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~ Twelve ~
CHANCE HUGGED ROYCE close as they crossed the central hall to the front door. She went onto her toes and whispered something naughty in his ear; he laughed as he opened the front door wide.
Trevor stood there, fist up and ready to knock.
Royce saw Trevor’s expression as his gaze traveled from Chance’s arm wrapped around her to the smiles on their faces. She witnessed the sudden dawning light up in his bright eyes, and then he snorted. “Well, well … Chancemont LeBlanc … well, well!”
Chance eyed him threateningly. “Well, well, is it?”
“Oh then, come off it—we don’t have time for that.” He turned to Royce. “How are you feeling, Red? Fully recovered?” With that he snorted a laugh.
“I don’t see what is so funny,” returned Royce, twinkling at him.
“Yes, you do, but never mind. Breslyn found me and gave news of Pestale. Apparently the devil has been playing games again with humans … in Conclaff near the Irish sea.”
“What has he done?” Royce stepped out of Chance’s hold, her face drawn with concern.
“He took four young girls—no more than seventeen years old. They were at a dance. He just walked in, and according to accounts from their friends, he said, “Come with me,” and they did. Off they went outside, and then I suppose he shifted them off to wherever he is hiding these days. Red … we must do something. Can you see him in your mind?” He reached out and handed her a piece of cloth. “Breslyn thought this might help. It seems before he left with them, he tore off the bodice of the gown one of the girls was wearing … and … well … here it is.”
As soon as Royce took up the piece of organza and satin, she went reeling backwards. Chance caught her and held her as she swooned into her vision and lost herself in the scenario’s horrific onslaught.
She saw Pestale clearly. He was big and darkly suave and deceptively attractive in a white silk shirt and black silk pants. He approached two girls standing near the band and ordered them to follow him—they did. He turned, saw two more, and stared hard at them as he whispered something she couldn’t hear.
All four girls followed him outside to a parking lot full with cars. One of the girls came out of her trance and whimpered as she looked around fearfully. Pestale turned, sneered at her, and said, “Come over here, tart …”
She complied, but he was angry because he could see her making a good attempt to resist his command. His hand sprang out, grabbed the top of her dress, and ripped it off. She gasped and started to back away.
He told the other girls to hold her, and they obeyed.
Calmly he walked up to the girl and said with a low hiss, “Perhaps I will dissect you and find out why it is you are able to resist my commands …”
Royce cringed as she watched the past scene unfold. She could tell it had occurred only last night because she could see a billboard with the date outside the dancehall. Then the scene shifted, and he was in a large room whose design appeared to be medieval. Three of the girls were still alive and were spread out on the bed with him, taking turns pleasuring him. The fourth, the girl who had resisted, lay bloodied, used, and dead in a corner of the room …
Royce took a quick look around the room. There was nothing modern about it. She moved to the door and managed to see past it. He was in a castle, perhaps from the 1500s, and its design was Scottish—she could see tartans hanging in the great hall.
Scotland … somewhere in Scotland in the 1500s. He had crossed the time barrier, just as Queen Aaibhe had told them he would.
She opened her eyes and found herself lying in Chance’s lap. He was sitting on a bench in his central hall. Trevor hovered nearby.
“He took them to the past. He killed … hurt her badly and killed the girl whose dress this was. She was able to resist his command, and he killed her in the end,” Royce said with a cry of distress.
“Where in the past, lass?” Chance asked anxiously.
“I think Scotland—I saw out the windows and knew it was near the Grampian Mountains in the Highlands … and the design of the castle was medieval … I think they’re in the 1500s. But I don’t know the precise year …” Royce wailed fitfully.
“Never mind—we can pinpoint him now with my Orb!” Trevor announced excitedly. “When he was still in the present he used black magic to hide his presence and location, but while he is in the past it won’t work to shield his location from my Orb.”
Royce started to climb out of Chance’s lap, but he had her cradled and held her tightly for a moment. “Ye sure ye are steady now, love?”
She smiled sweetly and was filled with so much love for him—he was so larger than life and yet full of gentleness. She threw her arms around his neck and started to whimper. “Oh, Chance … that poor young girl … with her entire life ahead of her … if only there was some way we could revisit this knowing what we know and save her.”
He patted her back. “Time travel is dangerous—ye canna undo what has already happened. It would set off an entire new path of events. Doona think of it now … There will always be monsters out there—they hurt and kill all the time. Our job right now is to find and stop this particular one, this Dark Prince, and we will. He will pay. Mark me on it.”
She pulled away to look at his face and touched his sensuous mouth. “I do … I mark you on it.”
“If you two are done cuddling, could we proceed?” Trevor said with some exasperation.
Chance got to his feet and with a sweeping motion set Royce on her sneakered feet as well. “Right then, lad … produce the Orb. Here … set it on this table.” He indicated the round oak table in the middle of the central hall.
