“Sure,” Pestale scoffed. “And when I have killed ye … in dives the Seelie prince.” He shook his head. “Think I’ll live to fight another day, on my terms.” He reached over and with one sweeping movement of his sword slit the throats of the remaining two girls huddling on the bed together.
Royce screamed, and Chance took a moment to compose himself. Royce could see that Chance was shocked by Pestale’s act of gratuitous evil. He had been steeped in black magic, and it had made him far worse than he had been. She was sure of it. Pestale would grow more evil each day he used black magic. He had allowed the dark arts to define who he was …
Suddenly Pestale reached into his bedside table drawer and pulled out a small artifact. Whispering something they could not hear, a moment later he was gone.
“What the bloody hell!” shouted Chance, stepping towards where Pestale had been. “What the bloody hell just went down? Doona tell me we canna follow him—och, doona tell me that!” Chance said to no one in particular. He sniffed the air. “I can’t get a lead on his scent. He didn’t just shift, did he? Nooo. Not he—he went off in time again?”
Trevor frowned as he sniffed the air, but Royce sighed, closed her eyes, and told them, “That’s right. He did not shift to another location—at least, not in the usual sense. He used the Dark King’s Time Relic to travel through time.” She turned to Trevor. “Call on your Orb while we see to the bodies of these poor girls. We can’t leave them here in the 1500s. They must be returned to their time and the people who loved them. Their families must have closure—they must. I have to take them somewhere they will be found …”
Trevor called on the Orb of Lugh, but nothing happened.
He tried calling for it again, and when it did not appear they all looked at each other and then at the Peckering, who Royce held up and asked, “What is the problem? Why can’t he call the Orb here?”
“Time travel is difficult without … me.”
“So then, Peckering, you call the Orb,” Royce told her.
“It will not respond to my call … only to a Lugh,” Peckering answered softly. “However, I am capable of many things … perhaps I can locate your Dark Prince in time. I could not locate him when we were in our time period, nor can I look into the future, but when in a time not our own, I can look into the past.”
“Then do so,” Chance nearly shouted.
“I cannot work under duress,” returned the Peckering irritably.
“Peckering, we are running out of time. He has just killed four young women who would have had their whole lives ahead of them … he has by doing that ruined the lives of their families. We have to stop him before he kills more innocents. Help us, please … and then help me. I must deliver
these bodies somewhere they will be immediately found in our time period.”
“I will locate him as you ask, and then I will take you as you wish to our time period with … the women whose spirits have moved on,” the Peckering said quietly.
Everyone waited, and the Peckering finally sighed and said, “Princess, he is in 1814. He has a very handsome establishment there … but I don’t like it. You must not follow him there. He is waiting for you—for all of you. He looks smug, and it feels wrong.”
Royce went into her mind and saw him at once. It didn’t even take any effort. He was traveling in some kind of coach. He got out of the coach and tipped the driver. When he turned, she realized with some horror that she was beginning to view his surroundings through his eyes. Somehow they were linked; it was an uncomfortable feeling, and, Royce realized, it was black magic.
She tried to escape its hold.
And then Chance shook her. “Royce, m’lass … wherever ye are in that beautiful head of yers, remember … ye be here with me.”
She looked at him, and her lashes fluttered. He touched her face and said softly, “Aye then—ye’ll take these poor women back to our time … and wait for us there. We will follow the bastard!”
Royce frowned. She didn’t like this plan. “Why can’t you two come with me, and then we’ll all go together?”
“Because that is what he is expecting, and it will give him time. I doona want to give him anything … do ye understand, love?”
She didn’t like it, but she did understand. She nodded. “Right then—how will this work?”
“I will send them off in time with a rebound, connected to me. Anytime they wish to leave, they have but to chant the Danu words, tabhair ar ais,” said the Peckering.
Royce turned to Chance. “You won’t let him hurt either of you … Chance …?”
“Now what is this? Before ye know it, Pestale will be dead and we’ll be back,” Chance said softly.
“I don’t know, Chance … something is off. I feel it in my head. This is all turning out too easy …”
“Take these poor women home, lass, and doona worry. We will do.” Chance brushed her lips with his own.
Trevor sighed sadly, and Royce touched his shoulder and then his cheek. He looked at her and tried to formulate his thoughts. “Red … that poor young woman …”
“It might have been your sword, Trev, but it was his hand that killed her. Now … it is okay to feel sad for her loss but not to blame yourself. Got it?”