It took all of Faelan’s willpower not to destroy Druan on the spot, but he had to find Bree first. “Where is she?”
“My human?” Druan laughed, but the sound was cold, hard.
“She’s not yours,” Faelan growled.
“Ah, but she is, warrior. I’ve watched over her for a long time. While you slept, I watched her grow. And after I rid this planet of its blight, I’ll need a few mixed breeds for slaves. Bree will make an excellent mother, don’t you think?”
Faelan wanted to shred Druan into pieces with his bare hands, feel his bones crunch and tissue tear. “Tell me where she is.”
“Where only I can find her. You believed she was a demon, didn’t you? When all she’d done was try to save you, which I’m punishing her for, even as we speak. Then I’ll practice this forgiveness your God is so fond of and make her mine.”
Every part of him seethed with panic and rage. Before he could judge the wisdom of it, Faelan sent his dirk sailing through the air. It struck Druan mid-chest, and the demon screeched. He ripped it out and flung it to the floor, hate oozing from eyes already starting to shift. His bones lengthened and skin bulged grotesquely, as he transformed into his natural form, towering over Faelan.
Faelan was no stranger to demons, but the sight and smell was still repulsive. “Tell me where she is, or I’ll destroy you now and find her myself,” Faelan snarled, his hand twitching over his talisman, the other tight on his sword.
“You’ll never find her in your lifetime. Not even two. I’ve saved the best trick for last.”
“Did you hurt her?”
Druan threw back his gray head and laughed again, a slimy hissing sound. “Did I mate with her? Not yet. But I will. In and out of my human shell.”
“You won’t get the chance,” Faelan said.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs. Druan smiled and moved toward the door. Faelan’s anger numbed. He should have let Cody stay. It would be impossible to destroy Druan, the virus, and his horde of demons, too. But he could finish what he’d started before Druan came in. If the virus was gone, Druan might be easier to manage. Before he could raise his talisman, the air shifted. He heard screams and voices calling his name. He recognized Ronan and Duncan. The reinforcements were his. They’d destroyed Druan’s demons.
Druan shrieked with rage. He whirled and came at Faelan, slashing with his claws. Faelan spun like a matador and sliced open Druan’s arm with his sword. “That was for my father and Ian,” Faelan said, trying to block the sulfurous smell.
Druan turned again, moving slower this time, calculating. “What about your sister, little Alana? I let her live… after I finished with her. But her firstborn son, how could I let him live, bearing your name?”
Druan had killed Alana’s infant son? Faelan’s anger merged into a fiery ball. The loss of his family, the death and destruction caused by a war that was no more than a distraction for Druan, the pain and heartache the demon had caused Bree. Faelan roared and lunged at Druan, striking again with his sword. A gash appeared in Druan’s chest, close to where the dirk had struck, but it would take far more to kill him by hand. Faelan struck again, this time slicing deep into the demon’s neck. Druan let out a terrible howl and swiped at Faelan. His claw caught on Faelan’s talisman. Druan jerked his hand back when the metal scorched his skin. The cord broke, and the talisman tumbled through the air, landing in a corner with a thud.
“Another scar. I’ll destroy that charm along with you this time.” The smell of burning flesh mingled with sulfur, and the pounding in Faelan’s head grew louder before he realized it was the door. It sounded like a hundred feet were kicking. Faelan moved toward the talisman in a haze. He had to get it back, or everyone he loved would die.
A whisper brushed his ear, soothing, balm to his pain. He didn’t know if it was Bree, Michael, or even God himself who tried to quiet his rage, but he held on to it, pulled it inside. Used it to focus on what he had to do.
Druan moved closer to the corner. “What’s so important about the charm, warrior? It gives a nasty burn, for a pretty decoration.” Druan swirled and picked up the talisman by the cord, winding it around one claw, careful not to touch it. His ugly head turned as he scrutinized it. “I see writing,” he said, inching toward the box. “Another trophy to replace the sword. I’ll keep it with the Book of Battles to mark the day of your defeat.”
