Dark Embrace (32 page)

Alarm began. “Aidan could die if we don't help him.”

Nick smiled grimly. “He does die, kiddo. I'm sorry, but you read the history books.”

“I won't let him hang!” Brie insisted.

Nick was still unperturbed. “Do you know why I'm here? I'm here because you work for
me.
You are my responsibility.
Mine,
not the agency's. And there is no way in hell I'd leave you lost in the past.” His glance slid over Macleod. “Not that I wouldn't mind chatting with Mr. Tabitha.”

“I am not lost, as you can see! I am here with my friends.” She flushed. “We are vanquishing a terrible demon and redeeming Aidan.”

“Since when do you work in the field?” His blue gaze was sharp as he took her arm. “You seem to have survived the Wolf. I'm impressed. But my mind won't change. If
his
power is changing, good for you. But I've got lots of work to do at home and I am
not
leaving you here.”

Brie cried out, struggling to get free. “I am not going back to the future,” she shouted at him.

“Hey, Nick, wait,” Sam began, clearly about to defend Brie's position.

Nick simply smiled. “Get over here,” he said to Sam.

Macleod looked at Tabby. “Should I stop them?” he asked.

“Ah, shit,” Nick said. He blasted Macleod with energy. As the Master grunted, moving about as much as an oak tree in a summer breeze, Nick's grip on Brie tightened.

“Guy, don't you dare strike back. He's one of us,” Tabby cried.

Brie screamed as she was simultaneously pulled into Nick's arms and ripped upward with him, into the ceiling and through it, blasting past stars.

 

F
OR ONE MOMENT
, U
RQUHART'S GREAT
room seemed to spin, and then the odd sensation passed. Robert Frasier blinked, standing before Aidan of Awe, who was being restrained by a number of soldiers.

Frasier tensed. He had summoned the treacherous Highlander to Urquhart, but he didn't recall him arriving or having had their interview. “Arrest him,” he told the guards uneasily.

Aidan stared unwaveringly at him while his sergeant seemed puzzled. “Aye, sir,” he said. “Shall we put him in the north tower?”

Frasier hesitated, worried about his not recalling whatever had transpired a moment ago. This was exactly what had happened on the battlefield. He had suddenly realized who he was and what he was doing, and he had been in the midst of a dangerous battle with this man. Apparently he had lost his senses for a time.

What did it mean? Was the man a sorcerer? There were rumors that he changed into a black wolf to hunt during the red moon.

“Sit down,” he ordered Aidan.

The other man hesitated, his blue eyes showing no fear, before sitting down. But that was to be expected; the Wolf of Awe feared no one, while the world feared him.

Frasier stood before him. “Call off your men, who march toward Inverness even now, having already made their rendezvous with MacDonald.”

Aidan stared him in the eye. “My men are sworn to Donald Dubh.
I
am sworn to Donald Dubh.”

Frasier began to smile. “Put him in the dungeons,” he said. This would please King James. James was furious with the Wolf and had been for years. The Highlander's history was nothing but act after act of defiance of royal authority. James II had been so livid with his destruction of Elgin and his ruthless pursuit of the deceased Earl of Moray's three sons that he had stripped him of all his titles and lands, except for Awe. Frasier felt certain the king had left Aidan with Awe only because he didn't dare try to take it from him.

Of course, the man's young age was inexplicable, but in his forty years, Frasier had seen many strange things, including other men who failed to age—or who could vanish into thin air and reappear the same way. Just thinking about it made him cross himself.

He could withstand phenomena he did not understand. But these lapses into blackness and the return to consciousness, not knowing what he had just done, were something that must cease.

Was he possessed? It was a dark time in Alba, and evil was everywhere. He saw it in his soldiers' black, empty eyes and in their cruelty and lust for death. But they made far better warriors than average men.

He had feared possession for as long as he could recall. He was a very devout man, worshipping every single day, not just to ward off evil but to carry forth God's work and the king's. Now he looked at Aidan of Awe, thinking that his odd behavior was somehow connected to the mercenary. “Under the authority granted in me by King James of Scotland, I hereby charge you with treason against the crown.”

Aidan stared at him, his expression hard and tight.

“And under the same authority, I order you hanged.” His mouth twisted. A large crowd of spectators was always the best. Execution brought fear into the hearts of everyone, and gave pause to the next lot of conspirators. “Take him away,” he said, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

But Aidan went forward as docilely as a sheep, as if he did not care that he would soon die.

