CHAPTER TWELVE #4
Hemmer seemed delighted. “Actually, I was threatening him.” He nodded at Ian. “And to make good, I asked Carlisle to come play with us.”
Sam turned. Ian was staring at the monk, who was staring back, his eyes alight with malicious pleasure. Ian snarled softly, “Ye made a mistake, seeking me here in my home.”
“You were never a brave boy, Ian. Why try to be brave now? And before you use your power, let me remind you, I have many of your grandfather’s powers now.”
Ian wet his lips. “Where’s Gerard?”
“He’s in one piece.” The monk smiled. “That previous spat was my final warning to you. But you knew it was me, didn’t you? You recognized my handiwork—you had to.”
Sam looked back and forth between them, sick with fury. Ian flinched. Breathing hard, he said, “I’m going to kill ye fer what ye did to Gerard and fer what ye tried to do to Sam—and to all the others.”
“But not for what I did to you?” the monk asked softly.
Sam was afraid to even try to comprehend what Ian had meant.
She registered how well-spoken the monk was—exactly like a modern man.
This demon might live in medieval times, but she was certain he was as familiar with the modern world as she was.
He’d been Ian’s guard for a decade. Being in the present wouldn’t necessarily give them the upper hand.
“Ye always enjoyed making threats,” Ian said harshly. “It was easy to threaten an imprisoned boy. Yer threats have no meaning now.”
The monk looked at Sam with interest. “Rupert tells me you have become allied with this woman. You know how good I am at reading minds. She wants to go back in time to find her sister, so I am going to give her what she wants. What do you think of that, Ian? I will whisk her away—as you were whisked away.”
Ian was so furious he couldn’t speak. Sparks shimmered on his face and arms, his hands. She touched his arm, warning him to stay in control. She wanted to avoid a supernatural battle—because she wasn’t sure they’d win.
“Maybe I’ll make a maze just for her.” The monk laughed.
Sam didn’t get that, either, but she knew Ian was about to explode. She prepared for battle.
Hemmer said softly, “Watch the woman, Carlisle. She’s far more dangerous than he is—she’s a Slayer and she’s clever.”
The monk slowly shook his head and stepped forward. “I can leave your lady love alone, Ian. Hand over the page.”
Sam instinctively moved in front of Ian but he seized her and pushed her behind him. “Stay back!” he snapped.
The monk halted, unsmiling. “Give it to me, Ian, and you’ll never see me again.”
Sam looked at him and wondered if his fear of this man and his memories of the past, might actually move him to hand over the page.
“You know me. You know what I’m capable of.”
Sam tensed. Fear actually swept through her. She glanced at Ian again, but his gaze was riveted to Carlisle. “I don’t have it,” he said.
The monk started. Hemmer was disbelieving. “He has it. He stole it and he admitted it.”
Sam didn’t move a single muscle.
Hemmer said, “He’s lying through his teeth.”
Ian slowly smiled. “I gave it to Forrester. CDA has it.”
Sam almost reacted. Somehow she kept her surprise tamped down as she realized the genius of the ploy. The moment she did, she hoped the monk hadn’t read her mind.
“Then you’ll just have to get it back for us,” he snarled.
Sam sensed his intention as his eyes changed, glowing red, diabolically. His black power blazed. The sizzling bolt came at them but Ian struck back. Black and white lightning clashed, rattling the walls, the ceiling. Plaster cracked, fell.
Sam flung her disk at Hemmer as Ian and the monk struck at one another again. To her shock, the disk went straight at Hemmer, and then veered away, as if pulled aside by an invisible force. What the hell was that?
Hemmer ran toward her, smiling in triumph. Sam waited, dagger in hand, as Ian sent a blast of power at the monk. Ian glanced at her. As he turned, the monk sent Ian’s powers back at him.
“No!” Sam screamed.
As Ian was hurled backward by his own power into a wall, Hemmer grabbed her. Distracted, she responded more slowly than she should have, and her dagger went into his shoulder, not his heart.
“Bitch,” he said, seizing her. “You’ll pay for that.” As he wrestled her more tightly into his embrace, Sam realized what he meant to do.
She glanced back at Ian.
He was standing and ready to use his power again. The monk was also poised for battle. Then the monk looked at her, eyes narrow, and he vanished.
Ian cried out in furious dismay.
Sam inhaled. She didn’t want to leave him, but…
As she was hurled upward with Hemmer toward the ceiling, she waited for the incredible blow that would surely come as her head hit the plaster.
But her skull never made the contact. Instead, the ceiling vanished as they whirled past the city rooftops, into the clouds, the night sky.
And they were flung at the speed of light past stars and moons, past the sun.
The pain was blinding. It began to rip her apart and shred her into pieces. But Sam did not scream.
Not even once.