by Brenda Joyce
“Maclean!” Sam screamed. Even as she did, she knew there was no way he could hear her from the second floor. She knelt, seeking a pulse. But there was no beat in his artery, and there was so much blood…
Maclean appeared in the kitchen.
Sam looked up. “I can’t find a pulse.”
He saw Gerard and froze. His eyes widened, and then he choked on horror.
Sam still held Gerard’s wrist. As she did, his arm jerked. “Shit, Maclean, I think he’s alive!”
Ian knelt, breathing hard. As Sam reached for her cell phone, it crossed her mind that he cared about his servant a lot. “Do not melt down,” Sam said, reaching for him. She gripped his arm and he looked at her, his eyes filled with panic. “Can you heal him, Ian?”
Lucidity returned. He inhaled. “I’ve never healed anyone until a few minutes ago.”
She’d analyze that astounding fact later. “Maybe you had better try,” she said, speed-dialing the paramedics on Five.
Ian laid his hands directly on Gerard’s mangled, bloody chest. As Sam spoke to the dispatch, she saw Ian’s color returning, which meant he was getting a grip on himself. Then she saw the wave of white rain coming from his hands, mingling with the blood. “Tell them to hurry,” she said, ending the call.
Ian closed his eyes tightly, focused now. His face changed, lines of strain becoming etched there. White rain poured from his hands and began dripping off his shoulders, his neck, and his chest. Sam sat back, watching, stunned. While she could feel his desperation, she also felt his resolve. The one person he cared about was Gerard. He was terrified Gerard would die.
So Sam prayed.
Prayer wasn’t her thing. But the Rose women worshipped the old deities, and it was as fundamental as observing the Wisdoms in the Book. As she prayed, she was acutely aware that without Gerard, Ian would be alone in the world.
The white rain kept coming.
Gerard’s face relaxed, as if it had previously been set against pain. His eyelashes flickered. “You’re doing it, Ian,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer her, shaking like a leaf now.
She took Gerard’s wrist and this time she found a steady pulse. As she held it, the pulse became stronger and stronger. His chest seemed less mangled, the wounds became grayish-pink, instead of raw red. Ian moaned.
Gerard opened his eyes. He saw her and gasped with recollection.
The wounds turned pinker now, as the beginnings of infection were chased away.
“Don’t move,” Sam told him. “Maclean’s healing you.” And doing a damned good job, she thought. But she was worried about him. “Ian, maybe you should stop.”
Ian gave no sign that he heard her.
Gerard glanced up at Ian now. “A monk came,” he managed. “There’s no more time.” He took a huge breath. “I think I’m fine, sir,” he said.
“You’re not fine. Don’t speak,” Sam told him grimly. The monk had done this.
Had he decided to take out his rage on Gerard after being thwarted by Ian at the vault? Was this retribution, or a warning? He had known just where Ian lived and who to go after to get at him. And that meant that the monk had been keeping tabs on Maclean.
Ian’s terrible shaking suddenly become convulsive. He opened his eyes, and looked at her, gasping.
“You need to stop,” she cried, sliding her arm around him.
His eyes closed, and he keeled over, unconscious.
SAM WAS PACING when the medics from Five arrived. Nick was on their heels, and so was Jan.
Gerard knelt beside Ian. As the medics rushed in with their equipment, Sam ran up to them. “He was healing,” she told them. “He began to shake and moan and then he simply passed out.”
“A Healer, huh?” the big, brawny medic said, kneeling and strapping a blood pressure cuff on Maclean. “We don’t see many of those anymore.”
Sam felt helpless. Ian remained deathly pale and he had been unmoving for the past fifteen minutes. “There’s a pulse. It’s really weak.”
The female medic was listening to his heart. Nick laid his hand on her shoulder, surprising her. She tensed, facing him.
His blue gaze was searching. “Since when did you go maverick on me?”
She hesitated and glanced at Jan.
“I told him about the DVD.”
“Thanks,” Sam said, furious.
