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 his 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.

His arm throbbed as he dropped over the iron fence. He sniffed. No demons close by, and no dogs, he hoped. It wasn’t likely. Demons hated animals. An animal could sense a demonic presence long before a human could. Faelan headed toward the north side of the castle, keeping to the shadows. A man with long, raven hair appeared near a narrow door. Faelan jumped behind a tree, his hand on his dirk. The man’s movements were graceful, almost elegant, but powerful. He was too far away to scent for demon blood, but he wasn’t someone Faelan wanted to meet until his strength returned.

Faelan glanced over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t been spotted. When he turned around again, the man had disappeared.

***

Tristol perched on a branch high in the tree and watched as the warrior dropped and ran the few remaining feet to the castle. He tried the side door, and when it wouldn’t open, he stepped back, surveying the second-story balcony far above his head. He tested a thick vine, seemed satisfied, and began to climb. Muscles bulged as the warrior inched his way up the wall. He’d just reached the top when his dagger caught on the vine. He tugged it free, and the vine started to pull away. Leaping, the warrior grasped the edge of the balcony, dangled for a moment, then threw his legs over and stood.

Impressive.

He peered over the side and quickly turned away.

Tristol smirked. So the Mighty Faelan didn’t like heights, but he had strength and power. If it matched his reputation, he might be worth more than a way to eliminate Druan. He would have to bide his time and wait. Not only the fate of the living depended on the outcome of this fight.

***

Faelan leaned against the cold stone and touched his burning arm. He hated heights.

A chill worked up his spine. He glanced over his shoulder, then tested the small door to his left. It was locked. Next to it was a small, dark window. This would be a bedroom in his clan’s castle. He pushed against the glass, and it moved enough to get his head and injured arm through. He pushed hard, and his right shoulder scraped through, followed by his hips and legs. The room was dark. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, using the faint light to get his bearings. He was dismayed that the room looked just as he’d expected.

He opened the door and peered into the dimly lit hallway. The sight was disturbing. The second floor was a replica of Connor Castle. A staircase stood at the end of the wide hallway, like the one he and his brothers had played on. He heard voices approaching and ducked back inside the room, leaving the door cracked so he could hear.