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Bree turned to her husband, who looked like he’d seen a ghost. He was gripping her arm so hard it hurt. The man in the crypt let out a wild cry and rushed at the warriors. Bree was the only one close enough to hear Faelan’s shocked whisper.

“Tavis. How can you be here?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TAVIS WOKE TO darkness. The time vault. He was trapped. He clawed at the lid, and then remembered he wasn’t inside the time vault, but a burial vault. Anna! She was gone. He shoved the lid with his hands and feet, and it fell onto the floor with a crash.

He heard a man’s muffled voice outside. Voltar? He must have found them and taken Anna. Tavis bounded out of the burial vault with a roar. The sunlight was so bright he couldn’t see, but he could hear the voices. Voltar and his demons. Without waiting until his vision had adjusted, he rushed toward the sounds. He heard someone closing in on him, and he fought blind, using his hearing and his sense of smell in place of sight. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him fast. The cold blades of several swords pressed against his neck and chest.

“Stop!” someone shouted. The bodies surrounding him vanished, and someone knelt beside him and grabbed his face. “Tavis. How can it be?”

He knew the voice and the smell. He leaned back and saw a man with dark hair and a familiar face. A guttural cry rolled from his own throat as he looked on his brother’s face. “Faelan.”

He raised his eyes. A crowd surrounded him, including four men who’d been holding him back, but he paid them no mind, focusing instead on the face he’d feared he would never see again. Faelan. Looking just the same as the last time he’d seen him, over one hundred fifty years ago. “Brother, you’re alive.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

“But how? Who…?”

“Ian. We had to make sure you were…safe.”

“Daft fool. I should have known you wouldn’t stay behind.” Faelan gripped Tavis’s head and grabbed him in a hug. “It’s my brother,” Faelan said to the men who had stepped aside. He turned to the stunned crowd. “It’s Tavis.”

“The one we’re getting ready to bury?” a red-haired woman asked.

“He’s alive. Tavis is alive.” Faelan let out a whoop, picked Tavis up, and then dropped him on his feet.

“Then who’s in the coffin?” someone asked.

“Quinn,” Tavis muttered.

“The Keeper?” Faelan asked.

“You were right. He does look like you.” A woman stepped next to Faelan. Her eyes were wide and green as emeralds. Her clothing and hair looked different, but the rest was the same.

“Isabel?” How could she be here? In this time?

“I’m Bree, Isabel’s great-great-granddaughter. He knew Isabel,” she said, looking at Faelan. She turned back to Tavis, her eyes filled with tears. “How did you get here?” She gave a soft gasp. “The time vault in the chapel. It’s yours.”

“Aye,” Tavis said.

“But Ma and Da, Ian and Alana…” Faelan shook his head. “You gave up your whole life.”

“There was no other way. We heard about Druan’s virus. We killed his sorcerer, but we knew it would only slow him down.”

“Druan’s dead,” Faelan said.

“Faelan destroyed him and his virus,” said a man standing beside Faelan. He was tall, with dark eyes that were nearly as intense as Faelan’s. Handsome in the way that made women swoon.

“We knew he would try to make another,” Tavis said.

“He didn’t just make it, he released the bloody thing,” a red-haired man said. “But Faelan’s talisman ate it up like snakes swallowing mice.”

“How did you get out of the vault?” a pale-haired woman asked. She had the same green eyes as Isabel’s great-great-granddaughter.

“We’ve all got a thousand questions, but he needs to come inside,” Isabel’s great-great-granddaughter said. “He looks like he might faint.”

“I don’t faint,” he muttered as they helped him inside, where everyone stared at him like something on display in a museum. Faelan sat next to Tavis, his gaze so intent that if they’d been in the right century, Tavis would have knocked him off the chair for invading his space. The green-eyed woman who looked like Isabel made introductions.

“As I said, I’m Bree, your brother’s wife. You can see he’s a bit overwhelmed.”

Faelan had found a wife? Here? Tavis guessed he’d had no choice but settle for someone besides his destined mate, if you believed things like that.

Faelan’s wife—Bree—introduced everyone there: Ronan, the handsome one; Niall, who looked like a blond ox; Cody, an intense-looking man; and Shay, the pale-haired woman with green eyes. Brodie and Sorcha were the ones with red hair. “And this is Duncan. He’s a descendant of Ian’s. Doesn’t he look like Faelan? And you?” Bree asked.

Remarkably so.

The red-haired woman stood near Duncan. “He looks more like Tavis than the pictures I’ve seen of Ian,” she said, peering intently at Tavis’s face.

“He should see a doctor,” someone else said. “He looks like he’s gonna pass out.” He couldn’t see who spoke. He was focused on keeping the room from tilting.

“Where’s Tomas?”

“I think he’s at the castle. I’ll call Sean.”

“Don’t worry,” Bree said. “Faelan went through this when he woke from his time vault. Sleeping and then eating everything in the house. You’ll feel better after a couple days of rest.”

He started to tell them that he had been out of the time vault for many days, but he suddenly felt too weak to explain. He had to save his words for what was important. “I can’t stay. I have to find Anna.”

“Anna?” Faelan asked. “How do you know Anna?”

The faces blurred into one large blob of flesh. “She hid me in the crypt.”

“Hid you from who?” someone asked.

“Voltar and Tristol.”

His consciousness gave way to a ring of curses.

* * *

“How did he run into Anna?”

“I guess we won’t know until he wakes.”

“I know you want to talk to him, but he needs sleep. Remember how you were.”

“Voltar and Tristol. We’re up the creek.”

The voices woke him, but he didn’t know who was speaking.

“He’s waking up.”

He opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed, surrounded by people all still staring at him. “Bloody hell,” he said, trying to sit.

“Lie down,” Faelan said. He sat next to the bed, and Isabel—Bree—stood beside him. Ronan stood at the foot of the bed. Two of him. Tavis shook his head.

“How are you feeling?” Bree asked.

“I’m seeing double.”

Bree leaned closer, examining him. “Concussion, probably. He’s obviously been beaten. How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked.

“Three,” Tavis said.

“Now?” She held up one.

“One.” Tavis looked back at the foot of the bed. “But there’s two of him.”

Bree looked around. “That’s Ronan and Declan. Twins.”

“Good. I’m not barmy.” His chest was bare. Someone had undressed him and bandaged his wounds.

Declan was introduced, as well as Shane, a long-haired, slender man standing quietly in the back of the room. Tavis vaguely remembered meeting the others.

“He needs food before we start grilling him, poor man,” Bree said, touching his hand. He felt a tingle run up his arm, reminding him of the shocks he’d gotten from the guard and his bloody toys.

“Shay’s bringing it,” Ronan said. “Cody’s bringing water and bandages.”

The pale-haired woman appeared at the door carrying a tray. Ronan took it from her and carried it to the bed.

Tavis sat up. “I’m not an invalid.” He didn’t need all this fussing over. He needed to get out of here and find Anna. “We need to look for Anna.”