When he was gone, the hall stood almost empty except for a few courtiers who spoke quietly by the hearth and several guards. The unease returned to Frasier instantly. He tried to shake it off and failed.

A chill swept him.

Frasier turned and saw a handsome blond man in a courtier's black velvet robes standing by the far wall. He hadn't seen him in the hall earlier, and the man couldn't have walked in without being seen. There was no entrance where he stood, but no man could walk through a wall.

He knew this man, somehow, yet he was certain they had never met. His alarm increased.

And then, before his very eyes, the blond man in the black robes vanished.

Frasier stood stock-still.

First there had been his loss of comprehension and will with Aidan of Awe. Now a stranger who could vanish into thin air had appeared in his hall. In that moment, he knew he'd seen a great evil. He crossed himself and started for the doors.

Two Highlanders strode in, their expressions harsh and set. He recognized the Baron of Dunroch and the Earl of Morvern instantly. Malcolm had received a barony from the king a few years ago. Morvern's title was ancient. The former was half brother to the prisoner, the latter not related by blood.

“We wish a word with ye,” Black Royce said, nodding politely in greeting. “We've come to plead for Aidan of Awe's liberty, and his life.”

Frasier shook his head. “He has refused to call back his armies. He will hang, and there will be no interference. None.”

“You will not give us a word?” Malcolm demanded, his face dark with anger.

“I have great matters to attend.”

Malcolm stared in disbelief. “I willna allow ye to hang my brother,” he began, but Black Royce seized his arm and he fell silent.

“Your loyalty to the king has been rewarded, but the king has ordered me to end your brother's defiance once and for all,” Frasier snapped. “He hangs tomorrow.” He started for the great doors.

“Will ye at least let us see him?” Malcolm cried.

Frasier nodded brusquely as he hurried past them. He had meant it when he said he had grave matters on his mind. He would find Father Oliphant and demand he perform an exorcism, immediately.

 

A
IDAN LAY ON HIS BACK ON THE
thin blanket that served as a pallet. The floor was frigidly cold beneath the wool, and wet. He didn't care. His Fate was clear now.

The dungeons were as dark as they were dank, and rats blinked at him from the shadows. Lying on the wet blanket, he stared up at the leaking ceiling, droplets of water splattering on his forehead. He was trapped in space and time, but it did not matter. He intended to go on to his death.

He still had his powers. He had tested them on one of the guards, hurling him into a faraway wall. For this he had been hit over the head with the back of a sword and he'd almost lost consciousness. Now his head hurt, but he didn't care. He would not use his powers to break down the door, kill the guards and run away. There was no point.

Nothing mattered now except that he die in order to free Brianna from the devil's grasp. He had meant his words to her earlier. There would be peace in death's embrace. It had been so long; he was so tired. He looked forward to it.

He tried not to think about Ian. It was impossible. He could no longer deny that from the moment his father had become the giant on the battlefield, Aidan had been clinging to a thread of hope. That thread was broken now. But maybe he would meet his son in the next life. And he would trust Brianna to set his son's spirit free when he was gone.

He closed his eyes against a drop of the falling water. He thought about Brianna, who had the sweetest smile he had ever seen, especially when she directed that smile at him, her eyes mirroring her love and her faith. He felt himself smile. His heart hurt him now. Somehow, in spite of all the terrible crimes he'd committed, he had come to care for her deeply. He missed her. He wished to hold her; to make love to her one more time. It was such a foolish yearning, but he could not convince himself to wish otherwise.

Once he was gone, his brother or someone else would send her to her time. She would find someone else to love there, someone ordinary and good. He felt harsh laughter arise. She would never be with an ordinary man. She was far too extraordinary. She deserved someone as holy as a Master. Maybe the man she worked for, Nick, would be the one. He had white powers, even though he tried very hard to hide them.

Bolts began to groan as they were lifted from the dungeon door. Aidan sat up, not terribly surprised. He felt Malcolm and Royce outside, their white power huge and hot. They were very angry, and he knew why. He steeled himself against them.

The dungeon door was pushed slowly open, wood scraping over stone. Malcolm stepped in, his face hard and grim, followed by Royce. Aidan got to his feet. Both men were unarmed.

