His family? The fuzz in Faelan’s head wove itself into panic. He couldn’t let it show. “Still telling lies?”
“I love a good lie, but this beats a fib by far.” Druan moved closer. “I couldn’t let your brothers get away with killing my sorcerer and ruining my virus. Your mother was quite distraught when I finished.”
Faelan yanked at the chains until his right shoulder began to dislocate. He saw Druan’s satisfaction and stopped.
“If you think it’s a lie, then take a look.” Druan slapped his scarred hand on Faelan’s forehead. He tried to jerk away, but the chains binding his wrists held fast. An image formed, his mother, her body draped over a coffin covered with flowers, her frail shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She looked so small. A low wail pulled from inside her hunched body, and she called a name. Ian. It was his brother’s funeral. There was a young woman, heavily pregnant, and a wee lad barely old enough to walk, clutching at her skirt. The lad’s lip quivered as he let go of his mother and touched a tiny hand to the wood coffin. Ian’s wife… and son?
Druan pulled his hand away, and Faelan’s head fell forward. His surroundings swam into focus, and he saw the demon’s twisted gloat.
“Ian was magnificent. Crying out for his wife and son as he died, a week before she bore him twins.”
Faelan’s blood raged, pumping anger and pain with each surge, like a nail driven inch by inch until it could go no more. “Don’t speak their names,” Faelan roared. “You’re not to speak their names!” He twisted and pulled. If he could reach his talisman. He yanked the chains, and his shoulder popped.
A fist smashed into his face, slamming his head into the wall.
“When you wake, we’ll talk about Bree,” Druan taunted as everything went black.
***
Bree heard a soft noise like the wind. Something brushed her face. She opened her eyes, and a shadow disappeared into the high ceiling above her. Her head ached, and she felt like she’d cleaned the carpet with her tongue. She was in a bed. A huge bed. Jared’s? After she’d told him everything, he insisted on bringing her to his house. Why didn’t she remember getting here? The pills he’d given her for her headache must have been too strong, or she had a serious case of jet lag.
Bree sat up and looked around the room. It was too dark for details, but the bed was king-size, the covers a rich brocade—not what she would’ve expected of Jared. What disturbed her more was the imprint of a head on the pillow next to hers. Had they slept in the same bed? She couldn’t remember anything, other than a dream of Faelan curled at her back. Bree peeked under the covers. She was still dressed, not that she thought Jared would take advantage of her.
She got out of bed and tripped over her shoes. She had to find a phone. She’d slept away precious time. Her tote bag was in a chair that looked like it was made for a king. She slipped on her shoes and checked her watch. Five a.m. They’d left her house around ten last night. She had to find Jared and get out of here. Russell could have followed them. Bree went to the door, turned the knob, and registered three things. A gargoyle, voices, and stone. Everywhere she looked there was stone. She wasn’t at Jared’s.
She was in Druan’s castle.
Where was Jared? She eased back, heart thudding with dread, and peeked through the cracked door. Two men stood talking farther down the hall, except they didn’t look like men. They were tall and thick, with skin like leather. Like orcs. Long daggers were sheathed at their sides and swords hung across their backs.
“I’ll guard her,” the first demon said. “You go to the dungeon and check on the warrior. If he escapes, it’ll be our hides.”
Warrior? Not Faelan. He couldn’t be here.
“You’re hoping Druan’ll give you a taste of her.”
“He’d kill anyone who touches her, and you know it.”
“It’s unnatural, how he watches her,” the second demon agreed. “I’ll go in a minute, after the sedative’s had more time to work. He almost broke my arm when we chained him to the wall.”
It had to be Faelan. Why was he here? It was too soon.
“What about the other one?”
“Probably dead. Throw him on the buzzard,” he said with a nasty laugh.
Bree’s chest constricted. Jared?
“You’d better hurry before he gets back.”
“Where is he?”
“In the tower hiding the key.”
Druan had the disk. There were two prisoners in the dungeon, one almost dead. Faelan and Jared? Russell must have followed them. Why couldn’t she remember anything? Bree eased the door shut, locked it, and examined her prison. Of course there were no phones. She’d have to rescue Faelan and Jared herself. She went to the window and eased the heavy draperies back. The sky was still dark. The best she could figure, she was on the second floor in the middle of the castle. Too high to jump.
The secret passages. If she remembered correctly, they also led to the dungeon. The map should be in her tote, if Russell hadn’t taken it. She found the bag and located her tiny flashlight. Someone had gone through her things. Nothing was where it was supposed to be, except the map. Russell had missed the hidden side pocket.
Bree ran a shaky finger over the faint lines running along several interior walls. According to the map, there was an access in the adjoining room, with a hidden door near the fireplace. Using the mini flashlight she carried after she’d gotten trapped in the tower, she inspected the elaborate fireplace and found the left lion’s head on the mantel was loose. She pushed, and a secret door opened.
Stale air hit her in the face. With a death grip on her flashlight, Bree climbed inside. She had to get to the dungeon before Russell returned or the guards discovered her missing. Something slid across her foot, and she smothered a yelp. All this for a man who’d dumped her. No, not for a man. Bree was doing this for the world. She
