CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
Sam followed him into the hall, also in camouflage, with Guy Macleod escorting them as if their presence was an ordinary, everyday occurrence. Brie thought that maybe it was!
“You okay, kid?” Nick asked, looking Brie up and down quickly. He seemed as unperturbed by where he was as Macleod was to have him there.
Brie was so shocked she could only shake her head. Nick could fix this. He was a legend in the agency. They said he never failed a mission objective.
“Oh my God,” Sam cried, her eyes huge. She was staring at Allie and Tabby, obviously shocked to find them there, especially as she had left Tabby at home in New York City.
Then she ran to Allie and hugged her, hard.
“You’re obviously no worse for wear,” she said, looking across her shoulder at Brie.
“Are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you?” She released Allie, her blue eyes narrowing now.
“I’m fine,” Brie replied. “Aidan needs our help.”
Sam stared for another moment and then turned to Tabby. “Well, this is a surprise, my lady.”
Tabby hugged her and said, “I am very happy.”
“I just left you at home,” Sam returned swiftly, “getting ready to go to school and teach your first graders!”
“I don’t leave until December of 2008,” Tabby said. “I have missed you so much,” she said, her tone rough now.
Sam suddenly seemed taken aback, and Brie knew it was hitting her that Tabby was going to find her destiny in the past and she’d miss her sister in the present.
Brie turned to look at Guy, who wasn’t smiling.
He carried one of the largest broadswords Brie had seen, and he looked exactly like what he was—a hard-ass, ruthless medieval warrior.
Sam shook her head. “Never in a million years would I match you with that.”
“Guy is my husband,” Tabby said reprovingly. “My boy-next-door days are over.”
“I’ll bet.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You do know that if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll make you pay.”
“Sam!” Tabby cried.
Guy gave Sam a cool smile. “I’d never hurt Tabitha or ye, no matter yer warring words and manly ways.”
Sam looked ready to explode. Allie said, “Sami, you’re about two hundred and fifty years too late. If you want to help Tabby out, you need to leap back a few centuries—not that she needs your help.”
“Okay, I hate to break this up, but enough of the dysfunctional family reunion,” Nick said firmly. He paused before Brie as if he was still her boss, which he was, sort of. “I need a debriefing. Yesterday works for me.”
Alarm began. “Aidan could die if we don’t help him.”
Nick smiled grimly. “He does die, kiddo. I’m sorry, but you read the history books.”
“I won’t let him hang!” Brie insisted.
Nick was still unperturbed. “Do you know why I’m here? I’m here because you work for me. You are my responsibility. Mine, not the agency’s. And there is no way in hell I’d leave you lost in the past.” His glance slid over Macleod. “Not that I wouldn’t mind chatting with Mr. Tabitha.”
“I am not lost, as you can see! I am here with my friends.” She flushed. “We are vanquishing a terrible demon and redeeming Aidan.”
“Since when do you work in the field?” His blue gaze was sharp as he took her arm. “You seem to have survived the Wolf. I’m impressed. But my mind won’t change. If his power is changing, good for you. But I’ve got lots of work to do at home and I am not leaving you here.”
Brie cried out, struggling to get free. “I am not going back to the future,” she shouted at him.
“Hey, Nick, wait,” Sam began, clearly about to defend Brie’s position.
Nick simply smiled. “Get over here,” he said to Sam.
Macleod looked at Tabby. “Should I stop them?” he asked.
“Ah, shit,” Nick said. He blasted Macleod with energy. As the Master grunted, moving about as much as an oak tree in a summer breeze, Nick’s grip on Brie tightened.
“Guy, don’t you dare strike back. He’s one of us,” Tabby cried.
Brie screamed as she was simultaneously pulled into Nick’s arms and ripped upward with him, into the ceiling and through it, blasting past stars.
FOR ONE MOMENT, URQUHART’S GREAT room seemed to spin, and then the odd sensation passed. Robert Frasier blinked, standing before Aidan of Awe, who was being restrained by a number of soldiers.
Frasier tensed. He had summoned the treacherous Highlander to Urquhart, but he didn’t recall him arriving or having had their interview. “Arrest him,” he told the guards uneasily.
Aidan stared unwaveringly at him while his sergeant seemed puzzled. “Aye, sir,” he said. “Shall we put him in the north tower?”
