“Well, great.” Cormack made a face as he rolled his neck until it cracked. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be the one to tell Renley we need to make nice with the gargoyles. He won’t find that request ridiculous at all.”
“Suck it up.” Cillian mimicked his father’s tone as I tilted my head and stared at the back side of the room. There was something off about the dimensions, and I couldn’t stop from momentarily kicking myself for not noticing before. “You’re the one who says the job comes before comfort. We need Renley on our side, so you’ll have to be the one to snag him.”
“Yes, yes.” Cormack waved off his son’s amusement as his eyes turned to me. “What are you looking at, Izzy?”
I extended a finger. “That’s the storage room I hid in when the other wraiths showed up.”
He followed my finger with his gaze. “I remember. But those wraiths are dead. We don’t have to worry about them.”
“I’m not worried about the wraiths. I’m wondering why they came back in the first place.”
“They wanted to cross over,” Cillian said. “They wanted to enhance their abilities, like the first wraith.”
“Except they didn’t cross the threshold,” I pointed out. “They didn’t even look at it.”
“That’s because they were focused on you.”
“That’s what we assumed,” I corrected, moving away from Cormack and Cillian and focusing on the wall. “The thing is, what if we were wrong? What if they came back for something else entirely? We assumed that the wraith was hanging close to remain near Belle Isle. What if there’s something here that it wants?”
I lightly rested my fingers on the wall and leaned my head closer to listen.
“I don’t think I’m following you,” Cormack said as he watched me move my fingertips over the wall. “What are you saying?”
“The dimensions in this room are wrong.” I knocked on the wall and came up with a solid echo.
“Are you suddenly an architect?” Cillian teased.
I shook my head. I murmured as I continued along the wall, “The storage room should be located in the center of the wall. It’s not. Why?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“There’s something else here.” I knocked again. This time the sound was hollow. “There’s another door on the other side of this drywall, and it’s right here.”
Cormack moved to my side, intrigued. “Why do you think that matters?”
“I don’t know, but what if the wraiths didn’t come back for the gate? They came to this room for a reason. Maybe they came for what’s on the other side of this door.”
Cormack licked his lips and slid his eyes to Cillian. “What do you think?”
“Hey, I’m a Grimlock.” Cillian’s smile turned sheepish. “I need to see what’s on the other side of this wall now that I know something was covered up years ago. There has to be a reason for it.”
“I agree.” Cormack fumbled with his phone. “We’ll need a construction team.”
“Get a big one,” Cillian instructed. “We have no idea what we’re dealing with and I don’t want to wait forever for them to get through there.”
“I’m on it. We shouldn’t have to wait long.”
Twenty
It was a library.
Well, it was what probably doubled as a library fifty years ago.
It was basically a room with a long rectangular table at the center, and four huge shelves filled with oversized tomes. There was also a thick layer of dust, which caused Cormack to continuously sneeze as he surveyed the find.
“Knock that off.”
A man I didn’t recognize strode into the room and openly glared at Cormack, causing me to press my lips together to keep from laughing given the annoyed look on the eldest Grimlock’s face.
“Pardon me?” For a moment, I got to see the look I’m sure Cormack used to liquefy his children’s innards when they were teenagers and had missed curfew. However, the man it was directed at didn’t seem impressed.
“Don’t sneeze on the books,” he ordered. “You’ll ruin them.”
“They’ve been holed off in a secret room for decades. I think they’ll survive.”
“They’ve been holed off in a temperature-controlled room and not exposed to the elements,” the man fired back. “They’re delicate.”
“Uh-huh.” Cormack wrinkled his nose as he looked the man up and down. He was young — late thirties or early forties by my estimation — and he was dressed in one of those blazers with the patches on the elbows. His narrow face wasn’t exactly handsome, but it was dignified, and offset by a pair of scholarly glasses. “And who are you?”
“Edgar Mason,” Cillian answered for the man, his face awash with awe as he stepped into the room. He’d disappeared not long after the construction crew managed to open the door and I hadn’t seen him since. “You’re Edgar Mason, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Mason bobbed his head as he looked Cillian up and down. “Who are you?”
“Cillian Grimlock. I’m a big fan.” Cillian thrust out his hand so Mason could shake it. “I just read about that tomb you found in Africa several months ago. That was a terrific find.”
I loved history as much as the next person, but I was legitimately confused. “Are you an archeologist or something?”
Mason flicked his eyes to me. At first, I thought they would cruise right over my dirty features — getting into the room was a messy endeavor — but his blue eyes snagged with mine as interest shone bright. “I guess you could call me an archeologist.” His smile was so wide it threatened to swallow the bottom half of his face. “I’m the lead environmental investigator for the reaper council.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Okay. Um ... what does that mean?”
“It means I do this.” He gestured toward the room. “I make discoveries.”
“You didn’t make this discovery,” Cormack pointed out. “We made this discovery.”
I cleared my throat. “Technically, I made this discovery,” I corrected.
