Page 140 of Dark Lover

“Hallo, a Ihain,” he said softly, smiling.

His knees buckled. There was so much fear that he almost pissed himself. There was so much shock that he couldn’t speak. This was impossible; it was a nightmare.

His grandfather slowly approached. “You’re not dreaming, my boy. I’m back. It’s been a long time—too long. But when necessary, I can be very patient. You’ve done well, considering what you survived.”

This was his worst nightmare come true—to face his demon grandfather again.

He now saw that the man standing before him was most definitely Rupert Hemmer, in form anyway. The fear began to dull, recede. “What do ye want?”

“Revenge.”

His heart lurched with more fear and dread. His grandfather was smiling, but his eyes were burning with evil and hatred. Sam’s image assailed him, her eyes violet steel. He was fiercely glad he’d left her, so she wouldn’t be involved in whatever was about to come.

“You feared me then and you fear me now. Poor Ian,” his grandfather taunted, pleased.

He wasn’t that boy now, Ian thought. He was a near-immortal with great powers. Hadn’t he just destroyed the monk? “Only a fool would be fearless,” Ian heard himself say. He wet his lips. His heart beat slowly, heavily—the pulse of a hunter, not the hunted.

How had he ever thought that this day would not come?

Moray laughed softly. “I hate your father as I have never hated anything or anyone. He is my son and he refused my will. Alas, you are the coin in which he will pay.”

A sudden, fierce need to protect and defend his father arose, stunning him. “My father defeated ye before. He’ll defeat ye again, and this time, I will happily help him.”

“Really? But you can’t win, Ian, not over me. I’ve come to take you prisoner again. How will you help Aidan when you are an impotent captive?”

He almost succumbed to the fear. It rose up, a brief, swift prickling, and then he quelled it. He was going to survive. He was going to protect and defend his family. “Try. Try me now and see what happens. Ye face a man, not a child, coward.”

Moray’s smile vanished. “I fear nothing, Ian, certainly not you and the warrior bitch you love.”

Ian tensed in absolute dread. “I love no one.”

Moray laughed at him. “I am still Rupert Hemmer, Ian. That’s the beauty of my soul becoming his.”

It was hard to grasp what he’d said, but he did. Moray and Hemmer were one. Moray had all the facts and earthly power that Hemmer had; Hemmer had all the demonic power that Moray possessed.

“Can you guess what’s next?” Moray asked softly.

He was thinking about how to best protect Sam, when what he had to do was parry Moray’s every move and then deliver the fatal blow. This had to end. “Is this how ye will frighten me? By playing a guessing game?”

“Have you forgotten about my newest power?” his grandfather asked softly. “I can turn you into that boy again—and I will.”

It took him a moment to remember. Hemmer had the power of virtual control.

And behind his grandfather, he saw the blue quilt covering his small, narrow bed. He saw the room filled with toys. Moray beckoned with his finger.

The panic was intense, choking him. He backed up, into the door. His shoulder hit the doorknob, because he was that little boy again…

A part of his brain screamed at him that this was an illusion. But he pressed back into the door, filled with fear, knowing what was coming next.

“There’s nowhere to hide. Come here. I have a use for you.”

“I LIKE those credentials,” Tabby said, grinning, as they took the private elevator up to Hemmer’s penthouse.

Sam might have made a quip if she were in a better mood. The doorman had been agog over her tiny tank top, and hadn’t even looked at her phony ID. Macleod chuckled, “Yer sister dinna need to use the little card, Tabitha. The doorman was about to swoon.”

SAM STRODE OUT of the elevator. Hemmer had the page, but that wasn’t why she wanted to chat with him. He ran in dark circles. If he knew anything about Moray, she intended to choke it out of him. Considering he’d been buddies with Robert Moran and now owned the building in Brooklyn once owned by Moran, he might still be in touch with his old mentor, no matter how dead he was. But before she’d even reached the apartment door, it opened. A distraught housekeeper stood there. “Thank God you’re here,” she cried, wringing her hands.

Sam was surprised by the greeting. “God doesn’t have too much to do with it,” she said flatly. “What’s wrong?”