CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #3
He removed the painting carefully from the wall and smiled at the inscription glowing on his wall behind it.
He’d sold his soul for that stamp of evil.
The hieroglyphics, which dated back to the beginning of the world, signified that he no longer owned his soul, and that he was among The Cherished Few.
Being Cherished meant that he could hide his evil at will.
It meant that he could walk the world in absolute safety, protected from the godly and the gods.
It meant that he was Adored by the Great Father.
And it also meant that no god could ever enter this domain.
Hemmer ran his hands reverently over the glowing words.
He had his billions, and he had all the basic powers certain old gods had meant for the various brotherhoods, which they’d created to fight evil.
But he wanted the highest powers now. He carefully hid the fact that he had so many powers, and had achieved even more power and wealth by doing so.
He certainly wanted the power of virtual control.
He’d lusted for the power for decades and he’d never let Carlisle have it for his own use.
Of course, the monk intended to take it for himself and would try to destroy Hemmer to do so. He was not going to succeed.
“Tell me what I must do,” Hemmer said softly. “You know what I intend. I need the power. Give me the means, Greatest Father of the Dark.”
It wasn’t easy summoning Satan. They’d met only once, the day he’d given him his soul in return for earthly power. Hemmer wasn’t even sure he would respond to him again, but he’d meant his every word. He was determined. Besides, he was a deal-maker.
And the Great Father knew that.
Hemmer stroked the inscription again, which was burning hot under his hand.
He thought about how he would use the power he intended to get, one way or another.
He fantasized about the control he would have over hundreds of millions of people, entrancing himself with the dream of such absolute power.
He was vaguely aware of the vault becoming cold and then freezing inside.
The wall was now like black ice beneath his hand.
He turned.
A black shadow filled the threshold of the vault. It was twice Hemmer’s size and had neither eyes nor a mouth nor any other feature, but parts of it glowed, like burning embers. His voice was rich and deep.
“I have a soul for you.”
Hemmer started. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the means to get the page of virtual control.
And then he felt Satan smile.
“If you take this soul into your body, you will have so much power, you might not even want the page, Rupert…and you might not even need it.”
Hemmer’s mind raced. Whose black soul was being offered? Hitler’s? Stalin’s?
“It doesn’t matter.” The shadow shifted. It seemed more human in shape and form now. A mouth had emerged in the swirling black-and-red currents of power. “But there are those who will stop at nothing to vanquish you if you take what I am offering.”
Hemmer trembled. If he accepted, there’d be so much power, he might not even want the power of virtual control. He could barely imagine it. His lust for power made him weak in the knees.
“You will have the power of possession,” Satan added, and he laughed.
Only a handful of full demons had ever had that power, and never a human. Hemmer stiffened, barely able to breathe now. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes.”
Black energy zoomed at him and he tensed. For one moment, it felt as if a sword had cleaved his physical body in two. He gasped.
When he straightened, the shadow that had been on his threshold was gone. The room was warmer now. The inscription on the wall no longer glowed.
Hemmer could feel the incredible powers inside him.
Now, he knew he could look at anyone who dared to pass him by and enter that being, possessing it to do as he willed.
He slowly smiled and flexed his fingers.
He could feel the physical power of death in his body now, too. If he pointed, he could kill.
There were also swirling memories, which belonged to another, so much hatred and rage, but it didn’t matter.
He didn’t care about the soul’s memories, his life or yearnings. He loved the power infesting him, Rupert Hemmer, now. He was still smarter than them all. No one really understood what the power of virtual control could do, but he knew. And Hemmer already knew what he would do once he had it.
By creating the reality he chose, when he chose, he would take over the city, the state, the country and the world, slowly but surely…company by company, corporation by corporation, government by government.
He laughed.
But revenge would come first—even if it belonged to another.
SAM WAS HALFWAY through her search of the second floor of the house, having finished the upper floor, when she heard voices coming up the stairs. She went still, incredulous.
“Sam?” Tabby called. “Is that you? We said we’d help and here we are!”
Sam ran out of the guest bedroom and saw Tabby and Brie coming up the stairs. It took her one second to comprehend that they’d come from Castle Awe in 1527—they were both wearing the same clothes she’d last seen them in. Sam raced down the hall to greet them.