Cormack was unruffled. “You’re part of my team.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Cillian’s tight-lipped smile and almost imperceptible headshake told me that wasn’t a good idea.
“Mr. Mason has been cited in numerous scholastic magazines,” Cillian volunteered, clearly hoping to take control of the conversation before things shifted too far to steer them back on course. “He’s an expert on all sorts of things.”
Cormack didn’t look impressed. “Like what?”
“Well, for starters, I discovered a species of bat long since thought extinct in the caverns of Kentucky,” Mason volunteered. He was so prim and proper I could practically see the disdain dripping from his tongue. “What do you think about that?”
“I think that’s great for the bat,” Cormack drawled. “I’m much more interested in what you’re doing here. Why are you visiting our neck of the woods?”
“I was called to check out this library.”
“But ... why?” Confusion etched itself over Cormack’s distinguished features. “We don’t even know what we have yet. Until we know if this find is significant, I would think your talents would be better served someplace else.”
“And yet I’m here.” Mason bared his teeth. The way he looked at Cormack almost reminded me of a male dog about to mark its territory. The weird thing was that this particular piece of land was a dingy hole in the middle of a building.
“I’m sure we can all work together,” I interjected hurriedly, flicking a glance to Cillian so he could help control his father. “There’s no reason for things to get out of hand.”
“I quite agree,” Mason said. “There’s plenty of work for everybody ... as long as those volunteering to help realize that I’m in charge.”
A muscle worked in Cormack’s jaw and I was certain he was about to lose the world-class calm I’d become so fond of in such a short amount of time.
“We all know who’s in charge
,” Cillian said as he rested a quelling hand on his father’s arm. “We all want answers.”
“Yes, well ... let’s get those answers.” Mason paused long enough to wink at me and then moved farther into the room. “Nothing is to be removed from this space before I have a chance to okay it. Is that understood? Great. Let’s get started.”
I WORKED ALONGSIDE Cillian, sitting on the floor to focus on the books on the bottom row of one of the shelves while he shifted through tomes at the top. The room had an eerie atmosphere thanks to a large window that was located right above us. It didn’t look outside, instead offering a glimpse of a dark hallway that appeared to lead nowhere.
Cormack removed himself from the situation and stood at the back of the room. His attention was fixated on Mason, and he seemingly had no interest in anything else. Given the find, I was confused by his reaction, but I wisely refrained from questioning him.
“Don’t worry about him,” Cillian said as he dropped onto the floor next to me and opened a book. “He won’t fly off the handle and kill Mason or anything. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Embarrassed to be caught staring, my cheeks burned as I turned my attention back to the book resting on my lap. “I wasn’t worried.”
“You were worried a little.” Cillian’s expression was cheeky. “My father has a temper. He’ll get over it. Mason is a revered figure in certain circles. His ego is obviously an acquired taste, but that doesn’t mean he’s not brilliant.”
“You’re clearly excited about meeting him,” I noted. “Let me guess: He’s your version of a celebrity, right?”
Cillian shifted, uncomfortable. “I happen to like science.”
“I do, too. That doesn’t mean I don’t like a good dose of celebrity gossip either. You’re much more interested in Bill Nye the Science Guy than the Kardashians, right?”
“If I was interested in the Kardashians, my sister would kill me. She wishes they would be beamed to television oblivion.”
“I kind of wish that, too,” I admitted, flipping a page. “Braden mentioned you were interested in research above all else. I bet this is like a dream come true for you. An old room full of books no one has seen in a long time. That’s like discovering gold to some people.”
“Uh-huh.” Cillian’s gaze didn’t shift from my face. “When did Braden tell you that?”
“Um ... I’m not sure. I just remember him saying it.”
“Was it last night?”
I recognized the edge in Cillian’s voice and shook my head. “No. It wasn’t last night. Why are you asking about last night?”
“Because I happen to know you two were together after our trip to the research library.” Cillian tilted his head so his long hair dipped low over his shoulders. “You guys went to dinner afterward, right?”
The question caught me off guard. “We got food. I don’t know that I would call it dinner.”
“You had a meal after six in the evening. Most people call that dinner.”
I sucked in a calming breath. “Fine. We had dinner. It’s not as if it was a date or anything, so if that’s what you’re thinking, you can stop right now.”
“I don’t believe I said the D-word.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Are you a mind reader now?”
“No, but ... I can read facial expressions, and you were trying to decide if dinner last night was something you could use against your brother the next time you’re in the mood to fight. It’s not, for the record. We had Mexican food, and that’s it.”
“Mexican, huh? Armando’s?”
“How did you know?”
“That’s Braden’s favorite place to eat,” Cillian replied, leaning his back against the wall and giving me his full attention. “I’ve never known him to take a woman there before. He’s generally against it.”
“And why would he be against it?”
“Because he doesn’t want his favorite place tainted,” he explained. “Our brother Redmond has a tendency to date women for a week and then ghost them. He’s always got a favorite restaurant of the moment, and he takes his flavor of the week to those restaurants. Do you know what happens after he ghosts them?”
