Dark Rival

by Brenda Joyce

  Allie shook her head, backing away.

  He became coaxing. “My wife is very kind. Ye’ll like her.” He hesitated. “She’s from yer time.”

  “I have to wait for Royce,” Allie tried desperately.

  “Then wait with me and Lady Tabitha at Blayde.”

  She shook her head to clear it; she couldn’t have heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon. You didn’t say your wife’s name is Tabitha?”

  He seemed perplexed. “Aye, I did. Ye’d like her greatly—everyone likes Lady Tabitha,” he said.

  She was in disbelief. “Not Tabby…my Tabby?”

  “I dinna ken.”

  “Is she dark blond and beautiful, a good hand taller than I am? Does she cast spells?” Allie cried. “Does she use Tarot? Did you find her in New York?”

  Guy’s eyes went wide. “Keep yer voice down. She’s no witch. But aye, I found her there in the year 2008.”

  Allie simply stared, stunned.

  ALLIE STOOD at the canopied entrance of her Park Avenue home.

  The city hadn’t changed. Park Avenue was bumper to bumper with yellow cabs and luxury black sedans. Horns blared. Pedestrians rushed up and down the sidewalks. The center of the street was abloom with flowers. No litter marred the clean, swept sidewalks.

  It was September 21. She could have returned home at any time, but it had seemed appropriate to return two weeks after Royce had been murdered by Moffat at modern-day Carrick—because she’d been waiting in the fifteenth century for two weeks for him to return.

  Royce’s Fate was engraved in stone. Moffat had been meant to murder him, and apparently, he had done just that in 1430.

  It was hard to grasp the fact that Royce was dead. Worse, she was convinced she had caused his death a second time. If she hadn’t gone back in time to save him, none of this would have happened, would it? And he would have lived another six hundred years.

  Her heart shrieked at her in protest. Her heart would never believe him dead. Her heart would wait for him forever.

  She was deeply depressed, grief-stricken. She had even considered going back to Ruari in the sixth century, but what if she caused his death then, too? It had become time to be sensible. He was dead, for there was no other explanation for his absence. She would mourn forever—but her place wasn’t the fifteenth century. Of course it wasn’t. Her place was the twenty-first century.

  Her father and her brother, Alec, had to be sick with fear over her disappearance. But Allie just stood there, unable to move forward, staring at the glass doors of the entrance to her apartment building. Aidan touched her elbow. He had insisted on taking her home. “Maybe I should wait a moment,” he said. “To make certain ye find yer family well.”

  “You don’t have to wait,” Allie said hoarsely. She suddenly turned and wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug, clutching the velvet dress Royce had given her in her arms. “If Royce comes back, you’ll come for me?” And then she realized what she’d said. She needed a miracle, desperately.

  His blue eyes flickered oddly. “O’ course.”

  Allie turned away. He had been grieving, too. She’d caught him weeping when he thought he was alone. He didn’t think Royce was ever coming back to them.

  Wiping her eyes, she marched up to the front door. She tried to smile at the doorman and failed. “Hi, Freddie.”

  He barred her way. “Hello.” He was a flirt and he smiled at her. “Who are you here to see?”

  Allie was bewildered. “Are you joking?” She started to go past him; he took her arm.

  “Lady.” His tone changed. “No one goes up unannounced. Who are you here to see?”

  She gaped at him while he stared firmly at her. “Have I changed so much?” she finally asked. “This is where I live.”

  Instantly she saw a wary look in his eyes—a look she was very familiar with, being a New Yorker. He thought her nuts. “If you won’t tell me who you wish to see, I can’t let you in. You have to be buzzed up.”

  This was insane. What was wrong with him? “I’m really tired and this isn’t funny.” Freddie never joked. “I live here.”

  “Unless you’re a new tenant, you don’t live here. And there are no new tenants—there haven’t been in years.”

  He didn’t know her. “Buzz William Monroe—or Alec,” she cried. She looked past him at Aidan, who was listening closely, his eyes wide and alert. What is this? she asked him silently.

  He shrugged.

  “Are you kidding?” Freddie said incredulously.

