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

by Bridgette O'Hare

  “Something the witch said just as she handed me the note. And the look in her eyes.”

  “Don’t keep me hangin’,” Cian demanded. “What’d she say?”

  “She said, He knows who you are.”

  “I can see how that might have been cause for concern considering your line of work. Anonymity is everything. That's why you were so cautious with me, still are.” He grinned.

  “I’m warmin’ up t’ ya,” I offered with a faint smile.

  “Aye, I’ll win ya over,” he said then immediately tacked on, “Your trust. I’ll win your trust.”

  Little did he know, he already had that. I hadn’t even thought twice about sharing the details of the note or all the information I’d gathered over the years. That spoke volumes.

  Cian pushed back and rested against the back of his chair. “We need to tell Lachlan about your stalker.”

  “You mean tell him that you have been stalking me?” I teased.

  “Exactly. I mean, can ya blame me? Tis a good thing ya haven’t given me your number yet. Next thing ya know, I’ll show up at your house.” He was joking, but I felt the color rush from my face. And Cian obviously noticed. “What’s wrong, lass? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Last night . . . I had planned to tell Uncle Lach, but now that I know it wasn’t you in Dublin, it’s a lit’l more cause for concern,” I rambled.

  “Aish. What happened last night?” Cian articulated to refocus me.

  “Someone tried t’ break through my barrier.”

  “You put up a ward?”

  “Aye, and the alarm woke me in the middle of the night. I was able t’ get a glimpse of someone near the back doors, but . . . they got spooked before I could get a close look.” I wasn’t about to admit that I tripped over something and scared them away.

  His jaw stiffened and his brow tightened. He locked eyes with me, and I saw the flash of determination and protection as it set in. “I know you can take care of yourself. And I realize this is goin’ t’ sound a lit’l sexist . . . but I don’t care. I don’t like the idea of ya stayin’ alone until we know what’s goin’ on. I think your uncle will agree. I’m sure you can stay with him.”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to suggest a different option and my pulse spiked. But I wasn’t about to be bullied into running from anything.

  A text dinged through on my phone and pulled me from my resolve. Before I could open the text, I noticed the time. “Cac. It’s time to go. We’re goin’ t’ be late to dinner,” I blurted out. It’s easy to lose track of time when you’re super involved with something, or someone. Especially when that involvement means getting some answers, and when it’s presented in package with ocean blue eyes and a reckless smile.

  “We’ve got plenty o’ time, Aish. Red Harp is only right around the block. Pyreshore isn’t a metropolis,” he reminded me with a faint chuckle.

  Before responding to his slight jab, I read the text. “No worries, Uncle Lach is goin’ t’ be a few minutes late anyway. Still, we should pack up.”

  “Aye.”

  We reshelved the journals and books and met back at the desk. We both reached for my backpack and my hand grazed his. The rush of energy spread more quickly this time. I looked up instinctively and was met with the blue fire I’d noticed before, only it was brighter, more intense. The warmth of his hand wrapped around mine.

  “I am sworn to protect,” he said just above a whisper.

  “I am not some chosen one, Cian.”

  “Oh, but ya are.”

  My breath caught in my chest and the room grew dark around us. At that moment, I was certain of one thing. I would trust Cian McCallister with my life, but my heart was what I was worried about.

  Sixteen

  Stepping into The Red Harp Diner felt like stepping back in time into an old British pub. Dim lighting hung from the ceiling in the form of brass lanterns. Their light brushed a pale hue over dark stained, round tabletops flanked by red leather chairs. To one side, a polished oak countertop served as the bar, and long, wood tables filled the back section of the building. Historic décor comprised of weapons and shields peppered the walls, and I found myself wondering if they were actually authentic. Considering the history of the town, I was inclined to believe it was entirely possible.

  Uncle Lachlan had managed to arrive ahead of us, even though he’d said he would be late. He was seated at a small round table in a corner. Strategically placed with a full view of the room. Just as I would have chosen. He stood and signaled for us to join him.

