His grin morphed into a crooked smile. “I thought ya may have. So, Miss O’Connor was on our radar. At that point, our organization became quite interested in how she was privy t’ some of the information she was supplying t’ The Saiad. Especially considering it always seemed t’ be insanely accurate. Yet, she never gave them quite enough information t’ push them t’ the point of acquiring an artifact. Or her information would lead them t’ yet another clue that they had absolutely no way of knowing would lead them in circles, without actually appearing t’ be leading them in circles. And she did this with such skill that they would have likely never caught on t’ the fact they were being handled. They were convinced she was providing them with intelligence when it was, in fact, the other way around. Then, she just disappeared from the radar.”
It was at that point I knew I had two options: Trust Cian McCallister, within reason, and own the intel he had on me, consequently agreeing to join him in taking down The Saiad. Or I could deny all involvement and spend the next month in Pyreshore trying to avoid him like the plague. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to avoid him. Everything about him intrigued me, and I don’t remember feeling that way about anyone. Ever.
I pulled the mug close to my lips, both hands wrapped around it, and raised an eyebrow mischievously in Cian’s direction. “She sounds brilliant,” I declared.
His smile returned. “Oh, we thought so, as well.”
“I wonder what ever happened t’ her,” I pondered sarcastically and sipped my coffee.
“Yeah, well . . . so did we. That’s why we had t’ look in t’ who she was.”
“Oh? And what did ya find?”
“A legend,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Well . . . that’s high praise,” I teased.
“Cute.”
“And here I was, not even sure ya noticed,” I said without missing a beat. Yep, that was me . . . flirting in the midst of what was supposed to be a serious conversation—and a potentially dangerous situation. I couldn’t tell you what had let that slip through my guard, but I silently reprimanded myself and tried to refocus. He didn’t make it easy on me, though.
“I assure you . . . I noticed.” The timbre of his voice caused a reaction in my chest—a quickening of excitement and fear.
I swallowed hard and regrouped, hoping I could use the direction of this conversation to learn something about the organization he was working with and bring up his own legend. Maybe even get some info for Lazlo on his counterpart. “Natra’s guy is hands down the absolute best at what he does. So, how’d ya know Ashlyn O’Connor was a legend?” I questioned.
“Aye. I’ll give it t’ ya. He’s quite good. I think I know someone who might give him a run for his money, though.”
“I’d like to meet this person.”
“Play your cards right; I may be able to arrange that.”
I made a mental note to try to hold him to that. “So . . . back to my question. How’d ya know?” I posed the query once more, genuinely curious as to what had tipped them off.
“It was actually the last bit of intelligence you left with Darek Walsh. The IMINT mixed in with the chicken feed is how we determined Ashlyn had to be a legend.”
He used the terminology like it was his first language. No one knew that chicken feed was accurate but harmless information unless they had been spreading it around too. But now I needed to know just which bit of imaginary intelligence had given up my alias.
“IMINT?” I asked. “Please elaborate. I’m sure our guru would love to know what he needs to improve on. He will not be happy to learn there was a chink in his armor.”
“How about I show you instead?”
I perked up. “I do like visuals. What have ya got?”
He moved to the chair nearest me and slid it even closer to mine. I felt the urge to reestablish a bit of distance, but that would have been obvious. It would also make it difficult to see what he was about to show me on his phone. When he leaned in and positioned the phone in front of me, his shoulder touched mine. Once again, a powerful surge of Fae magic pulsed into my flesh. I immediately leaned away to sever the physical connection, and therefore end the volt of magical mayhem—or so I had expected. But the momentum of the sensation continued to drum through me. I had wondered if he’d felt it when we shook hands the night before. But now, judging by the way his stare fixed on mine and the way the nearly palpable electricity danced between us, I was fairly certain the experience was mutual. Something was happening, no doubt about that. I just didn’t know what.
For the first time since I’d met him, Cian seemed visibly shaken. He broke eye contact and stuttered for a moment before recovering and pointing to his phone. “So, uh . . . this is the image that caused a blip on the radar. As you can see . . .”
He was still talking, but I honestly didn’t have a clue what he was saying. I was focused on the turmoil swirling inside my mind. How had I let my guard down so easily? Had Uncle Lachlan’s trust in Cian swayed me more than I had realized? And now, I was wrestling with this pull toward a man I didn’t even know, a pull that I needed to get a handle on . . . fast. It was time I think like an operative. Time to stop letting whatever enchantment Cian McCallister seemed to have over the situation—and me—control the narrative. Since he apparently liked my kick-the-door-down mentality, I had another question.
The moment he stopped talking, I turned and looked him dead in the eyes and asked, “Who do you work for?”
Twelve
I expected some type of elaborate diversionary tactic, a little cloak and dagger. But that’s not what I got. What I got seemed to be a straight answer, and it threw me for a bit of a loop.
“Davar Magén,” he replied.
