“Yeah.” Ronan stared at Bree’s belly and then looked away.

“You could have one of your own,” Bree said softly. He must want children, at least subconsciously. He touched her belly every chance he got.

“No thanks. Yours will do just fine. I’ll have my hands full keeping your ancient husband in line.”

Bree looked at her watch and stood. “I’m going to find him. He probably took a walk in the woods.”

Ronan stood next to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “No you don’t. I’m under orders to keep you here.”

“I’m worried about him.”

“He probably needs to settle his head, you know. This is hard for him, thinking Tavis died at sea, now finding out he died here. And in his mind he lost him just a few days ago. Finding the grave has brought back all the guilt. God knows he’s got enough guilt anyway.”

“Huh,” Bree said. “You’re one to talk about guilt. You still believe you’re responsible for Cam’s death.”

“That’s different.” A muscle ticked, just in front of Ronan’s ear. “I know I got my brother killed.”

Ronan’s phone rang before Bree could lecture him on his guilt over Cam. He pulled it out, answered, and Bree watched his face harden.

“What is it?” she asked, clutching his arm.

Ronan hung up. “The blond vampire escaped. What could go wrong next?”

* * *

Faelan finally arrived, and the warriors gathered under a cloudy sky to pay their final respects to Tavis Connor. His brother’s final resting place would be the burial vault where Bree had found Faelan. The warriors stood somberly in front of the crypt, waiting as Faelan and Sean spoke to the minister. It wouldn’t be a long service, so they hadn’t even put out chairs. He’d grieved for his brother once, and now he had to do it again.

“I still think he should have done the DNA test,” Shay said to Bree.

“Faelan doesn’t want to wait. He’s certain it has to be Tavis. It’s his dagger,” Bree said. “The man is wearing a kilt. The coffin is the right time period.”

“Sucks for Faelan,” Cody said next to Shay, idly playing with her engagement ring. “Like losing his brother twice.”

“Wait,” Shay said. “Isn’t that the minister you said had a nervous breakdown?”

Bree sighed. “Yes, but he was the only one available on short notice.”

Sean and Faelan joined them, and Faelan stood beside Bree. He reached for her hand as the minister took his place in front of the group. The wood coffin rested in the shadows behind him. Faelan had insisted on burying Tavis in his original coffin, though it was rotted in places. Faelan said his brother wouldn’t have wanted to be buried in a fancy box.

“We gather here today on a sad occasion,” the minister began. “But one that isn’t without hope.”

Bree held Faelan’s hand tight as the minister continued. A minute later, something thumped in the crypt. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Faelan said, looking at the crypt.

The minister looked at the coffin. He turned back to the crowd, cleared his throat, and spoke again. “This isn’t the end, but the beginning. Death is not final.”

There was another loud thump, and the minister jumped. Bree wasn’t sure, but she thought he cursed. He swiped a hand over his thinning hair and glanced behind him into the crypt. He sped through the rest of the funeral, periodically looking back at the coffin. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

“Don’t mention dust,” Brodie muttered. “Bloody vampires.”

A crash sounded inside, followed by a roar. The minister screamed and knocked over the makeshift podium as he raced across the graveyard. The warriors moved toward the crypt with one motion, drawing their swords.

“What was that?” Niall asked.

“It’s coming out of a crypt,” Brodie said. “It can’t be good. I hope it’s not that blond vampire.”

“He’s in the dungeon in Scotland,” Shay said.

“Not anymore,” Bree said. “Ronan said he escaped.”

“You watch the front, I’ll take the back,” Shay said. She and Bree were the only ones able to track the vampires’ quick movements, where the others just saw streaks of light. And they could fight the vampires better than the warriors could, as if something was programmed inside them to battle the creatures.

A shadow darkened the door, and a figure stumbled out. He had long, dark hair and wore a kilt and a blood-soaked shirt. There were shouts of alarm as warriors hurried toward the man.

Bree turned to her husband, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. He was gripping her arm so hard it hurt. The man in the crypt let out a wild cry and rushed at the warriors. Bree was the only one close enough to hear Faelan’s shocked whisper.

“Tavis. How can you be here?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TAVIS WOKE TO darkness. The time vault. He was trapped. He clawed at the lid, and then remembered he wasn’t inside the time vault, but a burial vault. Anna! She was gone. He shoved the lid with his hands and feet, and it fell onto the floor with a crash.