Malcolm embraced him, bearlike. “Why will ye nay turn yer armies back from Inverness?” he exclaimed.

Aidan met his ragged gaze. His brother was already grieving for him.

In that moment, with his death so close, Aidan was gladdened that Malcolm had come. Royce's face was set differently from Malcolm's. It was saddened, telling Aidan that he still had a care for him, but it was filled with resignation, as well. Aidan knew he understood.

Royce said softly, “He has decided to die.”

But Malcolm did not understand; he was not resigned. He cursed. “There's no reason to die! Yer comin' back to us. An' what about Brianna, whom ye love?”

Aidan tensed. “Ye speak like a fool,” he said. He would never analyze or identify his deepest feelings for Brianna, and even if he did, he would not confess them to anyone. “I am tired o' this life.' He looked directly at Royce.

Royce stiffened as their gazes locked. A long time ago, Royce had uttered those exact words, and he had meant them. On his deathbed, he had asked Aidan to let him go. Aidan had done just that.

Slowly, Royce nodded in silent comprehension.

“What mad conspiracy is this?” Malcolm cried. “Ye willna die. Ye must leap from this time, this place.”

“I canna leap. I have been trapped,” Aidan said.

“I'll take ye from here,” Malcolm cried.

Aidan seized his arm. “I have my other powers. If I wished, I could flee this place. I dinna wish to do so. I will stay.”

Malcolm stared, eyes wide with horror.

“I canna live much longer with my grief,” Aidan said, and his tone had turned hoarse. He added, “Ian is gone. He is dead, but nay buried. I canna grieve anymore! What if Moray should use and destroy Brianna? I canna withstand more pain, Malcolm. Moray hunts her only to hurt me. He will have no reason to hunt her after tomorrow.”

“So ye think to stay an' die?” Malcolm exclaimed harshly. He had turned white.

“Aye, I think to stay…an' tomorrow ye will let me die.”

“H
EY
, B
RIE
?” S
AM LAID HER HAND
on Brie's shoulder.

The pain of the godawful leap and landing was finally receding. Brie's temples still felt as if they'd been split open, and her body felt as if it had been in a really bad, really long game of Twister.

She lay on the floor of Nick's office, curled up in a ball, her face wet from so many tears. Sam knelt beside her, still in her camouflage, smiling reassuringly at her. “You'll be okay. Hey…you're home.”

She didn't want to be home! Brie somehow sat up, moaning. And then she saw Nick, standing by the huge window behind his desk, arms folded, stance braced, his back to her as he stared outside. It was raining.

“Damn you!” Brie cried, heaving to her feet. Sam kept her hand on Brie's elbow to steady her. “Send me back! Send me back now!”

Nick turned. “What happened to you?”

“Aidan happened to me. You've even admitted it—he was turning back to us! I cannot let him hang.”

Sam put her arm around her.

Nick said, “It's September 26, 2008, Brie. He was executed in 1502.” His stare was cold.

Brie's heart stopped. He was telling her that even though a moment ago Aidan had been very much alive, he was currently very dead. “History is often wrong.”

“I don't give a damn about history,” Nick snapped, “unless I'm hunting a coincidence. But Fate is Fate.” He picked up a folder from his desk and handed it to her. “You've got one hour to eat, shower, whatever. I need a complete debriefing.”

Brie was dismayed. “I am going back to save Aidan from execution!”

“If his hanging is meant to be, it will be. You've got one hour, kid. I suggest you look at the file.” Nick walked to his door, opened it and waited for them to leave.

Brie shook with rage. “I quit.”

His dark brows lifted. “Fine. And when you change your mind, I'll rehire you. You're damn good in the basement.”

Brie began shaking her head. Tears battled her eyelids.

“You're still getting debriefed. Thoroughly. Your love life is not going to get in the way of what I do here at CDA.”

Brie decided to take the file and walk out of his office, the building, this life. She hoped never to lay eyes on Nick again.

Obviously he could read minds as well as any Master, because his smile was hard. “You're not allowed out of the building, so don't even think it.”

Brie cried out and stormed past him, fighting her terror for Aidan. Sam followed, putting her arm around her. “We can use my office,” she said, her gaze kind. “You're acting like a thirteen-year-old.”