“It’s my job.”
“No, it’s not,” Sam said.
“What the hell happened?” Nick demanded.
“Gerard, the butler, had a bit of a run-in with an unfriendly. He was as good as dead. Maclean brought him back and then he passed out,” Sam said harshly.
His stare remained intense and speculative. “Did you know he could heal?”
She shook her head. “This is only the second time he’s ever used the power—it’s new to him. Nick, the unfriendly is from 1527. He was one of the guards that kept Ian prisoner for Moray.” The medics were giving him oxygen now and the female medic was injecting him with something.
Nick knelt beside them. “Is he going to make it?”
“Can you give us a moment?” the big fellow said.
Nick stood, glancing sharply at her hands. Sam realized that she was wringing them compulsively and she stopped. He slowly shook his head. “Let’s step into the hall.”
She silently cursed. She didn’t want to leave Ian, but wasn’t going to reveal more of her feelings than she already had. She looked at Jan.
“I’ll stay with him,” Jan said.
“Great.” Sam strode out, Nick on her tail. Then she put her hands on her hips and faced him. “I had every right to protect my privacy.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Hemmer gave you the tape. That makes it CDA’s business. Maclean stole the page. Hemmer wants it, we want it. This is a case, Rose. And you are involved up to your eyeballs.”
She wanted to go back into the kitchen. “Fine! You know what? I feel sorry for him. Are you happy, now?”
“Not really. So fill me in,” Nick ordered.
“Hemmer said the tape was a diversion. He’s furious. He wants the page, and he’s threatened to torture Ian if I don’t get it for him.” She took a breath. “But he’s easy to read. He has some power—like the power to time travel—but I know I can take him down. I told you about the monk. What I didn’t tell you was that he’s really, really powerful. He kicked my ass, but he seemed reluctant to go up against Maclean directly. When Ian showed up to help me out, he turned tail, then came here to take out his whatever on the butler.” She glanced past Nick into the kitchen. She could only see Maclean’s legs, as he lay behind the center island. They hadn’t changed position.
“Why the butler?”
Sam wet her lips. “Maclean has employed him for decades. He cares about him.”
“That must be a first.”
“Will you ever give him a break?”
“Why should I? You’re giving him enough breaks for us both.”
The one thing about Nick was that he was fast and sharp and always had the last word.
“Listen up,” Nick said. “Moray used to live here in the city under the alias Robert Moran. And Hemmer was friendly with him.”
Sam felt her eyes widen. “What the hell?”
“Two inside tracks that go right back to Moray—one of the most evil beings we’ve ever known at CDA.”
Sam absorbed that. The monk had been a guard, working for Moray. Hemmer had been Moray’s friend. “Brie said Moray had parts of the Duisean and that they were stashed here in the city. How much do you want to bet that the monk’s power is coming from the book?”
“Great minds think alike. Except, if the monk got powers from Moray after he was vanquished, and he’s from 1527 now, I think we can assume that whatever he has, it’s back in the sixteenth century.”
“I’ll follow the monk back! I’m going back, Nick,” she warned.
“What, and leave your poor tragic hero suffering here by his lonesome
? You are working a case, Rose.”
She seethed. “You denied me six months ago when my sister’s life was at stake! Let me go back and hunt the missing pieces of the Duisean. You’ve got enough manpower here to hunt the page of illusion. And if you don’t agree, I quit, and I’m going back on my own.”
He wasn’t perturbed. “You know, it’s only our theory that parts of the Duisean are back there.”
“I know you. You’ll send someone back to check it out!”
He almost smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
That was better than an outright no, Sam thought. She’d meant her every word. Some excitement began. Tabby was back there.
“But in the meantime, you are on assignment.” Nick paused, then said thoughtfully, “You know, two of his cronies have shown up here, hunting the one page. I’m surprised a few Highlanders haven’t shown up hot on its track, as well.”
“Maybe they have and they’re lying low. Maybe they’re hunting the monk’s stash in 1527.”
