Page 24 of Dark Victory

There was an odd blip just behind the man’s shoulder as he ran away from the gruesome crime—the hint of something grayish and almost oblong.

She hit Pause, backed it, then zoomed in on the civvie again. She froze the screen, and zoomed on his left shoulder at the odd blip.

It wasn’t oblong now. It was a shapeless form, becoming more and more indistinct the farther she looked from the center. She went back to the darkest part of the blip. A face began to emerge from the grayish light.

“What the hell?” Kit asked.

Now, she saw two eyes and a mouth—she would swear to it.

So someone had been standing there, watching the burning.

No, not someone—something.

TABBY SAT ON ONE OF the children’s chairs, hugging herself, exhausted. CDA had been all over the scene for hours—she’d been interrogated by Nick and his agents five times. The children had been picked up shortly after the crisis. Now, Nick was seated with Kristin and the principal, sipping coffee. She knew he was questioning them, but his demeanor was so casual he might have been at Starbucks with a couple of friends.

Those last moments of the morning kept replaying ruthlessly in her mind. She saw the look in the Highlander’s eyes just before his sword had flashed and he decapitated Angel; she saw the look in his eyes when he’d walked back into that schoolroom to avoid the police, his gaze hard and cold and devoid of all feeling, all fear. She trembled. Calling that man savage was an understatement—she couldn’t find the right word to describe him. She had witnessed violence for most of her life—evil was cruel and barbaric and it was everywhere. But the Highlander wasn’t evil—yet he had not had any conscience when he’d beheaded Angel. They could have tried to retrieve Angel’s soul, but he hadn’t hesitated. It was obvious that such brutality was second nature to him. He was a barbarian; he made Randall look like a saint.

She shivered.

But what really bothered her was how he’d stood on the other side of the fire wall, and how she’d felt standing across from him, the flames blazing between them.

For one moment, his hard face had changed, filling with surprise. Tabby wasn’t sure what he’d thought, but he’d suddenly seemed reluctant to leave her. She had been terrified and desperate, afraid that it was the end for them.

But there was no “them.”

Except, standing there with the fire between them, she’d felt as if she loved him.

Of course, she did not love him. He was a total stranger and as medieval as a man could be. She was a civilized, modern woman and a gentle soul. There would never be any kind of relationship between them, except for her helping him, if she could. But now, the idea that she might want to help a barbarian was laughable. It had to be a joke. As far as her feelings of déjà vu went, they were simply inexplicable.

Her temples hurt and she rubbed them. He needed medical attention, and then he had to go back to wherever he belonged. She’d feel better—safer—when he’d gone back to his primitive world. Maybe he’d left already—she would be relieved! She’d go back to the Met and try to figure out why that amulet had made her feel evil and so much more. Then she’d determine what she was supposed to do about it—and him.

Sam laid her hand on her shoulder, her face grim. “Nick said we can leave.”

Tabby got up, relieved to be able to go home. At least the police had been called off. Sam had told her that. He was running from the cops unnecessarily. But maybe that was a good thing. Otherwise, he might be hanging around. “Sam, if he hasn’t gone back in time, he needs medical attention.”

Sam grimaced. “So you said, a dozen times. If he’s still here, Nick will find him and have him taken care of.”

Tabby looked into Sam’s eyes, carefully shielding her thoughts—but not from her sister. Sam had told her she was certain Nick could read minds. Tabby thought it likely. She’d seen him in action once or twice and he was not your average mortal.

She had not told Nick what had happened yesterday at the Met. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to be secretive now—not that she worked for Nick, anyway. But Nick was a control freak and he had his own agenda, always. He would be on the Highlander’s side, but she was oddly afraid of Nick’s interference. Involving him now, before she knew what was really happening, felt wrong.

Because she’d been covered with Angel’s blood, Tabby had borrowed an older student’s gym clothes. She picked up her white wool coat, slipping it on, and her purse and tote. Sam gestured and they started for the door. Nick rose to his feet and approached.

“So when you want to tell me what really happened, you have my direct line,” he said.

Tabby fought to control her thoughts and feelings. “I told you everything.” She hated lying, but did so now with aplomb—or so she thought.

But he seemed amused. “You’re lying through those pearly whites, Tabby.” He sobered. “I want to protect him, too.”

Tabby crossed her arms over her chest. Nick would protect him. She should come clean. “I didn’t say I want to protect him, but I don’t want to see him hurt.” She hesitated, then added, “He needs to go back to wherever it is he came from, Nick. I don’t think he should be here.”

“And you think that because?”

Tabby tried not to think about her encounter with him at the Met or the spell she’d cast. “Isn’t it obvious? A medieval man running around the city will raise all kinds of questions.” Tabby was aware that CDA’s second priority after the war on evil was to remain clandestine. The agency had an entire department devoted to public relations, to spinning demonic crimes into acceptable criminal ones. The public would not be able to handle the truth, and general hysteria would ensue, leading to chaos and anarchy. And that was what evil wanted. “If a single reporter figures out what is going on, it’s all over.”

Nick was clearly skeptical of her. Then he leaned close. “Listen, Tabitha, everything that happened last night was not reported in the press.”

Tabby tensed. She did not like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”