“Ya know, I can’t say I mind at all. Thank you kindly.” I paused before taking the envelope. “And is the message you are to give me inside the envelope?”
“I can only assume there is something there, but I was also asked to relay this to you as well,” Pixie Witch paused and glanced around before she continued. “You are in danger. It’s no longer safe for you in Dublin. Trust no one.”
Pixie Witch offered me a concerned look, and a hint of fear flashed in her eyes. Her next words would haunt me for days.
“He knows who you are,” she stated.
Our stares collided and an understanding passed between us. I nodded, slipped the envelope into the pocket of my coat, and left her sitting alone on the bench.
I wasted no time getting back to my flat. I needed to be somewhere I felt safe, and with my protective wards in place, it was the safest location in Dublin.
I kept one eye over my shoulder at every turn, using every technique I’d been trained in to make certain I wasn’t being watched or followed. By the time I’d reached my flat, I’d already mentally planned my exit strategy.
What Pixie Witch had said to me—more so the portentous nature behind what she said—paired with the warning from my mystery note writer, had me on high alert. I had been compromised in some form. I needed to regroup and figure out how and by whom, but Dublin wasn’t the place to do that. As much as I hated to skip some down time with Kara, New York wasn’t the place to do it either. Logically, Pyreshore was my securest option at the moment because no one, aside from The High Council and Kara, would know to look for me there.
Once behind the shelter of my wards, my first order of business was to reschedule my flight into New York. I needed to leave on the next available flight out of Dublin. Then I’d book an additional flight into Boston using an alias, acquire a car, and drive to Pyreshore from there. If all went as planned, I’d be in Pyreshore within twenty-four hours. I’d have to let Kara know my plans had changed, but not until I was safely within the protective wards of Pyreshore.
My second order of business, reading the note I had shoved in my pocket.
Four
When I arrived in Pyreshore, it wasn’t quite what I expected, not that I really knew what to expect. It wasn’t the type of place you could do an internet search on and find the twenty most visited tourist sites on a travel website. I actually did search it during my flight from Dublin to New York. One of the perks of having Kara as your best friend, she made sure you had a first-class seat on international flights which included wi-fi . . . and a comfy place to sleep without worrying that you’d end up awkwardly snoring on the person next to you.
Turns out, according to the internet, Pyreshore is a rundown ghost town that’s uninhabited and dangerous to visit. One source even made it out to be radioactive. If I were human, I’d not only avoid it, but I’d avoid every town withing a forty-five-mile radius. I was certain this detail might have swayed my expectations of what I’d find when I arrived.
It wasn’t a ghost town. It was quaint and historical and bustling with people. I drove the black Chevy Malibu I’d purchased from a used car dealer in Boston—using my newly acquired alias—down Main Street and turned onto Keeper Way. I decided my first stop in town should be to see Uncle Lachlan, then I’d locate Nira Garrison and check in. Besides, I had Uncle Lachlan’s address, and I had no idea how to find the Garrison woman. How do you look up an address if the town itself isn’t even supposed to be populated? I made a mental note to ask if they had a town directory or information hotline or something. I couldn’t have been the first one to wonder about it.
It took a few minutes, but I found Uncle Lachlan’s house on the corner of Keeper Way and West Road. He happened to be in his yard trimming some limbs from an exceptionally large tree. By the time I pulled into his drive, parked, and got out, he had foregone his task to walk toward me.
As I got out of my car, a smile spread over his face.
“Aisling, my dear, ‘tis so good t’ see ye!” he exclaimed and hugged me as if a day hadn’t passed since our last encounter.
“Hello, Uncle Lach. It’s nice t’ see you too,” I returned the regard and the hug.
“Let me look at ye,” he demanded as he took a step back, keeping a hand placed on each of my arms like I might get too far, or too close, for him to focus if he didn’t. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as lovely as ever.”
“Thanks, Uncle Lach. You are lookin’ well, yourself,” I replied.
