“What are you doing?” he said, advancing on her.

She backed away. “I’m… my… the…” A kind of serenity enveloped her, in the middle of her guest room, facing the most frightening, most naked man she’d ever seen, a man who should be dead, who might have murdered someone behind her house, and who could even be a demon. She stiffened her shoulders, straightened her spine, and gave him her meanest glare. She was sick of it. Sick of the lies, the secrecy, the pretense. On both sides. If he was a demon, she’d rather fight him now.

“You know darned well I’m looking for the Book of Battles, and I hope to God you have it, because otherwise, it’s disappeared.”

“I have it,” he said, after a long, hard stare.

Bree put her hands on her hips. “Why did you steal it?”

“Steal it?” His face went from menacing to incredulous. “Steal it? Ye daft woman.” The brogue was thicker now and loud enough to wake the dead. “You’re the one who stole it!”

“Me? My grandmother had this book when I was a child.” Had he lost his mind, along with his pajamas? She waved her hand at his groin. “If you can’t keep that thing down, put on some clothes.”

He grabbed his jeans from the floor and jammed muscular legs into them, then jerked a shirt over his head. “Tell. Me. Now,” he said, forming each word loud and harsh, “how you have my clan’s Book of Battles and what you did with the missing pages.”

“I told you, it belonged to my grandma, and I didn’t take the pages. I found it that way.”

“The book belongs to the Connor clan.”

“Well, I guess they lost it. Like you’ve lost your amnesia.”

Faelan’s jaw clenched, his fists clenched, she bet even his butt clenched. She was sure if she wasn’t a woman, he would’ve hit her. And she sure as heck would’ve hit him back.

“It wasn’t lost. It was stolen.” His lips thinned and his eyes blazed. “And now it ends up in your house. While you’re at it, explain who this is.” He jerked open the drawer next to his bed with enough force to turn it into toothpicks and thrust a sticky picture in her face.

“What did you do to my picture?”

“So you admit it’s you?”

“It’s not me, you arrogant dolt. It’s Isabel. My great-great-grandmother.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, glowering at her.

“I’ve fed you, clothed you, given you a bed, and you’re pretending you can’t remember who you are or where you came from, while I’m agonizing over whether I’ve rescued a warrior or a demon.” She balled her fists, digging the cross into her palm, and she wished she could punch him in the face. “I was starting to think you were a warrior, but now I’m not so sure.”

“How do you know about warriors?” he asked, his voice accusing.

“Grandma told me the story when I was a girl. I thought it was just make-believe.”

“Your grandmother?” He looked puzzled, but some of the anger left his face.

“I didn’t even remember the story until after I found you, then I discovered the book in the attic while you slept.” Bree didn’t mention the bizarre dream and her grandmother telling her to find the book, to help him, or how she’d smelled her grandmother’s lavender perfume when she woke. “The book’s amazing, and that last page, did you notice it’s in another language or some kind of code? I could make out only a word or two, but I’d give my entire Civil War collection to know what it says,” she said, forgetting for the moment how disgusted she was with him. “There are even dates of battles from the future.”

He stared at her like she’d channeled Satan. “You read the book?”

“Not all of it… yet.”

He scrubbed his hands over his faintly bearded chin. “This must be a test.”

“A test? What are you talking about?”

“None of this makes sense. How you found me. How your grandmother got my clan’s book, a book so sacred no one but the Keeper is allowed to read it.”

“You have a Keeper. Wait… you mean you haven’t read the book? Are you kidding?” He didn’t look like he was kidding. “I have no idea how Grandma got it. I saw her with it once. I thought it was her journal. That’s what I was searching for when I found Isabel’s. All the women in our family kept journals.” On her father’s side anyway.

Faelan looked from the picture to her and frowned. “I have to find out how she got it.”

“Does it matter? It’s safe now.”

“It matters. The book is life and death to our clan. ”

That explained why he was so uptight. “You can have it if you’ll drop the amnesia crap and tell me who you are and how you got inside the time vault.”

Faelan opened his mouth to speak, and the window behind him shattered. Before she could scream, Faelan had his arms around her and dove, flinging both of them onto the bed. His body covered hers, her head tucked safely against his chest, from accuser to protector in a second. He looked at the window, drew in a harsh breath, and lurched to his feet, pulling her with him. Bree heard an ungodly growl and glimpsed something tall and gray with yellow eyes as more pieces of the glass broke.

“Get to the attic. Now!” Faelan pushed her into the hall. “Lock the door and stay away from the windows.”

“Come with me,” she pleaded, gripping his arm.

His face looked like a relic carved from stone. He glanced back at the thing trying to get inside. “I can’t. Now go!”

***

The minute Bree was out of the room, Faelan leapt toward the window, but the creature had already withdrawn. He reached for his dirk. Damnation. She still had it. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fought empty handed. He climbed out the window and took off after the monster, but the thing was gone. The familiar hum flowed through his body, anticipating a battle, but this fear was new. He looked back at the broken glass. He couldn’t go after the creature and protect Bree. What if there were others? If he was outnumbered or needed to use his talisman and wasn’t strong enough to stop them all, eventually they’d get inside.

He’d lost his touch. He’d meant to rest his eyes, not fall asleep. He should have forced her to leave, angry or not, or at least warned her what might be hiding in her backyard.

After he killed this monster, he’d tell her as much as he could. Soften it up, try not to scare her. She might be braver than most women, but they were all gentle at heart. Finding him alive in a graveyard was nothing compared to the horror waiting out there. Only one kind of creature walked on two legs and had eyes like a snake.

