“I called to see if you’d heard about the guy who was murdered.”

Jared frowned. “Murdered?”

“Out in the woods. They don’t know who he is or who did it.” If it was one of those things in the chapel, they’d need more than good luck and a gun.

“I just got back. I hadn’t heard. I go away for a few days, and all hell breaks loose. You shouldn’t stay here.”

“It’s okay. I keep the doors locked, and I’ve got my grandpa’s old gun.”

“If there’s a killer out there, it’s not safe for a woman to be here alone.”

Another overprotective male—it was like a disease. “I’ll be fine. Peter has the cops driving by every few hours. It was probably a wild animal anyway. How was your trip?”

“Not good. Some locals are raising a stink.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re digging up graves.”

“My backers are threatening to pull the funding. If I don’t find something soon, this project’s over. Have you thought any more about my proposal?”

He wanted to expand the dig closer to the house. She’d planned to tell him yes. That was before she’d found Faelan. “I haven’t decided. I’ll have an answer for you soon, I promise.”

“Thanks for considering it. You need anything before I go?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Maybe I should stay—”

“I’m fine. Really. You have your dig to worry about.”

His calloused palm touched her cheek as he brushed her forehead with a kiss. “Keep your doors locked. That’s an order. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Guilt set in the minute he left. Jared was her closest friend. She’d told him things she hadn’t told another living soul. He’d listened without judging, comforted her when she was sad, and restored her faith in humanity. The male side.

How could he forgive her when he found out she’d hidden the biggest secret of all?

She turned and found Faelan watching her, holding a pillow over his groin.

***

“Who was that?”

“Jared.”

“The archeologist? What’s he doing here?” And how did he know she had trouble sleeping? “Is he your lover?” Faelan was certain he’d heard a kiss.

“Jared? No, he’s just a friend. We have a lot in common. We both love old things.”

Her eyes glowed with a warmth that made him want to pound the archeologist into one of the holes he’d dug. I’m old, he wanted to shout. “He proposed marriage to you?” Would he still want her if he knew she’d had Faelan’s body in places only a husband should be?

“No. He proposed moving the dig. I’m not looking for marriage.”

Weren’t all women looking for a husband? It was the goal mothers drilled into a lassie’s head from the time she could talk. Of course, for him, relationships with women could be only a dalliance, and highly frowned upon, at that.

His mate had been decided before he was even born.

“Jared’s just looking for friendship.”

No man could know Bree and not want more than friendship. “He insulted you. Doesn’t sound like much of a friend?”

“He didn’t insult me, and he is a friend. My best friend. He was there to pick up the pieces after Russell almost destroyed me.” She scowled. “I have to go out for a while. I won’t be long.”

“You can’t leave. Not alone.”

“I’m going out to meet a friend.”

“Him? The archeologist?”

“Does it matter?” Bree glared at him. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Of course it mattered. He’d just made love to her. He had a right to know where she was rushing off to. “I’m trying to protect you. A man’s been murdered, and there’s an eight-hundred-year-old demon who’s spent centuries perfecting ways to destroy humans like you. If that’s not reason enough for a bodyguard, there were twelve half-demons in the chapel last night. One of them tried to capture you.”

“I counted ten.”

“I killed two before you got there. I’m trying to keep you alive, but you’re making it bloody hard.”

Bree sighed. “I’m going to see Janie. If her boyfriend can trace the tag number on that vehicle from last night, we’ll know where to start looking for Druan. And I think he knows some people who might be able to get you a passport and fake driver’s license.”

“It’s not safe to go alone.”

“You can’t go with me. If Janie sees you in person, you can forget protecting clan secrets. You think I ask questions. I’ll be back in a few hours. You can raid the fridge and flip through the TV channels to your heart’s desire. Your sex likes that.”

“My sex?” Faelan readjusted the pillow.

Bree picked up a camera and pointed it at him. “I need a photo in case he can get you an ID,” she said stiffly, and clicked a button. She rushed from the room, leaving him wondering who he wanted to kill first, Druan or Jared. Faelan had held her, made love to her, and here she was, defending another man. She obviously regretted last night. He heard the shower turn on and wondered if she was trying to wash him off her skin. He showered in the hall bathroom, and when he came out, she was gone. A note on the kitchen counter said she’d be back in a few hours. What kind of society allowed women to go rushing off into danger without a thought for their safety?

Enlightened? Advanced? Hell, they were insane.

He stormed through the house looking for his kilt. She must have thrown it away. His body thrummed with tension. He needed exercise. He needed to ride Nandor, and he needed his sword. Except for the battle in the chapel and chopping wood, he’d been still for too long, hiding inside like a lass. Some fresh air and sunshine might clear his head. Maybe he’d run into a demon. A fight would relieve some of his frustration.

He pulled on his boots and heard a car turn onto the driveway. Bree must have forgotten something. He’d talk some sense into her if he had to tie her to a chair. He hurried outside and moved around toward the driveway, when he noticed this car sounded different. It didn’t rumble. A strange vehicle rolled up to the house, and Faelan dove behind an apple tree, slamming his arm into the ground. He felt fresh blood soak the bandage and trickle down his arm. A man got out. Her friend, Peter. He went to the door, knocked, and when no one answered, he wrote something on a piece of paper, stuck it on her door, and left.

Faelan read the paper. “Call me. Having trouble tracing your friend’s name. Urgent.” It wasn’t enough that demons were hunting him, now the authorities were after him, too. He went inside, still dripping blood, and fixed his bandage. The cut would’ve been nearly healed if he hadn’t used so much energy with the talisman while he still hadn’t regained full strength from the time vault. He crossed the backyard and started running along the old trail. In Scotland, he’d raced against Nandor to keep ready for battle. The last time Faelan had seen the stallion, Nandor had followed along the fence, neighing softly, as if he’d known Faelan was never coming back.

Everything Faelan knew was dead, even his horse.

God wasn’t dead. Michael wasn’t dead. Did Michael even know he was awake?

There was no going back. He couldn’t change what was done. He started running again, slowly at first, then picking up speed, until his thoughts were banished and all that touched him was the wind. He could feel Nandor running beside him, could hear the whinny of excitement as the stallion surged ahead. For miles he ran, feeling nothing but the life pumping through his veins, his feet pounding the earth, the talisman slapping his chest as Nandor urged him on.

***

Bree ran her finger across the drop of blood on Faelan’s bedroom floor, stark fear erasing her earlier worries of pregnancy and disease. Druan’s demons must have come back for Faelan. She shouldn’t have left. He was still weak from using his talisman. The car must belong to one of his minions. They’d probably taken Faelan there. She grabbed the DMV report and hurried to the computer, working for once. She printed the directions from MapQuest, snatched her tote bag, and raced out of the house to rescue Faelan yet again.

Foot to the floor, she flew past familiar streets, onto a small road she didn’t know existed, and another so isolated she doubted God knew it was there. She’d have been less surprised to see Disney World than the stone castle outlined against the sky. At either end, towers stretched toward the heavens, dark and forbidding. Thick forests surrounded the castle, blocking out the fading sun. This wasn’t the home of a minion. This was a demon’s lair, and it felt familiar.

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.