  Before Allie could argue, she saw her brother coming through the lobby toward the front doors. As sad as she was—and as bewildered—it was great to see him and her heart leapt. Freddie opened the doors and Allie rushed into his arms.

  Alec’s eyes went wide, then he grinned at her with an odd, very male look. “Wow. Do we know each other?” His grin played.

  Allie released him, shocked. She opened her mouth to blurt out that he was her brother. But he didn’t know her, either.

  What was happening?

  “Hey, don’t be insulted. Did we meet each other last night at Ciprianni’s?”

  She inhaled. How could her own brother not know her? She glanced at Aidan, and he shook his head with a warning she did not understand.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, I made a mistake,” she said.

  “No, I’m the sorry one.” His seductive smile played. “How about a drink?”

  “Another time,” Allie managed to say.

  He shrugged and walked to the curb for a taxi.

  Allie stared after him as Freddie rushed to hail a cab for him. If Alec didn’t know her, if she wasn’t Alec’s sister, what did that mean? What could it mean?

  And Royce’s image came to her mind, flooding her senses with yearning.

  And she heard Elasaid. Embrace your destiny, darling.

  Freddie had returned to his post before the two doors.

  “What happened to the Monroe Heiress?” Allie asked, trembling.

  “I’m going to call the cops now,” he said. “Lady, you are cute as hell but you are nuts! There is no Monroe Heiress. Mr. Monroe has three sons.”

  Allie gasped and had to sit down on his stool. “He has three sons?”

  “You just met the oldest,” Freddie snapped. “Then there are the two boys.”

  She reeled.

  “His wife had the twins two years ago,” Freddie added. “Mr. Monroe is nuts about those little boys.”

  Her father had remarried after all. But what about her, Allie Monroe? Who was she—and was William Monroe her father or not?

  IN THE NEW YORK CITY Public Library, Allie found exactly what she was looking for.

  William Monroe had married the socialite heiress Laurel Cady-Benton two years ago. The moment Allie saw the pretty blonde’s picture, she sensed that she was a kind, centered woman and perfect for her father. In their wedding photos, she and her father were clearly in love.

  He had never been married to her mother, Elizabeth.

  There had never been a Monroe Heiress.

  Allie looked at Aidan, shocked. “This is not my time,” she said. “I have to go back.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  TABBY AND SAM shared a two-bedroom loft in Tribeca. There was no doorman to ring her up and Allie pounded wildly on their door. It was 5:00 p.m. and if Tabby was still in the twenty-first century, she’d be home, school having let out at quarter past three. Allie was half expecting her to be there, because Guy had found her in 2008.

  Aidan took her wrist. “Ye have to calm, Allie.”

  “How can I calm? Apparently I was never born! What the hell does that mean?”

  Aidan was as relaxed as she was not. “It means yer meant to go back to Blayde, to live with yer brother—the last place yer mother was seen.”

  “My mother was last seen here—except, suddenly she doesn’t exist in this time, either!” Allie banged on the door again. Her mother must have fled the massacre and leapt directly to 1982, the year she’d m
et William Monroe, the year Allie had been born. But clearly that hadn’t been meant to be. “I almost feel as if I am going to go up in smoke at any moment.”

  Aidan smiled. “Ye belong to the Brotherhood, lass. Ye willna vanish from time.”

  Allie stared at him, thinking that he had to be right. Somehow, what her mother had done had been wrong. But if that was the case, what did it mean about her relationship with William Monroe? Had the Ancients taken his memory of her away so that he wouldn’t suffer when she went back? He was her father, wasn’t he?

  The door opened, revealing Sam standing there in a tiny top and low-slung fleece shorts, her short hair soaking wet, most of her midriff bare. She looked annoyed—and then her eyes went wide in disbelief and relief. “Allie!” She embraced her hard.

  “You know me!” Allie said hoarsely, choking in relief.

  Sam glanced at Aidan and her eyes went wide and then narrowed. Aidan smiled the kind of smile that would instantly put most women on their backs, undressing her from head to toe, an easy enough task as Sam barely had any clothes on. Sam checked him out as quickly and as boldly, then dragged Allie inside. Aidan followed and she shut the door behind him.

