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ever so slightly, then entered the cabin and closed the door.

While Elliott watched their exchange, it dawned on him that Paul was too smart to act like an idiot. It had to be a ruse to lower the hostility. If he was willing to risk Erik’s temper and abuse, Elliott could force himself to listen quietly. He returned to the rocker and sighed with a heavy heart.

“What happened?”

Erik crossed his arms and said, “Members of the Illuminati captured James Cullen in Chicago, broke nearly every bone in his body, and peeled off the skin on his arms and chest.”

Elliott shot up out of the chair, hugged the porch railing, and threw up. Emily handed him a flask from her medical bag. He poured some in his mouth, swished it around, and spit it out. Then he took a long drink.

“How could he survive such horror?” Elliott growled out.

“It wasn’t easy,” Erik said.

“He never betrayed the family, did he?” Elliott said. “He put himself through all that to protect us. Dear God.” Elliott flopped back into the chair. The screams he heard were James Cullen’s torture, and Elliott would never forget the sound or the pain. He sat there in mute horror as his mind weighed the implications. A body can heal. A mind cannot.

“James Cullen will come out of the coma when his body is healed, and not before,” Erik said. “Any interference from you, and he will die.”

“He needs to be in a hospital. Let us take him home,” Emily pleaded.

“A hospital cannot heal him. If he is disturbed, the additional shock from the excruciating pain will cause his heart to stop. And even your medicine will not restart it.” Eric turned the full brute force of his attention on Elliott. “You must listen to me and trust in the power to save the future Keeper. It will not allow him to die unless you interfere.”

“Can we take him home?” Emily asked.

“Not until he wakes up.”

“How long do you think that will be?” she asked.

“If he is going to wake up, it will take forty-eight to seventy-two hours,” Erik said.

“But he needs—” Emily said.

“He needs nothing!” Erik raised his thundering voice, and the floorboards shook. “If you want him to die, then touch him, uncover him, and give him drugs—because he will leave this world again, but he will not return!”

“Again?” Elliott asked.

“When the pain became unbearable, and his heart was failing, his guardian, Kristen Montgomery, interceded on his behalf and took him into her protection until I could reach him and start the healing process. Kristen can only rescue him one more time, and he has a long life to live. Do you want that third rescue to be now because of your impatience?”

A vision of his son standing between his and Meredith’s graves slid into Elliott’s awareness, blocking out everything else for a moment. James Cullen’s hair was gray and thin, his shoulders stooped, but joy illuminated his entire being. What could make him so joyful as he approached the end of his long life?

“Elliott, I must have your word that you will not interfere.”

Erik’s demand shattered Elliott’s vision. In his heart, Elliott knew James Cullen’s joy resulted from what Elliott chose at this moment. He clasped Erik’s callused hand, feeling the heat of his strength, determination, and truth.

“I trust ye to do what is best for James Cullen and the clan.” Elliott squeezed Erik’s hand and then released it.

“You have accepted responsibility for your people and the brooches,” Erik continued. “You often don’t understand, but you dare to live in the cloudy gap in between the two worlds. The lessons you learn never leave you. They pour back in to enable you to make the next more difficult decision—one that benefits the whole and not individual desires.”

Elliott found it challenging to argue with Erik’s esoteric philosophy. Maybe another time, when so much wasn’t on the line.

“Who did this to James Cullen? I want the name of the man.”

Erik didn’t answer right away, and after a long stretch of silence that raised Elliott’s blood pressure, Erik finally said, “My brother, Sten, and his associates.”

“Yer brother?” Elliott squeezed his chest, protecting his heart from Erik’s pain, understanding that Erik, too, was living in the cloudy gap. “Is this a Cain and Abel story?”

“Similar. Sten and I were alike in many ways until darkness took his soul. Our father disowned and banished him during his youth, but Father could not destroy his knowledge of the stones. Sten took that with him and started a branch of the Illuminati whose sole purpose is to collect the brooches and use them to control the world. I do not know how many stones he has collected or how far his tentacles reach. He was the titular head but did not hold all the power.”

“Where is he now?” Elliott demanded to know.

“I killed him,” Erik said. “And, as your surrogate, I cut off his head. But his evil has spread too far, and his minions will continue to search for the remaining stones. With Sten gone, the organization has lost its institutional knowledge—but not its purpose.”

“I can’t worry about that now. James Cullen has to be my focus.”

Erik nodded, then opened the door, and Elliott, Sean, and Emily followed him into a sauna. A fire was blazing in the hearth, and Erik poured a few drops of oil from a bottle into a pot of hot water, then drizzled a ladle of water over the sauna rocks until a burst of humidity replenished the warmth and moisture inside the cabin. The cedar walls emitted the forest’s subtle scent and mingled with a slight eucalyptus aroma, which must be from the oil droplets.

Elliott put his hands in his jacket pockets as he approached the bed, so his urge to comfort and heal his son wouldn’t tempt him to reach out. His heartbeat thudded in his neck and fingertips.

“Is that yer cloak covering his body?” Elliott asked.

“Yes. The heat and steam keep the cloak moist.

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