  “I thought ya said you were going t’ be late?” I teased as we approached the table.

  “I arrived directly at seven. That's five minutes late. Punctuality is key, m’ dear,” Uncle Lachlan stated as he took his seat.

  Cian pulled out my chair and helped me settle up at the table, proving chivalry still existed. I mouthed a thank you and smiled. As Cian walked around and took his seat, I caught Uncle Lachlan peering at me with a strange grin plastered on his face. I shot him a look that I hoped would discourage his current, slightly embarrassing, train of thought.

  “I hope ye don't mind, I ordered each of ye a beverage,” he stated as a waitress placed a basket of bread and a large mug of what looked to be an Irish coffee in front of me. Cian and Uncle Lachlan each received a stout ale. Something told me we may need them before the dinner was over.

  “So, I hear ye have a lot t’ fill me in on,” Uncle Lachlan stated.

  “It seems you have a good bit to share with me, as well,” I offered back.

  “Aye, t’would seem so,” he agreed.

  “How about I start?” Cian piped in. “But first—” He rotated his fingers in a circular motion and spoke a quiet command. A forcefield of sorts formed around the table. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t felt the energy that emitted from his fingertips.

  “What is that?” I asked Cian.

  “It acts much like the ward you establish around the cottage. Keeps our conversations private. Nothing we say can be heard beyond it. Also, nothing can physically penetrate from the outside in. So, it’s for both privacy and protection,” Cian explained.

  “Yeah . . . I’m gonna need you t’ teach me how t’ do that,” I said as I reached out a finger to touch the magic surrounding us. It sent a flick of energy back into my hand.

  “Ya really are a curious sort, aren’t ya?” Cian teased.

  I shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”

  Cian shook his head ever so slightly and flashed a smile before getting back to business. “So, what shall we cover first? The scrolls, The Saiad, the Kanna Stone, or the fact that Aish has a stalker?”

  Uncle Lachlan crooked his head in my direction. “A stalker? I do believe we should start with that.”

  “Tattletale,” I spat.

  “I’ll let you do the honors,” Cian responded, looking at me.

  I took a long swig of my Irish coffee, thankful it was heavy on the Irish, and began sharing the details with Uncle Lachlan. Starting with Shifter Cian showing up at my flat the same day as my invitation to become a Keeper. I spared no detail in explaining what had occurred up to the point of my arrival in Pyreshore. When I finished, Cian glared at me.

  “Tell him about your visitor last night,” Cian insisted.

  I let out a heavy sigh. Uncle Lachlan didn’t say a word, but simply gave me a concerned scowl.

  “Yes, I had an unsolicited visitor during the wee hours of the morning. It seems much more relevant knowing what I know now,” I began. I went on to relay the story once more for Uncle Lachlan.

  Just as I finished, our waitress arrived to take our orders. I heard Cian whisper something as she approached, and the noise from the tavern returned. We placed our orders, and as she walked away, Cian spoke the command once more and silence resumed around us.

  “You are definitely goin’ t’ have to show me how t’ do that,” I said.

  “
Gladly,” Cian replied, then turned to my uncle. “Lachlan, I suggested she stay with you until we can determine who mimicked my likeness and why. I'm sure she can take care of herself, but I would feel better knowing there was an extra set of eyes to keep a lookout.”

  “Aye,” Uncle Lachlan agreed. “However, I’ll be leavin’ after dinner tonight and won't return ‘til mornin’. There’s someone I have t’ meet t’ collect an artifact.” His gaze danced playfully from Cian to me and back. “I trust ye will stay with her t’ assure her safety?”

  “Do I not get a say in this?” I blurted.

  “No,” they said in unison.

  I threw my hands up and fell against the back of my chair, grabbed my coffee, and took a sip. They both just looked at me. “Oh, don't mind me,” I snipped. “I'll just be sitting here drinking my coffee. Letting the menfolk decide what's best for me.” I rolled my eyes and took another sip.

  “Ah good, an’ I thought ye were goin’ t’ argue,” Uncle Lachlan needled.

