Page 111 of Dark Victory

And across the room, upon the floor, he saw the gold necklace she had worn for two-and-a-half centuries, the amulet he had given her. The talisman was an open palm, a pale moonstone glittering in its center.

It had survived the fire, untouched and unscarred; his wife, who had powerful magic, had not.

“Tabitha,” he moaned. And it struck him then, in the most shattering moment of his life, that she was gone.

“No!” He leaped into time, vanishing.

On the floor, Macleod lay still, sensation returning to his body, his limbs. The smoke was so thick now he choked, and his mind returned to life. The sensation of becoming separate from his future self hurt, as if he was physically being ripped in two. Slowly, he sat up.

And then he began to tremble.

He had leaped through time to finish Criosaidh and save Tabitha. Instead, he had watched her die.

TABBY RAN INTO THE HALL. “Good,” she cried, the moment she saw Nick and Jan. “You haven’t left!”

“Where’s the hubby?” Nick asked quietly, now clad in fatigues and a vest. A pair of packs was on the table.

“He’s gone to 1550 to get rid of Criosaidh, once and for all!”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. “He went to An Tùir-Tara?”

Tabby seized his sleeve. “What do you know about the fire?”

“Your sister seems to think you might wind up there eventually.”

Tabby went still. Leave it to Sam to be hot on the trail of the exact same lead that she was chasing. Nick probably knew exactly what happened during the fire. “Nick, I don’t know how you time-travel, but Macleod is defying the universe with his actions and I have to stop him before he winds up in the kind of trouble he can’t get out of. I need to get to An Tùir-Tara.”

Nick smiled at her. “What do I look like, a yellow cab with a supersonic engine?”

“Please,” Tabby said.

Jan came forward. Tabby had only met her once or twice, and didn’t know her at all, but she said to Tabby, “Do you know how dangerous it is to run around in history, out of your time? You shouldn’t even think about it. People go back and are never heard from again. And there are worse things than getting lost in time—like dying in another time! You’re lucky you’re here and okay. Apparently, this is your Fate. I wouldn’t press my luck if I were you.”

“You’re not me,” Tabby said sharply. “And I know this—Macleod isn’t supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be fighting the war on evil here in 1298. Nothing good can come of his leap. Nick?”

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “Jan and I are going back to Melvaig, on the off chance that Kristin is still there. If she’s not, our time has run out and we’re going back to the Big Apple. Now, if you want a lift in that direction, I’ll help you out.”

Tabby was so upset she didn’t respond. Nick hefted a pack and handed it to Jan, who said, “Thank God these damned missions are limited to twenty-four-hour runs. I am ready for a hot bath and some really good wine.”

Tabby was enraged that they would not lift a finger to help her out.

“I have a feeling he’ll be back,” Nick said, by way of consolation.

When they were gone, she walked over to the table and sank down there. No good was going to come of Macleod trying to interfere with history and she was terrified for him. What if he encountered his sixteenth-century self? Would he implode? That would change history, all right! And she was stuck at Blayde in 1298. That was unacceptable.

She would have to try to use magic to get to him, she thought. Maybe she’d be lucky, because her magic seemed to be getting stronger by the day.

A noise from the staircase made Tabby turn.

“You don’t need to use magic,” Kristin said. “I’ll take you to An Tùir-Tara.”

Very slowly, Tabby stood up. “And what do you get out of it?”

She smiled. “Your death.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Melvaig, Scotland