Awaken the Highland Warrior Read online

Faelan had told her the demon would have a base nearby, but she hadn’t expected a castle or an iron fence like the Great Wall. A dungeon. The castle probably had a dungeon. That’s where they’d keep him. If he was alive. Don’t even think it. He’s alive. He has to be. The problem was getting him out. She couldn’t march up and knock on the door. She should’ve called Peter. What could the police do against demons? What could she do? She didn’t even have a weapon.

  Something moved in front of the massive structure. She slowed the car as two huge vultures took flight, then continued past the heavy gates until she found an opening in the trees where she could hide her car. Across the road, a large tree grew next to the fence bordering the castle, a good place to climb and jump the fence.

  After hiding the car, she whispered a prayer, tossed her sandals over the fence, and hiked up her skirt. She got a firm grip on the lower branch of the tree and started climbing barefoot. At the top of the fence, she slipped a foot between the iron bars and swung over. That scumbag rock climber she’d dated hadn’t been a complete waste after all. She dropped to the other side and bent over, hands on her knees, as she caught her breath. How would she get Faelan back over the wall if he couldn’t walk? First, she’d have to find him.

  The first-floor windows were covered with bars. She’d have to find another way in. She darted from tree to bush until she was a hundred feet from the castle and then ran. Pressing her back flat against the wall, she dried her sweaty palms on her denim skirt and switched her cell phone to vibrate, in case it rang. Russell had wrecked everything else. It’d be just like him to spoil the only covert mission of her entire life. Keeping to the shadows, she slipped around to the back of the castle and found a door unlocked. It opened to a pantry behind a large kitchen. Empty. She peeked out into a corridor wide enough for her Mustang.

  The walls and floors were made of stone, and draperies covered windows taller than a house. Statues stood in the corners, and ancient weaponry decorated every space. A battle-ax and a war club hung next to a lance. Even without examining them, she was certain they were authentic. There were a few pieces that didn’t resemble anything she’d seen, and she was an expert. After Faelan destroyed Druan, she would come back, but now, she had to find the dungeon. There must be stairs somewhere.

  Holding a shoe in each hand, she darted from statue to statue, hiding behind each one until she was sure the way was clear. Footsteps rang on the stone. There was no place to hide. She squatted behind a fat statue of a hellhound and stopped breathing as the footsteps drew near. A tall, well-dressed man with a shocking streak of silver in his auburn hair passed by. Was that Druan?

  The man stopped outside a door, peered up and down the hall, then fiddled with a lock. The door opened, and he darted inside. Why would Druan break into a room in his castle? A crash sounded, followed by a raised voice. Bree hurried inside an arched doorway and almost dropped to her knees. The room was two stories tall with bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. The castle library. She gazed in awe imagining the stories, the history held there. But this was a demon’s castle, and Faelan’s life was in danger. She didn’t have time to look at old books. Bree started to leave, when she felt the air shift and pressure against her back, like a hand. She bumped into a tall table and grabbed it to steady herself, dislodging a book. Castle Druan.

  It couldn’t be. Just like that? She’d always been fascinated with castles, studied them, visited several, gotten lost in a few. Most had a written history, often including a map. If she could find one, she’d get to Faelan far faster than stumbling around looking for stairs. She opened the book to the back. There it was, a meticulous diagram, like an answer to a prayer. Someone was watching out for her.

  She ripped the fragile page from the book and started to leave, when she saw a glass case in the center of the room. A broadsword lay inside on a black velvet cloth. She moved closer, her head spinning, noting the length, the polish of the metal, the ornate hilt, like the one her Highland warrior held in the painting. Here in the demon’s castle. Her stomach rolled as she remembered the old painting that looked like Faelan, the same sword. She’d rescued him from a time vault made for demons. Could Faelan be the demon? Why hadn’t he hurt her? Why kill those halflings? Halflings! She touched her stomach. Oh God. She’d slept with him.

  A door slammed outside, and she heard male voices. She peeked down the hall. Two men stood outside a door, so immersed in conversation they didn’t see her. One was older, shoulders bent, his hair white, and the other tall and muscular, dark blond.

