Since Angus had been followed, the Watchers decided it best to move some of the warriors from Scotland to make another home base. No one knew why Druan’s castle looked so much like their own, or how it had been cloaked, but once they installed a security system, the place would be hard to penetrate, and by then every demon who’d helped Druan and knew the castle’s location would be dead. Druan guarded his secrets well, as his sorcerer had said, even from the Dark One.

Faelan drove Bree’s car to the house and sat in the driveway, dreading to go inside. Some of the other warriors had searched the place to make sure she wasn’t there. Faelan hadn’t had the courage to come back and face his guilt and pain. He sat there until it was too dark to see, trying not to suffocate at the thought that he might have to wake every morning without her, trudging through minutes and hours until the oblivion of sleep brought relief.

Why God had chosen to dangle her in front of his nose, the only woman he’d ever loved, and then yank her away, he couldn’t fathom. There must be a reason. Michael might know. But as powerful as Michael was, he was still a servant, and some things God kept to himself.

Opening the door, he dragged himself from the car and forced one foot in front of the other until he stood in her bedroom. He wanted to collapse, but he was covered with sweat and dust. Her things were still scattered everywhere. He picked up clothes and draped them over a chair, closed drawers, and righted the photographs that had hidden his father’s pocket watch. The last frame, one he hadn’t noticed before, showed a gray-haired woman—he recognized Bree’s grandmother from other photographs in the house—smiling at a dark-haired lassie who looked like a fairy from one of his mother’s stories, with her green eyes and mischievous grin. The same lassie Faelan had seen huddled under the covers in his dream, the one Michael had sent him to protect. Everyone else had believed in her, but he, the one person who should’ve known better, who should’ve trusted her, had betrayed her. He trailed his fingers over her face. Where are you?

He stood under her shower, letting the water beat down on his head and run over his back, washing away the grime, leaving only guilt. He remembered her battling Grog with a broom, trying to get her hands on the swords, baking him a pie. Touching him in the tub. How shocked he’d been, how he’d thought he would die from wanting her.

Now he just wanted to see her, feel her breathe. He’d known her less than a fortnight, but she was bound to his soul. He turned off the water and stepped out. Wrapped in a towel, he walked back to her bedroom. A book lay on the floor by her bed. It was leather-bound, like the journal Duncan had found, but thicker. Isabel’s journal? He picked it up and ran his hands over the rose engraved on the cover. He’d seen this book before, more than a hundred and fifty years ago. He remembered it falling at his feet outside the tavern. On the inside a name was written, Isabel Belville. Proof it was Isabel he’d met, not Bree.

Near the front of the journal was a genealogy chart. Above Samuel Wood, Isabel’s father, was another name. Nigel Ellwood. Faelan leaned closer and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Nigel Ellwood. It couldn’t be. He was the missing Watcher who’d vanished before Faelan was born. The clan believed the Watcher had died. He’d obviously lived long enough to have a son, Samuel. Bree’s great-great-great-grandfather.

Bree was part of his clan.

That’s why Faelan bore the mate mark, why he had memories of Bree before he’d met her, even before she was born. It wasn’t the time vault messing with his mind. God hadn’t dangled her in front of him and taken her away. The whole thing had been planned. She was his mate. And he’d thrown her back in God’s face.

Faelan grabbed the phone and dialed. “Sean, it’s Faelan—”

“Faelan, my boy. I’ve been worried. I was ready to come over there myself. Have you found her?”

“No. We’re still searching.” For Bree, the Book of Battles, the time vault key. Vampires.

He’d told the clan about the key and the missing book, but they’d had no luck finding them so far. The Council was meeting even now. He was grateful they were still trying to find Bree, with so many troubles weighing on the clan.

“They’ll find her. They won’t stop till they do. The whole clan owes her a debt for freeing you.”

“Aye,” he said, feeling the weight of guilt again. She risked her life for him, and he’d forsaken her, sent her from Scotland thinking he didn’t care for her. Straight into Druan’s trap.

“I hope you can forgive an old man for keeping secrets, but your mission was too important to get sidetracked by vengeance. Your father wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“I understand,” Faelan said, not sure if he spoke the truth. “That’s not why I called. Remember Nigel Ellwood?”

“The Watcher who vanished?”

“He had a son. Samuel.”

“How do you know—”

“Bree is Nigel’s descendent.”

“Our Bree?”

“I found a genealogy chart with Nigel’s name. Samuel changed his surname to Wood.”

“Och, this puts things in a different light, it does. I’ve seen how you look at her. I’d wondered…”

“She’s my mate. I knew as soon as I saw her, but I thought it was the time vault messing with my head. How could it be? We’re from different centuries.”

“God made time. I reckon he can manipulate it if He wants.”

“But I failed my assignment. If I’d let those warriors stay with me, if we’d succeeded with Druan the first time, I wouldn’t be here. I never would have met Bree. So how could—”

“Maybe this worked out the way it should. Could be it was meant for you to stop Druan in this time and not before. And could be there’s something more for you to do. You said Michael warned you about the book. Why warn you and no one else?”

“He said something about a necessary sacrifice.” His family? His father and brothers who’d died helping him, his mother, Alana? Or was Bree the sacrificial lamb?

“I don’t know why Michael doesn’t tell us everything. I suppose it’s part of the journey. I think we’ll know the answers when we’re meant to know them. Stop beating yourself up over that war. It wasn’t your fault. You were probably never meant to stop it, no matter how many warriors you had with you. Same goes for Druan. I know you blame yourself for not suspecting he was the archeologist, but anyone would have thought Russell was the demon after how he treated her. It was just bad luck that he resembled Druan’s human shell.”