Faelan’s skin felt clammy. Book of Battles? Druan had the book? His chest pounded like a cattle stampede. The demon was five feet from the box, bleeding from his wounds. Faelan had to destroy him. Now. Beheading a powerful demon was almost impossible, but it was that or wrestle the talisman from him. He’d already made the first cut. Faelan adjusted his grip on his sword and lunged for the demon.
Druan threw the talisman over Faelan’s head and snatched the box. He reached for one of the vials as Faelan spun and dove for the talisman. He slid across the floor, snatching the talisman as it rolled. He opened it as he leaped to his feet, praying it had enough strength, and began to chant. Druan opened the vial and flung it across the room. The air sizzled, too thick to breathe; the floor shook. Faelan watched it happen as if in slow motion. The iron bar broke free from the wall and the door burst open. Niall rushed into the room, followed by the others, as green vapors clawed through the air like fingers. Faelan heard a warning cry and saw the warriors spin around, throwing their arms over their eyes. A boom sounded like thunder as brilliant white light met the green vapors in midair. Colors swirled, tumultuous and violent, and the white wound around the green, swallowing it like a snake. Druan screamed, his face distorted, as he reached for the virus. The light retracted, leaving nothing but the metal box and empty vials clattering in its wake.
The virus was gone.
Druan was gone.
Where was Bree?
Chapter 34
The room filled with warriors, swords drawn, chests heaving, some dripping blood.
“Are you okay?” Duncan asked, but all Faelan could manage was a nod.
“What in blazes was that?” Brodie asked.
“You almost kissed your ass good-bye,” Niall said. “We all did.”
Sorcha ran in, hair flying, then lowered her sword. “I’m too late.”
The warriors circled Faelan, voices low with shock. Ronan put a hand on Faelan’s shoulder. “You did it, brother. He’s gone. The virus is destroyed.”
“You need rest,” Cody said. “We’ll get Bree. Where is she?”
Faelan’s legs buckled, too weak to support him, and he sank to his knees. “I don’t know.”
***
Four days later…
Faelan ran his fingers over the stone, leaving a smear of blood. He’d rubbed his skin raw. He kept his eyes off the bed as he moved to another stone, looking for a crack or hidden catch.
“Faelan?” Ronan stood in the doorway of Druan’s bedroom. “Go home. Get some sleep before you fall over.”
“I can’t leave.” Faelan pounded his fist against the next stone, but it didn’t move. “I can hear her calling me.”
“I know, but you killed an ancient demon. You’re still weak. You need rest and food. We’ll keep looking. You know that. He’s hidden her somewhere. He was too obsessed with her to hurt her.”
But where? Druan said he’d hidden her where only he could find her. The minions they’d captured had been no help. It was as if Bree had disappeared.
“Sean called a few minutes ago,” Ronan said. “The McKenzie clan is searching Druan’s last castle in Europe.”
“What about the demons at the conference? Did they get them all?” The list Coira found on Angus matched the one they’d discovered in Druan’s bedroom three days before.
“Most of them. They were still waiting for their vials. Warriors swarmed the place; only a few demons escaped, but they’re being hunted down. Cody has a friend in the FBI who’s covering our tracks. The public thinks it was a drug bust. More than a hundred demons have been destroyed in the last four days, thanks
to you and Angus. This is the biggest joint operation in clan history. But you need to rest now, or you’ll be dead before we find Bree. Ever hear of Romeo and Juliet?”
“He’s right, Faelan,” Duncan said, joining Ronan at the door. “Let us finish up here. Ten more warriors just arrived from Australia. They brought Skylar and Caleb, two of their best Seekers. And Ryan and Brenna are on their way from Rome. Their sense of smell is unequaled. We won’t stop till we find her.”
Faelan nodded and rose to his feet. They’d all worked tirelessly, especially Conall. The young warrior had sworn he would not stop looking until she was found. He still felt responsible for losing her.
“Here,” Duncan said. “We found this hidden in the library.” He handed Faelan a leather book. “It’s her Grandma Emily’s journal. I don’t know why Druan had it.”
Holding the book under his arm, Faelan trudged through the castle, ignoring the long looks and hushed whispers as he passed his clansmen surveying and cataloging Druan’s possessions, some repairing the damage from the blast while others searched for Bree.