  Russell.

  ***

  Faelan stepped out of the shower, slipping in his haste. He didn’t want Bree to come home and find him in her bathroom. Well, part of him did, but it wouldn’t be wise. He’d stayed out longer than he planned, exploring the area. He’d found the yellow tape in the woods and the blood-stained earth. He’d picked up an odd scent. Sweet. Not animal, not demon. Not that a demon wasn’t responsible. Too much time had passed to tell. A demon’s scent was terrible but faded quickly. The incident left him with an unsettled feeling as he blocked the crypt and covered the grave.

  The run had helped, connected both parts of him, the one that was one hundred and seventy-eight and the one that was twenty-seven. He’d reconciled himself to the fact that his family was gone. He wouldn’t see them again in this lifetime. The only thing he could give them now was a safe world for their descendents. The run hadn’t done a thing to ease his hunger for Bree, but he was beginning to think nothing would. Making love to her had made it worse. He couldn’t allow it to happen again. There weren’t just bairns and disease to worry about. The box he’d slipped into the cart would take care of that, but distraction from his mission could mean the end of humanity.

  He dried off and inspected his arm. Looked better than it had before. He bandaged the wound, lifted his arms, and smeared the stuff on his oxters that kept a man from sweating. It hadn’t stopped this generation from bathing every day. With these fancy showers and Jacuzzis, having hot water at the touch of a hand, he couldn’t blame them. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he lathered his face with something that smelled like flowers and ran a tiny razor over his chin. Even his father couldn’t have cut himself with one of these. A man who’d wielded a sword all his life shouldn’t have had so much trouble removing whiskers.

  Swords! Damnation. He had to get rid of those in the chapel before Bree found them. He’d never seen a woman so interested in weapons. It wasn’t natural. He tucked the towel around his waist and padded across the hall to his bedroom. After dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. His mother would have loved this kitchen. With freezers and ovens and microwaves, she could’ve baked for an army. At times, she did, with help from their grumpy old cook, Nan.

  Faelan drained the bottle, set it on the counter, and headed out to the chapel. Enough daylight remained to see the interior of the chapel was a mess. Crumbling stones, pillars toppled. It was a wonder the roof held. He gathered the fallen swords and one small knife, looking for a place to hide them until they could be cleansed. There was a large pile of debris near the front. Must be the collapsed wall Bree mentioned. Perhaps he could hide the swords behind the stones. He entered a small recess and saw rubble piled in front of a gaping hole. She could’ve been killed. Then he noticed the rough-hewn steps. It was a hidden doorway. Bree hadn’t mentioned a secret cellar. She must not know, or she’d have knocked the wall down long ago. It would suffice. After he piled up the stones, she’d never know there’d been an entrance here.

  Carrying the swords, he carefully descended the worn steps. It was black as Hades down here. The entire thing was underground, no windows. He tuned his vision, trying to make out the shapes. Against the far wall, he saw a coffin. Was this a catacomb? He hid the weapons in the corner and went to examine his find. When he was close enough to make out the details, he saw it wasn’t a coffin at all.

  It was a time vault.

  Ch
apter 15

  Bree’s breath pierced her lungs like icicles. What was Russell doing in the demon’s castle? Was he working with Druan? Why else would he be here? Had the whole relationship been an evil scheme? The chance meeting in the antique store. The reconnection of kindred souls.

  A darker picture formed in her mind, one that made her stomach revolt. Had she been seduced by Druan himself? And how had the sword from her picture gotten into the demon’s castle? Was Faelan involved, too, or had Druan stolen it?

  The men walked away, heads close, their strained whispers carrying to where she hid. She could tell from Russell’s posture that he wasn’t happy. The old man glanced over his shoulder, and Bree jumped back, her fingers digging into the wall. If she gave in to the shock, she’d have dropped to the floor and bawled, but she didn’t have time to cry. She had to move fast.

