One line was scratched out, and when Tavis looked closer he saw that it read.


It is a strange thing to think that when you read this I will be dead. All my love to you both. I will see you again on the other side. Ian

Tavis stared at the letter until the numbness in his chest turned to cold. It seemed only yesterday that he had given in to Marna’s persistent attention, and a kiss led to a fondle that led to something more. But a child? They had been careful.

“Tavis.”

He looked up and saw Faelan watching him.

“Are you all right? You look like a sick sheep.”

“I feel like a sick sheep.” Tavis rubbed his hands through his hair. “I have a son. Had. He’s dead. My son, a son I didn’t even know, is dead.”

Faelan gave his knee a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry. But do you realize that some of the warriors walking around here may be descended from you?” Faelan looked thoughtful. “Let’s see. Ronan, Declan, Cam, and Duncan are descendants of Ian’s oldest son. Your son. Some of our finest warriors came from you.”

It was a fascinating thing, and surely it would mean more later, but right now all he could think was that he had a son who’d lived and died without Tavis even knowing it.

“Do you want to keep this quiet?”

Tavis shook his head. “He’d missed his son’s entire life. Acknowledging him now was all he had. “No. I don’t want to hide it.” Tavis swallowed. “You saw his grave?”

“I did. He lived a long life.”

“All the while I was sleeping in that damned time vault.”

“I am sorry, Tavis. I wish you hadn’t come. It’s a joy to have you here, but if you’d stayed…you could have known him. Raised him.”

“I couldn’t stay.”

Faelan’s mouth thinned. “You always watched out for me. Come with me. I think we could both use a drink.”

“You hardly ever drink,” Tavis said.

“I think this is the time.” He led Tavis to a room that resembled a tavern.

“You have a tavern?”

“It’s just a game room with a bar. We sometimes play billiards or a game of darts. But on a rare occasion a whisky or ale hits the spot.”

“Like when you’ve just discovered that your brother from another century isn’t dead?”

“That would about do it.” Faelan reached over the counter and pulled out a bottle of whisky. He poured a small measure into two glasses. They raised their glasses and took a drink.

“I know you’re sad now, but things will get better. It’s a hard thing to lose everyone in one blow. I still miss them, but it’s not as hard as it was.”

Tavis took another drink, feeling the burn in his throat. He didn’t drink often himself. “You’ve found happiness here.”

“I have. I wouldn’t go back even if I could. I miss them, but I belong here. And I’m bloody glad you’re here now.”

He picked up a knife and threw it at the wall. It hit just outside the bull’s-eye. “Remember that year we beat Wallace MacIntosh?”

“Aye. Stopped his bragging. Until the next year. What’s this?” Tavis asked, pointing to a table with rows of figures attached to bars.

“Foosball. And that’s air hockey. Want to have a go with the knives?”

“You won’t cheat?”

“Me?”

“As I recall, I won the last challenge. A horse race. But you kept the white stone.”

Faelan threw another knife. “I would’ve won if that branch hadn’t hit me in the face.”

Tavis took another drink. “But it did.” They threw knives, losing track of the score as the conversation turned to home and family and duty.

Faelan took another drink. “You want to talk about guilt,” he said as they discussed the atrocities their demons had been responsible for while the warriors slept. “I could’ve perhaps stopped the Civil War. Do you know how many people died?”

“Couldn’t have been more than I’m responsible for. At least the Civil War was about an honest fight. A disagreement between brothers. Not just one evil bastard’s attempt to control the world.”

“Sometimes I feel as if I were there in the war,” Faelan said. “I have dreams that feel more like memories, but they can’t be. I can almost smell the gunpowder. And the faces, Bree showed me a book on the war, and some of the soldiers look familiar. General Grant. I would swear I’ve met him.”

“General Grant? I know that name.”

“You can’t know that name. You were in the time vault and you haven’t seen the books.”

“That’s bloody strange. It’s happening to me too. Dreams of things I couldn’t possibly have done. Battles I never fought.” Tavis held up his glass. “And I hadn’t had any of this. What do you make of it? Just me wishing I hadn’t failed?”

“I passed it off as just dreams, but if it’s happened to you…” Faelan was frowning at his drink. “And it’s not just battles. I think I saw Bree when she was a lass. Perhaps I’m just recalling stories she’s told me, but some of them I don’t think she mentioned. And her grandmother. I think I talked to her before she died.”