  Allie made introductions. “Is Tabby here?”

  “She’s at a PTA meeting. We have been so worried!”

  Allie just stared. So Tabby still existed—even though she’d eventually go to the past and live there. Or would she stay here?

  “Allie!” Sam grabbed her. “We need to talk!”

  “We can talk in front of Aidan,” Allie said.

  Sam gave him a glance and then said, “The morning after the party, Tabby called you because you took off. And no one, no one, I mean frigging no one—” her voice rose shrilly, when Sam was as cool as Royce all of the time “—knew you! Not the housekeeper, not your father, not your brother. What the hell happened?”

  “But you didn’t forget me,” Allie whispered.

  “We’ve been freaked! We were afraid it was demons, and that Fate decided to make a few adjustments to the situation. But the gods never intervene when someone is murdered and you know it.”

  “I’ve been in the fifteenth century, Sam. The CDA rumors are true.”

  Sam stared at her and Allie stared back. Then she looked at Aidan. “He has power, lots of it—and it’s not demonic.”

  “Yeah, he has power. There’s a secret Brotherhood filled with guys like him who have taken vows to protect Innocence no matter what,” Allie said. “The Masters time travel as well as vanquish evil. They are descended from the gods, Sam.” She almost added, so was she. “They’re almost immortal—and almost invincible.”

  “Holy shit.” Sam then said, low, “There’s a spell in the Book we never understood, Allie. It’s about Fate interrupted, and Fate corrected.”

  Allie hesitated. Sam had referred to the Book she and Tabby lived by, handed down to them by their mother, a book only a Rose woman could use. It was filled with wisdom, magic, myths and spells. “I don’t exist here anymore. And that means one thing—my Fate is the past.”

  Sam appeared dismayed and she hugged her, another totally uncharacteristic action for her, as she was the least touchy-feely person Allie knew.

  The door opened and Tabby walked in. She saw Allie and rushed to embrace her. Allie realized she was crying. “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. Sam, Brie and I have spent nights trying to figure out what happened to you and what it meant. Brie said you weren’t coming back! Thank the gods she was wrong!”

  Allie hesitated. “This is temporary, Tabby. My life is the fifteenth century now.”

  Tabby gaped.

  Allie whispered, “I found him. I found the Emperor.”

  Tabby gasped. “Then why do you look as if someone has died?”

  Allie tried not to cry.

  “Oh my God,” Tabby whispered. “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m so sorry.”

  Allie sucked it up. “I need Brie. I have been trying to summon her, but I don’t think it’s working. Can you call her? I have to speak to her before I go back.”

  Sam was already on the phone.

  “Aidan? This is my other best friend, Tabby.” Allie realized Aidan was staring at Tabby in surprise.

  Tabby did a double take and appeared confused. “Do I know you?”

  “I dinna think so—Lady Tabitha.”

  Tabby started. She glanced at Allie but before Allie could divert her—she didn’t think she should tell Tabby she was going to meet her destiny in another year and that he was very medieval—Sam said, “Brie left the office, like, ten minutes ago.”

  “How do you know me,” Tabby asked uncertainly, “and why are you addressing me as ‘Lady’?”

  The words weren’t even out of her mouth when a soft knock sounded on the door. Allie gave Aidan a warning look and ran to it, knowing it was Brie, her heart leaping wildly. She needed a final, definitive answer about Royce. She needed to know that he was alive and out there, somewhere.

  Brie stood in the doorway in a shapeless brown suit, looking flushed, as if she’d walked the twenty blocks from CDA to the loft, her brown hair pulled tightly back, tendrils sticking to her damp skin. She wore her heavy black I’m-A-Brain glasses, but they were crooked. They embraced and clung.

  “I heard you calling!” Brie exclaimed breathlessly. “What are you doing here? You can’t be here!” she cried. Then she looked past Allie and saw Aidan. She turned redder and glanced aside. Then said, “I have missed you so. I have thought about you so much!”