  The map showed a staircase to the dungeon on the opposite side of the castle. She ran past several doors, stopping when she heard a woman’s voice. Bree cautiously looked inside. It was a sitting area filled with antiques and more medieval weapons. A woman lounged on a low sofa that must have dated back to the eighteenth century. She was slender but full-bodied, her hair jet black, lips red, with fingernails to match. Bree had never seen anyone so beautiful. She was drawn to the woman. Was this a premonition? Did the woman need help? Maybe she was a prisoner here, one of those females demons used for breeding. Bree debated approaching her, when the woman flowed to her feet, sinuously running her hands up her body, through her long, silky hair. The hands that emerged didn’t have red polish. They each had four hoof-like fingers tipped with long claws. A female demon. The woman laughed, her voice seductive, as her forearms began to ripple. Shaken, Bree covered her mouth and backed away.

  She had to find Faelan. Which way to go? Druan on one side, this creature on the other.

  A door closed inside the room. Bree held her breath and hurried past. Using the same hide-and-peek method as before, she located the stairs. Voices echoed off the stone. Someone was coming up. There was no place to hide, so she moved up to the next landing and waited for them to pass. Her skin tingled, as if she were being watched. When it was quiet, she started back down and saw two men still there. Their heads were lowered as they studied a piece of paper. One of them spoke, and they started to climb.

  She didn’t remember moving, but before she could blink, she found herself on the second floor, as if an unseen force had propelled her up the stairs. This floor was decorated in the same theme as the first, dark ages meets darker ages. All the doors were closed, and she had no choice but go higher. Two stairs at a time, still holding her shoes, she silently huffed to the top floor. It was dark here. No sconces hung on the walls. She waited a moment, but the voices still came.

  Using the dim light from her cell phone, she navigated a narrow staircase she found tucked at the end of the hall. She climbed her third set of stairs and came to small door with a lock on the outside. She was in the tower. The darkness was as thick as smoke, and she felt like someone was breathing on her neck. “Faelan?”

  The voices sounded closer. Were they following her? Bree put her shoulder to the door and pushed, but it was stuck. A breeze brushed her cheek, and her hair lifted. The door slid open like it was greased, and she toppled inside. The room reeked of decay, and from the dim light on her phone, she could see a metal cot with blankets in the corner and a table with tubes and vials. “Faelan?” The door closed behind her, hanging on the same spot, leaving a sliver of light in the dark. The voices were near the door now. Something scuttled in the far corner of the room. The sliver of light blacked out, then reappeared.

  “Hey, where did you come—” The voice outside gurgled, a wet, choking sound, then was silent.

  Bree dropped to the floor and hid behind a table, breath coming hard. She pushed a button on the phone, clutching the faint light close for comfort. What was out there? She scooted over, trying to see around the edge, and stubbed her toe. She cradled her foot, trembling. She could call the police, but what could they do? Anyway, she had only one bar of signal, and it kept fading. The sliver of light went black as the door scraped shut, and she heard the clink of a lock. Was this how her life would end, trapped in a demon’s tower after stumbling onto the biggest mystery of her life? Her mother would grieve, speaking fondly of her reckless nature at the funeral, but there’d be no body, because no one would ever find her. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Faelan wouldn’t be rescued, and the world would die with her.

  The air stirred beside her, and she heard a soft footstep. She stopped breathing, easing her phone shut as she shrank lower to the floor. Something was in here with her.

  ***

  Faelan lifted the lid of the time vault and stared at what little of the inside he could see. How long had it been here? Who brought it? Where was the key? He closed the lid, disturbed. Had Michael reassigned Druan? How could he, without Faelan’s talisman? There must be another entrance to the cellar besides the old hidden door. Faelan poked around for clues, but even with his sharpened vision, he needed more light. He hurried up the steps, climbed over the debris, and ran outside. Twilight. They had to get out of here. Where was Bree?

  He checked inside and out. She wasn’t there. A piece of paper lay on the counter. Division of Motor Vehicles. This was the paper she’d gone to get. Had she come home while he was out? According to the paper, the car belonged to a man outside Albany, probably one of Druan’s minions.

