My new living quarters fit the description perfectly. Old blended with new.
A warm glow stretched over gray shaker siding around a porch light that had been left on, welcoming me as I pulled onto the cobblestoned driveway. Moonlight radiated from the ocean behind the cottage, creating a halo effect around the structure. It reminded me of a painting in a gallery or a postcard you might pick up in a tourist shop to display on your refrigerator.
I sat in the car for a moment after shutting it off and admired the house I would call home for at least the next few weeks. As much as I knew it was expected of me to become a Keeper, I also understood that I wasn’t required to accept the position. I didn’t know who the High Council might pursue as a backup plan if I chose not to follow in the footsteps of my bloodline, but I also did not intend to let that concern influence my decision. I had always felt I was meant for something more than tracking down relics, that I had a purpose I hadn’t yet fulfilled, I just didn’t know what that purpose might be. Yet.
I think Grams knew. I had frequently wondered if she had seen my calling through her Seer Sight and simply never told me.
One of the first lessons I learned when my Seer Sight began to develop was to never tell anyone their fate. Grams insisted that knowing one’s fate sealed it. Without knowing what was in store, however, the path was left open for adjustment.
She did her best to train me, and she reminded me often that I had a higher calling from a higher power. Higher than I understood. She was adamant that I always kept my mind open so, when the time came, I would hear the message being given to me. I couldn’t help but speculate, as I moved my gaze to look out over the dunes behind the cottage, if me becoming a Keeper was what Grams had been talking about all along. She had always been so confident, like she had seen what I was meant to do.
“I sure do miss you, Grams. I feel like there was so much left for you to teach me—so much I still need to learn.” I pulled in a deep sigh while grabbing the coffee and paper bag Cian had sent with me, then collected my carryon bag from the passenger seat of the car. I had packed everything I would need for a couple of nights in the small bag. My full-sized suitcase, that I’m certain weighed as much as I did, would be perfectly safe in the trunk of the car until the next morning. I wasn’t fighting with it tonight.
I exited the car making sure I had the house keys Nira had given me and the car keys—because I had a terrible habit of spelling my keys up in my car—and generated a protection spell over my little black sedan before heading into the cottage.
I made sure not to step on the cracks between the oversized cobblestones as I made my way to the front door. It was a silly game I had played as a kid, and I wasn’t superstitious at all, but I still did it.
Awe washed over me when I shut the cottage door behind me.
Commanding views of the Atlantic Ocean were on display through a wall of windows framing French doors that opened onto an expansive deck. The wall of glass practically brought the ocean to you. I smiled when I noticed the lighthouse sitting just off the coastline and directly in front of my cottage. Nira had not exaggerated. It was a breathtaking view.
An oversized stone fireplace adorned the far outside wall to the left of the windows. I noticed firewood ready and waiting in the fireplace, so I whispered the command. Seconds later, fire engulfed the logs and began to push the chill from the air. It also released a glow into the room, bouncing from the dark wood accents and the pale blue walls. A warm fuzzy feeling spread through me as I picked out an overstuffed chair situated perfectly between the fireplace and the wall of windows, knowing immediately it would be my favorite spot in the room.
It was only the second time I’d ever felt as though I stepped into a magazine layout. The first time occurred when Kara took the position as Head of Acquisitions for Natra, and I helped take some of her things from her small house in Virginia to her apartment in New York.
I placed the coffee cup and paper bag on the granite countertop that divided the kitchen from the living area and began a quick tour of the downstairs. There were two small bedrooms with a full bath between them, which meant the master bedroom would be on the second floor.
I started toward the staircase so I could settle in and unpack. Before I made it up more than a few steps, I paused, went back to the door to double check that I had locked it behind me, then added a protection spell to the house. One might ask why I would need a protection spell in a town of my own kind, and one would be told that being in a town filled with Supernaturals is exactly why I needed a protection spell. Humans weren’t nearly as much of a threat as beings that possessed special abilities and powers . . . unless they happened to be a member of The Saiad. Members of The Saiad were a unique kind of human—the kind that knew Supernaturals walked among them, and the kind that knew magic and artifacts existed which could be used against said Supernaturals.
Once the protection spell secured the house, I breathed a little easier and made my way back to the stairs. It was one less concern to plague my thoughts. Cian McCallister was already doing a bang-up job in the plaguing department, so I had enough to consider without the worry of immediate physical safety. Like where I’d be sleeping, for instance.
I wasn’t disappointed. The entire second floor was an open-space master suite. In fact, it was nearly the size of my entire flat in Dublin. Just as on the first floor, the wall facing the ocean was comprised entirely of windows with a set of double doors that opened onto a balcony boasting two comfortable looking chairs that I intended to put to use, only not right away.
I made a quick check of the bathroom to see if I needed to turn on the hot water, but then remembered that I wasn’t in Ireland and hot water was built in, so to speak. So, I unpacked and took a hot shower to wash off the last twenty-four hours of traveling and supernaturally induced stress. It might have been one of the most relaxing showers I’d ever experienced.