  “You can stay in my guest room,” Cian offered. “Or I can set up on your couch and wait to see if your visitor returns.”

  “He’s not goin’ t’ get through my ward,” I asserted.

  “No, I’m sure not. But if he did return, I’d be able to track him while you maintained the ward. Teamwork, Aish,” Cian proposed. “Don’t try t’ handle it on your own if ya don’t have t’.”

  “Precisely,” Uncle Lachlan affirmed.

  “Very well,” I conceded. “My place, it is. Next topic, please. Wait. Strike that. I have a quick question first.” I turned my attention to my uncle.

  “How did ya manage to get hooked up with the Davar Magén?” I asked, then looked at Cian. “Actually, I could ask you the same question. So . . . I’m goin’ t’ need an answer from ya both.”

  They did that thing men do where they stare at each other like one is going to magically send the right response to the other. I shook my head. “Look, one of ya is gonna have t’ go first. Uncle Lach, I’m voting you. Go.”

  One more look was exchanged before he began. “Cian and I ‘ave been acquaintances fer some time. Pyreshore is a tight-knit town. A few years ago, he came t’ me with an issue regarding an artifact and needed some background knowledge in confidence. It happened t’ be something I was able t’ accommodate, and thus, we established a working relationship—with an understanding.”

  “And that understanding is?” I questioned.

  “If something I ask of Lachlan is ever a conflict of interest in his position as Keeper, then he declines,” Cian added.

  “I see. And has that happened?” I inquired.

  “Only once,” Uncle Lachlan stated. “There was an object the Keeper for the Shifters was also pursuing. I felt I shouldn’t get involved or appear t’ be taking sides. So, I chose to remain neutral t’ maintain my integrity as a Keeper. The artifact is where it belongs now; ‘ats what matters.”

  I angled my head to face Cian. “Your turn.”

  “My story is simple. I was born into the Davar Magén. Family business, so t’ speak,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s really all I’ve ever known. Make no mistake, I’ve always had the opportunity t’ live life. For example, I have Rocky’s here, I help Brenhin with the café—also a family business. I’ve been an adventurer and a traveler, been able t’ experience so many things. But those are all secondary t’ my duties t’ the Davar Magén.”

  I studied his gaze as he spoke, and I was drawn in. Not by his words, but by the emotions swirling behind his eyes. He spoke of living life and having experiences, but what I saw was regret. I saw a longing for something more, and I wanted to do everything in my power to make sure he had the chance at more. Cian McCallister was not going to die on my watch. Even if it meant taking his place. But I couldn’t say that . . . not at that moment. Not in the presence of my uncle. Without knowing about the vision, he wouldn’t understand. What I could do, to push my mind in another direction, was ask another question.

  “So, a family business?” I resurrected the question he’d avoided at the library. “Does that mean your brother is also Davar Magén? And Kage? Since you masterfully avoided answering earlier.” I widened my eyes at him in a playful manner.

  “Didn’t miss that, did ya?” he pointed out.

  “Nope.”

  A satisfied smile formed. “T’ answer your question, yes. They are both members of Davar Magén as well.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  “Okay?” Cian repeated. “That’s it? It’s that easy?”

  I nodded. “Aye. I’m mostly satisfied with those responses. Now . . . I’d like to discuss the Silver Scrolls.”

  “Do ye not think we should focus on the location of the Kanna Stone?” Uncle Lachlan asked.

  I glanced to Cian who nodded in support of my thought process. “I think there might be something in the Silver Scrolls that could lead to the location of the Stone,” I explained. “Cian says you have studied the one in Davar Magén’s possession.”

  “Aye,” he confirmed.

  “Have you decoded the language?” I asked.

  His jaw clenched and he glanced at Cian just long enough for some sort of an unspoken exchange. “Nay, I ‘ave not,” he informed me and exchanged another brief look with Cian.

  “A’ight. What gives? What are the two of ya not sayin’?” I demanded.

  Uncle Lachlan gave a subtle nod in Cian’s direction and said, “Tis not my story t’ tell, my friend.”

