Page 51 of Dark Victory

Although Macleod’s expression never changed, Tabby seized his hand. He probably never allowed anyone to speak to him in such a way. She glanced up at him and he gave her a lazy look. She realized he was in absolute control, and not about to blow up. He was not even worried. Maybe, for him, this was a walk in the park. Relieved, Tabby stepped forward, and then realized that she was still holding his hand. She released it as if burned and handed the inspector her purse.

Macleod never noticed. He was too busy staring at the inspector. It took Tabby one moment to realize he was using his otherworldly powers of persuasion on him.

The inspector opened her bag but then looked up instead of going through it. He stared at Macleod, perplexed, then riveted.

But enchanting him wouldn’t stop the metal detector from going off. And the bad cop was still hanging around, although he seemed to be checking everybody out. Hopefully, it was just a habit of his nature.

The inspector now handed her bag back to her, not having looked through it. “Go on,” he said, waving them through the metal detector.

Tabby went through first, her heart thundering. When she was on the other side, the metal detector suddenly rocked wildly, as if struck by a huge force. She saw Macleod’s power blazing.

She cringed.

The people in line behind him gasped, moving back from the blazing machine.

Macleod stood innocently on the other side, awaiting his turn to go through.

The metal detector was still.

Her heart pounding, Tabby looked at everyone present. Yes, a few people were whispering and staring with wide eyes at Macleod. How could he use his powers so openly? It was too dangerous!

Macleod was still as a statue. Even his impassive expression was set in stone.

“What the hell?” the security inspector exclaimed. The cop ran over, as did two other museum security guards, but their attention was on the machine, not Macleod. One of the guards started calming the crowd. Tabby glanced at Macleod as they began trying to figure out if the machine still worked or not. Someone suggested it had been shorted. The cop revealed his shoulder holster and gun, and went through. The metal detector did not go off. Macleod looked at her, his blue eyes satisfied. Tabby gave up. She shouldn’t have doubted his ability to get by a simple metal detector. He had known what he was doing. She couldn’t help admiring him. In a crisis, he was as cool as a cucumber.

She hated to admit it, but he would make a terrific partner for anyone in the war on evil. It was a shame and a waste that he hadn’t taken his vows. With that kind of courage, he should be on the streets, defending the Innocent, every single day.

“Oh, great. Now we have to frisk everybody,” the security inspector said. He turned. “Call Mel and tell him what happened.” He waved at Macleod. “Come here, buddy. We have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

Tabby held her breath, certain that Macleod would keep the inspector enchanted, and she was right. The balding inspector patted his chest and thighs and said, “Go on.” It was the worst frisk job ever.

Macleod smiled pleasantly at him and walked into the museum lobby.

Tabby breathed. Then she turned and saw the off-duty cop staring at her closely—no, he was watching Macleod as he joined her, and suspicion was written all over his face.

Her heart skipped too many beats to count. “He’s onto us,” she whispered.

“Aye, he suspects me, but I can destroy him easily enough,” Macleod told her softly.

“What if your powers fail you?”

He looked at her. “I could choke his life from him with my bare hands.”

She stared into his cold eyes. He meant his every word. If push came to shove, he’d break that cop’s neck as swiftly as he’d beheaded Angel.

She’d spent most of that morning thinking about having sex with him. What was she doing? The fact remained that he was a medieval man. Last night she had forgotten it. There would not be evenings at wine bars and trendy restaurants. There wouldn’t be movies or ice skating. There wouldn’t be weekends at a cozy cottage in the Hamptons. She almost laughed at the idea of his doing any of those activities! The only relationship they could possibly share was a sexual one—or a martial one.

Suddenly she was depressed. “Come on. The exhibit’s upstairs.”

His gaze turned searching as they started across the lobby. “Ye should stop thinkin’ so much.”

“I wish I could.” She realized she meant it.

It was too early for a line, and it was Tuesday, so the museum was quiet. Macleod left her behind, heading rapidly to the display case. Tabby hurried after him. She wasn’t surprised when she saw that he was staring at the gold amulet. Disbelief and shock were written all over his face.

“What is it? You recognize the talisman, don’t you?”

He began to tremble. Tabby was stunned by his agitation—and by the grief that flickered in his eyes and the anguish that crossed his face. Her head ached. She saw the fourteen-year-old boy, covered in blood and choking on grief, standing not far from an inferno.