CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HE SLOWLY STOOD UP, still shaken from the leap and the urgency building in him.
Ian stared. The Cathedral was built of red stone.
It was a massive monument to God, with soaring roofs and even higher towers, with narrow pinnacle peaks and crosses set atop them.
Lower square towers were on either side of the Cathedral’s front entrance, which was framed by pointed stone arches that boasted more black crosses.
A dozen stained-glass windows blinked from the main building.
Liveried guards armed with swords and lances stood in front of the stone arches.
However, the noblemen and clergymen who were coming and going seemed to be ignored by the guards, who never lifted a weapon or moved.
Good, Ian thought. The guards were really for decoration, never mind their possessed souls.
Ian brushed off his jeans, staring at the Cathedral’s entrance.
Sam was within. The dungeons were below ground.
He’d had a vision of her there, shackled to a table, about to be tortured.
He started for the front entrance. As Ian ran up the front steps, the previously benign guards regarded him closely.
A pair of noblemen in frilly short coats and colorful hose also stared at him as they left the interior of the Cathedral.
Ian ignored them all. He walked past the guards, realizing that he stood out like a sore thumb in his T-shirt and jeans.
“You,” a guard said sharply.
Ian knew he meant him, but he didn’t stop. His mood was very foul now and he itched to use his powers on anyone who would dare prevent him from finding Sam.
Ian heard the soldier rush him from behind. “Peasant! Stop!”
Ian turned and flung his power at him. The guard collapsed, unconscious. His buddy reached for his sword. Ian smiled savagely. “Die if ye try,” he said, meaning it.
The guard froze.
“We have affairs here with the bishop,” a voice said calmly from behind him.
Ian whirled and saw Aidan and Brianna.
The guard looked at Aidan, who was smiling pleasantly but had his hand on the hilt of his long sword.
Ian realized that wasn’t what stopped the guard.
His father wore a signet ring that was solid gold and boasted a huge garnet.
The brooch that pinned his plaid was as costly.
His clothing, although simple, had elaborate and undoubtedly expensive embroidery at the neckline and hem.
Not to mention that Brianna stood beside him, wearing a beautiful velvet gown and her own jewels.
The guard would understand that Aidan was nobility.
The guard nodded. “Fine. Ye may pass.” He knelt beside his friend, who moaned.
Aidan gestured. Ian strode past him, sorry he’d gone to his father for help. “I don’t need your help.”
Aidan and Brianna followed him inside. The entry hall was dark, the floors marble, the ceilings high. “Ye came to us fer help an’ we’re here to help ye, Ian, whether ye wish it or not.”
“What’s wrong, Father?” he asked darkly. “Don’t ye have a poor child to rescue today?”
Aidan grimaced. “That isna fair.”
“Fine,” he snarled. “Now that yer such a powerful Master, ye can help me rescue Sam.”
Aidan breathed hard. “I would have rescued ye, Ian, had I known ye were alive. I thought ye were a ghost!”
Ian stormed past him, across the circular entry hall. They followed, Aidan seizing his arm from behind. “We need to pause. Can ye try to feel her, instead of running off recklessly?”
His father was right, damn him. He halted, trying to feel Sam’s power. Instead, he felt evil’s dark, intense presence. Evil was there at Carlisle, in every stone, every rafter. But he also felt God.
Ian tensed, lifting his face to the trompe-l’oeil ceiling where a battle between cherubs and beasts raged before the glowing gates of heaven, above the crimson inferno that was hell.
And the old gods were present, too. He trembled, surprised to feel them and even more surprised that he could recognize them, with no doubt as to who and what they were. He’d never felt them this way before. Evil ruled at Carlisle—but the gods had not given up.
“Maybe we should do this the old-fashioned way, Aidan,” Brie said seriously. “Room by room. It can’t take that long. We’ll start below, in the dungeons, because that’s where you saw her.”
Ian looked at his father’s wife. He had always liked her. She was soft, sweet and kind, but her gentle nature hid a fierce loyalty to her husband and her cousins. Now, she smiled encouragingly at him. “Sam is the strongest woman I know,” she added.
“Give me a moment,” he said. He focused on Sam, but he did not see her now. There were only dark shadows…
He blinked and saw Brianna and Aidan, filled with frustration. “Let’s go, before it’s too late.”
Brianna took his hand and squeezed it. He looked away from her dark, searching eyes. Did she know how devastated he was? He was doing his best to hide it.
