Other than her twin, all her family members who’d died were here. Samuel, Isabel, Frederick, her father, grandmother, and Aunt Layla. They would be nothing but bones now and a few scraps of cloth, but Faelan, who’d been buried with them before she was born, was bursting with life, eating all her food, and lusting after her with every glance. He’d been here all her life, every summer she visited. When she was a toddler chasing butterflies. Sixteen and heartbroken because her first love thought she was weird. And a few months ago, when she ran to her grandmother’s to escape Russell.

Would Faelan leave when he found his family? Bree’s chest felt tight, like her bra was too small. But wasn’t that her plan, to find out who he was and get him back where he belonged?

She set Orenda’s stone against the crypt door. “I’ll put it back again, I promise.” Bree followed Faelan’s muddy tracks to the burial vault. She picked up the shovel, placed the square tip against the stone covering, and pushed. Wood cracked as stone scraped against stone, exactly how she’d imagined it sounded when the angels opened Jesus’s tomb. Finally the time vault stood uncovered for the second time in more than a century and a half.

***

Faelan passed the archeologist’s holes, continuing until he came to a withered pine. He touched the deformed trunk and remembered standing a few yards away when lightning struck. This was the field where Druan had ridden up, the trees where Faelan had hidden the time vault. They were taller now, some bare, some gone.

The earth had aged, but not him.

He didn’t know what happened to Druan’s disease. Maybe the other demons played some part in it. And his brothers, what of them? He’d dreamed of Tavis last night. Faelan looked at the sky, tracking the waning sun. He needed to get back. Demons preferred the dead of night, still he wanted Bree safely away before then. Until he knew otherwise, he had to assume she was innocent, but getting her to leave would be a fight. Tomorrow he’d check the place where the body had been found and secure the crypt. If anyone discovered the time vault’s secret, human or demon, the clan was doomed. He turned and retraced his steps back to the house. When he neared the graveyard, his stomach dropped. The crypt door stood open.



Chapter 7


In the light of day, the time vault was as breathtaking as when she’d first seen it. Wood inlay adorned metal etched with symbols as far as she could see, like a sarcophagus. A polished gemstone was set in each corner. Green jasper. Was that what she’d glimpsed inside? She was dying to inspect the interior, but opening it would be too dangerous. A streak of dried mud smeared the front edge, and she imagined Faelan being dragged there unconscious. Or worse, awake. Who had stood over him, turning the disk, stealing his family, his life?

Bree raised the camera, and a shadow rose from the floor, obscuring the vault. A low growl came from behind her. She turned. A figure loomed in the door of the crypt, blocking the light. The darkness lengthened and grew as it came closer. She opened her mouth to scream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Faelan! You scared the stuffing out of me.” She glanced guiltily at the time vault, then at Faelan’s face, and almost wet her pants.

His eyes were obsidian slits. “What are you doing here?”

The low rumble of his voice made the hair on her neck stand. She backed against the burial vault, clutching the camera to her chest to keep her heart in place. “I lost an earring last night.”

“Why is the time vault uncovered?”

“I thought while I was here, I would get a couple of pic—” She yelped as he ripped the camera away.

“Why?” The word dripped with venom.

“Why? Because it’s incredible, that’s why.”

His hands clamped around the camera with so much force she thought he’d crush it. “No photographs.” He tugged the heavy cover of the burial vault into place with one hand, grabbed Bree’s arm, and pulled her outside, eyes scanning the graveyard and woods.

“Wait,” she said, wrenching free. “I promised Orenda I’d put this back.” She picked up the piece of headstone, cradling it in both hands.

Faelan’s expression was hostile and wary, as if he expected her to bash him in the head. If she could lift the headstone high enough, she would. She left him standing there and started toward Orenda’s grave.

Faelan caught up, planting himself in front of Bree. He opened his mouth to speak, looked past her, and his jaw dropped. He walked to the back of the crypt.

Bree turned. From this angle, she could see a pile of dirt behind the crypt. She followed him, still lugging Orenda’s stone. Outrage rumbled through her as she stared at the gaping hole. Was this what he’d been doing out here? “What did you do? This is my favorite grave.”

“I didn’t do it—” his head snapped up. “We have to go. Now.”

“Orenda’s headstone—”

Faelan snatched it up as if it were a marble and dropped it on the ground. “Put it back later.” He pushed her past Layla’s and her dad’s graves and out the gate.

“Wait. We can’t leave the grave uncovered.”

“I’ll come back.”

Had he seen something? She expected gunshots or screams as he dragged her into the house. As soon as they were inside, she wheeled around to blast him for being so rude, and the phone rang. Frustrated and angry, she answered without thinking.

The voice caught her off guard. She gripped the table to steady herself, leveling her voice to hide her dread. “What do you want, Russell?”

“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

She wrapped her hand around her shoulder to stop the shaking. “I have nothing to say to you.” He’d stolen her money, her dignity, and peace of mind. What more could he want? Her blood? “I’ve asked you not to call.”

“I miss you, Bree. Don’t do this to us—”

He sounded sincere, like the old Russell from college, and for two seconds she remembered how charming and sweet he’d been. After she moved to Florida, the relationship died a long-distance death. A year and a half ago, she ran into him in an antique shop while visiting her grandmother; the same shop where she’d bought the Highland warrior painting. Bree had reached for an old book, only to find Russell’s hand there too. They’d both laughed, and he bought the book for her. She couldn’t remember which one now, she had so many. They went to lunch and a friendship renewed, blooming into a relationship, followed by an engagement. But little by little, he’d changed, turning into something dark and ugly. When she finally escaped him, it took her months to feel like herself again.

