Beyond the Highland Myst(541)

"Aye, lass."

"So you saved Drustan's life, but because you broke a sacred oath that you'd sworn to the Tuatha Dé, you ended up setting an ancient evil free?"

He nodded warily.

"Well, where is this ancient evil?" she asked, bewildered. "Are you chasing it through the centuries or something?"

He made a sound of dry, dark amusement. "Something like that," he muttered.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Rather,'tis chasing me," he said, nearly inaudibly.

"I don't understand," Chloe pressed, blinking.

"Why doona you just leave it for now, Chloe? You know enough to help us search. If, while reading, you find aught about the Tuatha Dé or the Draghar, bring it to my or Silvan's attention."

"Where is this ancient evil, Dageus?" she repeated evenly.

When he tried to turn his face away, she cupped it in her hands and refused to let him look away.

"Tell me. You promised to tell me it all. Now tell me where the damned thing is and, more important, how do we destroy it?"

Dark gaze boring into hers, he wet his lips and said softly, " 'Tis inside me."





* * *





Chapter 23




Chloe delicately turned a thick vellum page of the tome on her lap, though she was not really reading it, too lost in thought.

'Tis inside me, he'd said, and so many things finally made sense to her. Bits and pieces slid neatly into place, giving her her first real glimpse of the whole man.

He'd told her everything that night, several days ago, as they lay in bed, faces close, fingers laced. About Drustan and Gwen (no wonder Gwen had been trying to brace her!), and about how Drustan had been enchanted and put in the tower. He told her how he'd immersed himself working on Drustan's future home (and now she knew why he'd sounded so proud of the castle), and about the fire in which Drustan had died. He told her about the night he'd warred with himself, then gone into the stones and broken his oath. He told her that he'd not truly believed in the old legends till the ancient evil had descended upon him in the in-between, and it had been too late.

He told her what the use of magic did to him, and how making love helped him. How he'd gone through the stones to the future, to make certain Drustan had indeed been reunited with Gwen, needing to know that his sacrifice hadn't been for naught. And how he'd stayed, unwilling to face his clan as he was, hoping to find a way to save himself.

He told her he'd not worn the plaid of the Keltar since, though he'd not mentioned the scrap she'd found beneath his pillow, so she'd not brought it up either. She knew what it meant. She could picture him lying alone in his bed in his museum of a penthouse, in a world that must have seemed so strange to him, staring at it. It had symbolized all his hopes, that worn piece of doth.

She'd thought him an idle womanizer when she'd met him, this man who was so much more than that!

Now she understood the sensation she'd had on several occasions of an ancient, evil presence: It had always been when Dageus had recently used magic. She understood how he'd breached such impenetrable security systems: with a bit of supernatural help. She understood the quixotic nature of his eyes: They darkened as he darkened. She had an entirely new appreciation for his discipline and control. She suspected that she'd only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, and couldn't begin to fathom the battle he was waging every waking moment.

Although he condemned himself for carrying such evil within him, for having freed it to begin with, Chloe couldn't quite see it that way.

Dageus had done what he'd done out of love for his brother. Should he have cheated death in such a fashion? Maybe not. It did seem to go against the natural order of things; still, if the power to do so existed, well… was that not then part of the natural order of things? It was an ethically explosive issue, not because of the act itself but because of the potential for a man to abuse such power, to cheat at every turn.

Yet Dageus hadn't cheated again. Since he'd broken his oath he'd become the repository for absolute power, and not once abused it. Instead, he'd devoted every moment of his existence to trying to find a way to lay that power to rest.

What was his actual transgression? Loving so much that he'd risked it all. And heaven help her—she loved him all the more for it.

Surely his intent mitigated his action to some extent? Even in man's court of law, punishment for a crime was meted out in degrees respective of intent.

"It wasn't as if any of you asked for such power," she said irritably.

Silvan and Dageus both glanced up from their texts. Since Dageus had confessed everything two nights ago, they'd spent nearly every waking minute in the dusty chamber, determined to find answers.

"Well you didn't," she seethed. She'd been quietly fuming about for days, and like every other emotion she felt, she could only hold it in so long.