Dark Lover (42 page)

Sam went still. He'd just mentioned one of the most fundamental tenets of the Book of Roses. Had Laura's death been a mistake? Could it be undone?

“I can undo it,” he said, and his eyes glowed strangely. It was as if he could see everything, and into forever.

The odd fire in his eyes went though her, the way his words were going through her, as if there were no physical
boundaries between them. Sam couldn't think straight.
What if Laura hadn't been fated to die?

“I need you, Sam. I want you. I want you so much that I can let Ian go, if returning your mother isn't enough for you.” His smile had changed now, too. “I've watched you for a long time, since you were a small child. If I can't turn Aidan, I will take you instead.”

And for the first time in her life, she knew real fear. “Who are you?”

Satan
.

Sam backed into a wall.

“I have a thousand faces. Come to me, Sam, give me your soul, and I will give you all that you wish.”

Sam stared and Moray stared back. Her mind was heavy; it was so hard to think. She could not make a bargain with the devil! But what if her mother could be brought back from the dead and Ian could be freed from a life of torment?

Sam?

It was as if Ian's voice had cut through the fog, lifting it. She blinked, saw Moray, and behind him, a giant dark shadow receding. “Ian!”

He was trying to find her. And as she spoke, she knew she'd never do the unthinkable. She was a
Rose
.

Moray leaned close. “You will pay if you don't accept our offer.”

“I am getting out of here,” she snarled.

“No, you're not,” he said. And he lifted his hand.

The black power went through her like a butcher knife. Sam looked down, expecting to find herself cleaved in two. There was blood everywhere.

And as Moray walked away, it took her one second to realize that she was bleeding out.

 

S
AM WAS IN THE MAZE
.

Ian realized he was in a small cell, and he ran to the
door, but it was bolted from the outside.
She could not be in that maze by herself!

And he was afraid—but not for himself.

It no longer mattered if this was a virtual reality or not. Because she was with Moray.

He closed his eyes and began to pray, meaning his every word. If the gods intervened now, if they kept her safe, he'd give up his entire life. He'd do whatever they asked. If they wanted him to go back to his time, he would. If they wanted him to be a Master, like his father, he would. He'd give his millions to charity, live like a pauper. He'd even die, if they preferred his death.

But as he begged, bargained and prayed, he heard absolutely nothing from the other side. The steel door was cold beneath his cheek and he finally opened his eyes. They hadn't heard him during all the years he'd been a captive, and he was pretty sure they hadn't heard him now. But he was strangely calm.

He was going to find Sam.

Surprised, Ian stepped into the hallway, but not of the maze. Instead, shocked, he found himself in the entry hall of the house in Brooklyn where he'd spent most of six decades as a prisoner. Instantly his gut curdled.

Ian?

He started. Sam was trying to find him.
Sam, where are you?

But there was no answer. And then the monk stepped out of the small parlor, smiling benignly at him. He stepped back, wanting to run away.

“How was school, Ian?”

He reminded himself that the monk was dead and that this was not real. He remained acutely aware of who he was and what he had to do now—but that little boy was fighting to come to life, too. “Ye don't exist,” he returned as evenly as possible.

“Of course I exist. I take care of you. Do you have homework?” the monk asked softly, his eyes gleaming.

And Ian knew what he wanted. He turned to face the stairs, his instinct to flee up them, the little boy emerging.

“You can't run. There's nowhere to hide,” his grandfather said.

Surprise stopped him in his tracks. The hatred and need for revenge rose up. The little boy vanished. Ian turned to face Moray, who laughed at him. “Where is she?”

Ian? Help me!

He heard Sam so clearly, it was as if she were in the other room. “Where is she, you evil bastard?” he shouted.

“Find her if you can.” And Moray vanished, as did the quaint foyer of the townhome. He stood in the concrete hallway again. Breathing hard, he looked down the endless hall at the dozens of identical doors. Was she in one of those rooms?

Striding forward, sweating, Ian opened the first door. He was shocked. The nine-year-old boy was inside, with his grandfather, and it was a memory he preferred to forget.

He slammed the door closed and leaned against the wall, trembling. He did not want those memories now! And the hatred was so vast it shredded any lingering fear. Moray knew his shame. Moray wanted to throw it in his face. But Sam was in one of the rooms, possibly being tortured.

He began a room-by-room search, ignoring each memory as it came, ignoring the pain, the fear and the shame. Five doors later, he paused, out of breath and almost mindless now. There were too many doors. He'd never find her this way. Too late, he realized that in this game, as always, he wasn't meant to succeed. This game was meant to torture him. This game was meant to defeat him and bring him to his knees.

“What have ye done to her? I will kill ye, ye sonuvabitch!” he shouted at the empty hallway.

Moray did not answer him.

He strained for her.
Sam!

He heard her moan.

Fury rose up. There was distant laughter now.

Moray was playing with him again, as he'd done for sixty-six years.

Sam was in trouble. He felt it in his heart. He felt it in his soul. He didn't have time to play Moray's cat and mouse game. His mind sharpened and he struggled to find the reality that was his Loch Awe home. His father and Brie, Macleod and Tabby, were somewhere just beyond his grasp, his vision. He looked down the hall at all the doors, trying to see his salon, his entry hall. And he saw Sam.

She was lying on the floor in a back hallway, in a pool of her own blood.

It was visual telepathy.

He started to run down the hall. The walls shifted. He saw painted walls and masterpieces. Then they were concrete again, filled with steel doors. “Sam!”

