Page 107 of Dark Victory

They had leaped back to Blayde. Allie and Royce stood with Tabby by the front doors of the hall. Tabby couldn’t look at her, and not because Nick and his agent, Jan, were wandering around Macleod’s hall with great interest. Or rather, Nick was roaming the hall with interest—Jan seemed really uptight. But MacNeil had appeared on their heels, and he and Macleod seemed to be having a very intense and mostly one-sided argument. In fact, MacNeil was doing most of the speaking. It was obvious that he was deeply angry with Macleod.

Tabby thought she knew why. He had gone to Melvaig for the wrong reasons. He hadn’t gone simply to hunt evil and protect Innocence. He’d gone to destroy Criosaidh, in the hopes that she wouldn’t be Tabby’s adversary at An Tùir-Tara. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he didn’t care about history or Fate.

If only he could be more cautious, more circumspect!

Tabby realized she was still staring at Macleod, who was poker-faced, and MacNeil, who was furious. Allie plucked her sleeve. “It’s a really bad idea to mess with time. He knows better—but he doesn’t care.”

Tabby gave her best friend her full attention. “You’re so right. I thought his giving up mortal vengeance would change him, but I don’t know, Allie. I’m worried.”

“You should worry. Fate is written by the gods for a reason—their reason—and we’re not allowed to interfere.”

She inhaled. She knew where Allie was going with this tangent.

“Which of the witches belongs to the ghost?”

Very defensively, Tabby folded her arms across her chest. “Criosaidh. If I had known what Macleod intended, I would have stopped him.”

“Really? Tabby, I am going to take a chance and tell you something but I hope I don’t pay for it. In my time, you and Criosaidh are arch enemies.”

Tabby stared, surprised but not shocked. The fact that she would be around in the fifteenth century made her exult, but she understood the point her friend was making. Criosaidh wasn’t meant to die in 1298. But she already knew that, because she knew her ghost came from An Tùir-Tara. And Macleod had known it, too.

He had chosen to destroy her before her time so he could protect Tabby.

“He’s so strong-willed,” Tabby whispered. “Maybe the gods don’t know what he’s done.”

“They’re pretty benign most of the time, but when push comes to shove, they make their wishes and feelings known. Guy is impossible when he makes up his mind. I’ve never seen MacNeil like this,” Allie said, appearing uneasy. “He’s mad as all hell, and his usual approach is logic and persuasion. Not only that, MacNeil thinks of Guy as a little brother, because he took Guy under his wing, so to speak, after the massacre. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Tabby did, too. “We have to be through the worst,” she said. But she didn’t believe it, not for a moment. Criosaidh was alive and enraged, just to the south, and so was her son; her ghost hadn’t been vanquished, so it was undoubtedly preparing another attack; and An Tùir-Tara was in their future.

And just how was she going to live for a couple of centuries?

“Tabby, you have to persuade Macleod to obey some of the rules! He can’t decide to change history, no matter how much he loves you.”

Tabby’s heart lurched with dread, but there was joy, too. Did Macleod love her? “When I first met him, I assumed him incapable of love.”

“Ha,” was all Allie said.

Tabby turned to glance at him. He was brooding by the hearth, alone. “Sometimes I’m afraid he’s a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“He is. But he’s strong, powerful and blessed—he just needs a guiding hand.” Allie smiled at her. “Good luck.”

Suddenly Tabby clung to her. “Allie, I wish you didn’t have to go!”

Allie stroked her hair, reaching up to do so. “But I do have to go. Royce and I belong in the fifteenth century, and you know the rules. Before you know it, we’ll be drinking wine and fighting evil together again! And you’re not alone, not anymore—not ever again.”

Tabby couldn’t smile. Allie was right—she wasn’t alone. And while she wanted to know how she’d wind up in the fifteenth century, she decided not to ask. She could be flung there in five minutes, but Allie had said she’d been with Royce for almost sixty years—and she still looked twenty-five.

Maybe time travel changed the aging process.

Or maybe there was something to that family joke about the Rose women getting better with age. Maybe MacNeil had known Grandma Sara when she was really young and time travel hadn’t been involved. It was a mind-blowing notion.

Allie hugged her another time, taking Royce’s hand. He nodded at her, and then they slipped outside into the dusk.

Tabby turned, her heart racing. Macleod remained at the fireplace, arms folded across his chest, and MacNeil was still seated at the table. He stood and walked over to her. “He tasks even my patience, finally.”

She tensed. “He does have every right to hunt evil.”

“He went to destroy Criosaidh to change the future.”