The Seers

by Julianna Scott

  “What do we do now?” Chloe’s voice trembled, understandably uninterested in Sciath talk.

  “We go talk to the one man who knows everything there is to know,” I said. “Molony.”

  There was a collective nod of agreement, but Alex’s brow furrowed. “But how? We don’t know where he is. The banquet is the only place we know for sure he’ll be.”

  “No,” I shook my head, “we can’t wait until tomorrow, that’s too long.”

  “But we don’t know where to find him…” Alex pressed, while I looked over to Bastian, relieved when I saw that he had followed my train of thought.

  “We don’t,” he said grim determination set in his eyes, “but my parents do.”

  I nodded, but still eyed him hesitantly. “Are you sure you are up for this?” I asked, knowing that there was no way we could approach Alva and Brassal without them learning everything that Bastian had fought for so long to keep secret.

  “He’s my brother.”

  It was all he said, but it was enough. His love for Steven was the only reason he maintained the pretense he did; why wouldn’t he be willing to give it up to save him?

  I turned to Cormac. “Call Min and the others and let them know what’s happened.”

  “Of course,” he nodded.

  As he went for the phone, I turned to Alex, but he beat me to the punch. “I’ll stay here with Chloe,” he said, echoing my thoughts exactly, “and try to get the door back up. Go with Bastian and see if you can help.” I was going to ask if he was sure, but one look in his eyes and I saw there was no need. When it came to Bastian he understood now, and even if he hadn’t, this wasn’t about us. It was about getting Jocelyn and Steven back safely, and I knew that we were all willing to do whatever it took to make sure that happened. “Everything will be fine,” Alex whispered, wrapping his hands firmly around mine.

  I knew what he meant, and I tried my best to smile. We both knew that he didn’t know how things would turn out, but he wanted me to know that he knew how scared I was even if I couldn’t bring myself to say it. As always, he was able to see through me to everything I thought I was keeping hidden, and vulnerable as it usually made me feel, right then it gave me a comfort that I could be nothing but grateful for.

  “OK,” I said louder as I gave Alex’s hand a squeeze and stepped back with a deep breath, “are we ready?” I looked over at Bastian who gave me a nod, and let the adrenaline of action distract my mind from the nauseating worry. “Then let’s go.”

  “What is all this about, Bastian?” Alva asked, as she, Brassal, Bastian, and I arrived at the Blochs’ guestroom and quickly ducked inside. As Bastian ushered his parents into the parlor area of the suite, I made sure to scan the hall and surrounding areas once more with my ability, making sure we weren’t being followed before shutting and locking the door behind us.

  “It better damned well be important enough to warrant interrupting a formal dinner.” Brassal clipped, rounding on Bastian the moment they reached the parlor. “Do you have any idea what the other guests at dinner must be thinking of us?”

  Seriously? What they were thinking of them – was he kidding? Couldn’t he tell that this was serious, or at least give us the benefit of the doubt before assuming we were just wasting his time? Sure, Bastian and I had cut their dinner short when we’d urgently insisted on speaking to them privately, but we had been more than discreet. Granted our caution was more to do with the fact that we didn’t know who in the room full of diners may have been listening in, than it was to help the host and hostess of the evening save face, but either way, Brassal had no reason to be complaining.

  “With all due respect, Father,” Bastian ground out, apparently unwilling to tolerate his father’s narcissism, “I don’t give a devil’s ass to what they are saying about any of us, and neither should you. There are far more serious matters to worry about right now.” It looked like Brassal might have been a second away from erupting, but Bastian continued before he could begin, “Jocelyn and Steven have been abducted.”

  The expressions on Brassal and Alva’s faces instantly fell black, then morphed into something between anger and shock. “What in God’s name are you talking about?” Brassal asked.

  “Jocelyn and Steven have been taken,” Bastian repeated, his posture as rigid as his gaze.

  “When?” Alva gasped.

