Dark Embrace (29 page)

Claire said, “He should be seventy-five years old, not nine.”

They all exchanged confused glances.

Brie moaned. “What am I going to tell Aidan? Am I going to tell him we had a séance, we spoke with Ian and that maybe his son is alive and wants to come home? No, wait! I'll tell him we think he's alive but we're not sure.” She started to cry.

“Ghosts often think they're alive,” Tabby finally said tersely.

“Your guides said he's alive!” Brie screamed.

Tabby paled.

Brie covered her face with her hands and gave in to her grief and powerlessness, and now, even rage. Aidan was in enough anguish, and he must never know what had happened.

Her friends gathered and held her close.

T
HE HUNT HAD BEGUN ONLY A FEW
hours ago. He was so entirely focused on sifting through time and space and sorting through all the evil he encountered that when he first felt a disturbance in the tower, he ignored it.

In a small village in the far north of Caithness, evil was stalking an entire family. But it was not Moray, and Aidan moved even farther north to Old Wick, scenting another great evil gathering.

The energy in the tower room changed, a ripple moving through the air.

His power shifted in response, his focus torn from Old Wick.

Aidan blinked. The moment his lashes fluttered open, he saw the stone walls surrounding him and was confused. He never lost his way during a hunt. Then he stiffened, sensing an intrusion.

He glanced toward the door and saw his small son standing there.

He cried out, incredulous. As always, there was so much joy and so much pain. But the moment he leapt to his feet, Ian opened his mouth to speak and vanished.

“Ian!” Aidan roared. But the ghost was gone.

Someone began rattling the barred door, but he ignored it. Ian had never tried to come to him when Aidan was hunting. What did this mean?

“Aidan! Aidan! Are you all right?”

He somehow heard Brianna, but he did not want her near now. Would he ever learn what Ian wished to say? She was shaking the door latch, but he had bolted the door from within. Very few people would be barred by the bolt, but she was one of them.

Then he realized she was in great distress, as much as he was, and it wasn't because of how he had hurt her that morning. Something else was hurting her now, terribly.

He tore the door off its hinges.

She stood there in her jeans and the dragon sweatshirt, crying. Even more alarmed, he dove deeply into her mind. “Brianna, what happened?”

“I'm fine. Are you okay?” She gazed worriedly up at him.

She had seen Ian—and his child was the cause of her distress.
“Ye've seen my son and yer aggrieved because of it!”

“Please don't read my mind now,” she begged, clutching his arms. “Just trust me!”

Those words only alarmed him further and he went deeper into her mind. He saw her and the three other women, all holding hands, Lady Tabitha apparently under a spell. Then he saw Ian speaking with them in the candlelit chamber. He cried out, “What is a séance? What did ye do? Did ye speak with Ian?”

She nodded. “A séance is an attempt to bring forth the dead.”

She was afraid to tell him something.
“What happened?”

She inhaled harshly, pulling away from him. “Let's get out of the hall,” she said, glancing away from him now.

She intended to deceive him. He didn't have to lurk in order to know that. He saw it in the way she avoided meeting his gaze. He followed her into his bedchamber, incredulous. Brianna was the most honest person he knew. “Ye'll tell me everything.”

She faced him, wringing her hands. “I'm going to protect you,” she whispered, her gaze unwavering and strong. “You don't need to know everything, Aidan. I am asking you to have faith in
me.
Trust
me.
”

She wished to protect him? Something terrible had happened in that séance, he thought. He stared, searching her agonized eyes. He did trust her—oddly, there was no one he trusted more. But this was not about trust. He had every right to know what had happened at the séance. What was she hiding?

She understood. “Please, don't!”

He lurked ruthlessly now and saw Ian speaking to the women, but he could not hear him. His frustration overcame him. “What did he say?”

Brianna started shaking her head. “It doesn't matter.” She reached for him, to comfort him.

He jerked away, and suddenly a succinct thought crystallized in Brie's mind.
He has to be dead…he just doesn't know it.

Aidan cried out, shocked. “What do ye mean,
he has to be dead?
Ian
is
dead. I just saw his ghost!”

Brianna blanched, and two tears slipped down her cheeks. She took his hand and he let her, too furious to care. She wet her lips and said hoarsely, “Ian doesn't seem to know that he's dead.”

He became still.

“It's not that unusual, really, for a soul to be confused. It would explain why he hasn't left this realm and why he keeps haunting you.”

Her thoughts echoed terribly in his mind while he tried to comprehend that his son believed he was still alive. “What do ye refuse to tell me?” he asked slowly. “A day ago, ye were certain he was dead. Now, yer nay certain at all. I can feel yer doubt. But he canna be alive!”

Brianna flinched. “I'm not certain of anything anymore.”

“Tell me what ye know,” he warned, trembling. He had dared to hope that Ian was alive after hearing Moray's claims. But they had been lies, hadn't they?

He read her thoughts again. “He wants me to bring him home?”

Brianna started to cry. “Tabby is figuring out how to send him on, Aidan.”

He stared at her in dread.
His son was waiting for him to bring him home.

He seized her shoulders. “Brianna, I beg ye now, tell me the whole truth.”

She choked. “I don't know the truth! Tabby has guides and they're usually right. She said that he's alive, but it's impossible. She must be wrong!”

He cried out.

He had wanted to believe his father when Moray had first taunted him on the battlefield, and he had secretly harbored a terrible hope. But he was being haunted by his son's ghost. His son couldn't be alive. As Brianna had remarked, he'd be a grown man now.

His temples seemed to explode. He clasped his head, crying out. He could not go back and forth between hope and despair this way again!

This had to be another cruel trick.

“Aidan!” Brie cried, reaching for him.

He tore away from Brianna.

He could not stand this!

What if Ian were alive, somehow. What if he was awaiting a genuine rescue?

