style="font-size:15px;"> Royce roared in fury, firing.
Allie got to her hands and knees, watching Aidan beheading a half a dozen demons with so much skill and speed it might have been the final cut from a Hollywood movie. Royce was firing at the same demon that had attacked them in South Hampton, but the demon had put up his energy and the bullets were deflected, scattering everywhere.
She took up a poker but remained where she was. Aidan was doing a good job with the remaining demons, and Royce and the blonde from South Hampton seemed to be intent only on each other. This time, though, if he came close, she’d get more than his eyeball; she was going for his unfeeling heart.
Royce now threw the useless semi aside. He blasted his energy at the demon, who blocked it and grinned, revealing white, gleaming teeth.
Allie tensed in alarm, thinking, No, Royce!
A dagger had appeared in his hand, but as if he’d heard her cry out silently, as if he knew she was desperate to go to his side and help him, Royce turned to look at her. “Ye stay back.”
The demon threw a knife at Royce. Allie saw it; he did not. She screamed in warning.
Royce whirled back but the blade impaled him in his chest as he moved.
Allie froze in horror.
For one moment, Royce stood upright, unmoving—and he threw the dagger. He threw it with unbelievable accuracy and Allie realized he would nail the sonuvabitch. But the blond demon vanished the instant the blade seemed to pierce his chest, and it fell to the floor. The two remaining demons also disappeared, leaving behind the dozen dead on the great room floor—and Royce.
He reeled and fell over onto his back.
The hilt of the knife protruded from his heart.
Allie rushed to his side and fell onto her knees, pouring her white light over him. He was not going to die, no matter how bad it looked! He couldn’t die—he was a hero, a Master, the savior of mankind and the love of her life!
She hadn’t raised the dead girl, but surely she could save Royce!
Panic began.
Royce took her hand. He was deathly white. But he smiled. “Nay, lass. Let me go.”
He was dying. She felt his life spinning away. But she could heal him—she would heal him. In panic, she poured all the white light she could muster on him, trying to hold her terror at bay.
“Ailios!” Royce’s grasp tightened, his gaze on hers. “Let me die.”
Allie looked at him in horror. “Don’t talk. You don’t mean it. I won’t let you die! I love you!”
“Please,” Royce said softly. And his grasp loosened.
And she felt his life soaring away from him. She saw a white-gold light lifting from him. “No!” Frantic, she poured white power over him, through him, but everything was happening too fast now.
Royce looked up at Aidan. Let me go. T’is time.
And strong hands seized Allie from behind.
But she had heard Royce, and she screamed, furious at Aidan, terrified, struggling, but Aidan wouldn’t release her. Panicking, she flung white light at Royce, but Aidan was interfering with her powers—and Royce was leaving rapidly now.
Aidan, take her away, protect her.
“No!”
Royce smiled at her—and the white-gold light swirled upward, into the ceiling—his gray eyes becoming sightless.
Allie screamed. “Nooo!” And she fought to go to him, the white-gold light hovering above them, but Aidan pulled her away.
ALLIE WEPT AND WEPT.
The paramedics had Royce’s body on the stretcher, covered with a cloth, and were wheeling him from the room. Two local police cars were parked inside the courtyard, the officers in the hall with Aidan and Mrs. Farlane. The housekeeper, who was crying, clearly knew about her employer’s secrets. The dead demons, of course, were gone. Their bodies had started disintegrating immediately, and unless there was a crime scene investigation, no traces of them would be found. But from the murmur of voices, and the snippets of conversation she’d heard, Allie knew the police knew the truth. One officer was already talking about the Highland gangs run amok these past few years, a favorite cover-up for these kinds of battles. The other had already called Scotland Yard. The British government probably had their version of CDA, too.
How could he be gone?
Allie doubled over from the sheer pain of her grief. Too late, she understood Tabby’s reading. Then she heard footsteps.
She looked up. Aidan stood there, his face ravaged, a single tear tracking down his cheek. She didn’t hesitate. She jumped up and ran at him, fists balled. He caught her arm as she swung; she lifted her knee, wanting to emasculate him, but he twisted and easily avoided that assault, then caught her in a viselike embrace.
She fought him, wanting to rip his handsome face apart. She wanted blood. He had prevented her from healing Royce—she could have saved him. “I hate you!” she screamed. “Let me go! I will never forgive you—you bastard!”
He released her and she pounded his chest, hurting her fists because he was a wall of muscle. He caught her wrists. “Lass, cease. I love him, too.” His voice broke.
Allie collapsed against the solid wall of his body, weeping again. This could not be happening. Royce was a great man, a great hero, a Master. He deserved to live! Aidan held her loosely now and she needed the comfort he could offer, when there was no real comfort to be had.
Let me go.
Why had he wanted to die?
How old are you?
It doesna matter, Ailios.
So much grief and pain, such a beautiful man…
I have waited a long time for this night.
Allie trembled, but stopped crying. He had waited five hundred and seventy-seven years for her.
Aidan released her and walked away.
Allie wiped her eyes, her heart slamming, turning to gaze after him. He was pouring two huge glasses of whiskey. He drained most of his, then started toward her with the other tall glass. “You’re a Master, too.”
He faltered before offering her the glass.
Allie shook her head. “You can travel through time, don’t even try to deny it. You said you followed Royce here from 1430.”
His eyes were wary now. “Does it matter?”
“Oh, yes, it does.”
He stared, then murmured, “MacNeil asked me to follow Royce. When he left ye here, I should have gone home to Awe, to the time where I belong,
