Awaken the Highland Warrior

by Anita Clenney

  “No, Russell was inside.”

  “Russell was there? In my house?”

  “He stopped by, and I felt sorry for him. He didn’t look well. He’d lost weight, and I don’t think he’d bathed. We had dinner, and he spent the night. I put him in Faelan’s room. I don’t remember him being so paranoid. I woke up to go to the bathroom and found him prowling through the house, peeking out the windows, like one of those drug addicts on TV. The next morning, he was gone. Didn’t even say good-bye.”

  A cold sweat formed on Bree’s forehead. Russell had spent the night in Faelan’s room where the Book of Battles and the disk were hidden.

  “You sound troubled. You haven’t done something foolish, have you, dear?”

  “Foolish?” Bree muttered, distracted with her unpleasant thoughts.

  “Faelan’s a good man. He’s like your father. He’d do anything to protect you, even something he hated. Like that silly war. Don’t throw it away.”

  “War?”

  “You know, the Civil War and all that treasure hunting.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, he did it for you. You knew that, right? He hated the war and those caves and digging for buttons and coins.”

  Bree’s head spun. “I thought he liked it.”

  “Oh, dear. You didn’t know? He liked being with you. He hated when you weren’t near. Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’m a big girl.” Disappointment wasn’t anything new.

  “He loved you so much, you know. Like his… he couldn’t have loved you any more than he did. He just worried about you. You were his world.”

  After Bree was sure her mother hadn’t been possessed or cursed, she hung up and drove like a zombie, not seeing the road but her father’s face; dark eyes crinkled against the sun as father and daughter trudged along on their adventures. His forehead rutted with the lines of someone troubled. Had he known she wasn’t normal? Was that why he hated to let her out of his sight?

  Bree put the pedal to the floor. She had to make sure the book and the disk were safe. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the dark SUV that had been behind her since the airport. She didn’t recognize the car, but she hadn’t known Russell had a castle, either.

  Bree took a few quick turns, just in case, finally letting the car roll to a stop in front of her house. Fog covered the ground, and the dark windows stared out at her like a lost soul.

  What had happened to her life? She’d found a treasure beyond anything she could’ve imagined, and she’d lost him. Now there were demons roaming her yard, trying to destroy the world, and they could be waiting for her. She pried her fingers from the steering wheel, put her phone in her coat pocket, gathered her tote bag, and climbed out of the car. A light drizzle had begun to fall, as if the sky wept for her.

  She started toward the porch and came to a sudden stop. Her backyard was gone. No green grass. No azaleas. Just piles of dirt.

  ***

  If the flight to Scotland was bad, the return trip was hell. Faelan kept seeing those sketches and replaying the hurt and anger on Bree’s face. She’d never believe why he—Ronan’s words—threw her out like yesterday’s trash. Would she ever forgive him? He’d had no choice but get her out of out Druan’s reach before the demon found out she’d opened the time vault. And if the demon discovered Faelan’s feelings for Bree, no one would be able to protect her. Certainly not a young warrior with barely a year’s fighting under his belt.

  He should’ve sent a seasoned warrior with her, but he needed someone fast, and Conall had been right there, more than willing to follow her in exchange for a chance to join the battle. The others wouldn’t like it, but Conall had strength and determination older than his years, and Faelan remembered being twenty and needing to prove himself. He’d keep Conall out of danger and let the seasoned warriors handle the real fighting.

  Faelan looked out the window, turning away from clouds so close he could’ve touched them. He’d never understand these times. Airplanes, televisions, satellites, rocket ships, computers. You could bank and buy goods from the comfort of your home, even find a wife. He hadn’t figured that one out yet, but with everything else he’d seen, he didn’t doubt it.

  He leaned his head against the seat and let his thoughts drift back to Scotland. Meeting his family’s descendents had been bittersweet. Sitting at the table where Ian had carved his initials. The kitchen where his mom had baked shortbread, while his father hovered, and his brothers and Alana argued over who could eat the most, when they all knew he could. The smells of the stable had hit just as hard. Alana wasn’t there sneaking apples to the horses, and Nandor wasn’t whinnying for his morning ride.