“You think we were really sleeping in there?” Tavis asked.

“Damnation. It makes me wonder.” He took another drink. “Let’s talk about something else.” The talk moved to the advances of modern times. “You can’t go back,” Faelan said. “So you’ll have to learn to live with all this. With the bloody computers and machines and women. God, the women. You’ve never seen the like. And when you find your mate, you’ll burn for her like nothing you can imagine. Even now, I can’t stay away from Bree. It’s killing me now, not being with her.”

“You are with her.”

“I mean in bed. She’s had a lot of stress. I decided she needed to take some time off from sex. And now it’s all I can think about.” Faelan threw a knife that missed the board altogether. “I hope Coira doesn’t see that hole in the wall. I think I should have stopped after the second glass. I’m not a drinker.”

“Aye, I hear you. The room’s looking a little blurred to me.”

“Here you are.” Ronan and Lachlan entered the room. “We wondered where you’d gotten to,” Ronan said.

“We’re having a little competition and conversation,” Faelan said.

Lachlan picked up the bottle of whisky. “And a few drinks, I’d say.”

“I’ve heard how good Tavis was…is,” Ronan said. “Want to put it to the test?”

Faelan had told them about him. Tavis’s chest warmed. Or maybe it was the whisky. “Aye, I’ll take you on.”

“I’ll take on the winner,” Niall said, joining them, followed by Brodie, Shane, and Marcas.

“I’m second,” Brodie said. “I can beat this big ape of a man anytime.” He punched Niall, and Niall punched him back, sending him crashing into Marcas. “Easy there, Kong. I barely touched you.”

And the game was on. They threw knives for a long while, and Tavis felt warmer and warmer inside. It was partly the whisky, but he also felt like he was home.

“So this is where the party is,” Sean said, peeking in the door. “I thought we’d been invaded.”

“Sean, join us,” Niall said, holding up a knife.

“Ah, my knife-throwing days are over. I’d best get myself to bed. And don’t you chaps get too carried away. I think you’ve had a wee too much already.”

“One round with the knives,” Ronan said. “You need to forget about these demons for a while as much as we do.”

“One round it is, then.” Sean played three, beating them all. But then he hadn’t had any whisky.

“I think he cheated,” Lachlan said after Sean had left.

“Sean doesn’t cheat,” Brodie said. “I’ll cheat, but not Sean. Where’s Shane?”

“He crashed on the pool table,” Niall said.

“He doesn’t drink much either,” Faelan said to Tavis.

“I think I’d better get some rest myself,” Tavis said. “Where do I sleep?”

“I can show you where Anna’s room is,” Brodie said, chuckling.

Niall thumped him on the head.

“Why’d you do that?” Brodie complained.

Niall thumped him again. “I like thumping you on the head.”

“Don’t let me deprive you of your enjoyment at the expense of my brain.”

“We all need to turn in,” Marcas said. “It’s late.”

“Come on,” Faelan said to Tavis. “Bree and Shay got a room ready for you. I’ll show you where it is.” Faelan led Tavis upstairs to the second floor.

“This castle is just like home. Except the rugs are different and the stuff on the wall.”

Faelan put an arm around Tavis’s shoulder. “We’ll go back and visit after we get rid of Voltar and Tristol.”

Tavis patted Faelan’s hand. “Is this brotherly love, or are you feeling as unsteady as I am?”

“Some of both,” Faelan said with a laugh. “Here you go.” He opened a door, and he and Tavis stepped inside. Bree and Shay were standing near the bed.

“It’s plain as the nose on your face that Tavis and Anna—oh, Tavis, Faelan, we didn’t hear you,” Bree said, darting a quick glance at Shay.

“Obviously,” Faelan said. “What are you doing up? You should be resting.”

“I’m sick of resting,” Bree said. “Is this room OK?”

Tavis looked around. It was large, with a comfortable bed and the usual furnishings. “Aye, it’ll do fine. Thank you,” he said to Bree and Shay.

They both gave him a smile, and he thought again how lucky Faelan and Cody were. Tavis’s luck with bonny lasses had been poor. Almost deadly, in fact. But these two seemed to be as beautiful and kind as angels, in spite of the strange clothing and their boldness.

“Are you drunk?” Bree asked.

Faelan held up two fingers, measuring a pinch. “Just a wee bit.”

“We wondered where you’d disappeared to,” Shay said. “We were just coming to find you.”

“Was Cody looking for us?” Faelan asked.