Since Angus had been followed, the Watchers decided it best to move some of the warriors from Scotland to make another home base. No one knew why Druan’s castle looked so much like their own, or how it had been cloaked, but once they installed a security system, the place would be hard to penetrate, and by then every demon who’d helped Druan and knew the castle’s location would be dead. Druan guarded his secrets well, as his sorcerer had said, even from the Dark One.
Faelan drove Bree’s car to the house and sat in the driveway, dreading to go inside. Some of the other warriors had searched the place to make sure she wasn’t there. Faelan hadn’t had the courage to come back and face his guilt and pain. He sat there until it was too dark to see, trying not to suffocate at the thought that he might have to wake every morning without her, trudging through minutes and hours until the oblivion of sleep brought relief.
Why God had chosen to dangle her in front of his nose, the only woman he’d ever loved, and then yank her away, he couldn’t fathom. There must be a reason. Michael might know. But as powerful as Michael was, he was still a servant, and some things God kept to himself.
Opening the door, he dragged himself from the car and forced one foot in front of the other until he stood in her bedroom. He wanted to collapse, but he was covered with sweat and dust. Her things were still scattered everywhere. He picked up clothes and draped them over a chair, closed drawers, and righted the photographs that had hidden his father’s pocket watch. The last frame, one he hadn’t noticed before, showed a gray-haired woman—he recognized Bree’s grandmother from other photographs in the house—smiling at a dark-haired lassie who looked like a fairy from one of his mother’s stories, with her green eyes and mischievous grin. The same lassie Faelan had seen huddled under the covers in his dream, the one Michael had sent him to protect. Everyone else had believed in her, but he, the one person who should’ve known better, who should’ve trusted her, had betrayed her. He trailed his fingers over her face. Where are you?
He stood under her shower, letting the water beat down on his head and run over his back, washing away the grime, leaving only guilt. He remembered her battling Grog with a broom, trying to get her hands on the swords, baking him a pie. Touching him in the tub. How shocked he’d been, how he’d thought he would die from wanting her.
Now he just wanted to see her, feel her breathe. He’d known her less than a fortnight, but she was bound to his soul. He turned off the water and stepped out. Wrapped in a towel, he walked back to her bedroom. A book lay on the floor by her bed. It was leather-bound, like the journal Duncan had found, but thicker. Isabel’s journal? He picked it up and ran his hands over the rose engraved on the cover. He’d seen this book before, more than a hundred and fifty years ago. He remembered it falling at his feet outside the tavern. On the inside a name was written, Isabel Belville. Proof it was Isabel he’d met, not Bree.
Near the front of the journal was a genealogy chart. Above Samuel Wood, Isabel’s father, was another name. Nigel Ellwood. Faelan leaned closer and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Nigel Ellwood. It couldn’t be. He was the missing Watcher who’d vanished before Faelan was born. The clan believed the Watcher had died. He’d obviously lived long enough to have a son, Samuel. Bree’s great-great-great-grandfather.
Bree was part of his clan.
That’s why Faelan bore the mate mark, why he had memories of Bree before he’d met her, even before she was born. It wasn’t the time vault messing with his mind. God hadn’t dangled her in front of him and taken her away. The whole thing had been planned. She was his mate. And he’d thrown her back in God’s face.
Faelan grabbed the phone and dialed. “Sean, it’s Faelan—”
“Faelan, my boy. I’ve been worried. I was ready to come over there myself. Have you found her?”
“No. We’re still searching.” For Bree, the Book of Battles, the time vault key. Vampires.
He’d told the clan about the key and the missing book, but they’d had no luck finding them so far. The Council was meeting even now. He was grateful they were still trying to find Bree, with so many troubles weighing on the clan.
“They’ll find her. They won’t stop till they do. The whole clan owes her a debt for freeing you.”
“Aye,” he said, feeling the weight of guilt again. She risked her life for him, and he’d forsaken her, sent her from Scotland thinking he didn’t care for her. Straight into Druan’s trap.
“I hope you can forgive an old man for keeping secrets, but your mission was too important to get sidetracked by vengeance. Your father wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“I understand,” Faelan said, not sure if he spoke the truth. “That’s not why I called. Remember Nigel Ellwood?”
“The Watcher who vanished?”
“He had a son. Samuel.”