Frasier hesitated, worried about his not recalling whatever had transpired a moment ago.
This was exactly what had happened on the battlefield.
He had suddenly realized who he was and what he was doing, and he had been in the midst of a dangerous battle with this man.
Apparently he had lost his senses for a time.
What did it mean? Was the man a sorcerer? There were rumors that he changed into a black wolf to hunt during the red moon.
“Sit down,” he ordered Aidan.
The other man hesitated, his blue eyes showing no fear, before sitting down. But that was to be expected; the Wolf of Awe feared no one, while the world feared him.
Frasier stood before him. “Call off your men, who march toward Inverness even now, having already made their rendezvous with MacDonald.”
Aidan stared him in the eye. “My men are sworn to Donald Dubh. I am sworn to Donald Dubh.”
Frasier began to smile. “Put him in the dungeons,” he said.
This would please King James. James was furious with the Wolf and had been for years.
The Highlander’s history was nothing but act after act of defiance of royal authority.
James II had been so livid with his destruction of Elgin and his ruthless pursuit of the deceased Earl of Moray’s three sons that he had stripped him of all his titles and lands, except for Awe.
Frasier felt certain the king had left Aidan with Awe only because he didn’t dare try to take it from him.
Of course, the man’s young age was inexplicable, but in his forty years, Frasier had seen many strange things, including other men who failed to age—or who could vanish into thin air and reappear the same way. Just thinking about it made him cross himself.
He could withstand phenomena he did not understand. But these lapses into blackness and the return to consciousness, not knowing what he had just done, were something that must cease.
Was he possessed? It was a dark time in Alba, and evil was everywhere. He saw it in his soldiers’ black, empty eyes and in their cruelty and lust for death. But they made far better warriors than average men.
He had feared possession for as long as he could recall.
He was a very devout man, worshipping every single day, not just to ward off evil but to carry forth God’s work and the king’s.
Now he looked at Aidan of Awe, thinking that his odd behavior was somehow connected to the mercenary.
“Under the authority granted in me by King James of Scotland, I hereby charge you with treason against the crown.”
Aidan stared at him, his expression hard and tight.
“And under the same authority, I order you hanged.” His mouth twisted. A large crowd of spectators was always the best. Execution brought fear into the hearts of everyone, and gave pause to the next lot of conspirators. “Take him away,” he said, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.
But Aidan went forward as docilely as a sheep, as if he did not care that he would soon die.
When he was gone, the hall stood almost empty except for a few courtiers who spoke quietly by the hearth and several guards. The unease returned to Frasier instantly. He tried to shake it off and failed.
A chill swept him.
Frasier turned and saw a handsome blond man in a courtier’s black velvet robes standing by the far wall. He hadn’t seen him in the hall earlier, and the man couldn’t have walked in without being seen. There was no entrance where he stood, but no man could walk through a wall.
He knew this man, somehow, yet he was certain they had never met. His alarm increased.
And then, before his very eyes, the blond man in the black robes vanished.
Frasier stood stock-still.
First there had been his loss of comprehension and will with Aidan of Awe. Now a stranger who could vanish into thin air had appeared in his hall. In that moment, he knew he’d seen a great evil. He crossed himself and started for the doors.
Two Highlanders strode in, their expressions harsh and set. He recognized the Baron of Dunroch and the Earl of Morvern instantly. Malcolm had received a barony from the king a few years ago. Morvern’s title was ancient. The former was half brother to the prisoner, the latter not related by blood.
“We wish a word with ye,” Black Royce said, nodding politely in greeting. “We’ve come to plead for Aidan of Awe’s liberty, and his life.”
Frasier shook his head. “He has refused to call back his armies. He will hang, and there will be no interference. None.”
“You will not give us a word?” Malcolm demanded, his face dark with anger.
“I have great matters to attend.”
Malcolm stared in disbelief. “I willna allow ye to hang my brother,” he began, but Black Royce seized his arm and he fell silent.
“Your loyalty to the king has been rewarded, but the king has ordered me to end your brother’s defiance once and for all,” Frasier snapped. “He hangs tomorrow.” He started for the great doors.
“Will ye at least let us see him?” Malcolm cried.