Awaken the Highland Warrior (21 page)

“Did she know why you were there?” Bree asked.

“No. We couldn’t share that.”

“If my brothers put me in the crypt, then they didn’t battle Druan.”

“No.” Sean paused. “They didn’t battle Druan. But they couldn’t find the key. Tavis captured one of the demon’s minions, and he told them who’d held the key that night. They found the halfling, but he said he lost it when he left the place. He was hoping Druan would forget about it over the years. He offered to show them the trail if they wouldn’t tell Druan he lost it. They agreed, but the key couldn’t be found. It had vanished. Even the Seeker couldn’t find it. Your brothers didn’t know about the virus—that’s what Druan had created—until they ran into one of the other warriors who’d gotten your message. Your brothers used their wits. They couldn’t destroy Druan or his virus, since your talisman was locked in the time vault, but they did the next best thing. They decided to kill the demon’s sorcerer, hoping the virus would be ruined. They claimed a stranger came forward and told them where to find the sorcerer. They killed him right under the demon’s nose.”

“Brilliant,” Bree said, looking a bit glassy-eyed though her wine glass was still full. “Who was the stranger?”

“They never knew. He disappeared. According to my grandfather, Tavis and Ian figured it’d take Druan another century or two to make another virus, and by then you’d be awake. Your brothers made a map of where you lay, so when the time came, you’d be found.” Sean walked to the cabinet where Faelan’s father had kept his important papers. He took out a key and opened a small drawer, pulled out a thin box, and set it on a table. Opening it, he lifted out a piece of paper and placed it in Faelan’s hand.

Faelan could feel the heat of bodies crowding close. The paper was old, thick, with shapes like rectangles and squares. The graveyard. His brothers had come. They hadn’t faced the demons of old. They’d tried to save him. The brothers he’d always protected had taken care of him and made sure he wouldn’t be lost forever.

His brothers had saved the world when he failed.

“Your brothers made the map,” Bree said, her voice awed. “It’s like the one I found. Except it’s dated last year.”

“The clan sent many warriors and Seekers over the decades, but this past year the search has been a fair frenzy.”

“McGowan,” Bree blurted out. “Was he a Seeker?”

“How do you know about McGowan?” Sorcha and Sean asked in unison, staring at Bree as if she’d shifted into a demon.

“I found a journal.”

“McGowan left a journal?” Sorcha asked, shocked, her seductress side nowhere in sight.

“No, my great-great-grandmother’s journal. She said McGowan visited. She thought he was searching for treasure.”

“Indeed,” Sean said. “McGowan and others were sent.”

“All those lost campers,” Bree said.

“McGowan and another man were murdered,” Faelan said. “Druan must’ve killed them.”

“He did,” Sorcha said. “Druan will not only face you, he’ll answer to me.”

A woman against a demon? Faelan wisely kept his mouth shut. “You were related to McGowan?”

Sorcha gave him a peculiar look, but he paid no attention. She’d given him a lot of peculiar looks since she’d arrived. “No, but the man with him was my great-great-grandfather. Quinn Douglass.”

“Why did they send the Keeper of the Book to look for a key?” Faelan asked, surprised.

“He didn’t go for the key. He went for the
Book of Battles
, at least we think that’s why he was there,” Sean said. Another look passed between him and Sorcha.

“I, for one,” Sorcha said, staring at Faelan, “would give my sword arm to know why you stole it.”

“You think I stole the
Book of Battles
?” Faelan asked, appalled.

“Now Sorcha, stole is a harsh word.” Sean’s blunted fingers knotted in his lap. “The stories say it disappeared around the time you went to America.”

“Why would I take it? Warriors weren’t even allowed to see the book then, much less touch it.”

“They still aren’t, but the clan figured you had a reason,” Sean said. “It’s caused a bit of worry over the decades, not knowing if it was locked inside the time vault with you or if a demon had stolen it. Since it never turned up, they assumed it was with you. The Seeker couldn’t tell if it was there.”

“I’d never even seen the book until now.”