  The place had changed in the century and a half since he’d left. It had been modernized, and a security system added. There were cars and garages and weapons he’d never have believed possible. He supposed progress was necessary, but it made him feel like a relic. He missed simple times and his family. He missed Bree.

  The plane bumped, and Faelan closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her skin as it slid across his, the sound she made when he slipped inside. He let it soothe the knots, let the remembered scent of her pull him away from his pain. He shouldn’t have made love to her again, knowing he’d have to send her away, but after the stress of meeting his clan and the guilt and anguish of seeing his family’s graves, when he lay in Bree’s arms he’d known he was alive, and for a moment she had been his, even if she could never truly be.

  She could never be Ronan’s either, but that fact hadn’t made it easier seeing them together. Some warriors took lovers, and the rumormongers said Ronan had left a trail of broken hearts. Ronan and Bree and her bloody archeologist. Pish. It shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t his. His mate would be long dead with everyone else. Even if he were given a second chance, the woman had to be from a warrior clan. That was set in stone. As much as he wished he could sink into Bree night after night, see her face every morning, and have children with her, there was too much at stake. The rules were there for a reason. He’d been a warrior too long to break one this important.

  He closed his eyes as the plane tilted. Was he even a warrior still? He was more than a hundred and fifty years past his duty. He hadn’t had an order from Michael since 1860. A memory tugged at his mind, or was it a dream? A glowing room and a wee lassie huddled under the covers, terrified. And one last order from Michael.

  To protect.

  Chapter 28

  The fog swirled at her feet, and a man materialized out of the mist. Russell. His eyes were red rimmed, his face wild. Bree tried to run, but her legs were paralyzed like in her dream. A light moved in the woods, coming closer. Russell wasn’t alone. He lunged at her, and she swung her tote bag. It hit his arm and fell to the ground. He grabbed her from behind, one strong arm pinning her against his body, the other hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her scream.

  “Do what I say, or you’ll die.”

  She could smell his sweat, feel his beard scratch her cheek as he dragged her across the yard. Digging in with her shoes, she twisted and pulled her upper body. When they reached the woods, Russell lost his grip. Bree yanked free and ran toward the graveyard. She’d be safe there. Footsteps pounded behind her. Russell grabbed her arm, and she fell.

  She lay there, face pressed into the fresh dirt. A blanket of calm settled over her. Her heart slowed. She smelled raw earth, the damp wool of her coat, and the stench of Russell’s sweat. She tasted the fog on her tongue as she locked eyes with a huge white owl sitting high atop an oak branch. It held her gaze as something sharp dug into her palm. Her fingers curled around a stone. A weapon. She leaped to her feet and smashed the stone against Russell’s head. He grunted and fell.

  Bree’s heart sped again, her breathing came faster. Run, now. The words flashed through her head. She had her hand on the graveyard gate when the flashlight cut through the mist, and she heard a familiar voice. “Bree, what are you doing back—”
r />   “Jared! We’ve got to get inside the graveyard before he wakes up.”

  “Before who wakes up?”

  “Russell. Turn off the flashlight.”

  “Russell’s here? I chased someone through the woods. Did you see your yard?”

  “It must have been him. Hurry. He’ll kill us.”

  “Kill us? What’re you talking about?”

  She looked back at Russell, inert on the ground. Was there enough time to get the book and disk and escape? “I’ll explain it in the car. You’ll need to be sitting down, anyway.” Where could they go? The only person who could stop Russell was still in Scotland, and he believed she was safe in Florida.

  “My car’s still at the dig,” Jared said.

  “Start mine. The keys are in it. I have to get something.”

  She grabbed the tote she’d dropped and hurried to the house. She unlocked the back door, ran to Faelan’s room, and pulled up the loose floorboard. The only thing inside was the puzzle box. Had he moved the book and key? She didn’t have time to search the house. She hurried to her room and yanked off her damp coat. She pulled out drawers so violently the dresser tilted. She steadied it and flung clothes into her tote bag. She ran back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, swiping bottles and jars aside until she reached the mayonnaise at the back. Her head was still in the refrigerator when someone pounded on the back door, rattling the knob. Russell’s contorted face pressed against the window beside the door, fists rattling the glass.