  “By whom?” Brassal added on top of her.

  “About an hour ago,” Bastian said. He paused for only a moment as a silent debate flashed behind his eyes. As I waited for him to decide what to say, I wondered just how much he was going to reveal, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long. “They were taken by Mr Ryan and Mr Barra whom, along with Mr Doyle and Mr McGary, have been working as informants to Darragh, and assisting him in many of his various operations.”

  The room fell silent as death, and I found myself afraid to breathe. Though awkward as the moment was, I had to hand it to Bastian; he hadn’t wasted any time. He’d laid it all out, and was ready to deal with the consequences, come what may. But impressed as I was, the shift on both Brassal and Alva’s faces had me growing concerned. It was obvious that they were shocked, but I wasn’t so sure that the news about the four men was the only thing sparking their surprise, and while I could understand Bastian’s direct approach, I began to wonder if it was really for the best.

  “Have you lost your senses?” Brassal scoffed after a moment, “Those men could not possib–”

  But Bastian stopped him. “I assure you I am very serious,” he replied, his flat tone reinforcing the words. “We have been watching the four of them for some time, and–”

  “We?” Brassal interrupted this time, “who is we?”

  “Jocelyn, Becca, and the rest of their party.” He paused with a tense huff before going on. “But only since meeting with them here at Adare. Prior to our arrival, I worked on my own, and have been observing them secretly for years. Because of this, I know for a fact that not only are they conspiring with Darragh, but have on multiple occasions assisted him in his various operations.”

  A deep red hue began to flood Brassal’s face. “You’ve been spying on them?!” he hissed, his nostrils flared.

  “Bastian,” Alva breathed, her hand flying to her chest as she made a show of being appalled, “what were you thinking?!”

  Bastian’s hands began to shake. “What was I thinking?” he hissed “That is what you want to discuss! Did you not hear me? Steven is gone! Jocelyn is gone!”

  “What was Steven doing in Jocelyn’s room?” Alva asked, sounding far more irritated than worried.

  “It doesn’t matter right now,” Bastian yelled though his clenched jaw, then ran his hands through his hair with a shuddering breath, in a last ditch effort to keep it together. “All that matters,” he continued, his temper just barely under wraps, “is that we speak to Niall Molony, and you are the only ones who know where he is.”

  “Molony?” Alva’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “Don’t tell me you believe Molony is involved in your ludicrous conspiracy theories as well?” Brassal asked with what was almost a sneer.

  I could see Bastian was about to snap, and know that wasn’t going to get us the information we needed, I quickly put a hand on his arm before he could speak. “We are not sure of his involvement,” I said, while Bastian ground his teeth next to me, “but we do believe he may know what has happened.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Alva insisted, waiving her hand dismissively.

  As Bastian’s eyes followed the flip of her wrist, he lost the battle against his rage. “Is it?” he challenged, sarcastic malice dripping from each syllable. “And why is that, pray? Because you know him so well? Because of all the years you’ve spent as his closest friends?”

  “You will mind your tongue, young man,” Brassal warned, but Bastian ignored him.

  “Or,” Bastian went on, “could it be that you refuse to believe that any of the mindless, self-absorbed, wastes of matter that yo
u so proudly associate with, could be anything but loyal to your worthless kind?”

  Brassal stepped toward his son with a terrible fire in his eyes, and for a second I thought he might hit him. In the end he didn’t but action or no, the threat of violence continued to waft from him as he spoke, like the billowing scent of too much cologne. “I will not tolerate such disrespect from you, boy. I don’t know what has gotten into you, but you will find a way to control yourself this minute.” Bastian didn’t respond, but stood rigidly, shaking with frustration. “I realize,” Brassal went on, backing down slightly, “that this is a troubling situation. Clearly you are not yourself, and as I understand your being upset, I am willing to forgive you on this occasion. But do not mistake my forgiveness of your outburst for clemency of your professed past actions. These claims of spying and so forth will be addressed at a later time, is that clear?” Bastian nodded, the hope in his features growing. “However, for now, all our energy needs to be put into the situation at hand.”

