“Fine,” I said, knowing he was talking about my Iris-induced near-death experience a few weeks ago. “Back to normal.”
“Good,” he nodded, followed by another bout of heavy silence.
OK, this was getting us nowhere. I’d forced myself to make good on my resolution to “try,” and I wasn’t about to let the effort it took to get this far all be for not. He’d asked me how I was, so it was my turn to say something, and sticking with questions seemed the best way to go.
“So um… Do you know these people?” I asked, proud of myself for speaking, even if my tone hadn’t actually sounded as casual as it had in my mind. “The ones we’re going to see I mean, the Bhunaidh?”
“No,” he said, seeming to relax slightly, “not personally, or at least not well. I’ve met the head family, Brassal Bloch and his wife Alva. They have two children, both attending University now, I believe.”
“What do you mean ‘head family’? Are they in charge?”
“Something like that,” he nodded, as he started moving the stacks of textbooks to the bookcase on the wall, lining them on the empty shelves toward the bottom. “The Bhunaidh have their own, very unique way of life, and to them, the Blochs are essentially their… well, royal family, I suppose, for lack of a better description.”
Royal family? These people were just getting better and better by the minute.
Realizing it was totally lame of me to just sit and watch a man walk back and forth with stacks of books when I had functioning limbs, I got up and stepped over to the desk. “OK,” I said, picking up the next stack of books and handing it to him, “royal families, galas, private personal tailors; these people really are as bad as everyone says, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know if ‘bad’ is the best word, but I’m sure you would think as much,” he said with an emphasis on “you,” as he took the books from me and turned back to the bookcase.
“You’d think as much?” I said, mimicking his tone. “Should I be offended? Kinda feels like I should.” I’d known what he meant, but me being me, I couldn’t help but fall back into one of my most tried and true comfort zones: sarcasm.
Unfortunately, he didn’t recognize the joke in my undertone. “No,” he said, looking up quickly, clearly thinking I was mad – though given our more recent history, I couldn’t really blame him. “I only meant…” but he stopped when he saw that I was smiling. Relaxing, he took the next stack of books from my outstretched hand. “What I meant was that growing up as you have in this era, you are used to the idea that people are equal no matter their circumstance. The Bhunaidh don’t operate that way.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard all the holier-than-thou crap.”
“It is not crap to them. They call themselves Bhunaidh, or Originals, because their bloodlines are directly descended from the Holders of ancient times.”
“Good for them,” I mumbled, passing over the last of the books. “Surprised they are letting us come to this gala at all.”
Jocelyn chuckled slightly. “Actually, when I asked if we could attend their get-together this year, they were thrilled. They have been trying to bring me into their fold for decades. Of course I didn’t mention that we were, in fact, coming to find one of their own who is possibly a spy for Darragh. I can’t imagine that conversation would have gone well.”
“Wait, they want you in their little Holder club? Why? I thought it was only pureblooded Holders allowed. Weren’t your parents normal? I mean wasn’t that the whole prophecy deal?” I asked, trying to remember what Min and Alex had told me about all the old stories. From what I could remember, it was said that a full Holder would be born whose ability didn’t come from anyone else in his line, and that his son – or as it turned out, daughter; me – would be the Holder destined to awaken the Iris.
“That was the deal,” he grinned, “yes. But in my instance, bloodline is of little matter. I am Bronntanas,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly. “Not only am I worthy,” I smiled at that distaste in his voice at the word “worthy,” happy to know that he seemed to find this as ridiculous as I did, “but I would most certainly be quite a large feather in their collective cap. The Bhunaidh know more about Holder lore and our legends than anyone. It is an immensely serious matter to them, almost like a religion.”
“Religion?” I was trying not to giggle, as I probably shouldn’t have been, but I couldn’t help it. “So, does that make you the God?”
Luckily, he smiled too. “No, not God,” he chuckled. Then, with a grin added, “Moses, at best.”
I was about to continue my line of questioning, but stopped when a subtle pulling sensation began to bloom in my chest. Immediately my heart picked up as the fuzzy warmth grew, spreading down my arms and up my back, making my neck tingle and my stomach flutter. It was a feeling I’d experienced for the first time only a few weeks ago, however since then I’d grown so used to it that part of me felt strangely empty when it was gone. It was exciting, like sitting down to watch a movie you’d been waiting months to see, while at the same time soothing as a hot drink after being out in the snow. It was comforting, it was fulfilling, it was thrilling, and it was nerve-racking.
It was the feeling of the Anam bond… which meant Alex was nearby.
A moment later a knock at the office door had both Jocelyn and I turning – him in curiosity; me in anticipation.
“Come in,” Jocelyn called, standing and walking around to the front of the desk.
“Afternoon,” Min’s voice said, as she entered the room followed by Cormac, Mr Anderson, and Alex.
He met my eyes the moment he came through the door, then, quickly surveying the room and seeing that I had in fact been the first to arrive, looked back at me and raised his eyebrows slightly, impressed. I lifted my chin just a touch in a subtle, “That’s right, I’m awesome,” kind of way, to which the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes sparkled, their stormy blue irises laughing at me.
