Page 85 of Dark Victory

She halted, confused, panting hard. The fog lifted and she stilled, shocked.

She had just been lured away from Blayde with powerful magic. There was no child!

For her senses had returned, as clear and as acute as ever. “Highlander,” she cried, turning. And she did not know where she was. Huge, towering pines surrounded her. She was in the forest, where it was dark with shadow and brush. She could barely see the sky through the canopy of boughs above her—and she could not see Blayde.

Comprehension stabbed through her. She was lost.

Branches rustled, snapped.

More comprehension came. She was not alone.

Alarmed, Tabby fought the sudden fear. The calm that always preceded evil came. Becoming still, she put a protective spell on herself, finally turning to the sound.

Five darkly cloaked figures emerged from the forest, their appearance shocking. They were adolescent boys, all fair in complexion, with black, empty eyes. They were obviously medieval boys. As Tabby was surrounded, the comprehension was even more stunning now.

There were sub gangs burning witches in 1298, too.

They began to smile, their expressions evil, approaching.

Tabby turned to run.

Her heart thundered as her arms were seized from behind. She struggled but it was futile and she was dragged back. She heard someone else approaching, but she was pushed hard to the ground. She cried out, landing on the rough ground on her hands and knees, her face. They wanted to hurt her.

How far would they go?

The possessed always had unnatural strength, and she did not have the power to escape them, she thought, carefully getting to her hands and knees. Begging would accomplish nothing. Evil did not know the meaning of mercy.

“Bind her and start the fire.”

Tabby cried out at the sound of Kristin Lafarge’s voice. She was dragged to her feet and she whirled, incredulous. Kristin was striding into the small glade, grinning at her maliciously, her eyes overly bright. She was clad in medieval Highland garb.

Tabby’s hands were jerked behind her and tied with rough rope. Her fear vanished and calm descended. “You enchanted me.”

“Yes, I did. Hello, Tabitha.” Kristin approached, clearly relishing the moment.

Tabby straightened, ignoring the pain of the cord. “Are you from this time or my time?”

Kristin touched her cheek lightly with her nails. “I’m hardly a medieval woman. Do I appear to be?”

She didn’t have the slightest trace of a Scot brogue, Tabby thought. “You could pass for a Highland woman in those clothes.”

“I have relations at Melvaig.”

“Are you a MacDougall?” Tabby asked swiftly. Everything was tied to An Tùir-Tara, she thought.

“You ask too many questions. And how are your relations, dear?”

Tabby went still. “What?”

Kristin grinned. “How is your warrior-bitch sister? I wonder.”

The calm vanished. Icy fear returned. “If you have hurt her, I will kill you.”

Kristin laughed. “And how will you do that? Fire, arise,” she said smoothly.

Tabby heard the flames crackle and she whirled. The boys had gathered up a huge amount of brush and a fire instantly blazed in the center of the glade. Fear slithered through her. “What did you do to Sam?”

“Sam survived my magic, but she probably still has a tummy ache.”