Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5)

by Bridgette O'Hare

  “Fine, Aish. I trust you. Even if I don’t trust him. So . . . what does this mean for the Keeper position?”

  “Good question. One I don’t have an answer for yet. I’m going t’ have a chat with Uncle Lach and get back t’ ya. Meantime, have Lazlo bring Ashlyn back from the dead, would ya? I’m goin’ t’ pick up a few groceries, and I’ll touch base later.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll let ya know when I send those files over. Ciao for now!” Kara gave a peace sign. I waved goodbye and closed the call.

  It was a few hours later before I heard back from Uncle Lachlan. Rather than calling, he sent a text saying he was in the middle of Keeper business that couldn’t wait, but we were still on for dinner at seven. I had several hours ahead of me, so after putting away the few items I’d picked up at the grocers, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, grabbed a slice of the banana nut bread from The Black Cat, and settled into the oversized chair—seriously, two people could sit in the thing—between the fireplace and the window to begin decrypting the files Kara had sent.

  While the files were going through the decryption process, I pulled a pad from my bag and decided to make a list of questions that still needed answers. Things were happening at such a quick pace; I wasn't sure which piece of information needed my attention first.

  I had questions for Cian about why he'd been at my flat in Dublin and why he’d left me a note with Pixie Witch instead of simply talking to me himself. I had questions about who might have been snooping around my cottage the night before, and why. I had questions for Uncle Lachlan about what he wasn’t sharing and how was I supposed to manage to fill the position as Keeper and help Cian, too. I clearly needed a little perspective.

  Then there was the Davar Magén. I was almost certain I’d find something amid my Silver Scroll notes that would give me some insight. Though, I wasn’t sure how much or what else I needed to know after Cian’s info dump into my brain. I just had a gut feeling that I was missing a piece to that puzzle.

  Getting my eyes on the Kanna Stone files promised to be a different rabbit hole all together. Cian had said I didn’t know even a fraction of what the artifact was capable of. Maybe I had missed something. I intended to look. If something were there, I’d find it.

  Truth was, for the first time in my life, I felt overwhelmed and underprepared.

  I checked the decryption program. Still about an hour left. I set the laptop on the coffee table and curled up with the fuzzy blanket thrown across the back of the chair intending to watch the waves from the warmth and comfort of the cottage. Considering how taxing the previous few days had been, I shouldn’t have been surprised that I would doze off.

  All at once I was standing in front of the table, staring at the glow of candles as they bathed the intricate leather book in a warm yellow light. I was alone. I turned in a full circle, wondering why I hadn’t started out in front of the church like my previous dreams, but then I focused my attention back on the volume before me. It was closed, so I tried to open it. Despite my efforts, it wouldn’t budge. I was studying it from different angles, looking closely at the lock holding it shut when his voice pierced the silence.

  “That’s not going to work,” he called from the doorway.

  “Holy mother of—” I jumped and turned to face Ruman. “You should not do that t’ people. You’ll give someone heart failure.” I rested my hand over my chest and took a few calming breaths.

  He attempted to conceal his amusement, but he failed. I noticed.

  “My apologies, Aisling,” he offered as he made his way toward me. “I would have been here to greet you had I known you might be coming.” He stopped a few steps from the book, just to my right, then tilted his head slightly and studied me.

  After a few moments, I began to fidget. “Umm, what is it? Why are ya looking at me weird like that?” I asked.

  “Something about you has changed.” He narrowed his gaze and crooked his head to the other side. “Interesting.”

  “Care t’ fill me in on what’s so interesting?” I implored.

  “No,” he stated without even a discussion.

  “No? What do you mean, no?”

  “Since you are here, we have more important things to cover. You were pulled away unexpectedly last night, so we should pick up there.” He waved his hand over the book and it opened. Once again, pages flipped until it landed on what I assumed was the same page as before. Still blank.

  “Please, step forward,” he directed.

  When I did, the book began to glow as it had the night before.

  “Your pendant, if you would,” he requested and held out his hand.

  I reached up and touched the tips of my fingers to the pendant Grams had given me.

  “Why do ya want my pendant?” I wrapped my full hand around it as though to protect it.

  Ruman smiled. “I assure you; no harm will come to it. I simply need to show you how to use it.” He motioned his fingers in two quick waves to request I hand it over.

  I offered one more suspicious glare but removed it and complied.

  “Thank you. Now, watch carefully.” He wrapped the chain around two fingers, held his hand out over the blank page of the book, and let the pendant fall, dangling it several inches above the page. The faint outline of a scroll and a red-bladed dagger began to form. He eased the pendant closer to the page until there were only a couple of inches between the pendant and the page. All at once, it came to life with color and ink. Silver words danced across the parchment, skirting the intricate drawings.

  “That’s amazing. Like a decoder ring from a Cracker Jack box, but I’m not sure why you’re showing me this,” I admitted.