“Until now? So you do have it?” Sorcha asked.

“Bree found it in her attic. It’s safely hidden, but I didn’t steal it.” He would’ve brought it, but he hadn’t been certain of his welcome, and it was too valuable to be dragged across the sky in a metal bird that could crash and burn.

“It’s safe. Thank God.” Sean’s shoulders slumped. “That’s one less thing to fret about.”

“But if Faelan didn’t take it, who did?” Duncan asked. “And how did it end up halfway around the world?”

“Would Quinn have taken the book?” Sean asked of no one in particular. “The clan always assumed he went to find it.”

Sorcha looked affronted. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he was charged with keeping it safe,” Faelan told them. “Michael warned me the book was in danger before I left for America. I told Quinn, and he said he’d move the book.”

“But why take it to America?” Sorcha asked.

“Faelan’s brothers were going there anyway, to meet him. Perhaps Quinn thought it was best away from Scotland,” Sean said.

“Wouldn’t he have informed the Council?” Duncan asked.

“Not if he didn’t know where the threat came from,” Faelan said.

“You think the danger came from inside the clan?” Sorcha asked.

“I don’t know, but some of the pages are missing.”

Sean gripped the arms of his chair. “Which ones?”

Faelan hated to tell them, because they would know he’d looked inside. “Near the end. I didn’t read the book, just checked to see that it wasn’t damaged.”

“Ah, those. Don’t fret. They’ve been missing for centuries, according to the Keepers. No one even remembers what they were. It’s our clan mystery.”

“A clan mystery,” Bree said in awe.

“At least you have the book,” Sean said. “Most of the knowledge has been passed down orally, but there’s no measuring the damage exposing those names could do.”

“You’re the Keeper of the Book,” Bree blurted.

“I am,” Sean said. “Not that there’s a book to keep, since it disappeared. The Keepers have tried to put together as much information as they could from other documents.” Each clan had its own book. Every half a millennium, a new one was given.

“Since Michael warned Faelan the book was in danger, it would make sense that Druan was involved,” Tomas said.

“That was my thought,” Faelan said. “Druan could have stolen it.”

“Quinn was probably tracking it,” Sorcha said.

“Who’s Michael?” Bree asked.

“He’s a warrior,” Faelan said.

Sorcha toyed with the hilt of her
sgian dubh
, and Faelan wondered why she carried it. “Before you put Druan in the time vault,” she said to Faelan, “I want a piece of him. He’ll pay for my great-great-grandfather’s life.”

“That’s suicide. You may be a warrior,” Duncan said, “but Faelan is the only one who can touch Druan.”

Faelan had grown adept at hiding emotions, but his mouth dropped. “You’re a warrior?”

“Times have changed while you slumbered,” Sorcha said. “We have many female warriors and Watchers.”

Faelan closed his mouth. Had the world gone mad? What next? Would they send children into battle?

“But some don’t know when to back off,” Duncan muttered.

“And some don’t know when to mind their own business,” Sorcha fired back.

It seemed Bree’s penchant for boldness wasn’t unique. “In my day, women were to be cherished and protected,” Faelan said.

“You can protect our backs while we fight alongside you and cherish us when we defeat the enemy.”

Damnation. What had happened to the sane world he’d left behind where women minded hearth and home?

“So women can be warriors and Watchers now?” Bree asked with a smug look.

Like a female warrior wasn’t ludicrous enough.

“Aye, but only one or the other. Never both,” Sean said.

“Isn’t Sorcha a Watcher?” Bree asked. “She has dreams.”

“Warriors often have dreams as well.”

“Would Angus have brought a time vault?” Faelan asked. “I found one in the cellar of the chapel next to the graveyard.”

Bree choked on her wine. “My chapel? There’s a time vault in
my
chapel? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want—”

“I know. You didn’t want to worry me. There are demons running around my backyard trying to kill me. After all that’s happened, I can’t believe you would keep this from me. It’s
my
chapel.” Her eyes were sharp as dirks, making him long for the days when the women would’ve been in the kitchen cooking. “Wait. The chapel doesn’t have a cellar.”