My stare narrowed as my mind processed what he said. I knew those words. It took a moment to realize where I had encountered them: while studying the one Silver Scroll in Natra’s possession. Davar Magén translated to The Order of Defenders. I suddenly wondered if Cian had done enough research to know ancient languages were one of my fields of expertise. And I found myself thinking maybe I hadn’t gotten such a straight answer after all.
“That seemed a bit too easy,” I pushed back. “Is that a front? How do I know ya aren’t feedin’ me a line o’ bull?” I angled my head and regarded him closely. I may not have been able to use Soul Sight to read him, but I could still use the skills I had been taught to recognize the verbal and physical cues humans—and those who had protected themselves in some way—might give off when not being completely honest. I’d spent enough time watching Cian to establish a baseline for truthfulness in his movements and gestures.
“You don’t,” he admitted. “Like I told ya last night, anyone can tell ya what ya want t’ hear, Aish. I’m not doing that. You are much too smart t’ be fooled by a ruse. So, why would I waste my time or yours?”
I tried to ignore my inner skeptic who was insistent that he was just buttering me up. Pushing that voice to the side, I saw no indications in his mannerisms that he was lying. Uncle Lachlan’s words kept replaying in my mind. He had said there was no known reason not to trust Cian McAllister, though I still had the gut feeling that Uncle Lachlan hadn’t been completely forthcoming with what he knew. Or maybe I just didn’t ask the right questions. Either way, Cian wasn’t lying to me, or he was an incredibly talented liar.
“Do we ever really know the reasons someone might have for not being truthful? Can we ever really get into someone else’s mind and know why they do what they do? Maybe you have something to hide. Maybe sending me in the wrong direction benefits you somehow,” I posed.
“So, you're saying you don't believe me?”
“I am saying I don't know what t’ believe. I want t’ believe you. I want t’ trust you.” As cynical as I was when it came to letting someone into my circle of confidence, I meant every word that had slipped through my lips. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to trust Cian. “Tell me about Da
var Magén. Help me believe you.”
Cian turned in his chair so that he was looking right at me. Determination burned in his eyes. “I need for you to believe me, Aish. Everything rides on you believing me right now.”
“Then convince me.”
His expression grew somber. “Davar Magén has been around since long before The Saiad, but there have always been others like them. And because of this constant threat, Davar Magén have been both the unseen protectors of Heaven’s chosen and the defenders of what is good and right in the world. Some eras of time have required more involvement than others,” he paused as though he were trying to consider his next words carefully.
“I’m not sure how this—" I was cut short by what came next.
In one swift motion, he grabbed the arms of my chair and swung it around so that we were squared up and face to face. He looked upward as if he were talking to the ceiling and said, “Please, forgive me.” He returned his gaze to me, took both of my hands in his. The sensation that had merely tingled through me when we touched earlier, now burned with a magical rush into every fiber of my being.
All at once images began to flicker through my mind like information was being downloaded into a mainframe. Scenes from wars of the past flooded my vision followed by flashes of artifacts and encounters with The Saiad and . . . death. More death than one person should have to witness. The last of the visions stole the air from my lungs. A war. One in which the man before me lost his life.
When the visual onslaught ended, the world around me blurred back into view. Cian sat watching me, his hands still wrapped around mine, remnants of the powerful magic still swirling between us. I tried to catch my breath.
“You okay?” he asked tenderly. His thumb softly stroking the back of my hand was the physical anchor I grasped to pull me back into reality. “That was a lot of information t’ take in and more energy than . . . well, it was a lot,” he admitted. Concern filled his gaze.
It took me a moment to find my voice. I swallowed the lump in my throat and exhaled hard as my head trembled back and forth in disbelief. “What . . . what are you?” I muttered softly.
A faint, half-smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say that you and I really aren’t so different.”
“So, you’re Fae?”
“We share the same origins, if that’s what you’re asking. I know . . . it’s not a straightforward answer. I’m sorry, but it’s the best explanation I can offer,” he said. “I think you’ll understand in time. At least, I hope ya will.”
“You . . . you died,” I whispered and squeezed his hands as if it would change what I had seen. As if that one gesture could hold him in this world.
“You saw that?” he asked calmly, and I immediately wished I hadn’t let the words slip out.
I nodded.
“Hmm. I didn’t—” he stopped his sentence short and changed his wording. “I had only intended to show you some of what had happened up to now. So you could understand what The Saiad are capable of and why we need to put an end to their organization once and for all.”
“I think I understand. I never knew just how much destruction and death had been left in their wake. But why is now so important? And where do I come in?”
“The Saiad are on the verge of locating the Kanna Stone, and we must stop them at all costs. The Kanna Stone is capable of so much more than any being is aware. Based on the information you fed them while you were undercover, you know more about it than anyone, and even your knowledge of its power is immensely limited. And . . . they trusted you. We are hoping they will trust you again. You’re our best chance for infiltration. Will you help?”
