His head was clearer now, and the grief he’d held off before hit him hard. His family was dead. All of them except Faelan. And he might be dead too. A thousand years could have passed for all he knew. Faelan could’ve been released, destroyed Druan, and died of old age.
He could look inside the Book of Battles and see if Faelan’s name was there. Did the book give dates? It was forbidden for anyone but the Keeper to look inside the book. He’d only touched it because he’d sworn to Quinn that he’d keep it safe. Where was it? He needed to hide the book before Angus got back. He’d given Tavis no reason to believe he was evil, but until he was sure, he couldn’t risk the Book of Battles being discovered. Tavis flung clothes aside but couldn’t find the satchel. Had Angus taken it? Perhaps he was a demon and he only wanted the book.
Tavis put on his kilt, intending to find the privy outside. Angus had told him not to leave this room, but Tavis needed to piss. Perhaps he’d left a chamber pot. Tavis looked under the bed. Nothing there. He checked the other room attached to his bedroom and found an astonishing sight. There was a small white bowl with a water tank on the back. Similar to a contraption he’d seen once in a duke’s house, but this was far fancier. He made use of the bowl, then tried to figure out how to get rid of the piss. There was no way to carry the thing and dump it outside.
He lifted the cover on the lid of the tank and saw some sort of mechanism inside. Replacing it, he noticed a small, silver handle on the front of the tank. He tried to lift it, but it didn’t move. He pushed, and the water in the bowl swirled with a loud gush and disappeared. Well now. That was better than freezing your arse off in a cold privy in the middle of winter.
He explored further and discovered remarkable things. There was a basin and a tub with heated water, and knobs that controlled the spray. What else had humans accomplished in this time? Sent a man to the moon? He gave a sarcastic chuckle which echoed off the walls, making him realize how alone he was. Ian had been right. Tavis had no idea what this place was like.
He might have to ask directions to Frederick Belville’s place. It wouldn’t do to look as if he’d emerged from a grave. He turned all the knobs and got the water running in the fancy tub. The last knob had water shooting out of the wall. He whipped off the kilt and stepped under the spray. Two bottles stood on the side of the tub. Soap, he figured. He opened one, smelled it—pleasant—and then scrubbed his head and body.
After he’d turned the water off, he found a thick cloth hanging beside the tub. This time had certainly made some improvements, but as nice as it was having warm water coming right inside the house, the world was at stake. If they wanted to continue to live and breathe and use their hot water and bottled soap, he’d better find Faelan fast. Someone had to destroy Druan. If Faelan hadn’t survived, then the task would belong to Tavis. If a warrior fell, usually his talisman went to his oldest brother. But there was no time to waste. Druan could have another virus ready by now. And God knew where Voltar was.
His stomach rumbled. He needed food. All he had was a few coins in his sporran. If Angus wasn’t back by the time he was dressed, he’d leave without him. He found some odd containers next to the sink. They weren’t made of glass. “Antiperspirant,” he read, the words strange in his mouth. After reading the writing on the outside, he decided it was to keep a man’s oxters from sweating. Maybe it was a custom in this time. It took him a minute to figure how the stuff worked. He raised an arm and smeared the stuff underneath, then did the same for the other side. It felt a bit like grease, but it smelled nice. The other container said toothpaste. He found a wee brush and cleaned his teeth, pleasantly surprised at the taste.
He heard a sound in the hall. Angus? Tavis dressed quickly and left the room. There were three other doors here, and he found himself drawn to one in particular. When he touched the door, the walls started to spin. He grabbed the door. He was still weak. Perhaps he should wait for Angus. A door opened across the landing. A man stood framed in the doorway. His hair was black as midnight, his face pale, beautiful. Before Tavis could even reach for his dirk, Tristol was next to him, and Tavis was swallowed by a black mist.
Tavis straightened. He remembered most everything except what had happened to the Book of Battles and the satchel. Angus must have taken it. Tavis left the chapel and walked to the graveyard. He passed the crypt and counted off five paces from the corner, and then found the third grave. The gravestone was smooth with age. He dropped down in front of it and ran a trembling hand over the unmarked stone.
“Da.” A lump formed in Tavis’s throat. It seemed just yesterday they’d dug up Faelan’s time vault. His father had pretended to be strong for Tavis’s and Ian’s sakes, but he’d aged overnight. Tavis leaned his head against the stone. “Faelan’s alive, Da. He’s here with me. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time to stop Voltar.”
But Voltar hadn’t been assigned to him yet. If he and Ian had been there, they could have both died along with Da and Quinn. The thought was Tavis’s, but he could almost hear his father speaking the words.
Why was it he was never in time? Not with Liam or Faelan or his father. What bloody good was he if he couldn’t save those he loved? Anna. The name rushed through his head like a wind, and another memory returned. Michael standing before Tavis, telling him that he had to destroy Voltar and protect the woman. Michael had shown him Anna’s face. That was why he felt a connection to her. She was part of his assignment.
He’d not only failed to protect, but he’d hurt her instead. Even knowing that they both would likely have died if he hadn’t, it was still a disgrace that his body had even functioned under the circumstances. What kind of a man did that? Not a protector. “What have I done, Da?”
Faelan dropped down to his haunches next to Tavis. Tavis hadn’t heard him coming. But Faelan had always been the stealthiest of the brothers. Even when they were lads, he could always sneak up on them. He was bare-chested and wore the same strange trousers that the guards had worn.
“This is Da’s grave?” Faelan touched the worn stone, his face somber.
“Aye.”
“He was here all the time. We thought he was buried in Scotland?”
“That’s what we wanted everyone to believe.”
“How did he die?” he asked quietly.
“Ian and I found him in the woods.” Tavis nodded toward the path behind the chapel. “Da was already dead. Quinn didn’t last long. Long enough to tell me Voltar attacked them.”
“Voltar? Druan told me he’d killed him.”
“Probably just to torment you. Damned demons.”
Faelan stared at the blank stone. “If I hadn’t got myself locked in the time vault, he wouldn’t have died.”
“It wasn’t your fault. What we do is dangerous. Sometimes we suffer losses. We’ll mark his grave. Let the world know where he rests.”
Tavis nodded. “We’re all that’s left of the family.”
“No. All those warriors you met. They’re all related to us through Ian.”
“Ian. It took me a long while to convince him this was the right thing to do,” Tavis said.
“I don’t blame him for not wanting to.” Faelan shook his head. “I’m not sure I would have agreed. You should have left me to fend on my own.”