As they filed in to the large office and began taking seats around the large coffee table in the center of the room, Alex walked by my chair and ran the backs of his fingers discreetly down my arm as he passed, sending hot chills racing along my skin, heating my neck, and prickling my ears. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Everything about him told me how happy he was to see me. The last time we’d been together was the morning before last, just before Alex left with Mr Reid on a short scouting trip down to Cork, in the south of Ireland. I knew he’d gotten back that morning, but between my endless dress fitting and Alex helping Mr Anderson with a campus tour, this had been the first chance we’d had to see each other. It was wonderful to have him close again, and I really was trying to convince myself that the combination of seeing him and the amazing – though short-lived – feel of his touch was enough. It should have been enough, at least to get me though this meeting… but it wasn’t. When it came to Alex, nothing would ever be enough for me, and though I usually did a good job of keeping my sappy, sentimental, lovely-dovey thoughts under control, that afternoon, it wasn’t happening. Embarrassed as I was to admit it, at that moment… I would have done anything for a kiss.
But of course I knew that wasn’t going to happen, not with so many people around. Alex and I never kissed in public. In fact, we never did anything more than hold hands unless we were alone. Every so often he would give me a peck on the cheek, but that was it. Alex preferred our more… um… personal exchanges to remain a private matter. He was definitely a gentleman, and held nothing higher than our relationship and the bond we shared, and while I knew that there were girls my age that would have frustrated by such old-fashioned discretion, I found it charming.
At least normally. However, on days like this, it was the best and worst kind of torture. The need for his lips on mine was like the tickle of a feather I couldn’t scratch, and as Alex sat at the end of the couch nearest my chair, I kicked myself for not thinking to move over there myself before they’d arrived.
OK… time to focus on something
else…
Luckily, Mr Reid chose that moment to come rushing in, completing our group.
“You’re late,” Mr Anderson grumbled, as Mr Reid took the seat next to him on the second couch.
“I’m not late,” Mr Reid said under his breath, pulling his sleeve back and displaying his wristwatch to Mr Anderson. “We were to begin at 4 o’clock, and it is 4 o’clock.”
“Aye,” Anderson said, pushing Reid’s wrist back, “we were to begin at 4, not arrive at 4.”
“We have several things to go over today,” Jocelyn began, putting an end to the mumbling and starting the meeting. “First off, we need to determine which classes will need to be covered in Cormac’s and my absence…”
It quickly became clear that the first portion of the meeting would have nothing to do with me, so I tuned out a bit, breaking my “focus elsewhere” vow as my eyes slid over to Alex. He was sitting casually, elbow leaning on the couch’s armrest, chin resting on his knuckles, evidently listening intently to the conversation across the room about schedules and curriculums. Or at least that was how he appeared. However on closer inspection, I realized that his eyes, which should have been focused on the speakers, were glancing sideways at me as though he were waiting for me to look at him. When our eyes met, he smiled ever so slightly then looked down pointedly at the coffee table in the center of the room before looking back up to the conversation, again seeming perfectly attentive.
More than familiar with this game, I looked down at the table where his eyes had been moments ago, and sure enough, a few moments later the pattern of the wood grain on its surface began to move, twisting and curving until the dark veins formed words floating in the pale chestnut background.
“Hi.” The lines swirled again. “I’ve missed you.”
Following his example, I focused my gaze on the scheduling conversation while simultaneously reaching across to Mr Anderson, connecting with him and assuming his ability. Over the past few weeks I’d made several strides in honing my ability, but the one I was most happy about was my newly-developed power of stealth. It had taken some time, but I had finally reached a point where, if I was careful, I could connect with other Holders and use their abilities without them realizing I was doing so. I knew it didn’t really get me much, but it still made me feel slick.
Not to mention how handy it was when partaking in candid conversations during boring portions of meetings…
“I missed you too,” I imparted carefully, making sure that Alex was the only one to get the message.
“I was hoping you would be over here,” the table read, while at the same time Alex moved his hand from his chin to the couch, drumming his fingers lightly on the edge of the upholstered arm.
“I know, sorry.”
“No problem. I’ll just have to wait a little longer.”
I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at that last message, particularly at the level of detail he was using in his casts. He had even gone as far as to use the knots in the wood grain for his letter “o”s.
“You know that no one else can see this,” I glanced over to him quickly, “you don’t have to work so hard.”
“You don’t like the table…?” the grain spelled out, then slowly dissolved back into its rightful pattern except for one wispy spot that slid over to the edge of the table, down the leg and on to the floor. It melted into the carpet causing the fibers of the Oriental rug to ripple and then move, rearranging the images of gold leaves and ornate flowers into words. “How about the rug” I was about to answer when a growing pattern of frost on the window opposite me caught my eye. “Or the window?”
“OK, now you’re just screwing with me.”
I saw his lips twitch as the writing on both the carpet and window disappeared, only to be replaced by black letters hanging in the air a few feet in front of me. They were a squared font and appeared one at a time as though an invisible typewriter was floating in the air.
