“Why else would they have taken her to him? But she wouldn’t talk about it then, and now she’s avoiding me like I have the pox.”
“If we knew for sure, Bree might be able to help her with that too. Women like to talk about things that trouble them.”
Faelan wasn’t telling him something. Tavis didn’t know why he wanted to know about the hybrid, but it wasn’t just curiosity. That dug at his mind as they sat down and looked at the letter. It had been mailed to Isabel Belville.
Faelan and Tavis, By now, I hope that you are both awake and well, and that you have stopped Druan. Many times I have regretted that it wasn’t me who came to help Faelan. But Tavis, you insisted that it must be you, and you can be bloody stubborn. I am terrified when I think what you both might wake to. Will the world even exist? I don’t know if you are alive or injured. No one but Ma knows the truth about you both. Frederick and Isabel know about Faelan, but not Tavis. I didn’t want to share more information than necessary in the event they were compromised. I knew that if they saw to it that the graveyard remained in their family, the chapel would be safe as well. I told the clan that Tavis was buried at sea. I was going to tell them that Faelan had also died, until I could determine if there were still traitors in our midst. However, the Seeker arrived before I did and told them about Faelan and the time vault. The clan was so horror-struck, and everyone wanted to know more. I was afraid if there was a traitor, the time vault would be discovered, and perhaps destroyed. I regret that I had to silence the Seeker to make sure he didn’t tell where Faelan was hidden. Unfortunately, his death was in vain, for he had already told the Council. I regret his death every day, and I will until I face my own. I am still trying to find out where the threat comes from. I have not told the clan of my suspicions. I do not want to alert any traitors, if any still exist. I hope the threat died with Quinn, but there are troubling things. Tavis, I have something personal I must tell you. I would put it in another letter, but I am out of paper, and I know how close you and Faelan are. He would find out anyway. Marna had a child. A son. Your son.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MARNA’S FATHER CAME to me just after she delivered the bairn. I wasn’t sure whether to believe her until I saw how she grieved over your death. And when I saw the bairn, he looked as much like you as a bairn can resemble anyone. Marna’s father was worried. She was not doing well, and his wife, Marna’s mother, was already dead. Alas, Marna did pass, so Bessie and I took the boy and raised him as our own. I know it will be heartbreaking to find that you had a son you did not know. But the good news is that you will have descendents. Your name will live on through him. He is a brave boy and looks just like you. I did not tell Ma in the beginning. We did not want to tarnish your name or Marna’s. I had promised her father. But Ma guessed. He was so much like you. Sometimes when she spoke of you she would watch him with the saddest look on her face. Finally, Bessie convinced me to tell her. She cried and called him her little Tavis. I should have told her before. Bessie is with child now, twins, the doctor says, so your lad will have brothers or sisters. I am pleased, but I miss you and Faelan and Da.
One line was scratched out, and when Tavis looked closer he saw that it read.
It is a strange thing to think that when you read this I will be dead. All my love to you both. I will see you again on the other side. Ian
Tavis stared at the letter until the numbness in his chest turned to cold. It seemed only yesterday that he had given in to Marna’s persistent attention, and a kiss led to a fondle that led to something more. But a child? They had been careful.
“Tavis.”
He looked up and saw Faelan watching him.
“Are you all right? You look like a sick sheep.”
“I feel like a sick sheep.” Tavis rubbed his hands through his hair. “I have a son. Had. He’s dead. My son, a son I didn’t even know, is dead.”
Faelan gave his knee a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry. But do you realize that some of the warriors walking around here may be descended from you?” Faelan looked thoughtful. “Let’s see. Ronan, Declan, Cam, and Duncan are descendants of Ian’s oldest son. Your son. Some of our finest warriors came from you.”
It was a fascinating thing, and surely it would mean more later, but right now all he could think was that he had a son who’d lived and died without Tavis even knowing it.
“Do you want to keep this quiet?”
Tavis shook his head. “He’d missed his son’s entire life. Acknowledging him now was all he had. “No. I don’t want to hide it.” Tavis swallowed. “You saw his grave?”
“I did. He lived a long life.”
“All the while I was sleeping in that damned time vault.”
“I am sorry, Tavis. I wish you hadn’t come. It’s a joy to have you here, but if you’d stayed…you could have known him. Raised him.”
“I couldn’t stay.”
Faelan’s mouth thinned. “You always watched out for me. Come with me. I think we could both use a drink.”
“You hardly ever drink,” Tavis said.
“I think this is the time.” He led Tavis to a room that resembled a tavern.
“You have a tavern?”
“It’s just a game room with a bar. We sometimes play billiards or a game of darts. But on a rare occasion a whisky or ale hits the spot.”
“Like when you’ve just discovered that your brother from another century isn’t dead?”
“That would about do it.” Faelan reached over the counter and pulled out a bottle of whisky. He poured a small measure into two glasses. They raised their glasses and took a drink.
“I know you’re sad now, but things will get better. It’s a hard thing to lose everyone in one blow. I still miss them, but it’s not as hard as it was.”
Tavis took another drink, feeling the burn in his throat. He didn’t drink often himself. “You’ve found happiness here.”
“I have. I wouldn’t go back even if I could. I miss them, but I belong here. And I’m bloody glad you’re here now.”
He picked up a knife and threw it at the wall. It hit just outside the bull’s-eye. “Remember that year we beat Wallace MacIntosh?”
“Aye. Stopped his bragging. Until the next year. What’s this?” Tavis asked, pointing to a table with rows of figures attached to bars.
“Foosball. And that’s air hockey. Want to have a go with the knives?”
“You won’t cheat?”
“Me?”
“As I recall, I won the last challenge. A horse race. But you kept the white stone.”
Faelan threw another knife. “I would’ve won if that branch hadn’t hit me in the face.”
Tavis took another drink. “But it did.” They threw knives, losing track of the score as the conversation turned to home and family and duty.
Faelan took another drink. “You want to talk about guilt,” he said as they discussed the atrocities their demons had been responsible for while the warriors slept. “I could’ve perhaps stopped the Civil War. Do you know how many people died?”
“Couldn’t have been more than I’m responsible for. At least the Civil War was about an honest fight. A disagreement between brothers. Not just one evil bastard’s attempt to control the world.”
“Sometimes I feel as if I were there in the war,” Faelan said. “I have dreams that feel more like memories, but they can’t be. I can almost smell the gunpowder. And the faces, Bree showed me a book on the war, and some of the soldiers look familiar. General Grant. I would swear I’ve met him.”
“General Grant? I know that name.”
“You can’t know that name. You were in the time vault and you haven’t seen the books.”