***

Bree locked the attic door behind her and watched from the window as Faelan vanished like a phantom between the graves. Shadows lengthened and danced until she couldn’t tell if they were men or ghosts or trees. What was that thing? Why was it trying to get inside the house?

Unclenching her hand, she slipped the tarnished cross over her head. The smell of lavender hung in the air. Grandma had dried the flowers here to make sachets. Bree let the scent calm her, focus her thoughts. Faelan’s instinct to protect told her he couldn’t have killed the man in the woods. He’d shielded her. Again. She’d never seen anyone move as fast as he had to get her clear of the breaking glass, and now he was out there defending her while she had his dagger hidden in a boot in her closet. Forget this.

She unlocked the door and hurried down the stairs to her bedroom before she lost her nerve. She dug Faelan’s dagger out of the boot, shoved her foot inside, and headed out the back door. There was no sound, not even the lonely hoot of the owl that had kept her company for several nights. Part of her wanted to run back inside and hide, but she couldn’t let Faelan face this thing unarmed. She grabbed the broom she’d left on the porch and moved toward the graveyard.

Quieting her demons and better judgment, she tucked the dagger in her boot and put her hand to the metal gate, rough with weather and age. It creaked open as she stepped inside. She crept between the graves, expecting a monster to pop out from behind a headstone.

“Faelan?” she called softly as she neared the crypt. “Where are you?”

She heard a noise from the other side of the graveyard, and she saw something drop to the ground near the fence. She turned and ran past the gnarled oak tree to the back of the crypt. The ground disappeared. Throwing her arms up to protect her head, she landed hard, face down in the dirt. When she could breathe again, she crawled to her knees. She’d fallen into the open grave. Her ankle ached, but nothing was broken.

Another cry came from the chapel, like the one this morning. Faelan? Using the broom for leverage, Bree climbed out of the grave. A figure glided across the yard. Not Faelan. She started to jump back into the grave and hide, but Faelan could be hurt. Why hadn’t she listened to him when he wanted to leave? Too late now. She hobbled from the graveyard, not stopping until she stood inside the door of the ruins.

The darkness was thick, broken only by a shaft of moonlight through an arched window. She found the nearest corner and hid until her vision adjusted enough to make out shapes. A pillar—or was it a man? Something moved near the front of the old church. There was a shuffling noise, and another shadow darted off to her side. How many people were here?

“Faelan?” she whispered, creeping behind the pillar.

A hand clamped tight over her mouth, as an arm pulled her against a hard body. Her broom dropped. She kicked back with one foot—the sore one—and heard a grunt echo her own.

“It’s me.” Faelan’s voice was little more than a warm breath against her ear. Her body sagged into his. “Keep quiet. We’re not alone.”

“Who’s in here?” she whispered. Except for the campers, they’d never had trespassers. Now people were sneaking around everywhere, and she was afraid they weren’t people.

“Stay here, and don’t make a sound,” was his only answer.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’ll be back.” He squeezed her arm, and something brushed the top of her head. A spider? A kiss? She didn’t see him again until he passed in front of the window. A broad shape leapt at him, and Bree stifled a cry. His dagger! She still had it. Silhouetted in the moonlight, the two forms lunged and dodged, moving impossibly fast. She smelled the thing behind her before she heard the hiss. Her spine chilled, like cubes of ice had replaced bone. She slowly turned. Sharp teeth flashed as yellow eyes glittered in the dark.



Chapter 11


It stood as tall as a man, but even in the darkness she could see it wasn’t human. Bree backed away until her shoulders dug into the worn pillar. Lips drew back over pointed teeth as it stretched a claw toward her face. Trembling, she scooted sideways, moving out of its reach. The creature hissed and tilted its head, its snake eyes tracking her. If she didn’t run now, she would be dead.

Drawing on memories from childhood, she turned and ran. Her ankle throbbed. She could hear the creature coming behind her. Could it see her? Smell her? If she screamed, Faelan would be distracted, which could get him killed. The remnants of a fallen pew caught her foot, sending her headlong into a wall. Her fingers scraped the rough surface as she pulled herself upright.

She looked back and saw the hulking shadow still coming, its movements awkward, as if bones weren’t connected in the right places. She had to hide. A memory came from nowhere. The small alcove near the front of the chapel where she’d played hide and seek with her cousins. Hurrying toward the niche, she slipped inside, pressing her body against the wall. The darkness closed around her like a blanket, and she saw in her mind a little girl huddled under the covers. Bree could feel the girl’s terror, feel the softness of the stuffed animal that hid her face, blocking the monster with thick, gray skin, sharp nails and teeth, watching by her bed.

The shuffling sounded closer. Bree peeked out. It was almost here. She crouched lower and felt the wall behind her give. A rain of stones hit her. When the creature was so close she could touch it, she lunged past its legs. It swiped at her, claws biting into her shoulder. Her skin burned like she’d been hit with a branding iron.

“Faelan!” She rushed toward the window where she’d last seen him fighting. She heard an inhuman scream, and then Faelan was there, gripping her arms.

“I told you to stay over there.”

“I couldn’t—”

The thing hissed, and Faelan stepped in front of her. “How did that get in here?”

The ugly one looked from Faelan to Bree as seven others slunk in behind it. The two on the outside appeared normal, from the outline of their bodies, but those in the middle had shapes that were all wrong. Long arms, deformed heads. They pulled out swords, and Faelan tensed beside her.