Suddenly the room darkened. The temperature dropped radically, causing him to shiver. Black gusts swept through the huge entry hall. They were visible, dark harbingers of what was coming.
Ian froze.
The monk had so much more power now. He’d known that right away, from the moment he’d come across him looming over Sam in that vault. In spite of himself, his gut churned.
He wasn’t just afraid for Sam. He was afraid for himself.
Ian inhaled and faced the far side of the hall.
The black gusts circled the room and vanished and the monk of Carlisle appeared on the threshold.
Tall and blond, muscular and handsome, he’d shed the plain dark robes for crimson and gold ones.
He was smiling. “What took you so long, Ian? I’ve been expecting you,” he said in his French accent.
“And you brought company. The notorious Wolf of Awe?” He laughed, as if pleased.
“I was wondering when I’d meet the Master that the bards sing of. ”
Aidan started forward aggressively, eyes ablaze.
Ian didn’t think twice. He restrained him, seizing his arm, and he met his father’s furious stare. He wondered if Aidan knew that this man had been one of his captors. “This is my war.”
Aidan hesitated.
“Let Ian do what he has to do, Aidan,” Brianna said.
Reluctantly, Aidan stepped back, revulsion written all over his face.
Ian slowly turned to face Carlisle. “Where is she?”
“Did you bring the page of illusion?”
“If ye’ve harmed a single hair on her head, I’ll never hand it over.”
“If you want her back alive, you will give me the page now.”
He trembled and he knew there was no choice. He had no power, not when the monk had Sam. In the end, he would have to do whatever the monk wanted to get her released, including handing over the page. “Take me to her. I want to know that she’s alive and unhurt first.”
The monk slowly smiled. “Show me the page of illusion, sweet Ian. And then you can have your lover back.”
“Not until I see Sam.”
“When did you find courage? Or maybe you simply don’t care all that much about her.”
“Take me to her,” he shouted. Aidan touched his arm. He flung him off.
“I’m afraid we are at an impasse,” the monk snapped. “I want the page—you want to see her. If you think about it, you will realize you have to bring the page here.”
“I don’t have to think about it. What have you done to her? Take me to her!”
The monk’s smile vanished and his eyes blazed red. “You can’t give me orders. I have the greater power here!”
“Really?” Ian blasted him as hard as he could, before he could think to restrain his fury.
“Ian, don’t!” Brianna screamed.
The monk laughed as his power forked toward him, abruptly turning back around and blazing into Ian.
He gasped as his own power drove him across the hall and into a far wall. He saw exploding stars. Pain erupted in his head, his neck, his back. More pain sizzled through his organs.
But Aidan knelt beside him, instantly laying his hands on him. Ian opened his eyes and met his father’s blue gaze as his powerful and healing warmth entered his wounds.
“I’ll never let ye die,” Aidan said.
And a moment later the pain was mostly gone. He shrugged Aidan off.
Aidan rocked back on his heels. “Losin’ yer temper won’t bring her to us.” His gaze narrowed. “Do ye truly have the page of illusion?”
He stood up, enraged but in control of that anger now. “And if I do?”
Aidan also got up. “Will ye use it to save her?”
“What do you think, Father?” he mocked.
“I think ye can never hand another power over to the monk.”
HE CLOSED THE DOOR of another vacant bedchamber, grim and disappointed.
He and his father had separated, Ian taking the dungeons, Aidan starting on the ground level.
But the dungeons below had been windowless, and Sam hadn’t been within them.
Instead, he’d come across Carlisle’s many prisoners, mostly innocent men, women and children, as well as a few political captives. He’d freed everybody.
He was now on an upper floor, determined to go through the various guest chambers.
Where was Sam? Where was the dungeon with the small window that he’d first envisioned?
He’d stopped repeatedly to use his visual telepathy to locate her.
He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t find her.
She’d been at the Cathedral moments ago.
Had she been smuggled out or taken to another place, in another time?
This was taking too long.
And as he stood in the long corridor, a sensation of awareness went through him. Sam.
He’d just felt her. She was somewhere nearby. He tried to see her and suddenly glimpsed her pale, determined face, framed by her short, spiky hair. Something dark was blocking his view. He realized it was a part of a wall. Sam? Where are you?
The image grew stagnant, and he knew he was remembering it, not seeing her somewhere. She did not answer him. His disappointment intensified. She didn’t seem hurt, but he couldn’t tell if she was shackled or otherwise bound, or not.
“Ian?”