When I was done and dressed in my favorite teal fuzzy pajama pants and a black tank, my stomach grumbled reminding me I had only eaten once today. With that, I headed back to the kitchen to see what Cian had sent in the paper bag and made a mental note that a grocery run was on tap for tomorrow. A girl needed her bedtime snacks.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a double chocolate muffin and two thick slices of banana nut bread nestled in the bottom of the bag. If anyone ever needed to win me over, baked goods were an excellent start. Particularly chocolate baked goods. I heated the coffee in the microwave and unwrapped the muffin before grabbing the warm cup and walking back up to my bedroom to settle in for the night.
A faint blue light, concentrated on the wall next to the bed, flashed in sequence through the dimly lit room, indicating that I either had a missed call or a text. I plopped down on the bed, placed the coffee on the nightstand, and took a bite from the muffin before I picked up the phone.
Kara’s name showed in my missed calls notifications. It had been less than two minutes since she’d called. Just as I was about to send her a message, a text popped up on my screen.
Kara: CALL ME NOW! Like, yesterday now.
I didn’t even bother with a reply. I clicked the video icon at the top of the screen and waited for her to answer . . . an entire point three seconds.
“Oh good! You’re good. Everything’s good.” She exhaled a visible sigh of relief without even bothering to say hello.
“Sooo . . . yeah. Hi,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be good? You wanna tell me why you’re bein’ a lit’l squirrely?”
She tilted her head slightly and gave me an inquisitive glare. “Tell me something. Who is Cian McCallister?” she asked. “And why did you have me run his background?”
“That’s kind of a loaded question, K. I mean, I’m still tryin’ t’ figure out who he is myself. Why? What’s going on?”
“He doesn’t exist. That’s what’s going on.”
“Wait? What? What do ya mean he doesn’t exist? He made me coffee. He runs a ca
fé. I had a rather . . . intense conversation with him. How can he not exist?” I prattled without taking a breath.
“Okay . . . we are going to get back to the intense comment. But first, let me clarify. He has a birth certificate, school records, military-service dossiers, and travel documents—including passports, visas, and plane tickets—all in a neat little package. Every document you would expect someone to have in order to prove their existence. He has it all flawlessly in place. Let me repeat that for the kids in the back. FLAW-LESS-LY. You get what I’m sayin’ here, Aish?” she paused. “It’s a legend. He’s staged. And whoever set it up is not just good, they’re better than Lazlo good. At least, that’s what Lazlo said.”
“Lazlo admitted that?” I raised an eyebrow, a little more than shocked.
“Yup. Have you ever known him to concede on anything?”
“I have not.”
“You should have seen the anguish in his eyes when he admitted that he didn’t catch it at first. He looked equally defeated and impressed. I’m pretty sure he’s still sitting at his desk picking up the digital breadcrumbs trying to uncover his competition.”
Lazlo was the Natra Agency’s top Validator. When you wanted to create a digital footprint for an undercover alias, a legend, Lazlo was the go-to guy. He was the best in his field across all racial boundaries, supernatural and human alike. At least, he was. Looked like he might have a rival.
I processed this new information along with what I had assessed during my time with Cian at the Black Cat Café.
“So, tell me something. You said in text that you couldn’t read him. Like . . . at all?” Kara asked. “Did anything change? Was it just a short-lived fluke?”
“Afraid not.”
“So, you have no idea if he’s a vamp or shifter or what. Has that ever happened before?”
I thought for a moment, then responded. “Not that I recall. At least, not since I first started developing my gifts. So, maybe when I was eleven or so?” I couldn’t get into full detail and tell her there was more, that I couldn’t get a read on the light or dark factor within his soul either. Only Grams and Mom had known about all of my abilities. They insisted it was for my own safety. They were right, of course.
“Okay, let’s think this through. We know there’s no way he works for us,” I stated the obvious. “So . . . who would he work for?”
“Hell if I know,” Kara groaned. “If there’s another supernatural team in the game, that information is above my pay grade. And you and I both know my pay grade is pretty high.”
“There’s always the possibility he’s a free agent,” I noted.
“Yeah. But I don’t like the sound of that. Free agents can be bought, and that means we will never be able to predict which side he’s on. What made you ask me to look into him anyway?”
She finally asked the question I had been expecting since the beginning of the conversation. I hemmed a little and she called me on it.
“You’re stalling. Ahh crap. I’m not going to be happy about this, am I?” she stated.
“Umm . . . no. Can’t say ya are.”
“Well, rip the band aid. Let’s get this over with,” she demanded.
“There’s a lot I have t’ fill you in on. Starting with why I came straight t’ Pyreshore instead of New York. Ya might wanna get a drink,” I suggested.
She did and I proceeded to give her the info about Libby’s meet and greet with the hot guy outside my flat, the delivered invitation I had received to meet someone in the cemetery before I left Dublin—someone I assumed had been Cian, and then my encounter with the note-passing Pixie Witch.
