Dark Embrace (11 page)

He crooked his finger and she came in, wearing a very revealing jersey dress. She was holding a folder, which he hoped was what he was waiting for. Closing the door, she said, “You said you wanted this fast, and I worked as quickly as I could. According to our original file, he was first sighted by our people around 1425 or so—maybe a few years earlier. I assume you know that history records his execution by hanging in December of 1502, which is when his stronghold, Castle Awe, was seized by the Earl of Argyll.”

He knew all that. It was in the original file.

“He pops up a lot in this century, Nick, but always before he was turned. There are sightings of him in Rome, Milan, Paris and Dubai after the millennium. I'm pretty certain the man sighted by our agents those eleven times was still on our side.”

“The bastard who took Brie is evil,” Nick said flatly. Why were there so many sightings of the good Aidan, and none of the bad? “How many case files have you gone over?”

“Sorry, hon, only eighty-eight. There's 535 Level Five classifieds left. He was hanged in 1502, and that man was turned. If so, the man who took Brie came from a period roughly between 1425 and 1502.” She grimaced. “I know that's a big chunk of time. I think I can narrow it down a hair. His ruthless destruction of anyone and everything in his path began in late 1436.” She added apologetically, “That's a sixty-six year window.”

“You forgot to mention he could have come from 1500 and vanished into 1700—or any damned time he chose.”

“Don't I know better than anybody?” Jan asked softly. “Let's hope someone spots her somewhere, in some time.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “I'm running out of time. Brie is not a field agent. She isn't tough. She hasn't had any PES training—or any survival training, period. That empathy could kill her…if he doesn't do it first.”

Only field agents took Past Era Survival courses. Nick decided that policy was changing.

“I know. I'll get back to the fivers.” Jan stared closely. “Are you really okay?”

Jan knew more about him than anyone. He instantly closed off to her. This was not the time to revisit
his
past. In fact, his life was a closed book, and he intended to keep it that way.

She retreated. “When you need a shoulder, let me know. Hey, Nick? Sometimes even macho men cry.” She shrugged. “Her cousin is waiting outside. Said
you
called
her.
”

He glared at her. Jan had come to his family's funeral, all those years ago—the last time he'd ever shed tears. “Send her in. I want another report at 5 p.m. After that, I'm taking matters into my own hands.”

Jan appeared worried. “Nick, for God's sake, don't do anything foolish. That last sortie did not go well.”

Nick waved her out.

Sam strode into his office, her blue eyes sparking with anger. “Great job, Forrester. It's been twenty-four hours, and my cousin is still in the hands of a Master gone bad.”

“Sit down,” he said, annoyed.

Sam sat and deliberately flashed her tanned thighs at him, crossing her legs. She wore a short denim skirt, a muscle tank and leather jacket and biker boots. It was impossible not to look at those sculpted legs and she knew it. She carried a large purse that he already knew contained weapons, because he'd watched her coming through that security earlier. Every video camera in the building had a feed into his computer. He'd especially liked how cool she'd been when his security team had frisked her, removing the stiletto from her thigh.

“I'm really worried,” Sam said tersely. “And Tabby is out of her mind with fear.”

He took his own seat behind his desk. “Want a job?”

She gave him a look. “Not if you're my boss.”

“Thanks, Rose. There are laws against the way you play at night.”

“Nick's laws?”

He raised his brows, exasperated. She'd be a pain to control. “You know damn well the Clinton-Feingold Anti-Vigilante Act was passed in 2001, making your extracurricular activities a felony.”

She leaned toward him and he saw the black lace of her bra. “Arrest me.”

“What's with the attitude?”

She was filled with fear for Brie, the anxiety making her sick and desperate. He softened. This woman would never admit to fear and never cave to it. He wanted her, bad, but not for himself. He liked his women soft, easy and not all that bright. He wanted her at HCU.

“I can't stand this. Why am I here? We both know I'm too independent and outspoken to work for you.”

“I guess Brie's mentioned I'm a royal pain in the ass?”

Sam finally smiled. It made her shockingly beautiful. “Yeah, she did.”

He leaned forward. “How long do you think our little friend can last while in Aidan of Awe's control?”

Sam's smile vanished. “She's a Rose. Rose women handle the worst tragedies.”

“How long do you think she'll last in the medieval world, if he's taken her back there?”

“She'll rise to the occasion, but damn it, we have to find her!” Sam cried.

He slid a folder over his desk toward her. When Sam reached for it, he laid his hand on the file, preventing her from taking it. “In or out?”

She met his gaze. “What's that?”

“Level Five case files.”

Her eyes widened. “Brie is only Level Three and she's been here three years!”

He sent her a charming smile, one that always instantly disarmed women. “If you come in, you're going right to the top.”

She wet her lips.

He had her, he thought, satisfied. “That's usually for my eyes only. Now it can be for your eyes, too.”

“I'm in,” Sam said hoarsely.

He released the file and she flipped it open. He sat back in his chair, arms folded, waiting, as she began skimming the pages. Within two minutes, her eyes widened, and she froze. Then, slowly, she looked up at him. “Holy shit,” she said.

He grinned.

“In 1888, a CDA agent named John Duke filed a report about a demon slaying. A demon
he
slayed…in 1602.”

“Welcome to CDA,” Nick said. “Oh, and Sam? You might want to catch up on your history of the Highlands.”