She laid her hands on his back, standing behind him. “We'll get through this, Aidan.”

He flung her off and staggered to the small window, clutching the sill. “Leave me,” he somehow managed. “Just leave me.” He didn't dare turn to her now.

“I can't,” she whispered.

He realized tears were streaming down his face, but he was helpless to stop them.

Don't you want to see Ian, my son?

But that had been a cruel trick. Somehow, Moray was behind this newest trick, as well. Perhaps Lady Tabitha was under his spell now. Perhaps Moray had the power to summon Ian's ghost at will. Or perhaps he could possess the ghost as he had the giant and Lord Frasier.

A sick stabbing went through him.
Ian was dead.

He was Ian's father; he would know if he were alive.

But for one moment, he had dared to hope.

 

“W
ELL
,
AT LEAST WE HAVE THE
right gear and we're not on Mount Hood,” Sam said, smiling.

Nick had to hand it to her. She was as tough as he'd thought when he'd hired her.

The snowstorm had turned into a blizzard. They had dug a snow cave and were currently entombed in it. But this was the Highlands. They were at five hundred feet, not fifteen thousand, and outside it was probably an unusual fifteen degrees, not fifteen below. Still, trekking to Awe on foot was impossible now. A chilly wind had kicked up, making it feel like zero and putting visibility at zero, too. Nick had decided they would sit this one out. “Next time, remind me to bring skis,” Nick said.

Sam grinned. “Hey, boss, you don't happen to have a toddy stashed somewhere, do you?” Her blue eyes met his.

He began shaking his head, but he reached into his vest and produced a small flask. “Naughty girl,” he said softly, handing it to her. “That will bring your body temperature down.”

Sam gave him a long look, uncapping the flask and taking a draught. Nick was impressed. He was a whiskey man; that was the best money could buy, and Sam drank like a man. She handed him the flask and said, “I can think of ways to raise it back up. Too bad I work for you. More importantly, I prefer boy toys.”

He had to laugh. He wasn't insulted; he could pretty much please a woman all night. He didn't doubt she was really, really good in the sack, but not only did she work for him, she was not his type. She was too smart, too strong and too confident. He liked his blondes helpless—or at least
pretending
to be helpless. But she was beautiful. He'd seen her in shorts and a tank at CDA's gym and she made Angelina Jolie look like the girl next door. And while sex was the best way to pass the time, he didn't sleep with his “kids.”

“Hey, Rose? When you grow up, you'll realize some men are like that whiskey you're drinking. Some of us get better with time—lots better.”

“You like 'em young…so do I.”

She meant it. He approved. “You just might go places, working for me.”

She grinned, reaching for the flask. “Hey, boss? I'm going places all right, so prepare yourself. In no time, the nameplate on your door will read Sam Rose.”

He laughed, genuinely amused. This one was a keeper. She didn't have a romantic bone in her body. He wasn't going to have to worry about her coming into his office one day to ask him for leave for a honeymoon or, worse, telling him she was planning to have kids. “Thanks for the warning.”

“I can play fair.”

His smile faded. Good played fair, evil did not. Instantly he worried about Brie again. It had been three and a half days since her abduction.

Sam knew. “Brie is tougher than she looks.”

“Crap,” he said, his good humor gone. He unzipped his sleeping bag and crawled to the front of the snow cave. It was coming down as heavily as before.

“She'll rise to the occasion,” Sam said, but worry was reflected in her tone, too.

He didn't answer. He just hoped his little mouse hadn't been eaten for supper by the Big Bad Wolf.

 

N
O HUMAN BEING SHOULD HAVE TO
go through what Aidan was suffering, Brie thought. She trembled, gazing at his tear-streaked profile. He was quiet now, staring out of the window at the falling snow. He hadn't bothered to hide his emotions from her and she had felt all of his pain, grief and confusion. Brie desperately wanted to comfort him.

But after his brutal rejection that morning, she was afraid to go up to him. She had thought they were becoming close. She had been so wrong. But he needed her, more than ever, and she hadn't stopped loving him. She couldn't walk away.

“Aidan?” she whispered uncertainly. “Come sit down with me. We'll have some wine and figure this out.”

He slowly looked at her. His gaze remained moist. “Ian is dead, Brianna,” he warned. “There's naught to talk of.”

He was so beaten down, and it killed her. She started toward him, but he sent her such a chilling look that it stopped her in her tracks. “Dinna even think to offer me comfort. Not now.”

She tried to feel him, but he ruthlessly blocked her. “You were brutal this morning. A sane woman would have gone back home or to Iona. But I'm not leaving you to face Moray alone. I'm not leaving you to face your grief alone, either.”

She saw him tremble. “I dinna need ye, Brianna. Ye should have gone to Iona.”

“You need somebody in your corner,” she said tersely. “And I guess that somebody is me.”

A long moment passed before he spoke. “'Tis a long ride to Urquhart,” he said flatly. “But 'tis a short leap.”

Dismay overcame her. Somehow she kept her tone calm. “Please postpone it. I don't think any good can come of your meeting Frasier now. You're really distracted. We can focus on taking care of Ian instead.”

“Dinna use Ian to keep me away from Urquhart,” he rasped.

“I would never do that. But we summoned Ian in the séance, and we spoke with him. We need to summon him again. Aidan, you should be there.”

He cried out.

She had known it would be a painful suggestion. “There has to be a communication between you both.”

“Why willna ye leave me be?” he cried. “I have to go to Urquhart. I ken ye think I'll hang there.”

“Don't you care?” she cried.

“If I hang, then I will have vanquished Moray and Ian will surely rest in peace then!”

His grief surged, battering her, but she withstood it, overcome with alarm, MacNeil's riddle echoing in her mind. “Oh, God. You will choose to die!”