Page 81 of Dark Lover

Brie said softly, “Of course, the wound Ian left remains. We’ve never gotten over his leaving us, just after we found him in 1502. We love him so much, Sam. Aidan tried so many times to tell him, but he was determined to turn his back on us and our love. We haven’t seen him or heard from him in five hundred years.”

“He’s here,” Sam said tersely. “And living out of his time.”

“I know,” Brie said. “My Sight is stronger than ever, even at my age.”

Sam’s mind raced. Ian should be in 1527, the year the monk had come from. If he went back, as the laws of the universe required, he’d grow old in the sixteenth century and the next centuries following it.

But he sure as hell wouldn’t be in 2009—not for a really long time.

“We know that Ian blames Aidan for everything. We understand why. Aidan blames himself still. And that’s a wound Aidan lives with. It’s the one blemish on our life.”

Sam sat up straighter. “Why are you telling me this?”

Brie hesitated. “Because Ian is with you, isn’t he?”

She was shaken. There was no such thing as coincidence—he was in her life, now, for a reason…“What have you seen?”

Brie smiled. Sam felt it. “Sam, you’re on the verge of fulfilling your destiny.”

“What the hell does that mean?” She was bewildered. “I came into my destiny long ago. I’m a Slayer.”

“Sam, your destiny is a bit greater than that.”

Sam stared at the table in the hallway, thinking about Maclean. “Could you be more cryptic?”

“I can’t tell you your future. It’s not allowed and you know it.”

Sam sighed. “Why haven’t you gotten in touch with me?”

“Because I have my destiny, and I’ve been awfully busy fulfilling it.” Sam felt another smile. Brie had changed so much. She felt so calm and deep, so secure, stable, womanly. “You’re coming into your destiny. This is the way it’s meant to be. I know it’s probably been hard, being left alone, as you have.”

“I’m fine.” Sam was silent, certain that Brie had more to say, but she didn’t speak. “I’m on a case, Brie. I work for Nick now. Remember Moray?”

Brie made a sound. “I’d actually put him behind us. He was a true nightmare, trying to destroy his own son, with me in his way.”

“He’s got henchmen running around the city, looking for the page of illusion—a page from the Duisean. I’m up to my neck in the dirty, and so is Maclean.”

“Thank the gods Moray is dead. But I don’t like the idea of his cronies taking up where he left off.” Brie sounded uneasy. “Can you handle this, Sam?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. What do you know about a monk from the early 1500s? A really powerful, really evil, demon monk with a French accent?” After all, Brie had lived in the monk’s time.

“You must mean the monk of Carlisle.” Tension filled Brie’s tone. “I remember him well. He is the kind of demon no one could ever forget.”

“He’s here in New York, and he’s got a lot of power.”

“Moray had some of the powers that belonged to the Brotherhood, Sam. He confessed that to me—bragged, actually. You know, don’t you, that the Duisean, which means the Book of Power, was given to the Masters eons ago by the Ancients, to protect humanity from destruction. Every power known to mankind is in that book. But it was stolen long ago. Moray boasted that he’d hidden some pages in your time—in New York.”

“I know, Brie. We debriefed you, remember? For me, it was only seven months ago.” But she shivered, thinking of such power in the wrong hands.

“The monk was terribly powerful in his time. He controlled evil in the sixteenth century, Sam.”

“Great,” Sam muttered. She was chilled, thinking of how he’d turned her own weapons against her.

“There were terrible battles between him and various Masters, including Aidan. He left a wake of devastation wherever he went. He ruled Carlisle and the Lowlands for a long time. Highlanders like Aidan were hurt. Some were destroyed.” She paused. “I can’t recall what happened to the monk in the end,” she said, sounding puzzled. “But it might be recorded in the history books.”

Sam stood up. Even if Brie knew what happened to the monk, it was against every rule to tell her. She’d have to play this one out. “He said he’s from 1527. I guess that’s his heyday. Is he still alive in 2009 or just here from the past?”

“I don’t know,” Brie said. “I wish I could be of more help.”