  “Oh goodness, yes,” Alva said, seeming truly worried for the first time since we’d arrived at the room, “there is no time to lose.”

  Bastian let out a shuddering breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank you,” he said, glancing down at me as I smiled back, hopeful for the first time since finding Jocelyn’s empty room.

  “Of course, dear,” Alva said, “after all this affects us as much as it does the two of you.”

  “Indeed,” Brassal agreed, then turned to Bastian. “Who else is aware that this has happened? Have you spoken to anyone about it?”

  “No,” Bastian answered. “Only Becca, Cormac, Alex and myself, as we were there just after it happened.”

  “And there was no one else nearby? No one who could have overheard?”

  “No, I don’t believe so,” said Bastian, his tone echoing my own growing confusion.

  Why would it matter who knew?

  “Good,” Brassal said seeming somewhat satisfied, “in that case, we may not be too late. Alva,” he looked to his pensive wife, “go back to the dinner and make sure nothing has reached them there. I will go to the front desk to see if anything has been reported, and go to Jocelyn’s room and see what needs to be done there. The key will be staying in control of the situation, and if we are lucky and work quickly, none of the other guests will have cause to find out that any of this has happened.”

  “Oh my, can you imagine? Everyone finding out that the Bronntanas was attacked at our own event? We would be ruined!”

  “Pardon me,” I said, unsure if I was misunderstanding, or worse, understanding perfectly, “you do realize that my father has been taken by Darragh, right? And what that could mean?” I added, suppressing a tremor.

  “Of course,” Alva said, stepping over to me and taking my hand, “and it is just awful to be sure. However, I think there is something you need to understand, my dear. Your father and his associates have been involving themselves in Darragh and his affairs for many years. This sort of thing was bound to happen eventually, I’m afraid.”

  Brassal huffed in agreement. “Precisely why one should keep to their own affairs. Meddling brings nothing but trouble.”

  The horror on my face must have shown through, because Alva placed what I’m sure she thought was a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But you needn’t worry. You are practically family now, and we will do everything we can to make sure that you are undamaged by all this.”

  “Undamaged in the Bhunaidh society, you mean,” I clarified, not sure what my expression looked like from the outside, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to faze her.

  “Exactly,” she smiled, eliciting the same feeling in me as would scratching on a chalkboard. “And you’ll never have to worry about Darragh, or any of that awful business at the school again.”

  I wanted to reply, but I was beyond words. Not only were they not interested in helping the man they claimed to worship, but they’d not made a single reference to the fact that their own son was also gone. Jocelyn had “brought it on himself,” and all that mattered now was covering it up so that everyone could save face. They would leave Jocelyn and Steven – and probably anyone else for that matter – to rot while they carried on as the center of their own universe.

  I should have been mad. I should have been screaming, fighting, and yelling, with a red face and clenched fists. But now was not the time for my temper. Now was the time to get the information I needed, and yelling and screaming wasn’t going to get me there. Bastian had taught me that when dealing with people like this, there was another way. He may have forgotten, but I hadn’t. He took a breath and was about to fume again, but I stopped him with a clam hand on his chest. He’d tried yelling, and it hadn’t worked. Now, it was my turn.

  “Forgive me,” I said, addressing both Brassal and Alva with a direct and stern tone that had them both turning to look at me, “but I’m afraid you have misunderstood my intentions in coming to you. My father and your son have been taken against their will, and I intend to do everything in my power to bring them home. In order to do that, I need to speak to Niall Molony. You can either tell me where to find him so that our meeting can be done quietly, or you can refuse and force me to question every person on this property until I find someone who can help me. And should I have to go that route, I promise you on everything I hold dear that by tomorrow morning, there will not be a soul in or around this manor who does not know exactly what happened tonight, not only in Jocelyn’s room, but in this one as well, and I’m willing to bet that if your guests would be upset at the idea of an attack, that they wouldn’t take much kinder to the notion of cover-up. As I said, how I get the information I need is up to you, but I will get it. No one stops me from protecting my family. No one.” My voice had grown more severe with each word, and by the end, great and powerful Brassal and Alva Bloch were watching me like stubborn mice under the eyes of a hawk.