  “You will understand when the time comes. While you are here, the pendant and the book will reveal what you need to know. Pay close attention, Aisling. I am not privy to what will benefit you from within the book because I have no way of knowing what you might face when you leave this room. I can help if you have questions regarding what you see in the book, but remember, it is up to you to retain what you learn while you are here.” Ruman held the pendant out and waited for me to place my hand beneath his. He eased the pendant into my palm and lowered the rest of the chain. “I will be just here if you need assistance.” He pointed toward a blue velvet chair situated to the side of where I stood. He picked up a book from a small table and settled into the chair.

  I stared at the pendant in my hand for a moment before replicating the way in which Ruman had held it, wrapping the chain carefully around my fingers. When the pendant swung close enough to the page, the ink and images came to life once again. It was then that I recognized the red-bladed dagger. It was the dagger that had taken Cian’s life.

  “Umm . . . R-Ruman,” I stuttered.

  He looked at me as though he recognized the panic in my tone. “Yes?”

  “Wh-what can you tell me about this dagger?” I pointed to the page as I looked closer at the inscription beneath it. “The Tartaros Blade,” I read aloud.

  Ruman stood and rejoined me. A substantial inhale was followed by a quick release of breath. “That . . . that is a nightmare to my kind.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, let me rephrase. That blade is a nightmare for some, others may welcome it.”

  I knew there was more, so I waited for the explanation.

  “All heavenly beings have the ability to maneuver between worlds—your world, Marom, and the supernatural realm. That blade is forged with hellfire. If any heavenly being is struck down by that blade, they lose the ability to travel between worlds.”

  “What is Marom?” I asked even though I somehow knew he meant heaven.

  “Heaven. Marom is simply how it’s pronounced in our native tongue,” he clarified.

  “So, when cut down by hellfire, they die?” I questioned. “I thought your kind were immortal.”

  “Depending on how you look at it, the answer to that is yes. We would simply return to M
arom. Permanently.”

  I thought about the vision from Cian. “And if a supernatural being is cut down?” Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it. I repeated in my mind.

  Ruman’s expression faded to one of sadness. “Death. Instantaneous.”

  I stared at the illustration of the dagger on the page. “Do you know where this dagger is now?”

  “It hasn’t been seen in centuries. And we would like for it to stay under whatever rock it has been hidden.”

  “I’m all on board for that,” I mumbled. “And this scroll?” I quickly changed the topic before he asked me why I was so interested in the Tartaros Blade. “What language is this written beneath it?”

  “That is the language of Marom. It’s a combination of what you know as Aramaic and Hebrew. I am of the understanding that you are familiar with both.”

  “I am.”

  “If you open your mind to the possibility that the two languages are instead one, and that they function together, you will understand it. Much like the English language contains several words that share a meaning, that is how the language of Marom works. Master that concept, and you will have no barriers in understanding,” Ruman expounded.

  “I’ll give that a try.” And I did. Try, that is. But it simply didn’t come together. I kept moving the pendant, hoping a different angle would create a different perspective. But to no avail. It did, however, cause the corner of the page to rise each time the pendant passed over it. I glanced to Ruman with uncertainty.

  “Raise the pendant and wave your other hand from right to left to turn the page. If you are meant to see what’s next, it will be allowed.”

  I followed Ruman’s instructions, and the page flipped with ease. I lowered the pendant once more and had to look twice to make certain I was seeing it correctly.

  The Kanna Stone.

  Followed by a list of the powers and skills it could bestow upon the bearer.

  This was certainly going to be useful.

  I studied and memorized for what seemed like hours. Then I pulled Ruman away from the book he was reading.

  “Ruman, sorry t’ interrupt. But I do have a question about this.”

  He didn’t rise but prompted me to ask what was on my mind.

  “Do you know where the Kanna Stone is located?”

  “Yes and no,” he responded. “It was last said to have been hidden within the White Mountain range by an unknown Keeper of Knowledge. I do not know the era nor if it is still there.”

  “Well, that’s something t’ go on, at least.”

  The feathery sound of a chime echoed through the room. I peered around but couldn’t locate the source of the sound. “What was that?” I asked.

  “That is the notification that your time here is up. It would seem you’ve acquired the knowledge you need.”

  “Oh, well . . . okay. I guess I’ll see ya next time.”

  “Possibly. If you are ever in need of information again. If not, it was quite the pleasure meeting you, Miss O’Cléirigh. Do take care of yourself.”

  “It has definitely been interesting, Ruman. Oh, and before I go, just in case I don’t see you again, I preferred the leather DnD fashion statements. They’re more your style,” I grinned.

  He chuckled. “I shall keep that in mind.”

  “Now, how do I get out of here?”

  “Just follow the hallway.”

  Fourteen

  The faint beeping sound of decryption software roused me from my nap. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock over the fireplace, expecting to see that I had been asleep for a few hours. Instead, it had only been less than an hour which meant I still had plenty of time to read through the files Kara had sent before I needed to leave for dinner with Uncle Lachlan. I shut down the decryption software and opened the files to make sure everything I needed had downloaded.

  While the dream was fresh in my mind, I grabbed a notebook and pen and started jotting down everything I could remember. Mostly, I didn't want to forget what I had learned about the Kanna Stone. Cian had not been exaggerating when he said I didn't understand even a fraction of the artifact’s capabilities. It was much more dangerous than anything I had expected. More than ever, I understood why keeping it out of the hands of The Saiad was so important.

