Page 61 of Dark Victory

A small fire was burning in the hearth.

Had she started it? She murmured, “Fire obey me, fire burn. Fire obey me, warm the room.”

The fire danced merrily, but it did not blaze.

Suddenly one of the open shutters slammed against the wall.

Tabby sat bolt upright. It was a still summer day. How would a sudden gust of wind cause it to lift away from the wall where it rested and then slam down?

The shutter slammed on the wall again.

It was entirely unnatural. As a terrible comprehension arose, another shutter slammed against the wall, too. So did the next shutter and the next one, as if someone was walking from shutter to shutter, lifting each from the wall and banging it down.

Hatred and malevolence surged closer—the same hatred and malevolence she’d encountered in her loft. It had come back.

And then the fear and shock vanished. Calm slipped over her. She did not take her eyes from the windows, where she could feel the evil lurking. “Evil get out, evil be gone. Protection spells of mine keep you far from here.”

The shutters all began slamming on the wall at once in a fit of fury and hatred.

Tabby was aware of the open bedroom door. It was tempting to leave. Instead, she started to repeat the spell, her eyes on the door, and it slammed closed. “Evil get out, evil be gone. Protection spells of mine keep you far from here.”

But she wasn’t a fool. Tabby went to the door and seized the handle but the door didn’t budge. Fear surged again. She willed it away. “Evil get out, evil be gone. Protection spells of mine keep you far from here.” She used all of her strength to pull on the door.

It suddenly opened.

She hurried from the room, chanting the spell. An ice-cold blast of air struck her with a huge force from behind, coming not from the chamber but the tower or the window at the end of the hall. She stumbled, stunned.

The ice-cold air pummeled her from behind.

“Tabitha!”

Tabby fell, hard, to the floor. She heard his heavy booted steps as he ran up the stairs and she tried to get up, but the icy blast was pushing her down. She looked up, and saw Macleod, still in his jeans, his face a mask of rage. Silver energy blazed from his hands. “A Thabitha!” he roared.

Tabby heard stone shearing, and as it crashed to the floor from the ceiling, the pressure pushing her increased. She strained against it. “Evil get out, evil be gone,” she cried.

She thought she heard laughter.

Macleod cursed. Tabby looked at him and saw his power blazing, while more stone sheared off the walls from the tower. He was trying to blast the energy coming in from the window, but clearly, his power was meant for a far more physical entity. If she didn’t send the evil away, it would break her back.

“Evil get out…evil be gone.”

The vicious hatred pushed at her so hard Tabby thought it had finally snapped her bones. As viciously, Tabby fought back with her magic. And as she did, the terrible pressure suddenly vanished. Tabby cried out, gasping in relief, getting to her hands and knees.

Macleod knelt, his huge hands stunningly gentle, and he pulled her into his arms. “Are ye hurt?”

Tabby slowly sat up, amazed that she wasn’t broken, and she leaned against him, meeting his wide blue eyes. Shock vanished and she looked toward the end of the corridor, where an open window embrasure and the stairs to the ramparts were. She began to tremble. “Macleod. It followed us here from New York.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

New York City

December 9, 2008

HER PAGER WOKE HER UP.

Sam was a light sleeper. She shot upright, looked at the pager and dialed Nick. As his cell rang, she realized she’d had less than two hours of sleep and she cursed. Why in hell was Nick bothering her in the middle of the day?

“Where’s your sister?” Nick demanded.