Brie looked at her as they slipped into a small, corner office on the other side of the building. Sam was right. Ranting and raving wasn't going to help. Sam shut the door, removing her vest. She went to a small fridge and took out two bottles of water, handing one to Brie. Brie had never seen her so kind. She was used to Sam being tough and angry, in warrior mode.

“He hired me the moment you vanished with Aidan,” Sam said, flopping in her desk chair. “Brie, you know him better than I do. The man can be a royal bastard, but he has loads of integrity.”

Brie sat down on the only other chair in Sam's small, very sterile office. She realized she still clutched the file to her chest. She eased her grasp and finally breathed. “How does he go back in time?”

“I have no idea. Probably the way the Masters and demons do—a dash of otherworldly DNA.” Sam smiled.

Brie did not smile back. “I have to go back. How can I convince him to let me go?”

“Maybe after the debrief you can talk him into it. Look, Brie, truth is, Nick cares about you. I'm pretty sure that there are a few agents lost in time, and Nick has some personal issues going on here.”

Brie's eyes widened.

“Maybe you should read that file. When he said an hour, he meant an hour. Burgers or pizza?”

Brie blinked. “Pizza. If I see red meat again, I'll be sick.”

Sam smiled and lifted the phone.

Brie looked at the file and saw Aidan of Awe typed neatly on the index tab. Her heart lurched with dread. She opened it and her disbelief began.

The file was twenty-seven pages long. There were eighteen Sightings, all reported by CDA agents. Brie began to tremble. In 1942 an agent had sighted Aidan in 1428 in London, where he'd destroyed a handful of demons; in 1818 an agent had sighted him in the northwestern Highlands in 1488, during a terrible clan war infested with demons and subs. Aidan's role had been unclear. Brie began to breathe hard. He'd been a Master in the first Sighting, but she was pretty sure he'd been in his dark, angry-at-the-gods mode for the second one. Her heart racing, she found another Sighting prior to 1502, and it was equally ambiguous. There were six more Sightings, and in several, he had reportedly turned his back on the Innocent.

One fact was clear. CDA agents had been traveling through time for the past two hundred years. Nick was hardly the only one who could leap into the past.

She looked up at Sam. “This isn't helpful.”

“Keep going.”

She had reached the second half of the file. He'd been sighted—and photographed—in Rome in 2007, Madrid in 2005 and London in 2004. There were Sightings in Milan, London, New York and Beverly Hills. Every single one was after the millennium. Photos were clipped to each report. Brie stared at Aidan, clad in the Gucci leather jacket she had found in his chamber and tight, faded Levi's. He had never looked so good. She ignored the fact that there was a woman hanging on his arm in every photo. There were a dozen in all.

She thought she would die from the heartbreak of their separation and her fear for his life. But didn't this mean he'd survived?

She realized Sam was watching her. A box of Kleenex appeared by her right hand. Brie took a tissue and wiped her tearing eyes, then looked up. “He makes it, doesn't he? Look at these photos of him in the twenty-first century!” But she looked again and saw how carefree his face was.

She was looking at Aidan before his fall.

“You didn't read the reports, or you didn't read them carefully,” Sam said quietly.

Brie flinched and met her serious gaze.

“All the Highland Sightings end in 1502. After that year, he is never seen in the Highlands again.”

Brie was afraid. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Sam was grim. “In those reports, the agents are clear. Aidan is dressed in modern clothes, but he is a medieval man visiting the future, having come from the past. I think in every postmillennium Sighting, he came from a period within several years of his induction into the Brotherhood—which we think was in 1421.”

Brie's hands began to shake. Aidan had brought Allie home last year and they'd traveled from 1430. Allie had told them so.

That had been before Ian's murder, before his fall.

Brie threw the files at Sam, standing. “So he is hanged in 1502? That's what you think?”

“It's what I think, Brie. I mean, there's a tomb at Awe with his effigy on it. That's in the case file, too. It's a big deal for the locals. He is a huge local myth—the Wolf of Awe, a man who ruthlessly destroyed his enemies and met an equally ruthless end.”

“He isn't ruthless,” Brie said.

“If this is his Fate, it is not fair,” Sam said. “I can see how much you've changed. I hardly recognize you. But you cannot change the execution, no matter what you want to think or plan, not if it is written.”

Brie stared furiously at her.

Sam looked at her watch as a buzzer on her phone went off. “Pizza's here, and you have twenty-six minutes.”