He laughed. “I appreciate ya trying t’ humor an old man.”
He called himself an old man, and although he was in his late seventies, he didn’t look a day over fifty-five. Fae aged extremely well and often lived to be well over a hundred. We weren’t immortal and didn’t do anything unsavory, like some races, to achieve immortality. But unless extenuating circumstances came into play, our mid-life crisis could easily hit around the age of seventy or so. Mom and Grams had unfortunately fallen into the category of extenuating circumstances. I honestly didn’t know what had happened to my father. Mom never talked about it. She’d always said she’d tell me about him when I was older, but she never got the chance.
“I’m so glad yer here,” he moved next to me and squeezed me in a side hug. “Let’s go inside and put on a pot of tea and catch up, shall we?”
“That sounds lovely,” I agreed.
I had never given any thought to what Uncle Lachlan’s house might look like, but once inside it made sense. Every item reflected his personality and the aura he exuded. It was classic and traditional in an old-world, dark mahogany and leather kind of way, but inviting and comfortable at the same time. I recognized elements of Grams’ style as I looked around and took it all in.
He put on a kettle while I meandered through the sitting room and looked at the photos situated on the fireplace mantle. There were a few from older family holidays with me, Mom, and Grams. He had one of me in my cap and gown when I graduated from university, and there was a beautiful black and white photo of him and Grams as teenagers sitting on a rock with a lighthouse in the background. I didn’t recognize the place, but they were laughing and holding up shells like it was the best day ever. I smiled and moved on to an enclosed glass cabinet where a collection of relics was displayed. Because of my work during the past seven years with Natra, I knew a thing or two about relics and artifacts. Uncle Lachlan had quite the collection.
“See anything interestin’?” he asked as he approached with two mugs, handing one over to me.
“Thank you,” I said as I wrapped my hands around the warm mug. “And aye . . . you have some fascinating items here.”
“I thought ye might be one t’ appreciate them,” he offered with a sly smile and moved over to take a seat in a comfortable looking leather chair by the fireplace.
The tone and manner in which he made the statement left me wondering if he was referring to the fact that I had minored in archeology at university or if Uncle Lachlan did, in fact, know of more than I was aware. Interrogation was an art form. The most effective interrogators asked the fewest questions and did so in the most conversational of manners. Never allow a target to think you need the information you want. Steer the conversation in a direction that gets them comfortable and talking. Not that the technique would work on my uncle. For all I knew, he’d hold things as tight to the vest as Grams had always done. They were cut from the same cloth and taught by the same parents; odds were, they’d be more alike than I had ever considered. But it was worth a shot.
“Of course I appreciate them,” I replied. “I would love t’ hear the stories of how ya came into possession of some of these. There must be some interesting adventures t’ be told.”
“Aye, lass. I’ve had my share of adventures and I certainly have a few stories. But I’m sure ya have a few of yer own to tell,” he added. “Have a seat, maybe we can exchange one or two. You can start by telling me how ya have been fairin’ lately.”
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nbsp; I settled into an identical leather chair situated opposite him in front of the fireplace. It was even more comfortable than it looked. Between the warmth of the fire and the solace of Uncle Lachlan’s presence, I relaxed for the first time in nearly two days. But not so much that I wasn’t about to choose my words carefully.
“I s’pose I’ve been fairin’ well,” I offered and took a sip from my tea. It wasn’t a lie. Until the moment the invitation to Pyreshore arrived at my door, life had actually been a bit mundane for a couple of months, since I’d removed myself from the last assignment I had been working. “The invitation threw me for a bit of a loop, though,” I admitted, hoping he’d start talking so I wouldn’t need to start lying about what I’d been doing with my life.
“Aye. I can imagine it did. But I know yer more than prepared and qualified for the job,” he stated with an air of parental confidence and pride. “I’ve kept an eye on ya, lass. And when the Council came to inform me that you’d be offered the position as our new Keeper, I couldn’t have been prouder.”