  Cian’s chest visibly rose and fell as he pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t believe this is the place t’ tell it,” he stipulated. “Let’s table that for after dinner, when I can offer visuals.” His eyes perked up with amusement. “Ya like visuals,” he taunted.

  “It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I gibed. “Cause you’re not as funny as ya think.”

  “Lies. I’m hilarious,” Cian defended. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  I turned to find Uncle Lachlan regarding us with a suppressed smirk. I immediately stiffened, sat a little straighter, and cleared my throat inadvertently. It felt like getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar—an incredibly attractive cookie jar. So, I made a point to get back to business. “I suppose if it's something that needs to be discussed later, we can do that. Until then, is there anything at all, Uncle Lach, you can tell me about the Silver Scroll in Davar Magén’s possession?”

  “I have some notes, ye are welcome to take ‘em and see what ye can glean from ‘em. They are housed in the archives on the third floor of the Library. We haven’t had a chance to properly review what is at yer disposal. That was on my schedule t’ do Monday. But Cian has access to the Fae archives,” Uncle Lachlan explained.

  “Tomorrow?” Cian looked at me and posed the question.

  I pretend to be patient. And often times my job has required me to be patient. But patience goes against the natural order of things for me. “Am I not allowed t’ check items or materials out of the archives or the research center, myself?” I asked.

  Uncle Lachlan chuckled. “Ye remind me so much of Evie.” He turned to Cian and explained. “Evie was m’ sister and Aish’s grandmother. She was as feisty and impatient as ye are, m’ dear,” he said to me. “Tis what made her such a force t’ be reckoned with. Jus’ as ye are.”

  My cheeks formed crinkles around my eyes at the comparison. “That’s a compliment, for sure. Thank ya. But is that a yes or a no on the materials check out?” I offered a huge grin.

  “Aye, ye can check out most things. There are a few items ‘at must remain in the archives for security reasons, but they are clearly labeled in the records,” the Keeper in him dutifully informed.

  “Perfect.” I turned to Cian. “After dinner, we’ll swing back by the library. There are a couple of things I’d like t’ look at a little more closely. We can take ‘em back t’ the cottage and settle in. If that works for you? Since ya insist on bodyguardin’.” I
winked.

  “Well, I need t’ pick up a few things from my place too, but we have time for it all,” Cian agreed.

  The waitress returned with our food, and Cian followed the same procedure for lowering the privacy ward and putting it back in place. And that’s when we moved to the topic of The Saiad.

  Seventeen

  As Cian and Uncle Lachlan discussed what they knew regarding The Saiad and their current operations, I simply sat and listened. I was hesitant to discuss the visions I had seen of the future should The Saiad succeed in acquiring the Kanna Stone. . . and the destruction it would mean for the world as we knew it. As much as I didn’t want to think about it, I needed to lay out all the possibilities. But I also didn’t want to out Cian for sharing the visions with me if it was something that was meant to stay between us. I needed to choose my words carefully.

  “Cian, I know ya said I was unaware of how powerful the Kanna Stone is, so I have t’ ask . . . this morning, when you shared with me,” I tilted my head just enough to make him understand I was trying to talk in code, “about what they are planning . . . were ya fully aware of the damage and destruction that would occur if they have it in their possession?”

  What I wanted to say was, had you seen that vision before this morning? Did you even see it then? Or was it only in my head? Am I the only one who saw the complete obliteration of the Supernatural races?

  But I didn’t say any of that. If I needed to ask later, I would.

  “I know they have plans t’ use it t’ obliterate all Supernatural races, wipe them from existence completely. I am not entirely sure how they intend t’ do that. Whether it be an all-out war or terrorist attacks focused on non-humans. That’s one of the reasons we need your help. We’re hoping you can provide us with the logistics of how they might go about using whatever artifacts they have access to. Our inside guy, he doesn’t have the kind of knowledge you possess in that area.”

  “Do ya know what artifacts they currently have?” I asked.