“There is no us, not anymore.”

“Just meet me, please. I have something to tell you.” His voice grew raspy, like it did when he was desperate. “Something important.”

“It’s all been said before.”

There was a pause on the other end that chilled her blood. “This hasn’t.”

“Leave me alone, Russell.” Bree hung up and threw the phone on the table, swiping at tears threatening to spill over her cheeks, angry she’d let him get to her again. Someone moved behind her. Faelan. She’d forgotten he was here. He stood a few feet away, watching her, his eyes stormy.

Men. Sometimes she wished she were a nun.

Letting Russell make her cry was bad enough, without witnesses. She couldn’t deal with Faelan’s lies right now.

***

He didn’t know who Russell was, but Faelan wanted to crush the man’s skull for making Bree afraid. Yet he’d acted no better in the crypt. “Are you okay?” he asked, following her out the front door, onto the porch.

She jumped and turned away, but not before he saw her damp cheeks. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so,” he said softly, moving close behind her. He put his hand out, wanting to touch her, to take away the tears, but he doubted she trusted him any more than the bastard who’d put them there.

Her knuckles tightened on the railing and her shoulders began to shake. This was a new side of her, a dangerous one. It made him want to dismiss the suspicion and fear still coiled around his mind like a poisonous snake.

“Who’s Russell?” He moved closer, daring to put a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched. “An old boyfriend.”

“Wasn’t he a good one?”

“What?”

“You said you couldn’t find a good one.” The problem wasn’t lack of male interest. They’d all but leered at her in town. If she belonged to him, he would have put his fist upside a couple of heads. He’d wanted to anyway.

“No, he wasn’t good. He was slime. Most men are.” She turned, leveling him with a condemning glare.

Faelan pulled his hand away. He didn’t deserve to touch her after acting as he had. “I apologize if I was too rough out there. I might have overreacted.”

“Might have?” she said, her damp eyes shooting sparks. “You’re acting like Russell, trying to scare me, dragging me out of the crypt. My crypt. I was just trying to take a picture.”

“Why?” She was too smart to still believe it was a treasure chest. Did she have more devious reasons?

“Someday I’ll want to show my children.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not? If you can’t remember anything, why are you protecting the time vault?”

He couldn’t answer without giving away more secrets. He’d already made a dire mistake by calling it a time vault. “It’s just a feeling.” She should understand that. Women always acted on their feelings. “Who’s buried in that grave?” he asked, hoping to distract her. “There was no name.”

“I tried to find out, but kept running into dead ends. I don’t think it was ever marked. The stone’s too uniform. No indentions or discolorations. I can’t imagine why someone would dig it up.”

“Maybe the archeologist got bored.”

“He wouldn’t do that. He’s out of town, anyway.”

“Could be the killer was going to bury his victim there. Who’d think to look for a body in a grave?” Even demons had to hide their carnage. Secrecy was as important to them as the warriors they fought. “Or someone else is looking for McGowan’s treasure. Who knew about the map?”

“Anyone in the family could have found it. Cousin Reggie was always nosey.”

The trait must run in the family. “Did he ever mention it?”

“No. He didn’t visit Grandma much after he grew up.” Her forehead did that pretty puckered thing it did when she was thinking. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was playing a prank.”

“Nasty prank. Who’d want to frighten you?”

She let out a string of curses that scorched Faelan’s ears. “That jackass. I bet he’s trying to scare me away so I’ll run back to him. He’s probably been watching the house, waiting for me to find the grave. That’s why he called.”

“Russell?” Something had been watching, but Faelan doubted it was human. “How far would he go to scare you?”

“I don’t know if he’d kill someone, but if he heard about the dead man, I could see him trying to freak me out. I should tell Peter—”

“No.” Faelan’s voice was sharp. “Not yet. Please.”

Bree studied him so intently he feared she was rethinking her decision to let him stay. He wouldn’t blame her. He’d frightened her, nearly beheaded her, was eating all her food, and he’d almost ravished her. She knew he was hiding the truth. If he didn’t do something to make up for his actions, he’d end up sleeping under a tree. “You said you lost an earring. I’d like to help you find it.”

“Thanks.” She sniffed, arms stiff across her body. “It was my great-great-grandmother’s.” She rubbed her ear, and he noticed the tiny hole.

At least it was in her ear. He’d held the door for a lass in town with enough metal in her face to make a small sword, and she was covered head to toe in black, right down to her fingernails and lips. Better than some he’d seen wearing what Bree called shorts that barely covered their arses.

She still looked uncertain, so he tried a different approach, one that would appeal to her curiosity. “I’ve remembered something,” he said. He despised having to depend on someone and didn’t like having to lie, but until he found his clan, he needed Bree’s help.

Her eyes flashed, and she pulled in a quick breath. “You have?”

“A name. Connor. I think it might be a surname.” He hoped it was enough to lure her inside to her research machine and off this porch. He wanted to believe the shadow he’d seen in the woods out back a few minutes ago was one of her lost campers. Or even a vicious murderer who’d tried to dispose of a body in an old grave. But he wouldn’t wager they were so lucky. He desperately needed to find his clan. He’d see if her modern machine could do that.