“Aye, it does. The steps were behind the wall that collapsed.”

“I have a hidden cellar?” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, momentarily dousing her anger.

“The wall that hid the entrance was old, but I figured there might be another way into the cellar, something a warrior could’ve used recently.”

“I don’t think so,” Bree said. “But I didn’t know about the hidden door, either. Grandma never mentioned it. Isabel did say something in the journal about someone hiding slaves. I wonder if someone was using the cellar as part of the Underground Railroad.”

“If so, there could be a tunnel. Would your mother know?” Faelan asked.

“I’ll check with her.”

“A warrior from Canada was supposed to arrive a few days ago to help Sorcha and Angus,” Sean said, “but we haven’t heard from him yet. I suppose he or Angus could have brought a time vault and hid it after the wall collapsed.”

“Is this Austin the one who
helped
Sorcha last year?” Duncan asked, frowning.

Sorcha bristled. “Stop acting like a Neanderthal, cousin. You’re not my bloody bodyguard.”

Duncan cursed and stormed out, letting the door slam behind him. A few in the room chuckled, but most paid no attention.

Faelan hid a grin and wondered if Tavis had also risen from his grave.

“I think Angus would have told us if he needed a time vault,” Sean mused. “Same for Austin.”

“If Druan’s been reassigned, another warrior could have brought it for him.”

Sean shook his head. “I think we would have heard if an ancient demon had been assigned. Was there a key to this time vault?”

“No key. And no sign of another warrior.” Could it be the archeologist? How long had Bree known him?

“Maybe the time vault was for Tristol, Malek, or Voltar,” Bree said.

Sean looked puzzled. “The demons of old?”

“They rode with Druan that night,” Faelan said.

A pall fell over the room. “You’re sure, lad?” Sean asked, alarmed.

“I’m sure.” Other than Druan, Faelan hadn’t seen the ancient demons’ human forms. They protected that knowledge like the warriors protected their talismans and time vaults. But there wasn’t a warrior alive, at least in Faelan’s day, who hadn’t heard the stories from his father and seen clan sketches of the demons of old in their natural forms.

“That’s disturbing, it is,” Sean said, the wrinkles in his forehead growing deeper.

“I think they were helping Druan with the war. I don’t think they knew about the disease, Druan’s virus. Tristol was angry when I confronted Druan about it.”

“Too bad Tristol didn’t kill Druan for us. I’d have paid to see that fight.” Sorcha lifted her glass to blood-red lips.

“There’ve been rumors about the horror those four have wrought in the past, but they haven’t been spotted this century,” Sean said. “We’d hoped some of them had died.”

“I’m afraid we have more to worry about than ancient demons,” Faelan said. “Druan’s castle is an exact duplicate of this one.”

The room fell silent again, then everyone began to whisper.

Sean’s voice rose out of the din. “You’ve seen it?”

“We both have,” Faelan said, motioning to Bree. “In fact, we have a map of the inside. The only differences are some of the secret passages.”

“Could Druan have seen this place?” Brodie asked.

“Not likely, or he would’ve tried to destroy it,” Faelan said.

“Maybe there was a traitor,” Sorcha said, holding Faelan’s gaze.

“Even more puzzling, the castle is cloaked by some sort of spell.”

Tomas frowned. “Cloaked?”

“It’s invisible. That must be how he’s stayed hidden. I searched the area before. There was no sign of his lair.”

“What do you mean it’s invisible?” Bree asked. “The castle was right there.”

“You saw it, lass?” Sean asked, shocked.

“Of course. You didn’t?” she asked Faelan.

He shook his head. “All I saw was a field and trees. I found where you’d hidden your car, and I walked across the road, right into a tree.”

“But how—”

Further speculation was interrupted as Coira announced another group of warriors arriving. For hours the festivities continued, everyone smiling and hugging, bombarding Faelan with questions, comparing the current world with the one he’d known, whispering about ancient demons, invisible castles, and the American Civil War until he ached for quiet.

