Page 94 of Dark Lover

Sam took her index fingers and blinded him.

He screamed.

She ducked as he lunged for her throat. It was easy enough to get under his arm, as he could no longer see. She faced Hemmer and the monk from across the table, smiling at them. “Hello, boys. Wanna party?”

Hemmer was silent, his eyes gleaming. Sam knew he loved the challenge.

It was the monk who worried her. He slowly lifted his hand. As his black power blazed, she ducked, fully expecting to be incinerated.

The power rushed at her like a heat-seeking missile, changing course to find her. Then, just before striking her, it exploded and black power ricocheted against the walls and ceiling. The walls of the chamber began to crumble as parts of the ceiling fell in.

“She’s using a protection spell of some kind,” Hemmer mused calmly.

“She’s a Slayer, she doesn’t use spells,” the monk snarled. He blasted her again.

Sam was incredulous. An invisible wall of some kind seemed to be protecting her now. His energy was diverted by whatever was in front of her. It streaked around the chamber again, sizzling against the walls, the ceiling. More stone fell. The monk was struck on the shoulder by a chunk of rock, but Hemmer was untouched. As dust rose up, as thick as smoke, Sam rushed for the door. She felt his power behind her, chasing her. As she skidded through it, she heard his power hit the walls on each side of her.

She was in a long corridor, lit by torches. It was empty. Sam ran hard, his power striking the walls and floors around her. As stone rained down, she entered a gallery with elegant glass windows, a runner on the floor. Well-dressed noblemen and women were strolling within. As she ran in, his power followed. As it struck the walls and windows, glass shattered. Women screamed, rushing for cover with the gentlemen.

Sam looked out of a window and saw the huge interior courtyard of what had to be a palace. It was beautifully landscaped, with paved walks, seating areas, and many elegant pedestrians, coming and going. It could have been a scene from an epic Hollywood movie. Everyone had fled the gallery by the stairs in the corner. They’d expect her to go down to the courtyard, and try to find her way out on the ground floor. Neither the monk nor Hemmer had entered the gallery yet. So Sam went up, running hard.

When she’d reached the parapets, which were open and vacant, she sank down on the stone floor, stunned.

Then she started to smile.

Her sister had come through for her.

And maybe, just maybe, Maclean had been there for her, too.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Carlisle Cathedral, Scotland—August 9, 1527

HE SLOWLY STOOD UP, still shaken from the leap and the urgency building in him. Ian stared. The Cathedral was built of red stone. It was a massive monument to God, with soaring roofs and even higher towers, with narrow pinnacle peaks and crosses set atop them. Lower square towers were on either side of the Cathedral’s front entrance, which was framed by pointed stone arches that boasted more black crosses. A dozen stained-glass windows blinked from the main building. Liveried guards armed with swords and lances stood in front of the stone arches.

However, the noblemen and clergymen who were coming and going seemed to be ignored by the guards, who never lifted a weapon or moved. Good, Ian thought. The guards were really for decoration, never mind their possessed souls. Ian brushed off his jeans, staring at the Cathedral’s entrance. Sam was within. The dungeons were below ground. He’d had a vision of her there, shackled to a table, about to be tortured.

He started for the front entrance. As Ian ran up the front steps, the previously benign guards regarded him closely. A pair of noblemen in frilly short coats and colorful hose also stared at him as they left the interior of the Cathedral. Ian ignored them all. He walked past the guards, realizing that he stood out like a sore thumb in his T-shirt and jeans.

“You,” a guard said sharply.

Ian knew he meant him, but he didn’t stop. His mood was very foul now and he itched to use his powers on anyone who would dare prevent him from finding Sam.

Ian heard the soldier rush him from behind. “Peasant! Stop!”

Ian turned and flung his power at him. The guard collapsed, unconscious. His buddy reached for his sword. Ian smiled savagely. “Die if ye try,” he said, meaning it.

The guard froze.

“We have affairs here with the bishop,” a voice said calmly from behind him.

Ian whirled and saw Aidan and Brianna.

The guard looked at Aidan, who was smiling pleasantly but had his hand on the hilt of his long sword. Ian realized that wasn’t what stopped the guard. His father wore a signet ring that was solid gold and boasted a huge garnet. The brooch that pinned his plaid was as costly. His clothing, although simple, had elaborate and undoubtedly expensive embroidery at the neckline and hem. Not to mention that Brianna stood beside him, wearing a beautiful velvet gown and her own jewels. The guard would understand that Aidan was nobility.

The guard nodded. “Fine. Ye may pass.” He knelt beside his friend, who moaned.

Aidan gestured. Ian strode past him, sorry he’d gone to his father for help. “I don’t need your help.”