Tabby seized her hands. “Thank the gods we’re in the right time!”
“How did you know?” Sam cried. She’d told them that Ian had stashed the page at Loch Awe in the present, but she hadn’t been specific.
“Aidan heard you thinking about your birthday, so we decided today was a safe bet.” Brie hugged her. “Happy birthday, Sam.”
“And to think I was worried I’d be spending it without you guys.”
Tabby laid her hand on her shoulder. “It’s your first birthday since I went back with Guy, but it’s been so hard for me, Sam, especially the first few years. I spent so many of your birthdays alone, worrying about you—missing you.”
Sam looked at her. “It’s still so weird, that over two hundred years have gone by for you and a couple of decades for Brie. But you shouldn’t ever worry about me, Tabby. You know that.”
Tabby gave her that schoolteacher look. “I will always worry about you. I’m worried about you and Ian right now.”
Sam exhaled. She told herself to forget about the sex tape until they’d freed Ian.
“We have to find the page,” she said grimly.
“The monk has Ian in a warehouse in Brooklyn, and I am so afraid of what he’s doing to him.
” But even as she spoke, she thought about the sex tape.
She felt betrayed, but she was bewildered, too.
Tabby and Brie exchanged glances. “Do you know where the warehouse is? Because Aidan is ready to destroy the monk with his bare hands,” Brie said. “It’s like he’s reliving the past all over again.”
“I don’t know exactly where it is. Aidan should get help and start a major search while we try to find the page here.”
“I’ll tell him,” Brie said, and she fled back down the stairs.
Tabby took her hand. “I put a spell on him to thwart the effect of that pike, Sam.”
Sam looked at her. “Is that why he wasn’t screaming his head off? Or bleeding out? It was pretty easy to stop the bleeding, until Carlisle showed up, doing his best to set Ian off.”
“I think so. I hope so. The spell was general. If he’s hurt again, he should have a better ability to withstand the injury.” Tabby spoke carefully now.
Sam hugged her, hard. To her shock, moisture came to her eyes.
“What is it?” Tabby whispered.
Sam inhaled. “I’ve fallen in love…damn it.” But Ian had seen that tape before she’d met him at Hemmer’s party. Yet he hadn’t batted an eye when she’d shown him Hemmer’s tape. He’d lied to her by omission. She just couldn’t imagine what it might mean.
However, first things came first. She didn’t think Ian could survive any length of captivity under Carlisle again.
Tabby smiled, her own gaze becoming wet. “Tell me something I don’t know,” she said. “But you’re really upset.”
Sam didn’t want to tell Tabby about the tape—when they never had secrets.
It was almost as if she wanted to protect Ian and not show his worst side to her sister.
“I’m sick with fear for him. I can’t wait to personally destroy Carlisle, for what he did to Ian as a child and what he’s doing to him now. ”
Tabby slid her arm around her. “I think it’s time for an old-fashioned Rose spell fest.”
Sam looked at her.
“Let’s summon the page to us, Sam.”
“Can you even do that?”
“I think so.” Tabby smiled at her. “But Brie and I do our best work when Allie and Claire are with us.”
Sam started. “I would love to see Allie again. Who’s Claire?”
“She’s one of us, Sam. She’s not a Rose, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve and her husband is Malcolm of Dunroch, a truly great Master. You’ll like her. She’s a warrior. And they’re downstairs, waiting.”
THEY’D CHOSEN the ground floor library to cast Tabby’s magic.
The five women sat in a circle on the floor in a darkened room lit by candles, the draperies drawn.
Tabby was in a deep trance, softly murmuring her incantation in Gaelic, which Sam did not understand.
It didn’t matter. If the circumstances weren’t so horrifying, being together again this way would be a dream come true.
Sam looked around at the circle of women.
Sam had been thrilled to be reunited with Allie again, and pleased to see her intrepid friend in high spirits—and clad in designer jeans, a cute T-shirt and high-heeled boots.
But then, Allie Monroe would never run around medieval Scotland in medieval clothes.
Because she was so petite, she claimed high heels were a must. She reeked of her white healing power now; clearly, she was far more powerful than she’d been.