  “Oh, God.” She shoved the mayonnaise jar into her bag and ran outside to the waiting car. Russell came around the side of the house, just steps behind her. She jumped into the passenger side and slammed the locks. “Go! Go!”

  Jared spun out of the driveway, throwing her against the seat. She looked back and saw Russell loping after the car, mouth open in a scream. Another man—or creature, considering how it moved—materialized out of the woods behind him.

  “What’s wrong? What are we running from?” Jared asked, looking through the rearview mirror. “Was that Russell?”

  “He’s not really Russell. He’s a demon. That’s just his disguise.”

  Jared stared at her, his face rippling with shock.

  ***

  “Keep the change.” Faelan got out of the taxi, yawned, and rubbed his gritty eyes. The trip home had been a nightmare, changing planes in London, getting lost in the Newark airport. He’d almost missed his connecting flight. He would have kneeled and kissed the ground if he thought he could get back up.

  “I can drop you closer to the house,” the driver said, peering down the tree-lined drive.

  “This is good.” He was already taking a risk coming here at night. He had to make sure the key and the book were safe. Then, he was going to trap a demon and find out what Druan was plotting. A couple hours’ sleep first would help in case he had to use his talisman. He longed for his bed, but it would be safer if he slept on protected ground in the crypt.

  Faelan dragged his bag out of the taxi and crept up the driveway. He kept close to the trees, eyes and ears tuned for things that didn’t belong. He felt naked without his dirk, but Bree had warned him that airport security would scan their luggage. Not only did people fly through the air where only God and birds belonged, but now they could see through walls and inside locked luggage. He couldn’t chance having to explain his weapon while he was carrying fake identification.

  The top of the house appeared through the trees, and he thought he saw an old woman’s face in the attic window, but when he blinked, she was gone. When he broke through the trees, he saw Bree’s front door standing wide open. The demons had been here.

  Thank God she was in Florida.

  He set his suitcase down and eased inside, sniffing the air. He could smell lavender, but no demons. The house was empty. He passed Bree’s antique mirror, and it rippled like the surface of a loch. Jumping aside, he waited until it became solid again, then pulled it from the wall, laid it face down on the floor, and put his foot through the back. An enchanted mirror. He’d seen only one before. They weren’t used much; they were too unstable, but when working properly, Druan would be able to see inside the house. Did he already know their secrets, already know how Faelan felt about Bree? Damnation. He should have sent her someplace besides her mother’s. Russell would know where his future mother-in-law lived.

  More warriors would have to be sent to protect Bree and her mother. He’d call Cody, see if he and his brothers could help. Faelan reached for his phone but remembered he’d left it in Scotland. There was one in Bree’s bedroom. First he had to get the Book of Battles and the key. Faelan hurried to his room. The plank lay next to the gaping hole in the floor. He dropped to his knees, heart drumming against his ribs as he searched every corner of the hole. Empty. If Druan had the Book of Battles, the whole clan could be destroyed.

  Faelan grabbed his dirk and crossed the hall to Bree’s room. Her drawers were open, clothes strewn about the room. Had Druan searched Bree’s bedroom for the key? Faelan saw a coat crumpled on the floor, the coat she had worn in Scotland. Fear slithered up his spine.

  Bree wasn’t in Florida.

  Where was she?

  He grabbed the phone and dialed her cell. It rang in his ear as a tune played on the floor. The music grew louder as he picked up the coat and pulled her phone from the pocket. She wouldn’t leave her cell phone. Had she forgotten it, like he had? Or had she been taken against her will?

  With his dirk in one hand, talisman ready, he crept down the hall, searching the rooms. The kitchen was a mess, refrigerator open, bottles strewn across the floor, as if there had been a struggle. After checking the entire house to make sure she wasn’t sleeping or unconscious, he opened the back door. Her yard was gone, nothing left but dirt.