“Would you mind if I spoke to Bree?” he asked, interrupting her conversation with Sean.

“What do you want?” She was still upset.

“I want to apologize for not telling you about the other time vault and the cloaking spell. I didn’t want to—”

She held her hand up, her face darkening. “Don’t say it.”

“Sorry. This is a different world from the one I knew. In my time we took care of women, tried to make things easier for them. I don’t know what to do with you,” he said, studying her face. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Her expression softened, though her body still looked stiff as a corset. “I know you mean well, but I’m not a child. Don’t treat me like one. I don’t need another father.”

Like a child? That was nowhere near how he wanted to treat her. After he made sure Brodie had grown bored with his wine tricks, Faelan slipped away from the noise and commotion. Alone, he wandered through the house reliving memories far older than they felt. The library still smelled like a warm fire on a cool night. He could close his eyes and see his family gathered around the hearth listening to one of his father’s wild tales of his warrior days, while Tavis and Ian poked at each other when no one was looking. The furniture had changed, and the kitchen had modern appliances like in Bree’s house, but even bigger, to feed all the warriors coming through. The solid oak table was still there, with Ian’s initials carved under the edge.

Several bedrooms had been converted into fancy bathrooms like Bree’s. His mother would’ve loved it. His father too, who’d love to sing in the tub, his voice booming so loud they could hear him outside. In Faelan’s time, most of the bedrooms had tubs for bathing, but the water had to be carried by hand. One room had a basin and a water closet of sorts, but most of the time they used the privy out back.

He paused when he reached the bedroom he’d shared with his brothers, running a hand over the gouge in the wooden door. Tavis had thrown a knife at Ian for teasing him about Marna, the blacksmith’s daughter, who always gave Tavis extra sweeties. When their father saw the gouge, Faelan claimed he’d used the door for target practice, but his father wasn’t fooled, and all three of them had gotten their hides tanned.

Faelan opened the door, wondering if any of his things had survived. His mom had kept the room unchanged, even after he and his brothers moved out. It was painted yellow now. The curtains and quilt were different, but his old iron bed was the same. He opened the closet. None of his belongings were here. Slipping off his boots, he lay on the bed that was too small. He pulled the smooth stone from his pocket, rubbing his thumb over it as the distant sounds of laughter faded and exhaustion brought sleep.

The wind whipped his hair against his face as Faelan galloped ahead of the storm. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Tavis on the hill closing in, but Ian hadn’t caught up. Faelan nudged Nandor to go faster. The lucky stone would be his. A tree branch smacked his chest, wiping the triumph from his face. He righted himself as Tavis sped ahead with a victory cry.

“The stone’s mine,” Tavis shouted over the wind.

Faelan jumped to the ground outside the stables, leading Nandor inside, while Tavis held the door.

“Where’s Ian?” Faelan asked, looking into the storm.

“I thought he’d catch up by the burn.” Tavis put his horse in the stall as Faelan watched from the open door for a sign of their brother. Two more crashes sounded. Faelan swung onto Nandor’s back. “You’re not going back out there,” Tavis said, glancing at the sky.

The next flash brought an image of a tiny casket being lowered into the ground. “I have to.”

“You’re daft. It’s lightning like the devil out there. We’ll get Father. Ian probably saw the storm coming and went to the cabin.”

“I can’t leave him out there. He’s my responsibility. I’m the oldest.”

“It’s not your fault, Faelan,” Tavis said, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about Ian. “You tried to save him. I’m the one who didn’t get there in time. I’m getting Father—”

“No,” Faelan shouted. “I’ll take care of it.” He rode out the open door into the storm, leaving Tavis frowning after him.

Nandor’s hoofs splattered mud as they raced across the back field. Faelan wished he’d never suggested this game. He wasn’t a kid anymore. In two years, he would start training. He should’ve known better, read the weather beforehand. Faelan rounded the corner of the orchard and stopped.