Staying with him was a bad idea, but hanging out with a warrior who had a talisman capable of blasting a demon into nonexistence was preferable to going back to her room with only her imagination for company. She nodded. “I was coming to see you anyway. I figured we could talk.”

“Talk?”

“It might help to talk about your sister. Talking helps. Men don’t usually know that. They have to be prodded into these cleansing conversations.”

“Then prod away. We have much to discuss anyway. Please, sit down.”

His room was similar to hers, but painted a soft blue with a queen-sized four-poster bed, mahogany tallboy, chest of drawers, and an old roll-top desk. Antique pictures covered the walls, but no little dark-haired girls to remind him of the sister he’d lost. The lamp beside the bed cast a warm soothing glow.

Then, she did a stupid thing. She moved past the only chair in the room, a wingback, and sat on the end of the bed with her legs folded under her, in a skirt that didn’t reach her knees when she was standing.

Faelan glanced at the chair before joining her, settling at the top of the bed. He crossed his ankles and leaned against black and cream toile pillows, his bare feet almost touching hers. Bree swallowed and gave him a quick once-over, thighs stretching the fabric of his jeans, the faint trail of hair low on his stomach, hard abs, and finally the tattoos on his chest, dancing under the lamp’s glow. This was a mistake, but it was too late to leave.

“I see Mrs. Edwards gave you a bandage.” Other than opening his old wound, he appeared unscathed.

“Told her I’d bumped into a tree. Not quite a lie,” he said, dragging his gaze from Bree’s legs.

Bree tugged at her skirt, wishing she’d sat in the chair.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” he said, watching her squirm. “Not that I blame you. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

“You didn’t take advantage of me before.” If he apologized again, she’d hit him over the head.

“Maybe I’m trying to convince myself.” He folded his arms against his chest, biceps bulging. “I’ll keep my hands right here,” he said, tucking them under his armpits, eyes twinkling. “We could ask Mrs. Edwards for a brush.”

“A brush?” Had she forgotten to comb her hair? She ran her hands over her head, feeling her damp ponytail.

“If I get out of line, you can hit me with it like you hit Grog.”

“Oh, a broom.” He didn’t use many Scottish words, but when he did, it was utterly charming.

“That’s a sight I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try. I don’t know who was more surprised, Grog or me.” He shook his head. “Having a woman try to rescue me is an experience I don’t relish. And not one I’d care to repeat. You live up to your name, I’ll say that. You are a disturbance.”

“I’m disturbing?”

“You disturb me.” He grinned, and she felt lava pulse through her veins.

They were treading dangerous waters. “These are modern times. You need to be man enough to let a woman do some rescuing too,” she said, which resulted in a dubious scowl. “Do you think Druan knows we were there? Could he smell us?”

“I doubt it. They stink like the devil, but their sense of smell isn’t strong. Couldn’t live with themselves if it were.” His hands dropped to his talisman. “He must be desperate by now. We’ve got to find my clan. Druan’s disease—” Faelan stopped.

“Disease? What disease?”

Faelan blew out a breath and closed his eyes.

“You’re still hiding things.” She started to get up, but he caught her arm. He moved closer and sat with his legs crossed so that their knees almost touched.

“I didn’t see any reason to worry you further. It’s not your fight.”

“Not my fight? I almost married Druan, and you wouldn’t be sitting here if I hadn’t opened the time vault. That makes it my fight. Where do you get this idea you’re Superman?”

“Who’s Superman?”

“He thought he was a one-man show, too.”

“Druan created a disease. I found out the night before I went to suspend him.”

“What kind of disease? Like the flu? The plague?”

“The plague was Druan’s father’s creation. Druan’s disease will make the plague look like a runny nose. It’ll destroy all human life.”

“Cripes. That’s why you were mumbling about war and disease.” It sounded like Druan had created a deadly virus.

“Those halflings I tracked said Druan was ready to release the disease. I couldn’t suspend Druan until I knew what the disease was, how he planned to use it, and there wasn’t time to wait for help, whether I wanted it or not. My only choice was to capture Druan, put him in shackles, and force him to tell me where it was before I suspended him.” Faelan’s jaw tightened. “If I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I might have realized Grog was a demon.”

“Do you think the halflings lied? I mean, humans are still here.”

