Page 146 of Dark Lover

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IAN SAT UP SLOWLY. “He’s here.”

As Sam instinctively looked toward the doorway, the room darkened. A chill settled over them. The pressure in the atmosphere intensified, as if a cyclone were about to touch down.

As she stared at the doorway, the wood door and moldings changed, becoming the barred steel door of a cell. The upholstered walls became concrete. There were no windows. The room was so dark, it was difficult to see.

Ian breathed hard. “He’s using the power.”

Sam took his hand as they got up warily. “Are you still with me?”

“If yer asking if I’m a frightened boy, no. But we’re in a cell.”

“Yeah, I see it, too. Tabby?” Sam turned. She reached in front of her where a love seat should have been, but felt nothing but air. The virtual reality felt real.

But Nick had said a powerful mind might be able to thwart it.

Her sister murmured, “Cloak of control, rip asunder. A different reality, cease. Cloak of control, tear apart. Return us all to reality!”

Macleod strode to the steel door, his face hard and set. Amazingly, the furniture that should have been in his path simply wasn’t there. As he reached for the steel door, the handsome teakwood doors suddenly, magically, reappeared. Sam breathed in relief as the room returned to normalcy.

And Kristin LaFarge was facing her sister, smiling murderously at her.

It was the witch who’d hunted her sister across time. It was the same bitch who’d used her powerful black magic to turn Sam’s own knife on her, almost causing her to kill herself.

But LaFarge had died in battle with Tabby at An Tùir-Tara in 1550. That meant that Kristin was hunting her sister…

Ian seized her, preventing her from going forward. “She’s not real.”

“Do we really know that?” Nick had been uncertain as to what could actually happen in a virtual world. If someone died, what state would that person be in when the control was lifted? Sam did not want to find out.

Tabby backed up warily as Macleod rushed Kristin, his short sword raised, his expression vicious. He meant to destroy her. Behind him, another woman formed, sultry and dark, in long red robes, her face a mask of malicious fury. It was Criosaidh—the witch Tabby had warred with for centuries, but who had also died that day at An Tùir-Tara.

“Guy!” Tabby screamed in warning.

He turned, raising his hand, as Criosaidh set a fire blazing between them. It started racing toward Macleod like a laser missile.

“Cloak of control, rip asunder. A different reality, cease! Cloak of control, tear apart. Return us to reality.” Tabby chanted desperately.

Sam seized Kristin to prevent her from assaulting Macleod from behind. As she grasped her, the witch grinned at her and vanished. Macleod remained braced for the onslaught from Criosaidh, but it never came—she vanished, as well. The fire vanished. And the room returned to normalcy.

Sam blinked. The salon’s bronze silk draperies shifted. Morning sunlight filtered through the windows, revealing Ian’s beautiful furniture and artwork, the moss green walls, the expensive Oriental rugs.

But the pressure weighing down on them was worse than ever. She looked at Ian. She had a feeling of imminent doom. This was it, she thought, the last and final encounter.

Ian met her gaze and nodded at her, starting for the door. Sam followed, relieved to see that he did not look afraid. The victim was gone, and she was fiercely pleased.

But if Moray would not show himself, they’d have to find him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she said softly.

“He’ll come,” Ian said as quietly, but flatly. “He’s biding his time.”

Sam thought he was right. As they stepped into the hallway, she started in surprise, for Aidan and Brie were rushing toward them. Aidan reached out and clasped Ian’s shoulder. “Are ye hurt?” he demanded.

Ian did not pull back. “No.”

Aidan’s gaze was searching. He dropped his hand. “I heard ye callin’ fer me, like ye did when ye were a boy.”