Dark Lover

by Brenda Joyce

  Aidan began to shake with rage. “We ken ye want my pain.”

  “Lots and lots of it…unless you surrender to me…to Satan.”

  “If I have a choice to make, I choose pain,” Aidan snarled.

  Brie gripped his arm. Sam was amazed that she only saw Moray, even though the being standing before them was Hemmer. But what shook her to the core was the absolute hatred coming from Moray’s soul.

  Moray’s smile turned ugly and mean. “Did you really think you and your paltry woman could vanquish me, the great Moray? Did you think I’d simply disappear? I have waited all these years, waited and watched, knowing that one day, I would find my way back to you…son.” He turned to Ian. “You truly know what I am capable of. Will you let your father choose pain?”

  Ian’s chest heaved. He was pale, his face set, but his eyes blazed. As if silently communicating, Ian and Aidan both roared and struck. So much white power filled the room, it was as if lightning had struck. But Moray simply vanished and their power ricocheted around the hall, cracking its walls, shattering glass.

  “Coward!” Ian snarled.

  Tabby sat down abruptly and started murmuring softly to herself.

  Aidan was staring intensely at Ian, who slowly turned to look at him. “I’ll never let him hurt ye again,” Aidan said. “I swear before the gods, Ian.”

  Ian hesitated. His gaze flickered. “I know.” He glanced at Sam, who was startled. “Sam, let’s go.”

  She stepped forward. “He’s still here. How do you want to lure him out?”

  “We’ll stay together,” Aidan said firmly. “And we’ll wait until he shows himself again.”

  “Tabitha,” Macleod said, his tone oddly reassuring. “Do ye have the right spell?”

  Tabby looked at her husband. “I think so.” Then her gaze met Sam’s.

  What if I can’t do this? Tabby communicated silently. What if I’m wrong?

  You can do this, Sam returned as silently.

  Macleod was clearly listening, because he put his arm protectively around her. “The spell will work. Make certain to block his power to leap.”

  She nodded. “I already have.”

  But the words weren’t even out of her mouth when the hallway darkened, becoming frigidly cold. Suddenly Sam faced another steel door set in a concrete wall, and everyone was gone except for Ian. She took his hand. He held it, hard, and there was sudden perspiration on his palm.

  “It’s not real,” he said tersely.

  No, it wasn’t, but it sure as hell felt real. Sam touched the cold steel of the door. “He’s isolated us.”

  “Don’t open it!” Ian cried in alarm.

  Sam withdrew her hand, as if burned. “You know where we are?” Now, she saw that there were identical doors lining each side of the hall.

  “We’re in a maze,” he said roughly. “And evil is behind every single door.”

  Sam stepped away from the door. She should have bumped into Ian, but to her shock, she didn’t. She turned. He was gone—she was alone!

  She reminded herself that this was a virtual reality. But Moray had separated them from the others, and now, he’d separated her from Ian. She looked down the hall. It seemed endless. “Ian?”

  She strained to hear.

  Where are ye?

  “I’m in the maze.”

  Dinna open the door!

  “Open the door,” Moray murmured.

  She whirled. He stood behind her, grinning. “Where’s Ian, you bastard? What have you done with him?”

  “He’s playing a game,” he murmured. He reached out and slid a manicured nail down her cheek. She jerked away. “We want you, Sam. In more ways than one.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  “We always get what we want.”

  “Not always—not this time.”

  “Do you know how much power we now have? No one can defeat us. No one ever has. But you know that, don’t you? There are hundreds of pages written about the great Moray in your files at HCU.”

  “Yeah, you’re almost famous,” Sam said. “Whoops, I meant infamous.” How could she go up against him alone? She had to get out of this reality! She thought about the salon with its lavish furnishings, imagined everyone standing there, trying to figure out their next move. She strained for that reality.

  For one moment, the hall shifted and she thought she glimpsed everyone but Ian, standing before that console table and Art Deco mirror.

  His next words brought her back. “You really should open the door, Sam. It’s the only way out of this world.”

  She needed help. Tabby, damn it, what happened to your spell?

  But she couldn’t even sense her sister, much less hear her.

  Now, she heard soft sounds, coming from the door closest to her. Sam tensed.

  “No one is going to help you.” Moray reached out and slid his finger over her shoulder. “Only you can help yourself. Open the door.”

  She met his gaze. It was a mistake. His powers of persuasion were extraordinary.

  Now she could identify the sounds coming from the room behind the door. A woman was gasping in pleasure.

  “Open the door, Sam. You won’t be sorry. You’ll be very pleased.”

  She didn’t want to open the door but she couldn’t help herself, because suddenly she had to know what was on the other side. She turned and pulled the heavy door open.

  A couple was on the floor. Sam saw the man’s extraordinary beauty and knew he was a demon. She was witnessing a pleasure crime. Her instinct was to stop it, to save the Innocent. But she saw the woman’s champagne-colored hair and she froze in disbelief. For an instant, she was paralyzed.

  The demon vanished. Her mother sat up. “Sam?”

  Sam backed into the wall. “Mom?”

  Laura got up. “It’s me, Sam. You saved me!”

  Sam choked. She hadn’t saved her mother that day and she knew it wasn’t real, but she blinked, because they were on the suburban street in upstate New York where she’d grown up. It was a fall day, just like that day. Red and gold leaves were everywhere.

  The white clapboard house where she’d grown up was behind Laura. Tabby’s blue bicycle was in the driveway, its kickstand down. Sam’s bike was red and it lay on its side where she’d dropped it.

  Just like that day…

  “Sam,” Laura cried, rushing to her. She pulled her into her arms, trembling.

  And her mother was warm and alive, her chest rising and falling against Sam’s, her cheek soft, silken. She smelled like citrus and flowers, the Halston fragrance she always wore. Had she time-traveled? Was this real?

  Sam realized she was crying. She loved her mother impossibly; she always had. Now, she realized she missed her in a bone-deep way.

  What if she’d interrupted the pleasure crime sooner, preventing Mom’s murder?

  Laura released her. “Thank the gods you came along when you did,” she whispered, tears in her own blue eyes.

  Alarm began. Her mother had become transparent. “Mom! Don’t go!” Sam cried. But she knew Laura was about to vanish forever, because this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

  Her mother disappeared.

  Sam couldn’t understand where all of her grief was coming from. She held her face in her hands, really close to weeping.

  “Satan can give her back to you, Sam.”

  Moray’s soft voice vibrated within her. Sam forced herself to straighten. She wiped her eyes, and turned warily.

  “I can give you whatever you want,” he said. “I can return your mother to you.”

  “Oh, so now you can turn back the clock?” She scoffed. But she was becoming angry. This was as dirty as the game could get.

  “I can’t turn back the clock. No one, not even one of your gods, can.” Moray smiled. “But you know that when Fate goes awry, it can be corrected.”

  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 i
t 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.

  SAM 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.