  Surely Bree wouldn’t go there alone. He remembered watching in disbelief as she threw his dirk at that halfling, how fiercely she’d attacked Grog, how she’d insisted on going back inside the chapel for the swords. Damnation. That’s just what she’d do.

  His talisman heated, growing uncomfortably warm. She was in danger. He could feel it. Why hadn’t she called him on that fancy phone? Shite. He’d forgotten to take it with him. He punched in her number from the house phone, but it went straight to voice mail. He wasn’t comfortable talking to a machine, so he hung up. He needed a horse. No, he needed one of those yellow cars. He called 411, like she’d showed him, and used his fiercest warrior voice to order a taxi. He found his cell phone in his bedroom, turned off. Bree had tried to call him earlier. By the time he slipped on a shirt and boots and dug through drawers looking for money, a horn honked outside. A dark-skinned man drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “You’re sure this is a taxi?” Faelan asked him. “It isn’t yellow.”

  “Says so right there on the side. See? Taxi.”

  “No. It says, ‘ax.’”

  “The T and the i fell off. You getting in or not?”

  Faelan got in, but he didn’t like it one bit. Before he’d been suspended, he could have walked this area blindfolded. He’d scouted every mountain, every valley and hill hunting Druan. But now there were houses stacked on top of houses and highways that stretched for miles. He gave the man the address from the report and hoped the pile of coins from her junk drawer would cover the cost. It was enough to destroy a man’s sense of pride. How could he save Bree, much less the world, when he couldn’t buy himself a loaf of bread?

  He highlighted Bree’s number and pushed Send again. On the third ring, she answered.

  “Faelan?” she whispered. “Thank God… escaped… dungeon…”

  “You’ve escaped from a dungeon!”

  “No, did… you…”

  “Where are you?”

  “…castle… trapped…”

  “Castle?” His heart thundered in his chest like a racehorse running for the finish line.

  “…blood…”

  “Blood? Are you injured? I can’t understand you.”

  “Piece of crap cell phones,” the taxi driver said.

  “Blood on your floor… kidnapped… rescue.” Bree’s voice faded.

  Blood on his floor? “I hit my arm.”

  “…thought you were… kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped? Me? You mean you went to…” the words stuck in h
is throat. “You went to rescue me?” Faelan squeezed the phone so tight he heard it crack. “Are you bloody mad?”

  “Women,” the driver said, his gaze darting from Faelan to the road.

  “I’ve been fighting demons since 1850—”

  There was a squeal, and the car slammed to a stop. Faelan’s face bounced off the back of the seat and the phone flew out of his hand. He grabbed it and rose, meeting the driver’s round eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t think—” the man started.

  “Drive,” Faelan ordered, rubbing his nose. The driver’s head bobbed nervously and the taxi leapt forward. “But don’t kill us getting there.”

  “Exactly where are you?” Faelan asked Bree.

  “…right tower… Druan’s castle.” Her voice dropped so low, he wouldn’t have heard it if not for his warrior senses. “Hurry. Something’s… here… with me.” The connection went dead.

  ***

  The taxi drove past it twice before Faelan saw the back of Bree’s car hidden in the trees. Where was the castle? Deeper in the woods? He paid the driver, and as the car sped away, Faelan crossed the small road and headed for the field. His skin started to prickle a second before he smacked into something hard. He caught a glimpse of trees, iron, and stone before he stumbled back. Warily, he stretched his hand in front of him. The air parted like a curtain, and a picture unfolded before him. A high stone wall, and behind it, a castle.

  His clan’s castle. Here in America.

  Chapter 16

  What sorcery was this? Faelan took two steps back, and the castle disappeared. Two steps forward, and it appeared again. An invisible cloak. Druan had hidden a castle in the middle of a field, a castle that looked exactly like the Connor Castle in Scotland. The illusion was only from outside the cloak. From inside, he could see the road and the trees where Bree had parked. No time to ponder it. He had to get Bree out before Druan discovered he had a guest. Faelan had seen what the demon did to his enemies.