The walls kept shifting. Ahead a pair of windows emerged, the sun shining through them, Loch Awe beyond.

Ian ran harder down the hall, past the steel doors, toward those two windows. He had to get back to the real world.

The floor tilted. Concrete became fine, hand-dyed wool.

He skidded on a plank wood floor, past his Portuguese library desk. A wall of books faced him. He spun around. He was in his library. He ran across the room, to the door.

Sam lay on the floor in the hall.

He knelt, horrified.
She could not die
.

She was limp and nearly lifeless in his arms.

It was impossible! Sam Rose was undefeatable. She was the most magnificent, most courageous woman he knew! “Ye can't die!”

He held her, his heart frantic.
He could not live without her
.

He loved this woman.

Booted steps sounded and he heard Tabby scream. Aidan knelt beside him. “Let me heal her.”

Ian looked up at his father. “Save her. Please.”

“He can't save her.” Moray laughed at them.

As one, Ian and Aidan turned. Tabby sank down to her knees and started chanting. Macleod said softly, his expression ruthless, “Ye canna leap, deamhan.”

Ian and Aidan slowly stood. Ian had never wanted to kill anyone more. “Save Sam,” he told his father. “He's mine.”

Moray's eyes widened.

“What's wrong, Father?” Aidan taunted. “Afraid?”

“My soul is immortal,” Moray snarled, “as is my power!” Black power blazed.

Ian was already blasting him and Macleod and Aidan struck a scant instant later. Black and white power collided and screamed. Moray struck again, crouching now. The two great waves of power hit each other again. Moray's power blazed directly at Ian, past the clashing energies in the room.

As the black power blazed at him, Ian tensed for the blow. To his shock, it hit an invisible wall and ricocheted away.
Tabby's protection spell
. Power was striking power between the men, and Ian flung everything he had at Moray. And to his surprise, he saw the silver wave sizzling into his grandfather's chest.

Moray transformed into Hemmer once again. Ian straightened as Hemmer gasped, seizing himself and looking down at his bloody chest. Aidan and Macleod struck as one.

Hemmer looked up. His eyes remained Moray's—and they were filled with fury and hatred. “I am immortal,” he rasped.

Ian struck again. Although Moray's eyes blazed red, Hemmer was eerily pale and slowly collapsing. He struck
one more time. Suddenly brown eyes emerged in his face, filled with the shock of the dying before turning sightless. His body sparking red and black, Hemmer hit the floor.

Black power rushed out of him with a physical roar, swirling about the room.

Tabby was on her feet, holding something in her hands. “Eternal evil, come to me. Eternal evil, seek this peace. Eternal evil, find this place. Eternal evil, occupy this space.”

Ian realized she was holding a small glass jar and lid. His eyes widened as the black power swarmed into the jar. Tabby snapped the lid on and screwed it tight, murmuring, “Evil contained in this one place, evil in chains, in this one place.”

Clutching the jar, Tabby turned in alarm. “Sam?”

Then he realized Aidan was tending Sam. He turned and dropped to his knees.

Absolute horror began. “No!”

“She's gone,” Aidan gasped, meeting his gaze starkly.

It was impossible. Ian pulled her into his arms in shock and disbelief. Aidan clasped his shoulder. Enraged, he flung him off. “She's not dead!”

Suddenly so much light was pouring into the library, brilliant and unnatural, that he glanced up. In the shining light he saw shapes and forms, human in outline, but he knew they were the immortals. He couldn't breathe. The old gods filled the room, clad in robes and long gowns, both men and women. One god, taller than the others, approached.

Ian was furious—he hated them all! They'd taken Sam from him and forsaken him to evil! But as the great god approached, he was bathed in his magnificence and splendor. The fury and hatred vanished. He could make out the god's features now and he somehow knew they were related. Then he turned, because the god's light was bathing Sam. As he looked down, her eyelashes fluttered.

“She's alive,” he breathed. Nothing had ever meant more to him.

But Aidan was already healing her. Ian thought he heard a man say, “'Tis her time to live, not die.”

He glanced back at the god, who hovered over Sam now, a paternal smile on his face. Their eyes met. His mouth never moved, but Ian heard him as clear as day.

We never meant to hurt you, Ian. And we did not forsake you
…

The god started to fade before his very eyes, as did the brilliant light in the room. “Wait!” Ian cried.

‘Tis your turn now
.

But the light had returned to normal and the apparitions were gone. Ian knelt beside Sam.
It was his turn now
. And he didn't need the god to say more. He knew what he meant. It was his turn to live.

His heart swelled. It was unfamiliar, a mingling of anticipation, excitement. Suddenly the past felt distant—where it belonged.

Sam opened her eyes. He looked at her and his heart began a new, different beat. She said, “Moray?”

He slowly smiled. “He's gone…I think.”

Her gaze was serious and searching. She touched his face. “I heard you,” she said.

 

I
AN CROSSED HIS BEDROOM
, clad only in jeans, having just come out of a shower. He froze. His father stood on the bedroom's threshold.

There was so much he had to say and he didn't know if he could do it.

“We're about to leave,” Aidan said. “May I come in?”

Ian tensed, nodding. “Ye saved Sam. I owe ye now.”

“Ye owe me nothing,” Aidan said, pausing by a handsome carved bureau.

Ian didn't know what to say. His father had come
forward to rescue him and now he knew that Aidan would have rescued him if he'd realized he was alive, all those years ago. And suddenly he had a flashback.