“All right then, boring it is.”
I smashed my lips together to keep from smiling and made sure to keep my eyes on the discussion. “Stop making me laugh, we’re going to get caught.”
“Looks like you need to learn to control yourself.” I glanced over again to see his eyes sparkle as the corner of his mouth raised a bit.
So he thought he was funny, did he? Well I could be funny too…
“I thought I was doing a good job controlling myself,” I imparted innocently, “because all I want to do is jump into your lap and kiss you until we can’t breathe.”
I had to give him credit, he didn’t move, but I did note – with satisfaction, I might add – that his stare became much more direct, and his hand, which had been resting casually on the armrest, started to slowly grip the fabric as a warm pink hue began to flood his ears.
“Or,” I continued, starting to feel a bit warm myself, “if you’d rather, I could kiss my way down your neck until–”
“Not fair,” came the floating words again, though this time he didn’t bother with the pretext of writing it out one letter at a time.
“Oh, don’t worry,” I told him, unable to hide my grin at his ears which had gone full-on red, “I’d play fair… you’d get to kiss me too.”
He took a deeper than average breath, squirming a bit in his seat.
“Becca?”
Damn it! “Yes?” I said, looking up at Jocelyn who was clearly expecting an answer to a question I’d not heard.
“I said I am trying to arrange our meeting with Brassal and Alva for before the gala tomorrow night. I know they would like to meet you, and it’s best to get it out of the way if we can.”
“Oh, yeah,” I nodded, hoping he was just assuming that I’d been daydreaming – which, had Alex not been in the room, would likely have been the case – and smiled. “Sure, no problem. Will you ask about Ciaran then?” I asked quickly, both curious and hoping to play off my distraction.
“Nice save,” the floating letters said. Even in their hovering silence I could tell they were sarcastic.
With everyone else looking at Jocelyn as he retook his seat, I glanced over at Alex and quickly poked my tongue out at him. He smiled and turned the “Nice save” still hanging in front of me into a heart before letting it waft away like a puff of smoke.
“Maybe,” Jocelyn finally said. “We will have to see how the day plays out. It is a delicate matter, so if there are others around, I may wait for a better time.”
“Aye,” Mr Anderson said. “Can’t imagine they will be thrilled that we plan to accuse one of their own of being a traitor. Could tarnish their reputation, you know,” he added with a scoff.
“What do you plan to tell them?” Mr Reid asked.
“Only that I wish to speak with Ciaran and ask them to set up a meeting.”
“Why do you need to ask permission?” I asked.
“I’m not asking permission, but I do want to keep them apprised of the meeting. Anderson is right, they will likely not be happy that Ciaran is suspected of association with Darragh and I do not plan to tell them until I must, but I also do not want it to appear that we are attempting to operate against their own people behind their backs.”
“But what if they say no?” I continued, already suspicious of all of them. “I mean, what if they know he’s working with Darragh? What if they all are?”
“That would be highly unlikely, my dear,” Cormac smiled. “Until now, none of the Bhunaidh have ever been known to be involved with Darragh or any of his associates. In fact such a thing is looked down upon and would likely result in a permanent dismissal from their society.”
“But this Ciaran guy is obviously up to something, why not others?” I asked.
“Well first of all,” Jocelyn said, “we don’t know that Ciaran is guilty of anything yet. All we know is that Taron was in contact with him, and that surrounding those dealings are holes in his memory.”
“Holes? What do you mean ‘holes’?” several of us asked overtop of one another.
“When did you realize that, Jocelyn?” Min asked.
“Only a few days ago,” Jocelyn sighed. “When my subsequent readings on Taron didn’t produce anything useful, I took a closer look at the memories involving Ciaran. That is when I noticed the inconsistencies: missing periods, partial conversations, and so on. They were well disguised, but once I realized what I was looking for, the holes became obvious.”
“What exactly is a memory hole?” Alex asked, making me happy to know that I wasn’t the only one who was lost.
“An absence of information, or a break in the stream of consciousness,” Jocelyn answered. “From the time we are born to the moment we die, our brains are always active, constantly collecting information. Even when asleep, our sensory organs continue to function, adding to the string of memories, thus this string would be continuous from birth to death.”
“So then, what would cause a hole?” Mr Anderson asked.
“Nothing natural,” Jocelyn replied. “The only way that a string of consciousness can have holes is if a memory or group of memories is removed.”
“Could it have been an accident?” Mr Reid asked.
“No,” Jocelyn shook his head, “absolutely not. It was deliberate, and I am more than sure it was done with Taron’s consent in an attempt to hide information. Had Taron been unwilling, there would have been tension, strain, or fear within the memories surrounding the gaps, but there is none.”
“He allowed someone to erase his memories?” I asked no one specific.
“Why have we not yet fed him to the hounds?” Mr Anderson growled, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Taron’s fate will be determined by what Mr Shea has to tell us. Until then, he stays where he is,” Jocelyn said.
The Seers Page 2