“Hopefully they kick him in the nuts because ghosting is a horrible thing to do.”
Cillian’s chuckle was low and throaty. “Good point, but no. Redmond always gives up the restaurant, essentially ceding it to the woman he’s crushed as something of a parting gift. It’s not nice as much as cowardly because Redmond doesn’t want to risk running into those women again. Braden has heard the stories for years. He decided that he didn’t want to risk losing his favorite restaurant, so he never takes dates there.”
“Well, I hate to blow your theory out of the water, but we weren’t on a date,” I pointed out, hating the shrill tinge to my voice. “We merely stopped for something to eat after a long day.”
Cillian furrowed his brow, unconvinced. “Here’s the thing ... I think my brother likes you.”
The statement was so simple, so ridiculously junior high, I couldn’t stop my laughter from bubbling up. “Are you seriously playing matchmaker? I mean ... we’re adults. I think we can make decisions on our own.”
“I don’t deny that.” Cillian didn’t back down. “My brother hasn’t shown much interest in anything since my mother died. You know about that. Aisling said she filled you in. Braden has been struggling since that happened.”
I sobered. “And that’s terrible. I wouldn’t wish that hurt on anyone. That doesn’t mean he’s interested in me. We’re simply working on the same problem with a joint end goal. That doesn’t lead to dating.”
“It could.”
“Except I just started this job,” I argued. “I don’t have time to date anyone. I need to focus on this. We have a rogue wraith running around killing people. Your father told me this morning that the main office believes it can attribute ten deaths to this wraith, and they’re deaths that aren’t showing up on the reaper rolls. That can’t be a good thing.”
“Definitely not,” Cillian agreed. “I would never argue otherwise. That’s not how I roll. But scheduling your life around outside factors isn’t a good idea. On top of that, it rarely works.”
“You sound as if you’re an expert.”
“I don’t think I’m nearly the expert that Aisling is, but I’ve had a little experience with it. I met my girlfriend about a year and a half ago. We fell in love and moved in together despite everything that was going on.
“I don’t regret it and it didn’t split my focus,” he continued. “She makes me a better man. That’s always a good thing.”
“Well, I’m happy for you.” His intense scrutiny made me uncomfortable. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Fair enough.” Cillian held up his hands in capitulation. “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life.”
“But?”
“But ... I love my brother.” Cillian turned earnest. “He hasn’t shown interest in anyone for what feels like a very long time. The fact that he took you to his favorite restaurant feels significant to me. I’m sure it doesn’t to you, but I can’t help but hope. You might be good for him.”
I asked the obvious question. “And how is he going to be for me?”
“I ... what do you mean?”
“How is he going to be for me?” I repeated. “By his own admission he prefers focusing on a woman for one night and moving on. That is not how I want to live my life.”
“Oh, he talks big.” Cillian made a face. “I can guarantee he doesn’t mean that, though. He’s found a reason to stick close to you for the past three days. That isn’t a coincidence.”
“And it’s not something I’m in the mood to explore.” I was firm. “I’m never going to be the type of woman he’s interested in. That’s not how I’m built.”
“I think you’re already that type of woman.”
“And I think you’re seeing wha
t you want to see.” I refused to back down. “I’m not getting involved in this. We have other things to deal with.”
“Fine.” Cillian turned morose as he focused on his book. “I’m going to let this go until after we catch the wraith. When that’s done, be prepared, because we’re totally going to revisit this.”
“That sounds like a threat your sister would make.”
“Well ... I learned from the best.”
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. That would only encourage him. “There has to be something good in these books for them to be locked away the way they were. Let’s find out what that is, shall we?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I BELIEVE I’VE DECIPHERED this book,” Mason intoned, drawing multiple sets of eyes in his direction as he moved toward the center of the room. The book in his hands was large, opened to the middle, and looked to have a wall of text spread from top to bottom. “I believe this is ancient Sumerian.”
Cillian cocked an eyebrow as he leaned over and looked at the page in question. “That’s Italian.”
Mason turned haughty. “And how do you know that? I think I know a bit about dead languages.”
“Because I’m fluent in five languages,” Cillian replied without hesitation. “That word right there? Fantasma. It means ghost. Spettro means wraith. Anima means soul. That book is in Italian.”
“So you say,” Mason grumbled under his breath.
“It’s also a dictionary of sorts,” Cillian added, refusing to engage in an argument. “That book is merely a dictionary of magical beings. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in there. In fact, none of these books are out of the ordinary from what I can tell.”
Cormack, who had disappeared into the gate room to make several calls, looked intrigued as he returned. “What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know.”
“Theorize.”
Cillian threw his hands in the air and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Dad. They’re basic research books. I mean ... I obviously haven’t been through all of them, but I don’t see anything that stands out here.”
Only The Lonely (A Death Gate Grim Reapers Thriller Book 1) Page 19