I slumped my head in thought and caught sight of my hands—which seemed small next to his—still gripping him as if his life depended on my not letting go. I instantly released my hold and retracted them back over my thighs. I glanced up and met the warmth of a fiery blue stare. Without so much as a touch, it seared into my soul, and all I could see was the moment he died. I would have done anything to prevent that moment. Even willingly walk back into the lion’s den. And that was exactly what I was going to do.
“I’ll help.”
He acknowledged my decision with a slow nod.
“So, what does that mean?” I asked. “I’m supposed to be in Pyreshore to train to be a Keeper, or at least decide if that’s what I want to do. Or need to do. Or . . . I don’t know. This is a lot to process,” I rambled.
“I know. But I think you should speak with Lachlan before you decide anything. This should be a fully informed decision.” A sense of concern flanked his expression. “Talk to him, think this over, and we can talk again tomorrow.”
I bobbed my head in agreement. He was right, I needed to know what Uncle Lachlan hadn’t been telling me earlier. Not that anything he could say would change my mind. The scene that had flashed in my vision, of Cian’s body slumping in defeat . . . I had to do whatever I could to prevent that from happening. Surely it was no different than my Seer Sight. I had been given that vision for a reason. Even though Grams said that once someone knows their fate, it’s sealed, I intended to do anything in my power to change that outcome.
“I just have one more question before I go.”
“Anything. Ask.”
“What I saw . . . you didn’t know?”
Cian pulled in a slow breath and released it. “No. But I am sworn to defend the chosen. If I die . . . I will gladly accept my fate.”
“And what if this chosen person isn’t worth dying for?”
His expression relaxed, and something I couldn’t put my finger on lingered just beneath his gaze. “I think she is.”
Thirteen
First thing I did when I got into my car was call Uncle Lachlan. He didn’t answer, so I left him a rather vague voicemail that hinted at something being wrong, because in my mind there were all kinds of things wrong, without making it sound like a life-or-death situation. Though, based on my vision during Cian’s mental download, it kind of was.
I got my thoughts together, checked the time, and called Kara. It was just before eleven on a Saturday, and I fully expected her to answer fairly quickly.
“What’s up, Buttercup?” Kara chimed as her perky smile filled the screen. Before I could say a word, her expression changed. “Whoaaaa. What’s going on? That is not the face of someone who’s breakfast meeting went as expected.”
“Ya know me a lit’l too well. I’m all kinds of mentally twisted.”
“I do, so spill,” she insisted.
“Well, it wasn’t a terrible meeting. I learned a few things, but . . . shocker . . . I walked away with a new set of questions.”
“Of course you did. But what did you learn about Cian . . . if that’s even his real name. Most importantly, is he a free agent? Are we dealing with a possible rogue operative here?”
“Nay. Not rogue. But ughh . . . I didn’t even broach the subject about his footprint being an alias. Cac.”
“Oh wow. You really are twisted up. That is not like you. Okay, let’s talk this through. First . . . take a breath and clear your head.”
I drew in a long, slow breath and exhaled just as slowly. It helped.
“Now . . . is there anything I need to do to help answer the new questions?” Kara asked.
I closed my eyes and started replaying bits of the conversation with Cian in my mind. My eyes suddenly flew open.
“There it is!” Kara exclaimed.
“Can ya send me the encrypted scans of the journal I created when I was studyin’ the Silver Scroll? And everything we have on the Kanna Stone. I mean everything, no matter how insignificant it might seem.”
Kara regarded me curiously for only a split second before responding. “I can. I’m heading to the office in a couple of hours. It will be the first thing on my to-do list.”
“Thanks! You, my friend, are a gem!”
“And this has something
to do with Mr. McCallister?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe. I don’t know. But something he referenced struck a chord, and I really think I came across it while researching something written in the scroll. I’m hoping I might have made a notation about it in my journal.”
“I’m a little surprised you don’t already have a copy of that journal with you. Or the journal itself.”
“It’s safer locked up there. Information like that can’t fall into the wrong hands,” I expressed firmly.
“Fair, but I know you wouldn’t let that happen.”
“Not if I could help it, just not a chance I want to take.”
“Okay, anything else I can help with or should know?” she asked.
“Well, there’s a decent chance we have to resurrect Ashlyn O’Conner.”
Her face lost all expression.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Kara spat. “I take it that means you’ve decided you’re gonna trust this guy? Even if ya don’t know if Cian is his actual name?”
“K . . . you know as well as I do, in our line of work, a name is just a name. Ya have t’ go with your instinct when decidin’ where to place your trust. And my instinct,” actually every fiber of my being, I thought, “says I can trust him,” I assured her.
I wasn’t about to tell her what really happened, that I’d seen the past and the plans The Saiad had in store for the future. That’d I’d seen death. She’d insist on joining the front lines, and I didn’t want to put her at that kind of risk. She still had a family who would be destroyed if something happened—two doting parents, a brother with a wife and kids. It was the main reason I passed on putting my name up for the Director’s position when it became available a few years ago. Not only did Kara deserve the job, she needed to be out of the field.
Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5) Page 10