“I honestly didn’t even know this was a job passed down through the family. Grams never told me.”
“I’m sure there are a lot of things Evie never shared about our family,” he said. “But you’ll be learnin’ all about it soon enough.”
Evie. I hadn’t heard her name spoken aloud in quite some time. In fact, the last time I had, he had said it. I pulled in a deep swig from my tea and contemplated just what it was I might not know about my family. Grams had trusted me with secrets I was certain Uncle Lachlan didn’t know about, but had there been more? Just how many secrets could one family possibly hide?
“Uncle Lach, what happens if I decide this isn’t a good fit fer me, bein’ a Keeper? Or if I don’t pass their qualifications?” I asked, genuinely wanting to know.
He placed his mug on a small table next to his chair and steepled his hands in front of his chest, lacing his fingers together. He seemed to think for a moment.
“Well, Aish, my dear girl. I feel confident before your month of training is complete, you shall see that failure to qualify or choosing to forsake the role is not an option. And not because you are being forced into the position of Keeper, but because there is too much at stake. Not just for our family, but for the Fae race. Possibly for every race.”
It was clear that he wholeheartedly believed what he said. I suddenly wanted to dive straight in and learn whatever secrets Grams had held back. It was a weakness for me—curiosity. The saying about it killing the cat, one day I was likely going to be that cat. I’d probably already spent through a few of my nine lives.
Uncle Lachlan glanced at his watch. “You should probably check in with Nira before it gets any later. She’s a kind soul, but if you show up at her house after eight in the evening, she can get a tad testy,” he chuckled. “And I want t’ make certain ya start out on e’ryone’s good side,” he winked.
“Aye, as do I,” I replied and drank the remaining tea in my mug. “Thank you for the tea and the chat, Uncle Lach. I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve done this.”
“Nonsense, lass. You’ve had a lot a goin’ on. Besides, we have plenty of time t’ catch up now,” he assured me as he took my mug. “Now, here’s Nira’s address. I’ll let her know yer on yer way. Her house is the large two-story just across from the Farmer’s Market. If ya get turned around, give me a call.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine but thanks, Uncle Lach. I s’pose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, I’d love to have supper and see how your first day in town went.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I announced and gave him a hug.
My immediate plan, though, was to find the mysterious Nira Garrison.
I wasn’t one to be easily intimidated, but I could see how Nira Garrison might have that effect on a person. The moment she opened her door, she was an overwhelming presence—elegant and sophisticated with an air of badassery lurking beneath the surface. I knew better than to let her Pantene shampoo commercial worthy, chocolate brown hair and perfectly bronzed complexion fool me. She was lethal.
“You must be Aisling,” she stated with a warm smile. “I’m Nira. Please, come in.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “My apologies for being after office hours, I hadn’t originally planned on arriving today.”
“Well, we are glad to have you here. Welcome to Pyreshore,” she extended hospitably and turned back to reenter her home. She practically floated across the hardwood floor toward a granite topped bar against the far wall. If she had been any race other than a Sphynx, I might have considered her poise and overwhelming elegance to be a red flag. But almost every Sphynx I’d ever met had been blessed with an abundance of gracefulness. “I trust you had pleasant travels.” She tried to be friendly and thwart any awkward silence. I could appreciate that.
“As pleasant as an international flight can be, aye,” I offered in reply and immediately began surveying her home. There was always a lot to be learned about someone by paying attention to the things they surrounded themselves with.
Nira Garrison’s impressive collection of wine behind the bar was an obvious giveaway that she preferred her alcohol to be a touch more sophisticated, and the lack of clutter said she liked simplicity in her life.
A pair of red soled stilettos recklessly kicked off by a chair near the fireplace told me that while she had no qualms spending eight hundred dollars on a pair of shoes, she wasn’t such a prima donna that she couldn’t kick them off and let her hair down a bit. In this house, comfort ruled over luxury and perfection.