  Next, in large letters across the top of a clean page, I wrote the words Tartaros Blade. I needed to learn every morsel of intel I could about this artifact. What I wanted to know most was who had it . . . or at least, who’d had it last. That information was nearly as valuable to me as the location of the Kanna Stone. If someone had asked me, I couldn't have explained why saving Cian McCallister, someone I barely knew, was so important to me, but it was.

  Having the files downloaded and at my disposal, I gathered my things, shoved them all into my backpack, and headed to the one place I knew that might hold the information I desperately needed. The Pyreshore Library.

  But before I locked and protected the house, I shot a quick text to Kara. All it said was “Tartaros Blade. All the information you can get me. ASAP.”

  She responded minutes later while I was walking to the car with three words: “I’m on it.”

  I was fairly certain she actually meant Lazlo was on it, which was even better. If anyone could trace every detail in existence on an artifact, right down to whoever searched it last, it was him. And he could probably make it happen in twenty minutes flat. So, just enough time for me to get across town and settled in at the library.

  As I cranked my car, I contemplated stopping by The Black Cat Café. It hadn't occurred to me earlier in the morning that the only way I could get in touch with Cian was in person. I knew he had a cell phone; he had shown me images on it. Why I hadn't considered exchanging numbers is beyond me. I guess I was a little too rattled. Watching someone die will do that to you.

  Even though there was a shorter route, I drove past the Black Cat like the weirdo stalker I probably I was. And I drove slowly. You know, to really solidify that stalker vibe. However, Cian was not the one behind the bar. So, I continued to the library via the scenic route—past the farmers market and around the long way until I pulled into a parking space in front of the building. I had almost three hours of dedicated research time before I needed to meet Uncle Lachlan for dinner. I was going to need it.

  The library looked eerily quiet in the orange glow of late afternoon. Judging by the two vehicles parked nearby, I would practically have the library to myself. When I pushed through the large green door, I noticed the welcome desk was, once again, void of a welcoming committee. I eyed the spiral staircase behind the large, abandoned counter. But knowing I needed to stay focused, I forced myself to walk down the hallway toward the research room. Admittedly, the few lives my curious cat had left really wanted to check out what was on the next floor. Mental note: another day.

  The long hall of books was a comforting sight, almost like being back in Dublin. I thought of going straight for the card catalog that was still in place, as a backup, according to Nira Garrison. But considering I was on a time constraint, I went right for the digital system.

  First, I typed The Kanna Stone into the system and waited for it to spit out a list of books, reference materials, and locations where they could be found. I printed the list and then typed in The Tartarus Blade. There were only two listings. Once that was printed, I began searching through the stacks. Ten minutes later, I had gathered a few books and found a small desk tucked into a corner that allowed me a view of three-quarters of the open area. I preferred to be able to see every aspect of the room, but there was no such perspective point to be found when you were faced with row upon row of shelves. In short, it was a strategical nightmare. So, I chose the best option available, and I spread out my research on the table before me.

  For every artifact in the Keeper’s system, there was a collective journal. Any Keeper that had come into contact with the artifact or obtained information associated with it would crea
te an entry in the corresponding journal to record the details of their encounter. Those are the journals I went to first. Because while the history of each artifact might be fascinating, I was more interested in its current location and status. Knowing where it came from and what neat tricks it could do, that was secondary.

  “That is not what I would call light readin’.” The familiar inflection sent an equally familiar shiver over my skin. Cian’s voice had effortlessly grown on me and developed a penchant for making my pulse quicken. When I looked up to say hello, I realized he wasn't alone.

  It’s natural to judge someone on a first impression . . . even when you're not trained to size someone up in a split second. But add in any amount of training and you’ll view everyone from one of two perspectives—friend or foe. I tend to assume they are foe first and let them prove otherwise. Soul Sight has been fundamental in my assessment of everyone I've come into contact with since I was eleven years old. Until I came to Pyreshore.

  Those familiar deep blue eyes smiled down at me, but my gaze darted to the unfamiliar man standing just to Cian's left. He was tall, but still a few inches shorter than Cian, and sported an athletic build with just a little added bulk through the arms and shoulders. Yet, like my attempts to read Cian, my Soul Sight was drawing a blank.

  “Hi,” I managed to get out and refocus on the familiar smile. “No, I don't suppose it would qualify as your usual curling-up-with-a-good-book-by-a-fireplace material, would it?” I smiled back as I casually slid a book to cover my list of references for the Tartaros Blade. My sleight of hand did not go unnoticed. I saw Cian squint curiously in the direction of my now hidden research. “Who's your friend?” I asked to redirect his attention.

  “Aish, this is Kage Mazoku. Kage, Aisling O’Cléirigh.” Cian made the introductions short and sweet.

  Kage had one hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans and another gripped the camera bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't bother extending either. He simply nodded and offered a smile that put me a little on edge. It seemed harmless enough, cheerful even, but that's what didn't sit right. It was almost forced.