Nick studied her. “Has he told you where he’s got the page hidden?”
Sam jerked. “No. I haven’t even gotten around to asking.”
“When he comes to, work your wiles and find out.”
She thought about Nick knowing about the sex tape and she almost flushed. At least he hadn’t seen it. “He’s not easy, Nick. If he was, we’d have the damned page.”
“They’re all easy for you, Sam. Besides, that’s an order. Not that I think you’ll mind having an excuse to work him a bit.” Nick gave her a disapproving look.
She was never going to live down the sex tape, she thought. “Are you going to fire me?”
“Probably. But not until I have the page safe and secure and in the right hands.”
He reached into his pocket and handed her a torn one-inch scrap of paper. Sam was surprised. Nick never used paper. Everything was on his BlackBerry, his laptop or his PC. “I’ve been meaning to give this to you since we had our little tête-à-tête with Maclean.”
Sam looked at a series of numbers. She instantly knew it was an international phone number. Her gut tightened impossibly. “What is this?”
“I’m not the sonuvabitch everyone says I am.” He shrugged. “That’s Brie’s telephone number.”
Sam stared at the scrap of paper, stunned. What was he talking about?
“Yeah, Sam. She’s alive and well in Edinburgh—and centuries old.”
Sam gasped. Then she realized that Jan had stepped out of the kitchen and was simply standing there, her expression grim.
In that instant, Sam knew that Ian was not okay. “What’s wrong?”
“His blood pressure is dropping. It’s not looking very good.”
For one moment, disbelief paralyzed her. “What does that mean?” she demanded furiously. “He’s a near-immortal! He can’t die!”
“Near-immortals can die, and you know it,” Nick said, stepping back into the kitchen.
Sam stared at Jan, still incredulous. Now, she was afraid.
“He gave too much white power,” Jan said softly. “I guess that makes him one of the good guys after all.”
With a cry, Sam charged past her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN SHE RAN INTO THE KITCHEN, they were resuscitating Ian with electric paddles. Nick seized her and jerked her back, preventing her from approaching. Incapable of drawing even a normal breath, Sam watched as the two medics knelt over him, shocking him. His entire body convulsed, and the woman said, “We have a pulse.”
Sam thought she saw color returning to his deathly pale face and she thought she saw his lashes flicker.
“He’s okay, Rose,” Nick said.
She realized he still had his hand on her shoulder. Under normal circumstances, she would wrench away. She didn’t move; she couldn’t. She watched as they adjusted the oxygen, then glanced at the small monitor on their equipment cart. His pulse looked perfect now.
He’d almost died in order to save Gerard.
“His vitals are returning to normal,” the woman medic announced.
Sam’s knees felt weak. He was out of danger. As she turned away, she caught Nick’s intent stare.
Nick followed her out of the kitchen.
She sat down on the stairs in the hallway, looking up. “Go ahead. Blast away.”
“You know what? He’s got some redeeming value after all, so I’m not going to say another word.” Nick walked past her.
A moment later, Sam heard the front door slam closed.
SAM REMAINED SEATED on the stairs as the line in Edinburgh rang. Unbelievably, she was nervous. She and Brie had been far closer than mere cousins, more like sisters, really. They’d been best friends, even if they were radically opposite in every possible way. They’d confronted and survived so much evil together. Sam realized she was nervous because she simply didn’t know what to expect when Brie picked up the phone.
It really wasn’t all that surprising that Aidan and Brie were living in modern-day Edinburgh. That would make her cousin hundreds of years old. So the old family joke was true—the Rose women got better and wiser with age.
Of course, Sam had thought about time travel and the new reality it engendered, a lot. When Allie had gone back in time, she’d changed her life entirely. She’d been Allie Monroe up until that day, more commonly known as the Monroe Heiress. But once she’d vanished, the records had changed. It was as if Allie Monroe had never existed. She’d never been born, never gone to school, never had a driver’s license…
But that was because Fate had been interrupted and it had been corrected. It was a Wisdom in the Book of Roses that Sam was very familiar with. Fate was always written. When it went awry, which it rarely did, it either stayed awry or the universe fixed it.