  “So what’s it going to be?”

  CHAPTER 29

  Not thirty minutes later, Alex, Bastian, and I stood in one of the restricted upper level hallways, invisibly waiting on the room service staff member to make his or her appearance. They’d said it would take twenty minutes when Bastian had ordered the dessert, and nearly seventeen minutes had passed since then. Wouldn’t be long now.

  It’s always both a relief and incredibly annoying to learn that something you’ve been looking for has been right under your nose the whole time, and Mr Molony was no exception. As it turned out, he’d been staying at Adare with the rest of us all along. He’d contacted Brassal and Alva and told them that he wished to reside on the estate this year, but that he required a room that was away from the rest of the guest suites and common areas, as well as total secrecy in regards to where he was. Alva had managed to arrange a room for him within the restricted wing of the upper floor, and had personally made sure that all the other guests believed that he once again was staying elsewhere. The only people who knew the truth were a select few members of the Adare staff, and of course Brassal and Alva, who had not been at all happy about sharing the information.

  “Just curious, but do we have a plan B?” Alex whispered as we waited, all eyes glued on the top of the stairs at the other end of the hall. “What if he doesn’t take the tray?”

  “We’ll come up with plan B if we need it,” I answered, more than a little nervous myself, “but for now we just have to hope he does.”

  “Seems we are about to find out,” Bastian said, gesturing to the stairwell where the silhouette of a head was rising up into view. “Ready?” he asked Alex, as he pulled his anchor out of his pocket and removed the thick metal ring from its chord. Alex nodded and Bastian dropped the anchor into his outstretched hand.

  “Be careful,” I mouthed, which he answered with a quick “don’t worry” grin, before slipping off down the hall toward the oncoming room service waiter.

  Bastian and I both held our breath as we watched Alex silently approach the unsuspecting waiter, deliberately
eyeing the tray the waiter held as he went. Pausing when he reached the halfway point in the hall, Alex allowed the waiter to walk by him, then turned and fell into step just behind his elbow as he passed. With his face in the very image of concentration, Alex ever so carefully reached around the oblivious waiter, and placed the anchor on the corner of the tray next to the empty coffee cup. He had only enough time to push the charm under the rim of the cup’s saucer and leap silently to the side, before the waiter arrived at Molony’s door and shifted the tray away, allowing him to knock. Out of danger, Alex stepped over to join us again where he received a proud grin from me as well as a “well done” eyebrow raise from Bastian.

  “Are you ready?” Alex cast into the air in front of me as the waiter’s knuckles thumped on the door.

  All I did was glance up at him, but I knew he could see the answer in my eyes; I was more than ready – I was anxious. Molony knew where they’d taken Jocelyn and Steven, I knew he did, and for all the newfound restraint I’d been able to use with Alva and Brassal, I’d already decided that Molony would get none. I knew what I had to do, and I was prepared to do it, no matter what it took, and for the first time since finding out about my power, I was glad to have as much as I did. The knowledge that I had so much at my disposal was not only comforting, but emboldening, and though I may not have actually been able to use most of it, the bits that I could use were about to rain down on Molony like cinders from a firework.

  “Room service,” the waiter called when no one responded to his knock.

  “I didn’t call for room service!” a harsh voice barked from behind the door.

  “Y-yes,” the waiter stammered, shaken, “forgive my interruption sir, but I bring the evening’s desert course at the request of Master and Mistress Bloch. They send it with their regrets that you were unable to make it to the formal dinner tonight, but look forward to seeing you at the banquet tomorrow.”