She didn’t say more, so they lay in silence as Faelan wondered exactly what Russell had done to her. When this was over, he’d see how brave Russell was against a man.
She moved her arm, baring the creamy slope of her breasts, adorned by the necklace. Had she written the letter he’d found with it? Tomorrow he’d ask her. If someone had hurt her, he would track him down after he finished with Druan and Russell.
“What do you think Grog meant about his master being upset if I was hurt?” Bree asked. “Why would a demon care if a human got hurt?”
He wouldn’t, unless the human was his minion or he wanted her for breeding. Had Druan seen Bree and become infatuated with her? She was beautiful, and Druan was obsessed with beauty. “Some demons take humans to breed halflings.”
“Take?”
“Kidnap. Then they kill the mothers.”
“Okay, I could’ve done without hearing that.”
“Demons need halflings to help hide their evil plots. Demons live a long time.”
“How old is Druan?”
“Around eight hundred years.”
“Good grief! Do they all live that long?”
“It depends on the order. The first order is the created demons. They’re eternal. They operate on a spiritual plane.” Warriors didn’t battle them. Michael handled that part. “The second order is born, like humans, but both parents are full demons. They live anywhere from a few hundred years to a millennium. The older ones can become very powerful, like Druan. We call them the demons of old or the ancient ones. They’re the strongest demons a human will encounter. There’s only a handful left.” Faelan had destroyed one in his seventh year as a warrior. It was the first time since the seventeenth century that one of the ancient demons had been assigned.
“What about halflings?”
“The third order, the lowest. They’re earthbound, live a couple hundred years or so. Demons like using halflings to do their bidding because they’re more loyal than minions, and halflings don’t live long enough to become a threat, which sometimes happens with lesser demons. They’ve been known to steal from each other, though it’s against their rules.”
“They have rules?”
“Of a sort.”
“So Druan’s got another couple hundred years to wreak havoc on earth?”
“Unless he’s gained years. They can extend their lifespan if they serve their master well, even become eternal, like the first order.”
“Their master? Like in Satan?”
“They call him the Dark One, but he goes by many names. Satan, Lucifer, the Devil. If it stinks, he’s behind it. Each demon has a purpose. Addiction, cruelty, deception, greed.”
Bree shuddered. “I’m tired of demons. Tell me about your family. Faelan sounds Irish.”
His family. He relaxed his mind, and the memories rushed in, smiles and laughter, battle cries and swords. A tiny casket being lowered into the ground. He pushed that one away. He couldn’t deal with it now.
“My mother was Irish. She named me after her grandfather.”
“What did you do when you weren’t hunting demons?”
“We raised horses. Clydesdales, some Highland ponies, a few Arabian mixes, like Nandor.”
“Nandor?”
“My horse. He was more like a friend than a horse. Sounds daft, aye? But there were times when he was the only living thing I saw for weeks. You grow fond of an animal when he’s the only one around to listen to you talk.”
“Do you miss him?”
He sighed. “Aye, I do. In my day a warrior valued his horse as much as his sword. I reckon Nandor must have thought I left him. My father would have taken care of him. Now there’s a man who loved horses, almost as much as he loved fighting demons, and Alana spent most of her time riding or in the stable when she wasn’t painting. She was the youngest. My parents didn’t expect another bairn.” Not after the first tragedy. “We all coddled her. She should have been a wee devil, but she had a heart as big as the Highlands. My brothers and me, we spent most of our time training, or with the horses. Until it was time to hunt.”
“You don’t use many Scottish words for a man in a kilt,” Bree said, her voice growing thicker.
“I’m a Highlander,” he said, thumping his knuckles over his chest, “always will be, but I’ve spent so much time in different parts of the world, surrounded by other warriors who’ve done the same, it messes with the speech.” Part of the reason warriors were sent so far from home and dressed and talked as natives in the lands where they fought was to keep demons from identifying the clan.
“Have you been to America before?”
“When I was seven, a demon came after my father, after our family… we came to Philadelphia, stayed until I was eight, then moved back to Scotland. My brothers didn’t like it here.”
“Your brothers, were you close?”
He saw the wee casket again and his mother’s grief-stricken face and felt guilty for brushing the memory aside. But having Bree as a distraction was bad enough. If he let past mistakes make him weak, he’d fail again. “Aye.