He heard a man’s muffled voice outside. Voltar? He must have found them and taken Anna. Tavis bounded out of the burial vault with a roar. The sunlight was so bright he couldn’t see, but he could hear the voices. Voltar and his demons. Without waiting until his vision had adjusted, he rushed toward the sounds. He heard someone closing in on him, and he fought blind, using his hearing and his sense of smell in place of sight. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him fast. The cold blades of several swords pressed against his neck and chest.

“Stop!” someone shouted. The bodies surrounding him vanished, and someone knelt beside him and grabbed his face. “Tavis. How can it be?”

He knew the voice and the smell. He leaned back and saw a man with dark hair and a familiar face. A guttural cry rolled from his own throat as he looked on his brother’s face. “Faelan.”

He raised his eyes. A crowd surrounded him, including four men who’d been holding him back, but he paid them no mind, focusing instead on the face he’d feared he would never see again. Faelan. Looking just the same as the last time he’d seen him, over one hundred fifty years ago. “Brother, you’re alive.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

“But how? Who…?”

“Ian. We had to make sure you were…safe.”

“Daft fool. I should have known you wouldn’t stay behind.” Faelan gripped Tavis’s head and grabbed him in a hug. “It’s my brother,” Faelan said to the men who had stepped aside. He turned to the stunned crowd. “It’s Tavis.”

“The one we’re getting ready to bury?” a red-haired woman asked.

“He’s alive. Tavis is alive.” Faelan let out a whoop, picked Tavis up, and then dropped him on his feet.

“Then who’s in the coffin?” someone asked.

“Quinn,” Tavis muttered.

“The Keeper?” Faelan asked.

“You were right. He does look like you.” A woman stepped next to Faelan. Her eyes were wide and green as emeralds. Her clothing and hair looked different, but the rest was the same.

“Isabel?” How could she be here? In this time?

“I’m Bree, Isabel’s great-great-granddaughter. He knew Isabel,” she said, looking at Faelan. She turned back to Tavis, her eyes filled with tears. “How did you get here?” She gave a soft gasp. “The time vault in the chapel. It’s yours.”

“Aye,” Tavis said.

“But Ma and Da, Ian and Alana…” Faelan shook his head. “You gave up your whole life.”

“There was no other way. We heard about Druan’s virus. We killed his sorcerer, but we knew it would only slow him down.”

“Druan’s dead,” Faelan said.

“Faelan destroyed him and his virus,” said a man standing beside Faelan. He was tall, with dark eyes that were nearly as intense as Faelan’s. Handsome in the way that made women swoon.

“We knew he would try to make another,” Tavis said.

“He didn’t just make it, he released the bloody thing,” a red-haired man said. “But Faelan’s talisman ate it up like snakes swallowing mice.”

“How did you get out of the vault?” a pale-haired woman asked. She had the same green eyes as Isabel’s great-great-granddaughter.

“We’ve all got a thousand questions, but he needs to come inside,” Isabel’s great-great-granddaughter said. “He looks like he might faint.”

“I don’t faint,” he muttered as they helped him inside, where everyone stared at him like something on display in a museum. Faelan sat next to Tavis, his gaze so intent that if they’d been in the right century, Tavis would have knocked him off the chair for invading his space. The green-eyed woman who looked like Isabel made introductions.

“As I said, I’m Bree, your brother’s wife. You can see he’s a bit overwhelmed.”

Faelan had found a wife? Here? Tavis guessed he’d had no choice but settle for someone besides his destined mate, if you believed things like that.

Faelan’s wife—Bree—introduced everyone there: Ronan, the handsome one; Niall, who looked like a blond ox; Cody, an intense-looking man; and Shay, the pale-haired woman with green eyes. Brodie and Sorcha were the ones with red hair. “And this is Duncan. He’s a descendant of Ian’s. Doesn’t he look like Faelan? And you?” Bree asked.

Remarkably so.

The red-haired woman stood near Duncan. “He looks more like Tavis than the pictures I’ve seen of Ian,” she said, peering intently at Tavis’s face.

“He should see a doctor,” someone else said. “He looks like he’s gonna pass out.” He couldn’t see who spoke. He was focused on keeping the room from tilting.

“Where’s Tomas?”

“I think he’s at the castle. I’ll call Sean.”