Awaken the Highland Warrior

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.