Page 114 of Dark Victory

“Days before the very first time the Japanese attacked the United States at Pearl Harbor, their plans were discovered and the bulk of the Japanese air force was destroyed before ever reaching your airspace. Only two of your ships sank and only a few dozen sailors died.”

Tabby gaped.

“But we worked long and hard to change history—and we succeeded! The Japanese victory is Satan’s work. Don’t you know that right now, on September 11, 2001, hundreds of demons are trying to make certain the Pentagon is destroyed along with the Twin Towers? Sooner or later we will rewrite the history of that day! You are so naive. Right now, we are making sure that the allies drown off Normandy—that D-day fails, that Hitler survives to rule Europe, that every Jew dies, that no Gypsies survive! We do not have rules. We live to change Fate! Anarchy is our bible.”

Tabby backed into the chamber. “Of course. Stupid me.” She wet her lips, and silently began casting a spell on Kristin to bend her mind to Tabby’s will. She had never tried to exercise mind control over anyone before, but her life was at stake. History was at stake—even if it was only the history of Melvaig and Blayde, of her and Macleod. Their future was at stake.

And she wanted that future with him. She wanted it as much as she had ever wanted anything. She would fight for it now.

She stared at Kristin impassively while silently chanting a mind spell. The amulet warmed impossibly against her skin but didn’t burn her.

Kristin looked puzzled. “Why are we talking about history?”

There is one will here and it is mine. Kristin’s will, bend to mine.

“Tell me more,” Tabby said softly. She was wondering if the amulet’s magic was helping her powers. She was acutely aware of the talisman.

Kristin looked at her, clearly bewildered. Tabby thought she was about to step into the chamber, and she prepared to assault her. But before she did so, a big, dark-haired man filled the doorway. He smiled slowly at her.

Tabby’s pulse skipped and raced. She instantly recognized a much older Coinneach. He had turned into a handsome Highlander. He had to be well over two hundred years old, but he looked about forty. “Coinneach,” she breathed. Surely he would save the day!

“Hello, Tabitha,” he said softly. “Are you trying to enchant my sister?”

Tabby froze. She’d forgotten that they were siblings. He was Criosaidh’s son—and obviously not exactly mortal.

Kristin started and her expression changed and hardened. “I almost fell under her spell.”

“I can see that.” He continued to smile, but it did not reach his eyes.

He hadn’t been evil when he was a boy, and he didn’t feel evil now. She would bet he did not have any demonic DNA. But his eyes were ice-cold and the look in them reminded her of Macleod at his most ruthless. She was afraid that he was burning with the need for Highland revenge. “Coinneach!” She needed him as an ally. Surely he would help her—he owed her. “I have to find Macleod. I helped you once, surely you remember? Please, help me now.”

His cold smile vanished. “Ye brought me bread an’ water. Ye cared. But that was long ago, Tabitha. I have been fighting Macleod for two hundred years.”

She realized he wasn’t going to help her.

“That’s right, Lady Tabitha. An eye for an eye. He murdered my father and I will bring your head to him now.”

She backed up. “You would never murder me.”

His eyes blazed. “Think as ye wish, as if it comforts ye!” He turned to Kristin. “If ye torture her, make sure ye silence her. I dinna wish to be annoyed with her screams.”

“Hmm, torture. How did you know I intend to enjoy myself fully?” Kristin laughed.

Coinneach looked at her with distaste and hurried down the stairs. Before he was even gone, Tabby put a protective spell around herself. He wasn’t into sadism, but she couldn’t count on him, either.

Where was Macleod? Wasn’t he ten or fifteen miles to the north at Blayde, centuries older and, maybe, centuries wiser?

“Is it getting stuffy in here, or is it my imagination?” Kristin murmured.

“I can breathe well enough.”

“Really? Noose, tighten.” Kristin smirked. “I murdered my roomie this way.”

Tabby tensed, briefly sickened by the snide remark, which she was certain was the truth. But she did not feel any pressure around her throat, which meant her protective spell was rock solid—for now.

“And I almost got your sister. Did you know that? I’ll bet my spell felt like a butcher knife going through her stomach.”

This was the second time that Kristin had mentioned hurting Sam. “I am not vindictive, but you will pay for hurting Sam.”