head, dripping over his face. Faelan made sure it wasn’t a trap, then kneeled beside the man. He’d taken a right good thrashing, but he was breathing, and most of the blood was dried, not fresh.
The man stirred. His eyelids opened but didn’t focus. “…attacked me. Help…”
“Who are you?” Faelan asked. Was this Jared? As much as he hated thinking about her and the archeologist together, he didn’t want to see her friend hurt.
“…got to stop him.”
“Stop who? Who did this to you?”
“…took it… hide… chapel… couldn’t get in,” he rambled, struggling to sit. He gripped Faelan’s arms for support, and Faelan felt something thick underneath the man’s stained sweater. “Hide it… warn Bree.”
“Warn Bree? Who are you?”
The man’s blue eyes focused, and he blinked. “You’re… him.”
“I won’t hurt you. Where’s Bree?”
He wrapped blood-stained hands around Faelan’s wrists.
“…doesn’t know about him… have to protect it.”
“Tell me your name?”
The man spoke his name, turned, and ran. The blood drained from Faelan’s face.
***
The sorcerer jumped in surprise as Druan entered the room and the heavy box crashed to the floor. He picked it up, flinching at the hot breath on his neck. Next would come the claws.
“If you damage it,” Druan said slowly. “I’ll hang you beside Onca.”
“Yes, Master.” If this thing didn’t end soon, he would die of terror anyway. He was expendable now. Each hour that ticked by, he waited for Druan to realize it.
“The others are in place. How long before we can deliver the vials?”
“A couple of hours.”
Druan glanced at the ancient books spread over the worn table. “Did you find out what went wrong with the mirror?” Druan asked.
“There was a problem with the spell.” He wouldn’t mention he’d gotten it mixed up with her computer screen. No one used enchanted mirrors anymore.
“I have something I need to do. Then we wait for the warrior.” Druan laughed. The sound started out human, but he left the room in his natural form, without so much as a thank you for all the sorcerer’s efforts in the endeavor, an endeavor that could raise Druan’s status to first rank under the Dark One himself.
Years of perfecting, making and discarding, testing on animals and unsuspecting humans, even some halflings, and finally he’d gotten it right. His formula, his work, but would he get credit? No. He’d be lucky to keep his life another half century, while Druan got all the glory. He wished he’d been someplace else when Druan came looking to replace his dead sorcerer. He looked around, agitated, afraid Druan might have read his thoughts. He hated what was going to happen, but he wanted to live, even if surrounded by monsters.
***
Faelan snuck into the castle using the same entrance as before. Crawling up that infernal vine was worse the second time, with it half pulled away from the wall and his mind in torment over the clues he’d missed. He should’ve checked all possibilities, not only the obvious ones. He let attraction get in the way. Instead of being honest with her, he let her play right into Druan’s hands.
Faelan kept close to the walls, listening for any sound. He was on the second floor, halfway across the castle, when he heard voices, one of them familiar. Clasping his talisman, he peered around the corner. Two men were talking, the white-haired man Faelan had seen in the castle the first time, and a tall, dark-blond man.
Jeremiah. Druan wore the same human shell.
A burst of adrenaline hit first, then rage. Faelan opened the talisman. He would end this now. At that moment, the old man lowered his head and walked away, leaving Druan a perfect target. Faelan aimed the talisman, lined up the symbols, then clenched his teeth, letting the talisman fall against his chest. Druan was likely the only one who knew where the virus was, and he probably had Bree. If Faelan failed again, if he destroyed Druan and couldn’t find the virus, every human would die, including Bree. He had to wait for the other warriors. They’d been alerted and were on the way. It wouldn’t be long. They could handle Druan’s halflings and minions, while Faelan took care of the demon. In the meantime, he’d find Bree.
Druan opened a thick, wooden door behind him and stepped inside. Faelan waited, hoping the demon would come out and lead him to Bree. After fifteen minutes of hell, the door was still closed. If Druan was asleep, he could be bound with the shackles. Although it would be almost impossible to sneak up on a demon of old. Faelan listened for sounds inside, but all was quiet. He eased the door open, and the scene inside struck him with the force of a blow.
Chapter 29
She lay on her side in an opulent bed, her arm curved over her breasts. Long, dark hair spilled across a pale cheek. The demon lay behind her, his human arms holding her close, the woman he’d met outside the tavern. Not Isabel, but Bree. She was a halfling. That’s how she was able to draw his eyes. She’d seen them just days before he was locked in the time vault. He remembered how gracefully she’d descended from the carriage, the green of her gown, her smile, then the look of shock. Had she known then who he was? Had they been following him while he followed Grog? The two men with her were probably Druan’s minions. Had she watched while they locked him in the time vault and waited to wake him when it was time?
Druan touched Bree’s shoulder, running his human hand over her arm and down her hip. With her eyes still closed, she smiled and murmured something, then reached for Druan’s hand. Pain roared through Faelan, ravaging everything in its path. Lies. All of it. The passion and kindness, the secret he’d seen in her eyes. All lies. He had no one to blame but himself for being deceived. The signs had been there. The key and the