Allie had actually been conceived in the thirteenth century. Her being born in modern times had been Fate going awry. Her destiny was the past, not the present. Sam was aware that a really, really ancient Allie lived today at Carrick Castle with the earl of Morvern—a Master of Time. She’d never seen the point in visiting her. For Allie, who’d gone back in time to the fifteenth century, hundreds of years had elapsed since they’d been buddies fighting evil together. For Sam, it had only been two years. She couldn’t imagine what a reunion with present-day Allie would be like.
But it had begged the question—could Tabby be out there somewhere? Could Brie?
Well, apparently Brie was on the other side of the ocean right now. She could understand why Brie might not get in touch with her—there were all kinds of rules—but her sister would surely do so, unless something dire had stopped her or she hadn’t lived into the twenty-first century. Of course, Tabby had a different Fate than Allie or Brie. She’d been born in 1979 and all her records remained, even after her disappearance. Tabby was officially listed as a missing person, but the truth was that she was a modern woman who’d been meant to connect with a medieval man and go back in time with him to fight evil.
Sam wanted her sister back, not some five-hundred-year-old woman who was by now a great-great-great-grandmother, at least. It would be weird sitting down with her sister if they’d been apart for centuries. But it was worth looking into, because it would be better than nothing at all.
But Nick had given her Brie’s number—not Tabby’s.
She was afraid to make the inference.
“The Maclean residence,” a very Scottish voice answered.
Sam inhaled. She wasn’t even sure how she should address Brie now. “Lady Maclean, please,” she said after a moment of hesitation. Her heart was pounding now.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Sam Rose.”
An interminable moment went by. Sam didn’t know if it was sixty seconds or a few minutes; it felt like an hour. Then an older woman said, “Sam? Is that really you?”
She inhaled. Brie sounded as if she was well into late middle age. A few months ago, she’d been twenty-six years old. “Yeah, Brie, it’s me.” To her dismay, tears filled
her eyes.
“It’s been so long!” Brie cried. “No one has called me Brie in hundreds of years.”
When Aidan had taken Brie hostage, he’d taken her back to 1502. Sam was certain that Brie’s life in the past had begun then. If Brie had lived through five centuries, she was well over five hundred years old. “I’m sort of shaken that we’re really speaking…like this. How are you?”
She felt Brie smile. “You know Allie is at Carrick with Royce, and she’s been there for centuries.”
“Yeah, I know. I never called her because of the years that have passed. It just seemed like it would be awkward as all hell.”
“Is this too awkward?” Brie asked softly.
“Yes…and no. Brie, you left here last September. For me, it hasn’t been that long. You sound like a grandmother. I’m still twenty-seven.”
Brie laughed. “I am a grandmother—and a great-great-great-grandmother, too. And I am fine. I’m happy. It’s been such a good life. I love Aidan as much as I ever did—impossibly.”
Sam thought about the last time she’d seen Aidan, when he was dark and dangerous and furious with the gods. “How’s Aidan, anyway?”
“Fine. Perfect. My other half…my best half.”
Sam didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the dark Highlander as Brie’s better half.
“He’s spent the past centuries protecting children, Sam. It’s what the gods asked of him.”
Sam tensed. Aidan hadn’t been able to protect his own son, but his Fate, apparently, was protecting all the other innocent children of the world. “I’m glad,” she somehow said. She wondered if Ian knew what his father’s duty was.
Brie said softly, “Of course, the wound Ian left remains. We’ve never gotten over his leaving us, just after we found him in 1502. We love him so much, Sam. Aidan tried so many times to tell him, but he was determined to turn his back on us and our love. We haven’t seen him or heard from him in five hundred years.”
“He’s here,” Sam said tersely. “And living out of his time.”
“I know,” Brie said. “My Sight is stronger than ever, even at my age.”
