CHAPTER THIRTEEN #4
At the top of the page, in the right-hand corner, he saw the date. August 9, 1527.
Ian stared at the date, mesmerized. It blazed now, as if on fire.
“Ian?”
He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, his eyes wide and searching. “Ye found her! We will come with ye!” Aidan exclaimed.
Ian didn’t hear him—he was already gone.
“I WONDER HOW WELL you will be able to tolerate pain?” the monk asked softly.
She didn’t know what they meant to do with that knife, but she could imagine.
Sam smiled, somehow. “I’ve been shot, stabbed, cut with a razor and hurled upside down across cars.
Gee, I’ve been hurled the distance of football fields by you guys.
And then there’s the leap through time. I can handle a stab wound or two. ”
“My dogs are hungry,” he said. “And they like raw meat.”
She made a sound, unable to help herself. That’s what they meant to do?
“I think we will start with your fingers. Are you finally afraid?”
There was finally some horror.
If she lost her fingers, even a true Healer like Allie wouldn’t be able to help her.
Sam looked at the wooden table, with its shackles at all corners. Then she glanced at Hemmer, who was impassive. She didn’t think torture was his big thing.
But he didn’t seem interested in helping her out, either. She reminded herself that this was nothing compared to what they’d done to Ian. As she thought that, his image shifted before her in the center of the room.
Sam went still.
He was as transparent as a ghost, but clad as she’d last seen him, in jeans and a T-shirt. His image shimmered; he was saying something.
But she didn’t hear a thing.
The surgeon said something now. Sam didn’t have to understand German, the language he spoke, to know that he was ready to begin.
Ian’s image remained. He was speaking urgently now.
I can’t hear you! She thought desperately.
“Don’t unshackle her, but put her on the table,” the monk said. He turned to Hemmer. “This will be interesting.”
“I want her first,” Hemmer said softly. “Before she’s in bloody pieces.”
Sam looked at Ian. His image began to fade. “No!”
The thug pushed her hard against the table.
Sam didn’t think twice. She jammed the boniest part of her knee in his groin, while using her knuckles in both temples. To her shock, as she moved with lightning speed, the shackle fell off her wrist and the guard merely grunted and paused.
Sam took her index fingers and blinded him.
He screamed.
She ducked as he lunged for her throat. It was easy enough to get under his arm, as he could no longer see. She faced Hemmer and the monk from across the table, smiling at them. “Hello, boys. Wanna party?”
Hemmer was silent, his eyes gleaming. Sam knew he loved the challenge.
It was the monk who worried her. He slowly lifted his hand. As his black power blazed, she ducked, fully expecting to be incinerated.
The power rushed at her like a heat-seeking missile, changing course to find her. Then, just before striking her, it exploded and black power ricocheted against the walls and ceiling. The walls of the chamber began to crumble as parts of the ceiling fell in.
“She’s using a protection spell of some kind,” Hemmer mused calmly.
“She’s a Slayer, she doesn’t use spells,” the monk snarled. He blasted her again.
Sam was incredulous. An invisible wall of some kind seemed to be protecting her now.
His energy was diverted by whatever was in front of her.
It streaked around the chamber again, sizzling against the walls, the ceiling.
More stone fell. The monk was struck on the shoulder by a chunk of rock, but Hemmer was untouched.
As dust rose up, as thick as smoke, Sam rushed for the door.
She felt his power behind her, chasing her.
As she skidded through it, she heard his power hit the walls on each side of her.
She was in a long corridor, lit by torches.
It was empty. Sam ran hard, his power striking the walls and floors around her.
As stone rained down, she entered a gallery with elegant glass windows, a runner on the floor.
Well-dressed noblemen and women were strolling within.
As she ran in, his power followed. As it struck the walls and windows, glass shattered.
Women screamed, rushing for cover with the gentlemen.
Sam looked out of a window and saw the huge interior courtyard of what had to be a palace.
It was beautifully landscaped, with paved walks, seating areas, and many elegant pedestrians, coming and going.
It could have been a scene from an epic Hollywood movie.
Everyone had fled the gallery by the stairs in the corner.
They’d expect her to go down to the courtyard, and try to find her way out on the ground floor.
Neither the monk nor Hemmer had entered the gallery yet. So Sam went up, running hard.
When she’d reached the parapets, which were open and vacant, she sank down on the stone floor, stunned.
Then she started to smile.
Her sister had come through for her.
And maybe, just maybe, Maclean had been there for her, too.