“Everything okay?” Cody followed her gaze.
“Just overwhelmed.”
“I can see that you would be.” Cody took a bite of stew, chewed it slowly, and swallowed. “You’ve probably saved the world, you know. Keep that in mind if things get too bad,” he said, glancing at Faelan again. “I’ve found distractions don’t get rid of the problem, but if you think on your troubles too much, they’ll eat you alive.”
Bree saw Ronan watching her, his expression one of sympathy and concern. Was she a blasted open book? She stood to excuse herself, when a commotion sounded in the hallway.
A man burst through the door. Blood ran from his face, soaking his clothes. He swayed on his feet and looked around the table, staring at each one of them. He stopped at Sorcha. “Traitor.” When he saw Faelan, his eyes widened, the whites garish against his blood-covered face. “You!” he gasped, and then collapsed.
Chapter 25
The silence was deafening, swallowed by mayhem as chairs flew backward and everyone ran toward the fallen man. He lay on his side, with deep gashes running across his face and chest. It was impossible to tell his age because of the wounds.
“Angus… Oh, Angus,” Coira wailed as everyone crowded closer, blocking Bree’s view. “Get him to the infirmary. Where’s Niall? Never mind, Duncan, Faelan carry him. Gently. Sean, call Doctor Gillum.” The injured man was unusually tall, but the warriors lifted him as if he weighed nothing. At Coira’s direction, everyone went into a kind of ordered pandemonium.
Bree didn’t know how to help, so she started cleaning up the trail of blood. When she finished, she followed Coira’s voice to a large infirmary. Coira and Anna hovered over Angus while the others watched in silence. He lay still as death.
Faelan moved next to Bree, watching as blood was cleaned from the warrior’s face. “Coira’s a nurse,” he said, slipping his warm hand into Bree’s. Her fingers closed around his, grateful for the comfort. Immediately Faelan looked down at their linked hands in surprise. “Pardon me.” He pulled free, moving away to where Sorcha motioned by the door. She whispered something in Faelan’s ear, and they slipped from the room.
Bree’s desire to scream fled as her attention came back to the wounded man. The floor slid under her feet, and she grabbed for the nearest solid object. With the blood cleaned from his face, she recognized Angus—Mr. Smith from the bed and breakfast. No wonder she’d sensed danger surrounding him. He was a warrior trying to save the world. She’d sensed he was in trouble, washed her hands of it, and walked away. She pried her fingers from the back of Cody’s shirt, but he hadn’t noticed. His face was drawn with guilt. She wanted to tell him about her vision, but he turned and left.
Angus moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. He stared at Bree, lips moving as he struggled to speak. His bloodied hands clenched the table as he tried to rise. Two warriors stepped forward to help Coira settle him, blocking Bree’s view. Anna leaned closer, putting her ear close to his mouth. When Bree could see him again, Angus’s eyes were closed, and he lay unmoving. Had he recognized her? Why did he look so alarmed?
The worried crowd dispersed as Dr. Gillum arrived. Bree headed for her bedroom wondering if she could have saved Angus and still seething with jealousy, despite the fact that Faelan had chosen her bed last night and not Sorcha’s.
If a warrior’s mate was destined, Bree’s resentment should be toward a woman long dead, a woman who had lost her mate without ever knowing he lived. Who was this woman buried in the cold ground, who’d never even met her mate, who should’ve been the mother of Faelan’s children? Where did that leave him? Or had a mate been chosen from the time he would awake in, like Sorcha?
His family seemed to think so, from the way Bree had seen them whispering over the pair of warriors. She had to face the truth. Her time with Faelan was over. It was probably best. She wasn’t ready for a relationship, much less an intense one, and there would be no other kind with him.
She rounded the corner, stopping short. Faelan stood with his back to her, outside Sorcha’s room. Long, red-tipped fingernails moved up his arm as Sorcha drew him closer to her door. How could a woman kill demons and still look like she’d just gotten a manicure? The door opened, and Faelan put a hand on Sorcha’s back, ushering her inside.
Bree’s heart felt like a wrung-out sponge. She had a sudden longing for home and Jared. Maybe he’d gotten back from his trip. She walked to the phone and punched in the number. “Is Jared there?” she asked, when a man’s shaky voice answered.
“Who’s this?”
“Bree Kirkland. Is this Jared’s uncle?”
There was silence and then a whisper. “You shouldn’t…” A noise sounded in the background, and he spoke louder. “Here he is.”
“Bree.” Jared’s voice slid over her like a warm hug. “Hey. How’s your trip?”
“Great. But I miss home. How’s everything there?”
“Fine,” he said. He didn’t sound fine. He sounded worried. “I met with my backers. They’re on hold for the moment.”
“I’ll be home in a day or so.”
“That soon? I wish you’d stay longer. At least until they catch the killer. Peter’s not eager for you to come back either. Besides, Scotland is nice this time of year.”
“You’ve been here?”
“Years ago. Seems like another lifetime. Are you making progress with the documents?”
“Yes… they’re old family papers.” It wasn’t a complete lie. There was the map Faelan’s brothers made, but she hated not telling Jared the whole truth.
“Sounds interesting. Wish I were there with you. Enjoy the job and the scenery. The house, and me, we’ll be here when you get back.”
Thoughts of Sorcha and Faelan, destined mates, and Angus’s bloodied body made her want to bawl. “I miss you, Jared.”
A noise sounded behind her, and she turned. Faelan stood there, his face tight. He’d changed to jeans. He must’ve given Sorcha a quickie. Bree turned her back to him. “I should go,” she told Jared. “You’re sure everything is okay?” There were so many things that could go wrong. Dead bodies, demons, and halflings.
“It’s all good. I’ll take care of things here, and we’ll talk when you get back.”
“Jared, be careful.” She hung up and turned to blast Faelan, but she was alone.
Bree grabbed her coat and walked outside, following the stone path to the flower garden Coira had shown her earlier. She sat on the bench and tried to let the fragrant scents wash away images of Faelan naked in Sorcha’s bed. Footsteps shuffled behind her.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Sean asked, dropping next to her on the bench.
“I had a lot on my mind.”
“I come here when I’m troubled. Helps me put things to right. Could be the scent of Coira’s roses or maybe the night air. Gets a mite chilly in these parts.”
“That’s for sure.” Bree shivered and pulled her lightweight wool coat closer. “Don’t your legs get cold?” she asked, looking at his kilt.
“A bit. I usually wear trousers. Most warriors wear jeans when they’re not here. The kilt draws too much attention. We have to protect the clan, protect what we do, and we don’t want to announce our presence to the demons. But as soon as the lads come back, they put on the kilt.”
“I’m not complaining,” Bree said, smiling. She sobered. “How’s Angus?”
Sean sighed. “Not good. Blessed idiot drove himself here.”
“How did he get through the front gate?”
“He didn’t. There’s a hidden entrance, a tunnel that leads to the secret passages. Angus left his car there and walked.”
“Why didn’t he call someone?”
“His cell phone’s missing.”
“What do you think he meant about a traitor?”