 

A
WE WAS A FOUR-WALLED CASTLE
, with corner and middle towers and a gatehouse with two flanking towers. Beyond that there was an outer ward that was almost a separate garrison, and the bridge that led to Loch Awe's shores. Brie was acutely aware of Aidan as they walked through the inner ward toward the gatehouse. Although he was controlling his emotions, she could feel his warrior power seething. It felt very raw, very brutal and very barbaric. He seemed to be heating up over the prospect of battle, and she wasn't sure what to make of that. It was a reminder that, good or bad, he was still a medieval man with a medieval agenda.

She couldn't help wondering how many would die before this rebellion was through. Scotland's history was particularly bloody and tragic and she was starting to appreciate how civilized the modern world was. “Has it ever occurred to anyone, perhaps even the MacDonald, to negotiate for what he wants?”

Aidan glanced at her. “In the Highlands, politics an' war are one an' the same.”

“I'll bet,” she said.

She saw that the tunnel within the gatehouse had two portcullises, both of which were raised. It wasn't unusual. An intruder getting past the first set of iron bars would be quickly trapped between it and the second gate once it was closed. She looked up as they entered the tunnel and, sure enough, saw the murder holes above her head. The intruder would be doused with burning liquid or burning arrows. Oil wouldn't be used, because it was too expensive.

There was no escaping the violent nature of this world, she thought in dismay. She looked down as they hurried toward the first raised portcullis. They were walking over a trapdoor. “What's below?” she asked warily.

“A pallet of daggers,” he said, not breaking stride.

“Have you ever been besieged?” she asked thickly, every hair on her body raised. She was thinking about what happened to invaders when the trapdoors opened beneath their feet. Being caught up in the medieval world made it impossible to ignore how cruel and savage its people were.

“Aye, when Argyll burned Awe to the ground.”

Brie gasped. “Is that why you're riding with MacDonald against Argyll?”

He smiled at her with relish. “Yer a clever lass, Brianna. I even helped Donald Dubh escape. He was Argyll's prisoner,” he laughed.

Brie halted. “This is a blood feud! You don't care who is Lord of the Isles, you just want to fight Argyll!”

He halted, facing her, his eyes hard and cold. “I like war.”

She trembled. “Why? Because it's easier to fight than to grieve?”

He flushed and, eyes blazing, strode past her.

Brie ran after him, wishing she hadn't said what she had. But her instincts had been right. A modern man would get past his grief by indulging in work, sports, an affair. Aidan was choosing war.

Somber, she followed him out of the gatehouse and into the shadows cast by the flanking towers, coming face-to-face with his army of Highlanders and knights.

Her heart stopped. It was one thing to look down on the sea of soldiers and beasts from the tower, with everyone somewhat out of focus; it was another to be so suddenly in their midst. Every instinct she had fired in alarm. Every educated person knew the dangers of a crowd, and this barbaric mass of humanity was a maddened, war-hungry mob. She had her defenses up, but with so many men present, it was impossible to block the soldiers out entirely. Their savagery and bloodlust overwhelmed and sickened her now. So much evil was present in the army of madmen, and that was the most frightening thing of all.

Brie turned away as a red-haired Highlander thrust his dagger into a knight's leg, the knight instantly cleaving him with his spiked club. She didn't want to see what would happen next.

Darker shadows fell over her. Trembling, Brie looked up. Four knights had ridden over to her, and evil surrounded her now. Their visors were up and they looked down at her, leering. Their eyes were dark and soulless and glittering madly.

These men were possessed.

Aidan suddenly appeared at her side, and then he stepped between her and the four knights. “Come closer an' die.”

The knights whirled their mounts, spurring them away and back into the mob of men.

Her stomach roiled. She was not relieved. “How many of your men are demonic? How many are possessed?”

He instinctively clasped her elbow, steadying her. “More than half are possessed, or are lesser deamhanain,” he said calmly. “The rest just like murder an' rape an' being paid fer it.”

She clung to his hand in disbelief, looking into his brilliant blue eyes, sick to her stomach. “You do not let them rape,” she said furiously, refusing to believe it. “You do not let them murder the Innocent!”

His face hardened. “I have four thousand men. Ye think I can control every one? Ye think I even wish to do so? They need compensation fer their labors!” he snapped.

Brie shook her head, aghast. “Ever since you rescued me, I have refused to believe you are evil. You saved me. You have a conscience. I have seen it!”

“My men rape when it pleases them to do so,” he shouted at her. “I grow tired of ye lookin' at me with so much damned faith!”

“I am not wrong about you,” she insisted.

He leaned close, his anger exploding. The wave of rage would have flung her backward, off her feet, if he hadn't been gripping her. “I
am
evil. I gave up my soul long ago and I have no use for it now. I dinna want or care fer yer faith! Find someone else to save.”

“Then why did you save me?” she cried.

“I dinna ken why I saved ye in New York City,” he said harshly. “But now, I save ye only so ye can speak with my son.”

“And when I finish being useful to you, then what? Will you murder and rape me, too?”

His face hardened impossibly. “Ye tempt me, Brianna. I wouldn't mind succumbing to my lust and usin' yer pretty body.”

She gasped.

“So I suggest ye keep yer mouth closed an' dinna interfere now—not with my plans, not with this war. If yer fortunate, if ye do as I wish, I'll send ye back to yer time when I'm done with ye—
intact,
” he snarled.

Oh my God,
she thought, her cheeks on fire. He had read her mind and knew she was the modern world's only twenty-six-year-old virgin.

His eyes widened.

So did Brie's. “Are you reading my mind?”

A slight pink flush seemed to mar his high cheeks. “Ye think so loudly.”