  A groan came from near the chapel. Bree? He moved closer. A man lay outside the door. Blood ran from his head, dripping over his face. Faelan made sure it wasn’t a trap, then kneeled beside the man. He’d taken a right good thrashing, but he was breathing, and most of the blood was dried, not fresh.

  The man stirred. His eyelids opened but didn’t focus. “…attacked me. Help…”

  “Who are you?” Faelan asked. Was this Jared? As much as he hated thinking about her and the archeologist together, he didn’t want to see her friend hurt.

  “…got to stop him.”

  “Stop who? Who did this to you?”

  “…took it… hide… chapel… couldn’t get in,” he rambled, struggling to sit. He gripped Faelan’s arms for support, and Faelan felt something thick underneath the man’s stained sweater. “Hide it… warn Bree.”

  “Warn Bree? Who are you?”

  The man’s blue eyes focused, and he blinked. “You’re… him.”

  “I won’t hurt you. Where’s Bree?”

  He wrapped blood-stained hands around Faelan’s wrists.

  “…doesn’t know about him… have to protect it.”

  “Tell me your name?”

  The man spoke his name, turned, and ran. The blood drained from Faelan’s face.

  ***

  The sorcerer jumped in surprise as Druan entered the room and the heavy box crashed to the floor. He picked it up, flinching at the hot breath on his neck. Next would come the claws.

  “If you damage it,” Druan said slowly. “I’ll hang you beside Onca.”

  “Yes, Master.” If this thing didn’t end soon, he would die of terror anyway. He was expendable now. Each hour that ticked by, he waited for Druan to realize it.

  “The others are in place. How long before we can deliver the vials?”

  “A couple of hours.”

  Druan glanced at the ancient books spread over the worn table. “Did you find out what went wrong with the mirror?” Druan asked.

  “There was a problem with the spell.” He wouldn’t mention he’d gotten it mixed up with her computer screen. No one used enchanted mirrors anymore.

  “I have something I need to do. Then we wait f
or the warrior.” Druan laughed. The sound started out human, but he left the room in his natural form, without so much as a thank you for all the sorcerer’s efforts in the endeavor, an endeavor that could raise Druan’s status to first rank under the Dark One himself.

  Years of perfecting, making and discarding, testing on animals and unsuspecting humans, even some halflings, and finally he’d gotten it right. His formula, his work, but would he get credit? No. He’d be lucky to keep his life another half century, while Druan got all the glory. He wished he’d been someplace else when Druan came looking to replace his dead sorcerer. He looked around, agitated, afraid Druan might have read his thoughts. He hated what was going to happen, but he wanted to live, even if surrounded by monsters.

  ***

  Faelan snuck into the castle using the same entrance as before. Crawling up that infernal vine was worse the second time, with it half pulled away from the wall and his mind in torment over the clues he’d missed. He should’ve checked all possibilities, not only the obvious ones. He let attraction get in the way. Instead of being honest with her, he let her play right into Druan’s hands.

  Faelan kept close to the walls, listening for any sound. He was on the second floor, halfway across the castle, when he heard voices, one of them familiar. Clasping his talisman, he peered around the corner. Two men were talking, the white-haired man Faelan had seen in the castle the first time, and a tall, dark-blond man.

  Jeremiah. Druan wore the same human shell.

  A burst of adrenaline hit first, then rage. Faelan opened the talisman. He would end this now. At that moment, the old man lowered his head and walked away, leaving Druan a perfect target. Faelan aimed the talisman, lined up the symbols, then clenched his teeth, letting the talisman fall against his chest. Druan was likely the only one who knew where the virus was, and he probably had Bree. If Faelan failed again, if he destroyed Druan and couldn’t find the virus, every human would die, including Bree. He had to wait for the other warriors. They’d been alerted and were on the way. It wouldn’t be long. They could handle Druan’s halflings and minions, while Faelan took care of the demon. In the meantime, he’d find Bree.