for him when they went to get his identification.
“You realize we’ve just set foot in Scotland and you already sound more like a Scot?”
“That’s the way of it. Always has been.” When he became a warrior, he went wherever his assigned demon went, which was often and far. He’d mingled and hidden, whichever was necessary, picking up customs and languages from many lands. But this was home.
She smiled and reached for his hand. “Let’s go meet your descendents.”
Faelan nodded. “We can fetch our things if they invite us to stay.”
“They will.” Bree squeezed his fingers, and they started for the entrance. The door opened, and his brother Tavis stepped out.
Chapter 22
Or his brother’s spitting image. Dark hair hung to his shoulders. He wore a white shirt and a kilt, the same tartan as Faelan’s, and a leather strap around his neck. Faelan struggled to control the rush of emotion. It wouldn’t be good to disgrace himself before he was introduced.
“I’m Bree Kirkland.” Bree stepped forward and put out her hand. Faelan could see two shadows lurking inside the open door. They were being watched, of course. No warrior would trust her story without proof.
“Duncan Connor,” Tavis’s image said, shaking Bree’s hand, but watching Faelan. “You said you had news of an ancestor. I thought you’d be alone.” He looked at Faelan’s kilt and frowned, his face so like Tavis, he could have been his ghost.
“I have more than news. I’ve brought him. This is… this is Faelan Connor,” Bree said motioning to him. They’d decided it best to spill it all up front and see where it landed.
“Faelan Connor?” Duncan’s baffled gaze searched Faelan’s face. Faelan’s dread deepened with each added line in Duncan’s forehead. “We don’t have any Faelans in the family, except The Mighty—”
“I’m Faelan Connor,” he said, holding out his talisman. “Your ancestor.”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a joke?”
“Out of my way,” a crusty voice said, and Duncan was pushed aside. An old man stepped out, followed by two younger men—one reddish-haired, one blond—clad in kilts, hands hanging deceptively loose over their dirks. The old man ran his hands through his hair, eyes lit with wonder. “I was starting to think I wouldn’t live to see it.” He studied Faelan’s talisman, then his face. He ran his hands over Faelan’s forehead and cheeks like a blind man would. The old man turned to Duncan, his eyes glistening. “You’re looking at the Mighty Faelan, put in the vault by the demon Druan a century and a half ago.”
Duncan stared at the old man as if he suffered from madness. “There are legends, but…”
“I’m Sean Connor.” The man patted Faelan on the arm. “By my recollections, I’d be your great-great-nephew, and Duncan here would be your great-great-great-nephew. Welcome home, lad. Welcome home. You can’t know how glad we are that you’re here.” A crooked smile split his face, and Faelan’s burden slipped away.
He cleared his throat. “Dust,” he mumbled, blinking.
“Aye, it’s getting to me, too. Coira, come quick,” the old man yelled, his movements so agitated Faelan thought the man might break out in dance.
“It could be a trick,” Duncan said.
“Can’t you see the family resemblance?”
“It might be a shell.”
“No, that talisman belongs to none other than Faelan Connor. It’s in one of the portraits inside. Besides, he looks just like you, any fool can see that.” To Faelan, Sean said, “We’ve been expecting you, but not like this. Come on inside, and we’ll get it all sorted out, right enough. Coira! Blimey, where’s that woman when you need her?”
Home. He was home. Faelan glanced at Bree’s damp eyes and fought the swell of emotions. There were times it wasn’t good to be a man.
“It’s really him?” Duncan stared as the other two warriors moved closer, eyes wide, jaws slack.
“It’s the Mighty Faelan,” the red-haired one whispered in awe.
“You must be my brother Tavis’s great-grandson,” Faelan said to Duncan.
“No. Tavis was my great-great-great-uncle. I’m a descendent of… of your brother, Ian,” Duncan said, looking dazed. “I’ve heard the legend since I was a lad. We all have, but most believed you’d died.”
“I have to say I was starting to have a wee doubt myself. We’ve had a swarm of warriors and Seekers looking for that key this past year. We were getting a bit desperate, what with the Watchers being so troubled these last few weeks, and knowing it was long past time for you to awake.” He moved deeper into the foyer.
“What are Watchers?” Bree asked.
“They have dreams, warn us of trouble,” Sean said. “Like guards. They’ve been worried about Druan. We’ve searched for him for decades, but he was spotted only once or twice in all the years since I was born.”
“We found him,” Faelan said. “In New York. We found his lair.”
Sean stopped, bushy eyebrows lifted. “Blessed be. Now that we have you and your talisman, we’ll send him to hell.”
“Are there many warriors now?” Faelan asked the old man.
“Aye, as many as you need. There’s Duncan here, Tomas, Brodie, and a whole parcel of others. Some are here, some out hunting, and others are on the way. We weren’t sure… well, about the lass’s reason for coming. Wait until you see how things have changed, lad. Tomas, Brodie,” Sean said to the two tall, lean warriors lurking in the background, “one of you find Coira for me. Hurry now, you can talk to him after we let everyone know.” Sean rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got celebrating to do.” He scuttled forward, and Faelan followed his great-great-nephew into the home where Faelan had been born and played as a child.
