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.
“Jared! We’ve got to get inside the graveyard before he wakes up.”