“So . . . you’ve been a little busy,” she chimed nonchalantly and shrugged like it was no big deal. Her reaction was a ruse. As soon as she’d finished the gesture, she stopped and stared hard at me, clearly irritated. “Seriously, Aisling! That’s right, I used your whole name. What were you thinking not telling me what was going on so I could at least try to assist? Like track down who sent the spelled invite or something.”
I knew she was right, in a way, but I hadn’t felt like I had much time. “I am sorry. I am. But it all happened fast. And you know what it’s like. When your gut says it’s time t’ bug out, you just go. Answer questions later.”
Kara nodded. “I do understand. And I do have questions. Two of them.”
“Go.”
“What did the note that Pixie Witch gave you say? And ya still haven’t told me why ya had me do a full run-down on Mr. McCallister tonight.”
“Do me a favor, before I explain,” I requested. “Refill your wine.”
She glared at me, rolled her eyes, and poured as much wine as her glass would hold. Then she took a deep swig and blew out a breath. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”
“I’m pretty sure Cian is the one Libby met at my apartment, which means he’s likely the one that invited me to the cemetery and instructed Pixie Witch to give me the note. Also—”
“That’s not all?” Kara interrupted.
I shook my head.
She downed half of the ruby liquid in her glass. “Geez. Go on.”
“Cian wants me to join forces with him to take down The Saiad.”
Kara almost choked.
“You okay?” I asked.
“He WHAT!?” she came forward in the chair she was sitting in.
I didn’t say anything. I knew to give her a moment to sort it all out.
“How? I mean—” Kara fell back against the chair again and looked around for a minute. “Aish, if he knows about The Saiad, I feel like there’s a lot more going on here than we are aware of.”
“I know. Tons more.”
“I need to process this. Umm. Okay. So, the letter. Pixie Witch. What did that say?” she asked. Her brain was now in full-blown assignment mode. I’d seen it many times. She wanted all the info so she could arrange it and rearrange it on her mental evidence board (aka crazy wall).
I held up one finger. “Hold please.” I hopped off the bed and headed over to the jeans I had taken off and tossed over a chair before that glorious shower. I slipped the note out of a pocket and headed back to my position. Once I was back in front of the phone and Kara, I unfolded the paper and held it up for Kara to see.
It read:
Midnight
Silver Moon
I’ll find you.
Kara’s forehead scrunched. “What the cac does that mean? And what the hell is a Silver Moon?”
“Not a clue. I meet with Cian at nine in the morning. I intend to find out.”
Nine
Sleep didn’t come easy. Too many things were rattling around in my head. I cracked open a bedroom window to let in the sound of the ocean waves crashing on the shore. It didn’t work. I kept going back to how Cian could know who I was by name, but not recognize me when I walked into the café. And then there was the inexplicable gravitational pull between us. I could almost feel the sensation of being near him still lingering on my skin. It wasn’t until the steady rhythm of rain began to hum softly against the windows that I was able to drift off to sleep.
That’s when I met him again.
The white-haired warrior.
Once again, I started out on the broken granite walkway in front of the same stone church. This time, I took a moment to study the structure. It reminded me of the many churches that dotted the moors and hillsides of Ireland. Churches that had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, been sanctuaries, faced wars, and always survived.
I studied the design of the ornamental iron that held the wooden planks of the arched doors. My attention was drawn to an unusual symbol that seemed oddly familiar. A rounded top formed an Omega and then stretched out to each side resembling wings. Nestled in the center of the Omega, a sword-like object with a nail head elongated downward. I reached out instinctively and placed my hand on the symbol. Energy vibrated through my flesh and a vision of Cian leaning across the bar, with his intense gaze focused
on me, flashed in my mind. I jerked my hand back from the door and stared at it.
After a moment to regain my focus, I pushed the door open and made my way down the long, dimly lit corridor. Once again, I was unable to resist gliding my fingers over the symbols carved into the walls along the way. Just like before, I recognized the characteristics of Fae magic mingled with the energy that fluctuated through my fingertips as I touched them. The power they emanated was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Even the strongest artifact I had encountered didn’t come close.
When I found myself before the large door at the end of the corridor, I didn’t hesitate as I had the first time. I pushed against it, and the same rush of energy pulsed beneath my palms. It was heavier than I remembered, requiring me to lean into it until it slowly began to give way. The layout of the cavern was exactly the same as before. Only this time, the white-haired warrior stood by the candlelit table with arms crossed over a broad chest as though he were expecting me.
“Aisling,” his deep voice resonated from the stone walls. “Do come in.”
He waited for me to take a few cautious steps toward him before he held one hand up and flicked his fingers together causing the door to shut slowly behind me. I paused where I was, glanced back at the door, and returned my attention to him without moving forward. I immediately noticed he was dressed in modern clothing—jeans, black combat type boots, and a black thermal long-sleeve shirt. The contrasting color palette made his snowy white hair stand out. Something about him, other than his fashion choices, looked different than the previous dream. Less rigid. A little less frightening. Still highly intimidating, though. I supposed being intimidating was normal when you were built like the statue of a Greek god.
Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5) Page 7