“International flights are actually my preference,” Nira said as she grabbed a set of keys and what looked to be a few papers from behind the bar. “It’s the shorter flights I hate. I barely have time to get comfortable with a good book before the plane is landing and I’m interrupted.”
That statement was clearly supported by the fully packed, floor to ceiling bookshelves that flanked each side of the fireplace.
“Honestly, I slept through most of my flight. I’d had a long day before leavin’, and I knew the time difference was goin’ t’ get t’ me.” It was an honest answer, and the truth was, even with the sleep I’d gotten on the flight, I was still a bit hankered. I’d for certain be turning in early. I needed a solid nine hours of sleep to catch up.
“I can completely understand that.” Nira glided over to where I stood and held out a set of keys. “These are for your house. From the available properties, your uncle chose the one he thought you’d enjoy most. You have the best view in town of the Pyreshore Lighthouse.”
I took the keys and smiled. It seemed Uncle Lachlan had, in fact, been keeping up with me. The ocean was my favorite place to be. So, if I could hear the waves crashing at night through an open bedroom window, that was definitely a bonus. “Thank you, Nira.”
“Of course. Your address and simple directions are written on this pamphlet. Inside, you will find a list of all the shops, restaurants, and amenities in Pyreshore. You aren’t expected in the Keeper’s office for a couple of days still, but if you’d like to stop by and get an early start, here’s the address.” She handed me a piece of blue paper.
“Sounds good,” I said. “I’m actually a bit peckish. Where might you recommend for a light supper before I head t’ my place t’ turn in for the night?”
“I highly recommend The Black Cat café,” she said with a chuckle. “Yes, I do see the irony. But I promise you, they have the best soups and sandwiches in town. And if you like coffee, their selection rivals any high-end coffee bar the world over. Brenhin, the owner, and his brother have traveled extensively and have managed to find the best suppliers of most everything. Especially coffee and wine. And if Cian happens to be manning the café, insist that he create his Colombian Special for you. Don’t take no for an answer. You will absolutely thank me. But you may also want to kill me because all other coffee will be ruined for you forever.”
“
Well, now I’m not sure if I should or not,” I replied. “You don’t know how much I love my coffee,” I laughed.
“You’ll have to let me know what you think; I can already see the curiosity in your eyes.” A satisfied smile crept over her deep burgundy lips.
Nira Garrison and I were going to get along splendidly. She enjoyed reading, coffee, and wine, and I would have bet my last dollar that she could hold her own in a fight. I liked people who were well rounded and versatile.
“I won’t deny it, the Colombian Special is now high on my list of things t’ experience.”
“Good. Make sure to tell Cian I sent you. He’ll make it extra strong for you.” She winked.
“Well, not only am I hungry, but I’m suddenly in the mood fer coffee,” I said and turned to signal I was letting her get back to her evening.
“You won’t be disappointed,” she said as she followed me back to the front door of her home.
“Thank you for all the information, Nira. I look forward t’ working with you.”
“Well, we may not get to work together much, but I’m happy to answer any questions or help you in whatever way I can. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need something,” she offered then gave a quick verbal explanation of how to get to The Black Cat Café.
I thanked her and proceeded to my car wishing I had asked Uncle Lachlan a few more questions. For one, what exactly would I be doing as a Keeper? And who would I be reporting to aside from him? If I wouldn’t be working with Nira Garrison, why did I report to her instead of the Fae member of the High Council? The questions piled up in my mind, but they would have to wait. I had a date with a Black Cat.
Five
The aroma of freshly brewed dark roast assaulted my senses before I could get one foot over the threshold into the nearly empty café. In one of the back corners, a few Witches were gathered around a small table. To my right as I walked in, a restless Mimic positioned in an oversized chair that could have swallowed her whole sat with her face buried in a book. She glanced at me and immediately returned to her reading. With those exceptions, the café was bare.
Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5) Page 4