  “Everything has happened so fast and I didn’t know how to get word back to you guys.” Allie held her by the upper arms. “Everything Tabby saw in the cards was right. And you were right—he was there, that night at the fund-raiser. Brie, please. Is Royce alive?”

  Brie shifted her weight, as she usually did when nervous. “Allie, you know I can’t see on demand.”

  “Please!” Allie cried, and instantly, she knew she was on the verge of hysteria. Her grip on Brie tightened. “Try to see…try for me. I can’t believe he’s gone forever!”

  “I don’t know,” Brie cried back, strained. “I only know that I saw him coming for you. A big, golden, beautiful man, a warrior. You were meant to heal his heart—and he was meant to take you to your Fate. That’s all I know!”

  “Allie,” Aidan interrupted. “Yer hurting the lass.”

  Allie released her. “I’m so sorry!”

  Brie wiped one of her cheeks with her knuckles—she’d started to cry. She was terribly empathetic. “I know your heart has been ripped out. I’m sorry, so sorry!”

  Allie fought not to weep. “How can this have happened?”

  Brie put her arms around her. “You can’t fight Fate.”

  Allie looked at her. “After eight hundred years, he was finally coming around. I was healing him.”

  Brie didn’t seem to hear her. “Allie? You need to go to a place called Carrick—you need to go now!”

  HE AWOKE, not for the first time, aware that his strength was returning. And as he did, he heard the woman as she pounded food with a stone, and he sensed the man outside of the cave where he had been taken. He could smell meat roasting.

  Saliva gathered.

  He began to recall what had happened.

  Moffat had chased him through the ages. The many leaps had exhausted him. He had landed without thought in this long ago, primitive time. He opened his eyes and adjusted his gaze to the dim light in the cave.

  The woman wore a deerskin and she did not look his way, grinding leaves rhythmically with her stone. Her face was strange, with huge cheekbones, a wide, flat nose, small eyes. She was small, too, like Ailios, but so was the man.

  He had gone so far back in time he did not know the date. But then, these people had no calendar.

  She looked at him and smiled.

  He read her mind. She thought him a god; so did her man. But now, he remembered appearing in their midst. Just before losing consciousness, he had sensed their s
hock and fear.

  The man appeared, also clad in a skin, grinning. He was pleased with the tribal kill—two deer.

  More saliva gathered—he was starving. He recalled the woman feeding him some kind of bland gruel while giving him sips of water. He sat up. Both people turned to stare.

  He smiled at them, testing his body, searching it for strength and power. He sent a blast of light energy through the cave and was pleased when the dirt and leaves lifted and swirled.

  The cave people’s eyes widened.

  “Thank ye fer carin’ fer me,” he said. His strength and power were rapidly returning. He flexed his hands, standing.

  They got on their knees submissively.

  They were in awe, still afraid. It didn’t matter. He had lain in exhaustion for days—he wasn’t sure for how long—and he had to go home. But before he did, he’d make sure they had enough stores to last the winter.

  Royce stepped out of the cave.

  “I DINNA THINK WE SHOULD be here,” Aidan said. “I think ye should go directly to Blayde, yer brother’s home.”

  Allie paused outside Carrick’s twenty-first-century front walls, which were covered with blooms. Why had Brie insisted they go to Carrick?

  “He’s nay here,” Aidan said sharply. “Ye have yer hopes up.”

  She did have her hopes up, but Allie wasn’t going to admit it. They’d taken a commercial flight to Scotland, to avoid the physical stress of leaping. Allie had no funds, so Tabby had paid for the airfare. Their goodbyes had been tearful. While Allie knew she’d see Tabby again, she’d probably never see Brie or Sam. On top of losing Royce, it was simply too much.

  “Stop being so brave,” she had told Sam fiercely. “Find someone to help you hunt the demons so you don’t have to do it alone!”

  Sam had been amused. “I have Tabby and Brie,” she said flippantly. “Besides, maybe I’ll join CDA.”

  In a way, Brie was her best friend, even though she was so shy, introverted and bookish. Allie had hugged her, not meaning to say anything. But then she’d whispered, “Stop hiding behind your job, those glasses and those awful suits.”