CHAPTER TWENTY #3
“What I haven’t decided is the order of death.
Should we let Aidan watch you die before we kill him?
Or should we let you suffer a bit more, perhaps by watching sweet Samantha die after we’ve enjoyed her?
” He darkened. “She dared to challenge me and I never let a challenge go unanswered.” Suddenly Hemmer stood there.
He tensed, wishing Sam had listened to him when he’d told her just how dangerous Hemmer was.
He had never wanted to protect anyone as he did her.
He was tempted to bargain, but evil could not be negotiated with.
It could not be trusted. “This time,” he said softly, “when we destroy ye, ye’ll be going to hell—where ye’ll stay. ”
“Really?” Moray laughed. “Some of us are immortal, Ian. Surely you’ve heard that?”
He refused to believe his grandfather.
“Do you remember the monk’s favorite game—the one we saved for New Year’s?”
Ian fought the power as it was hurled at him but it cloaked him. He was in a long, concrete hall, the walls lined with closed doors. The panic choked him. He backed away, shaking with fear.
“Open a door, any door,” his grandfather ordered. “Our guests are waiting, Ian.”
He started to run. Moray’s laughter followed him. A demon materialized in front of him. He turned to run the other way. More demons stood there. He ran to the closest door and flung it open. The giant seized him and he knew what would happen next. His mind started to shut down…
The pain began.
Moray’s laughter echoed.
He couldn’t stand it. He was going to die. No, she was going to die.
Sam was going to die
He wasn’t a boy. He wasn’t in the maze. This was an illusion and Sam was in jeopardy.
He had to get out. Moray had to be stopped.
“DRINKING WON’T SOLVE THIS,” Brie said softly.
“Wine will ease the pain,” Aidan snapped. Immediately, he was sorry he’d spoken so harshly to the woman he loved more than life itself.
But instead of going to her, he cradled his head on his hands, seated at the trestle table in Awe’s great hall.
He desperately needed his son. Seeing him again after twenty-five years had been bittersweet.
He’d wanted to embrace him as if he were still a child.
He’d been so thrilled when Ian had come to him for help.
But Ian’s anger and hostility had cut through him like daggers.
Ian would never forgive him, he thought.
And he didn’t blame him. He had failed his own little boy. Ian was right to blame him, just as he blamed himself. He would never forgive himself, either.
He looked up at his beautiful wife. She reached for his hand. “Can ye try to see what he will do?”
“I’ve tried a dozen times, and there’s nothing but black shadows. Aidan, I’m so scared. I think my fear is preventing me from seeing.”
He went to her and pulled her close. “We triumphed once. If he is back, we’ll triumph again.”
In his arms, Brie’s eyes widened with shock.
He turned and saw his son.
Ian lay on his back, thrashing, as if in a struggle, his form vague and transparent.
Ian was in jeopardy again.
“I see him, too,” Brie whispered.
“Where is he?” Aidan cried. He could be anywhere, in any time. “Ian, where are you?”
But there was no answer.
THE FRONT DOOR WAS OPEN and the chandelier above was lit, as were several wall sconces. Outside, the sun had risen, staining the grounds with golden hues.
Sam sat up, aching, having landed in the entry hall at Loch Awe. Macleod was helping Tabby to her feet. Sam stood and his blue gaze seared hers. “He’s here.”
But Sam had already become aware of the huge weight in the house, pressing down on them, pressing in on them. It was the weight of evil, more vast than she’d ever felt before.
It was enough to make her stomach churn with fear.
Sam took a breath, shoving that brief and unfamiliar feeling away. The house was so silent that she could hear her own breathing and that of her sister and Macleod. It was unnatural.
She reached out abruptly and turned off the chandelier’s lights.
Tabby thought she had a spell which would trap Moray’s soul in Hemmer’s body.
Last time, according to her sister, her spell had made it impossible for his soul to find a physical haven, so it had scattered into the atmosphere—or so they’d thought.
Now they had a new plan: use the spell, trap his soul, and dispatch Hemmer.
But Tabby did not have a spell to thwart the power of virtual control.
The skin on her nape crawled.
“Moray, show yerself,” Macleod called softly.
The pressure in the house increased. The atmosphere began to hurt her skin. Moray did not appear.
“I have to find Ian,” Sam said. She knew he was being tortured. She felt it in the churning of her gut, in every fiber of her being. She’d been sure she’d find him at his Loch Awe home. Now, she was dismayed, because she did not feel him.
“We find Moray, we find Ian,” Macleod said flatly.
“He’s right,” Tabby said, speaking in a whisper.
The pressure bearing down on them intensified. Sam heard soft laughter, like a distant echo. So did her sister and brother-in-law.
“Fuck the bastard,” Sam hissed. She’d do a room-to-room. She’d been so certain Ian was at Loch Awe.
As she started past the salon, she saw him, lying prone on the floor.
He was as still as a corpse.
Sam cried out, rushing to him, terrified that he was dead.
She knelt. The moment she saw his lashes flutter, she also felt the faintest sensation of his power.
Relief flooded her. “He’s unconscious,” she said tersely, as Tabby knelt beside her.
“Ian.” She stroked his brow, shaking, afraid of what had been done to him.
“I don’t think he’s unconscious,” Tabby said, her tone grim.
Sam looked warily at her. “He’s passed out cold, Tabby. If he’s hurt, it’s internal, because he’s not bleeding.” She’d made an instant inventory.
“He’s under Moray’s power,” Tabby said. “I can feel the power of the page, Sam. I can feel its magic, and I can feel his evil perverting it, using it. Ian is in another world.”
Sam’s tension became unbearable. “Ian, wake up,” she said, taking his hands in hers.
His lashes fluttered, but otherwise, he was unmoving, as if paralyzed.
“I wonder if he can hear you. Guy, can you read his mind?” Tabby asked.
When he didn’t answer immediately, Sam looked up. Macleod was grim. “He’s a boy. Ye dinna need to know what they’re doing to him.”
Sam choked. She lifted his head onto her lap and bent over him, tears falling. “Come back to me, Ian, please. Get out of that world! It’s not real. This is real—I’m real!”
His lashes kept moving but his body remained still.
Macleod squatted behind Tabby. “Can ye release him from the spell, Tabitha?”
“I’ll try.” Tabby chanted softly. “Cloak of control, rip asunder. A different reality, cease! Cloak of control, tear apart. Ian Maclean, return to reality.”
Sam pressed her cheek to his, wishing he’d wake up. “Come back now, Ian. Can you hear me? Come back!”
His lashes fluttered, but more slowly. Then his lids slowly lifted. He looked up at her. His gaze was unfocused and glazed with pain.
“Ian?” Her heart broke.
The light there changed. Their eyes met and held. “Ye still have my back?” He almost sounded incredulous.
Sam inhaled and she hugged him, hard. “Always means always, Maclean.”