.
He laughed. “Who else could hurt your lover so badly?”
He reached for her. “My son prefers to amuse himself with virgins, rather than take and destroy Innocence. You yearn to redeem him, but I will never allow it.” He pulled her into his embrace. “He will die before there is ever salvation, fair Brianna.”
Brie went still, but her heart exploded in terror. “You’re not here with me, now! I am dreaming. No one has seen you in sixty-six years!”
Brie tried to struggle free of him. He instantly let her go, laughing. She had to wake up now, before something terrible happened. Panicking, she raced after Aidan into the tent, aware of Moray following, his pace unhurried and unrushed. But the tent was empty.
Crying out, she whirled as the flap fell closed behind Moray. “He left you a virgin. How pleasant for me,” he murmured.
Brie felt her clothing vanish. She screamed.
HER SCREAM SHRILLED THROUGH THE NIGHT.
Aidan instantly felt his father’s evil. He ran toward his tent, expecting another scream. It did not come, and fear began. He thrust inside and was greeted with shadows and the dim light cast from one lantern. Brianna lay in bed, thrashing in her sleep.
Moray was not standing over her.
He slipped instantly into her dream and found her naked in the deamhan’s arms. Moray laughed. “It’s only a dream, my son.”
Aidan flung all his power at him.
Moray lifted Brianna and used her as a shield; the energy blazed into her. She went limp and lifeless in his father’s arms.
“Tsk, tsk. You destroy Innocence?”
No one could die in a dream! Panicked, he left the dream and sat down beside her, seizing her shoulders. “Wake up!” he roared, terrified that she would never awaken now.
Brianna’s eyes flew open.
“Yer nay hurt. ’Twas a dream,” he cried, choking on relief.
She threw her arms around him and clung.
He held her hard, as hard and tightly as he could. Had she died in the dream?
He was already in her mind. She was reliving the dream, going limp and lifeless in Moray’s arms. His father’s laughter filled the tent.
He stiffened, glancing warily around. Moray was not present. But Brianna looked up, eyes wide. “Is he here? I thought it was just a nightmare. Aidan?”
“Ye heard him?” Aidan asked carefully.
She nodded.