“How do you know—”
“Bree is Nigel’s descendent.”
“Our Bree?”
“I found a genealogy chart with Nigel’s name. Samuel changed his surname to Wood.”
“Och, this puts things in a different light, it does. I’ve seen how you look at her. I’d wondered…”
“She’s my mate. I knew as soon as I saw her, but I thought it was the time vault messing with my head. How could it be? We’re from different centuries.”
“God made time. I reckon he can manipulate it if He wants.”
“But I failed my assignment. If I’d let those warriors stay with me, if we’d succeeded with Druan the first time, I wouldn’t be here. I never would have met Bree. So how could—”
“Maybe this worked out the way it should. Could be it was meant for you to stop Druan in this time and not before. And could be there’s something more for you to do. You said Michael warned you about the book. Why warn you and no one else?”
“He said something about a necessary sacrifice.” His family? His father and brothers who’d died helping him, his mother, Alana? Or was Bree the sacrificial lamb?
“I don’t know why Michael doesn’t tell us everything. I suppose it’s part of the journey. I think we’ll know the answers when we’re meant to know them. Stop beating yourself up over that war. It wasn’t your fault. You were probably never meant to stop it, no matter how many warriors you had with you. Same goes for Druan. I know you blame yourself for not suspecting he was the archeologist, but anyone would have thought Russell was the demon after how he treated her. It was just bad luck that he resembled Druan’s human shell.”
Faelan rubbed at the knot of tension in his neck. Still, he should have insisted on meeting Jared. The demon had stood on Bree’s front porch while Faelan hid in the family room, not fifty feet away.
“Don’t give up, lad. We’ll find her yet.”
But they’d searched for four days. Did she have food and water? Was she injured? After he hung up, Faelan walked back to the bed. He picked up the earring in the marble cup, the mate to the one she’d lo
st in the crypt. She’d been so busy helping him that she hadn’t taken the time to search for it. In the morning he would find it, as he’d told her he would. It might be the last thing he would ever do for her.
Faelan touched the earring to his lips and dropped onto the bed. He lay back, resting his head on Bree’s pillow, and hugged her coat to his chest, wondering if she was cold now that the nights had turned cooler. Her scent surrounded him as her voice brushed his ear, pleading for him to hurry.
“I don’t know how to find you,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling until exhaustion overtook him.
***
Michael the Archangel stood before Faelan. Not the plump, androgynous thing with wings that graced masterpieces of art. This was the warrior angel. More than seven feet tall, glowing, clad in white and gold. Fierce, but beautiful, his presence so blinding he could come only in visions and dreams.
Each time Michael came with an order, Faelan was more humbled, more aware of how much help he and his clan needed to win these battles. It couldn’t be done with swords and talismans alone, the same way human responsibilities weren’t meant to be carried alone.
This time the archangel didn’t bring orders but stood watching Faelan as he slept. Was he asleep or awake? Faelan didn’t know. There was concern and kindness in Michael’s face and an urging for him to do something, but Faelan was tired; he wanted to sleep, to forget.
“Faelan, wake. What you seek is near.”
The pull of evil was strong, urging him to shut out the vision.
“Faelan, now.” Michael clapped his hands once, and a noise like thunder pierced the dream.
Faelan sat up, surrounded by the strange glow. The archangel had been here. What you seek is near. What did it mean? Faelan had been sent to destroy the virus and eliminate Druan. Both were finished. Did Michael mean the book or the key?
Rubbing his hands over his face, he stood. The light of dawn was easing through the blinds. The earring lay on the table beside the bed. Bree thought she’d lost its mate in the crypt. He needed to go there anyway to send the time vault back. Even without the key, it was too dangerous to leave it here. He pulled on a T-shirt and his kilt and made his way to the kitchen, first cleaning up the mess on the floor, then swiping his finger through the jar of peanut butter. He didn’t remember if he’d eaten yesterday or the day before, and he didn’t care, but his body needed food so he could keep searching. After brushing his teeth, he left the house, his thoughts too dark to be warmed by the sun. He unlocked the crypt, wondering how he’d find something as tiny as an earring, and the words came again. What you seek is near.
Awaken the Highland Warrior Page 33