Faelan rubbed at the knot of tension in his neck. Still, he should have insisted on meeting Jared. The demon had stood on Bree’s front porch while Faelan hid in the family room, not fifty feet away.

“Don’t give up, lad. We’ll find her yet.”

But they’d searched for four days. Did she have food and water? Was she injured? After he hung up, Faelan walked back to the bed. He picked up the earring in the marble cup, the mate to the one she’d lost in the crypt. She’d been so busy helping him that she hadn’t taken the time to search for it. In the morning he would find it, as he’d told her he would. It might be the last thing he would ever do for her.

Faelan touched the earring to his lips and dropped onto the bed. He lay back, resting his head on Bree’s pillow, and hugged her coat to his chest, wondering if she was cold now that the nights had turned cooler. Her scent surrounded him as her voice brushed his ear, pleading for him to hurry.

“I don’t know how to find you,” he whispered, staring at the ceiling until exhaustion overtook him.

***

Michael the Archangel stood before Faelan. Not the plump, androgynous thing with wings that graced masterpieces of art. This was the warrior angel. More than seven feet tall, glowing, clad in white and gold. Fierce, but beautiful, his presence so blinding he could come only in visions and dreams.

Each time Michael came with an order, Faelan was more humbled, more aware of how much help he and his clan needed to win these battles. It couldn’t be done with swords and talismans alone, the same way human responsibilities weren’t meant to be carried alone.

This time the archangel didn’t bring orders but stood watching Faelan as he slept. Was he asleep or awake? Faelan didn’t know. There was concern and kindness in Michael’s face and an urging for him to do something, but Faelan was tired; he wanted to sleep, to forget.

“Faelan, wake. What you seek is near.”

The pull of evil was strong, urging him to shut out the vision.

“Faelan, now.” Michael clapped his hands once, and a noise like thunder pierced the dream.

Faelan sat up, surrounded by the strange glow. The archangel had been here. What you seek is near. What did it mean? Faelan had been sent to destroy the virus and eliminate Druan. Both were finished. Did Michael mean the book or the key?

Rubbing his hands over his face, he stood. The light of dawn was easing through the blinds. The earring lay on the table beside the bed. Bree thought she’d lost its mate in the crypt. He needed to go there anyway to send the time vault back. Even without the key, it was too dangerous to leave it here. He pulled on a T-shirt and his kilt and made his way to the kitchen, first cleaning up the mess on the floor, then swiping his finger through the jar of peanut butter. He didn’t remember if he’d eaten yesterday or the day before, and he didn’t care, but his body needed food so he could keep searching. After brushing his teeth, he left the house, his thoughts too dark to be warmed by the sun. He unlocked the crypt, wondering how he’d find something as tiny as an earring, and the words came again. What you seek is near.

Why would the archangel, charged with commanding the armies of Heaven, care about an earring? He must mean the book or the key. Faelan started to search, beginning with the floor. There could be a loose stone, like the floorboard in his bedroom. A sparkle caught the reflection from the sun coming through the door. The earring lay face down in a crack. Faelan picked it up and put it in his sporran, praying he’d see Bree wear it again. He continued searching for the book and key, but there was nothing here but the time vault.

Might as well send it back now. He couldn’t take a chance on someone finding the key and figuring out what the vault was used for. Druan was no longer a threat, but the vampires had Faelan troubled. He’d blocked the steps to the chapel cellar until he could send that time vault back. The key still hadn’t been found. It wasn’t in Angus’s things. Two missing time vault keys. Not something the clan should have to worry about with vampires on the loose, but Faelan didn’t want to pull any of the Seekers away from looking for Bree.

The stone slab covering the vault slid easily. He pulled the talisman from under his shirt and lined up the symbols to return the vault.

No! The thundering command was clear. What you seek is near.

He’d searched for the book and the key. They weren’t here. Faelan stared at the time vault, a terrifying thought piercing his mind. What did he seek above all else? Not a key or a book. Bree, his mate. Could Druan have done something so vile? He’d said Faelan would never find her, not even in two lifetimes. The key was missing. The perfect revenge. Faelan’s body felt numb. He slid his hands across the prison, trying to feel if she was inside.

Hurry. Her voice brushed his mind, and his talisman grew warm against his chest.

She was in there. Druan had locked her in the time vault and it wouldn’t open for a hundred and fifty years, assuming he found the key. Even if he did, he’d be dead by the time she could be released. She would wake as he had, with everything she knew gone, her family and friends dead.

“No!” His roar of anger echoed off the stone. He punched the wall with his fist. Druan had stolen everything else. He would not steal her. Faelan touched the engraved symbols, trying to reach her. He’d take another time vault and get one of the warriors to lock him inside, leaving a note so he and Bree could be awakened at the same time. He didn’t care that it was breaking the rules. He’d face Michael when the time came. Who would do it? Ronan? Faelan’s talisman grew uncomfortably hot.

He remembered the vision of the archangel, the kindness in his eyes, the voice leading him here. Why would Michael bring him to Bree if she couldn’t be rescued? She wasn’t ordinary. She’d saved the world. She’d survived looking at an engaged talisman and destroyed a halfling. The talisman was painful now. He had an idea, but if it didn’t work, he risked killing himself and her, too.