“And what if it's not written? What if I am meant to stop this?”

“Then we need to get our asses in gear.”

 

B
RIE STUMBLED OUT OF
CDA
AFTER
dark, with armed escorts that included Sam and two HCU field agents. It was really late, and she was sick with exhaustion. The debriefing had taken eight and a half hours. Not only did Nick know every detail of her time in the past, he knew everything she had learned about the Masters, the Brotherhood and demons in the Middle Ages.

They slid into Sam's car, a black Lexus sedan, and Sam waved the agents off. As she drove the few blocks to Brie's loft, Brie stared out of the window listlessly. She finally said, “I am going to find a way to get back. I intend to go to work tomorrow and start looking for an agent who can time-travel. If Nick won't send me, I'll bribe, extort, threaten or seduce an agent who can.”

“Wow,” Sam said. “I still can't believe how tough you've become. Hey, if you start working out and get in shape, the leaps will be easier.” She flashed a smile. “I learned that during my CDA physical.”

“I don't intend to stick around here long enough to get in shape,” Brie said, and she thought about the way Aidan had made love to her. He had liked her body just the way it was. Grief ripped at her heart.

“Maybe Tabby can help,” Sam said softly, pulling into the underground garage.

“Damn it,” Brie gasped, because the car began to tilt and then spin. Filled with dread, Brie seized the dashboard, aware of a vision coming on. For the first time in her life, she wanted to fight her gift. But she gave herself over, slumping in the seat, head back, the car spinning…. and then it went still.

Malcolm held Claire, and he was crying.

Aidan twirled from the hangman's noose, head down, lifeless.

It was a gray day, the ground covered with snow.

Vaguely Brie knew she had already seen this and she was confused, until the vision changed.

He hung from a crenellated stone wall, beyond which was a deserted inner ward. Inside the castle, a small, dark chamber was lit by a solitary candle. There was a bed, a small table and nothing else at all.

Brie tensed. The image sharpened.
A man lay on the bed, hands folded, eyes open, but he was as still as a corpse. It was Aidan's demonic father, Moray.

Brie gasped and sat up, sweat pouring down her face. Had she just seen Moray
dead?

And in that moment, she somehow knew he hadn't been dead, not at all. He had been in repose, awaiting the return of his black power.

“Sleeping evil,” the ripest time to reap protection,
or some such thing. Now Brie understood that phrase of the Wisdom. He would be at Aidan's hanging, masquerading as someone else, perhaps Frasier. And Tabby had a spell to prevent his evil from returning to his body. She had to go back now so they could find and finish him.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“I had a vision. If I can get back, I think I'll be able to find Moray, and Tabby has a spell that might end his demonic reign once and for all.”

“I'm going back with you,” Sam said quietly.

A moment later they were in the elevator and going up to Brie's loft. Tabby had the door open and was waiting for them, both anxious and smiling. Behind her, the loft was filled with the scent of her fantastic cooking.

Sam said in a low voice, “I take it I'm not supposed to mention her Fate is a big, dark medieval brute who looks about as kind and sensitive as a really angry attack dog?”

“I don't think we're allowed to reveal what we know—not unless it's dire,” Brie said tersely.

“Are you okay?” Tabby cried, embracing her and dragging her inside so they could safely shut the door and lock it.

“I'm not okay,” Brie returned. “I'm so upset my head is going to explode.”

Tabby seized her hands. “Sam told me what happened while you were being debriefed. Brie, I'm so sorry.”

“Tabby, please find a spell to send me back to him, exactly where I left off.”

Tabby's eyes widened.

“I need it immediately.” Although she also needed a shower and her own clothes—she'd been given contacts and sweats at the agency—she ran to her computer and powered on.

Tabby and Sam followed her. “You know I never find a spell immediately,” Tabby replied. “It could take me days or even weeks.”

Brie went to her research files and the last text she'd been reading. She glanced up at Tabby. “Please.” Then she opened the page she'd bookmarked.

She desperately wanted the text to have changed. If her love had healed Aidan at all, he would not allow anyone to hang him.

“Brie, when Allie vanished last year, Sam asked me for a time-traveling spell. I couldn't find one,” Tabby said worriedly.

“Every day is different,” Brie reminded her. “If you can't find a spell, I'll find another way.” She hit Enter and text filled her screen.