in her vision of him, she had seen her Aidan before he’d turned into stone. He’d worn a wolf’s fang.
Good humans were possessed every single day and then they committed unspeakably evil acts.
Brie moaned. Had Aidan become the Wolf of Awe? Was it somehow possible?
Her head exploded with pain. Brie stepped behind the counter into her kitchen, opening the refrigerator to chug a glass of wine. She was shaking like a leaf. What had happened to him?
Brie slammed the refrigerator door closed. She had to know what was in that Level Four file. She grabbed her purse and keys and stormed from the loft. If Nick wasn’t at his office, she’d wait.
HE FELT THE MOON SETTING for the third time.
Aidan slowly came back to the tower room, a dark despair clawing at him. This hunt had lasted three days and he had not found anything.
He blinked and adjusted his eyes to the dark, shuttered room. As the swirling black evil and the cries of innocence faded, he became aware of his body and his power. All sense of euphoric invincibility was gone. Most of what he had taken three nights ago was gone. The power in his body was hardly ordinary; it was that of the son of one of the greatest deamhanain ever known to Alba. He was arrogant enough to think he might, even without the extra life coursing through him, be capable of defeating a lesser god.
Still he was tired. His body and his mind begged him for rest, but it was time to think of other, worldly matters. He commanded an army of four thousand men—some soulless humans, others fierce Highlanders. He usually sold his army’s services to the highest bidders, and had done so for the past sixty-six years. He didn’t care about the land, the mortal power—although he needed the gold to maintain his army, but he took vast pleasure in every single battle. If he could not engage Moray, he would go to war and relish destroying his other enemies, one by one.
The MacDonalds were marching on Inverness, a royal garrison, and he was joining the rebels, as Malcolm had said. He had personally helped Donald Dubh, their imprisoned leader, escape from Innischonnail, where the Campbell had imprisoned him. Argyll had been infuriated. Had Ian lived, he would have been pleased and proud.
A cry of alarm filled the tower.
Aidan was on his feet, bewildered, unbelieving.
He had met her once in the future, perhaps seventy years ago, and had not thought of her since then. Now he recalled a small woman with white powers, dressed in shapeless garments and ugly spectacles.
Why had he just heard Brianna Rose cry out in alarm? How had he just seen her frightened face so clearly? He had ceased hunting evil through time.
No other cries resounded, but he could feel darkness now, encircling her.
Tension riddled his body. He did not protect Innocence; he used it ruthlessly for his own means, for the attainment of power. He did not want to know what was happening to her. He simply did not care about other people’s problems.
She screamed.
It was a scream of fear and pain; he knew she’d been wounded.
He did not think. He leapt.
STILL DEVASTATED BY THE IDEA that Aidan had become the Wolf of Awe, Brie hurried down the block. Dusk was approaching and she knew she had better not be caught outside. The city wasn’t safe after dark and although the mayor’s curfew was voluntary, very few of the city’s denizens disobeyed it. Every shop on the street had already closed, except for the grocery store on the corner, and they were pulling their blinds.
She started to run. She couldn’t recall ever being this upset, not even when Allie had vanished into time last year. But she had known that Allie’s journey to the past was her Fate, she’d even seen the golden Highlander coming for her. This was entirely different.
The Book, handed down from generation to generation of Rose women, was very clear on the matter of Fate. It could never be defied by a mortal. Only the gods could rewrite it—and they never entirely did.
But sometimes events happened that were not in The Game Plan and the Gods corrected things when they went awry. Eventually, what was meant to be would happen.
Brie prayed that the historian she’d read had gotten all his facts wrong, or that her vision was wrong. She began to think that maybe she’d better go to Scotland and check out the tomb there, but she was really afraid of what she’d find. And why was her grandmother’s ring bothering her? It had always fit perfectly, but now it was pinching her.
Brie stared at the ring. “This is meant to happen, isn’t it?” she murmured.
Her grandmother had passed away a decade ago, at the ripe old age of 102. She’d been in full possession of her faculties right up until she’d taken her last breath. When she passed away in her sleep, Brie had somehow known her time had come and spent the night at her grandmother’s Bedford, NewYork, house. Sarah Rose had died smiling, and Brie often felt her presence.
She felt her now. “I mean, I could have felt all that pain and anguish last year or the year before—but I felt it now, for a reason. He needs me. I’m supposed to help him.” She thought about her crush. Had she become infatuated with him so she could help him? “Why else would I feel him so strongly?”
She felt her grandmother’s benevolence. If Sarah approved, Brie was on the right path, she thought. That only made her more determined to get into that Level Four file.
A shadow fell across the pavement directly in front of her.
Her heart seemed to stop with alarm. In a moment the sun would be vanishing beneath the horizon and the city would be lost in the gloom of the night. She’d never make it all the way to CDA.
A teenage boy stood in front of her, smiling maliciously.
He was pale, pimply and wore a long black cloak, marking him as a member of gangs who reputedly burned “witches” at the stake.
Brie breathed. “Get lost!” she cried, even though she was terrified. “It’s light out!”
“Not for much longer.” He snickered.
She tensed as three more teenage boys barred her way, all of them ghostly white, their lips nearly purple, wearing the same long black cloaks, as if they’d come from the Dark Ages.
She knew all about the ongoing investigation into these gang members at CDA. The “sub-demons,” or subs, as they were often called, were human, with normal DNA and very real identities. They were missing boys and girls, belonging to distraught family members, but, robbed of their souls, they were pure evil.
Brie whirled to run, and faced two more leering teens in black hoods and cloaks. She was in big trouble. She prayed that Tabby and Sam would sense it and come to her rescue. And simultaneously, she thought about Aidan. It was instinct. If he was near, he had the power to save her.
“She’s fat and ugly,” one boy said. “Let’s find someone else.”
Brie didn’t want to die, but she didn’t want anyone else to die, either. She glanced back over her shoulder at the setting sun and cried out. The sky was mauve now, the sun out of sight. In another moment or so, dusk would become night and she would