“No. When I mentioned it, Druan was scared. I don’t think he wanted the other demons to know. Maybe Tristol destroyed it. He looked pissed enough.”

“Who’s Tristol?”

“Another ancient demon. Probably the most powerful. He’s supposed to be the closest to the Dark One.”

“This demon was with Druan?”

“He was, and two more ancient demons. Malek and Voltar.”

“Are they as powerful as Druan?”

“Aye.”

“That’s why you’re worried. I wondered why you’d be bothered over a few demons after what you did to those things in the chapel.”

“Those were halflings. Most of the demons with Druan were full. But the ancient demons, well, you know that FBI’s Most Wanted List you told me about? If our clan had a list, they’d be on it. They’re powerful, fast, and clever. It would be nigh impossible for anyone to get close enough to hurt Druan, even a warrior, unless he was assigned.”

Bree shuddered. She’d held hands with one, touched its face… slept with it.

“What were these ancient demons doing with Druan?”

“I didn’t have time to find out. They must have been helping him with the war.”

“War?”

“That’s why I was sent to America, to stop a war.”

“In 1860? You don’t… you can’t mean the Civil War.”

“That’s the name you’ve given it.”

“You were supposed to stop the Civil War? My Civil War?” The war she’d spent her life studying? Weekends she’d spent metal detecting with her dad. The Civil War collection they’d built. “You mean Russell was responsible for it?”

“He was.”

Talk about coincidences. “This is… beyond bizarre. How could one man stop a war?”

“The warriors who came with me were helping. I had them hunting Druan’s demons and halflings, but destroying him was my responsibility. I’d hoped getting rid of him would collapse his efforts. I didn’t expect the other ancient demons to be helping him.”

“Why a Scottish warrior? Didn’t America have warriors?”

“America was still a bairn, as far as countries go. All the warriors in this country came from Scotland.”

“If Druan is so powerful, why didn’t you keep some of the warriors with you? Was it because you thought your brothers were coming?”

“I didn’t want anyone else with me. It was too dangerous. Only my talisman can destroy Druan or his evil. If another warrior accidentally aimed his talisman at Druan, the warrior would be dead.”

“So these warriors and your brothers risked everything to help you fight Druan?”

“Aye. They trusted me with their lives, and I let them down. I sent the warriors away, which means that when my brothers arrived, they would have faced Druan, and maybe the other demons of old, alone.”

Druan was alive, so that meant his brothers hadn’t succeeded, probably hadn’t survived.

Faelan focused on a spot over her head, a muscle working in his jaw. “I failed at all of it. Druan, his disease, the war.”

Bree touched his hand. “It’s Druan’s fault, not yours. The war started a year after you were suspended. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you had destroyed Druan. The trouble had been brewing for too long. Those other three demons were probably helping him for months, even years. You’re a good man, Faelan. Don’t carry Druan’s blame.”

“I betrayed the clan, the entire human race, when I sent the other warriors away.”

“If they’d stayed, or your brothers had arrived, could you have killed all of the demons?”

“I don’t know.” He looked doubtful.

“You may have saved the warriors’ lives. Druan might have been gone when they arrived. They could’ve lived long, full lives.”

“Perhaps.” He turned his hand over and captured hers, linking their fingers.

“Did anyone else know about the disease?”

“I sent word to the clan and the other warriors in America before I went to meet Druan. I doubt my brothers knew. They were likely already on the way.”

His brothers must have been desperate when they couldn’t find him. “Did they know where to look for you? Where had you planned to meet?”

“They would have brought a Seeker. Seekers can locate a warrior’s talisman. It’s the only way to find a warrior when he’s hunting or lost… or dead. I don’t know if they could find a talisman inside a time vault. They couldn’t have opened it, anyway.”

“What happens when a warrior dies?”

“His talisman is reassigned to another warrior.”

“But your talisman was locked in the vault with you. Cripes! Do the demons know a warrior’s talisman can destroy them?”

“No. None live to warn the others. If they found out, our greatest weapon would be compromised, one of the reasons secrecy is so important.”

“Can I see yours?” she asked. Her body tingled, as if she’d asked to see something far more private.

Faelan held the talisman out so she could take a closer look. She ran her fingers across the metal, brushing his. “How does it work?”