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

by Bridgette O'Hare

  Cian shook his head. “Afraid not, not a complete list at the moment. But we should know soon. Our informant is scheduled t’ come in t’ town with my brother tomorrow. His most recent assignment was t’ gather a list of what they have in their inventory.”

  “Good. Knowing what we’re up against is half the battle, right?” I tried to sound convincing. I didn’t feel convincing.

  “I’m guessin’ since we haven’t heard any news, they don’t have any new leads on the Kanna Stone?” Uncle Lachlan posed.

  “No. So, in that regard, no news is good news,” Cian replied.

  I finished off the last bite of chocolate cake I’d ordered for dessert and slid my plate toward the middle of the table. “So, does this conclude our business for the evening, gentlemen? Because I have some research to liberate from a library.”

  Uncle Lachlan chuckled. “I believe it does. At least, I have nothin’ further t’ offer at the moment. Maybe tomorrow when I return, we can discuss what ye find in yer liberated research materials.”

  “That’s a plan!” I declared.

  Uncle Lachlan had never been much of a hugger. Instead, when he stood to leave, he squeezed my hand, nodded in Cian’s direction, and said, “Ye two be safe, and I’ll see ye both tomorrow.”

  “Safe travels,” I replied as he walked through the ward around the table and headed toward the exit. He stopped to speak to someone behind the bar then disappeared around the corner.

  I turned to Cian. “So, you can leave the magic bubble blanket without any issues, but ya can’t come in?”

  He instantly cracked up.

  “I feel like that was a valid question, and I resent that you are laughing at me and not even answering it.” I crossed my arms and stared at him . . . as he laughed.

  His lips pressed hard together as his laughter quieted a bit. Just a bit. “T’ answer your question, aye. You can leave the . . . what did ya call it?”

  “Bubble blanket,” I repeated.

  More laughter. “Is that the best alliteration ya got?” he snickered.

  “I think it’s awesome. Can you do better?” I challenged.

  He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, still grinning. “I don’t know. How about . . .” he thought for a moment. “Bulletproof bubble?” He glared at me and nodded. “Yeah . . . c’mon. Ya know ya like it.”

  “I mean . . . I don’t hate it. Bulletproof bubble it is. Wait . . . is it actually bulletproof?” My voice went up an octave as I asked.

  “Ya know, I’ve never tested it,” he confessed.

  “We should test it.”

  “Nah. Un-uh. I don’t think we should,” he added and smiled one of those deep, dimple bearing smiles that made his eyes light with laughter. I was fairly sure it was my favorite of his smiles. Though, I was partial to the crooked one that followed a mischievous wink. It was a toss-up.

  “Ya ready?” he asked. “I know you’re chomping at the bit to get to the library and get your hands on something.”

  I paused, stared at him for a moment and bit my tongue.

  “Research material, young lady. And here I thought ya were all business,” he joked.

  “I mean . . . I’m like, eighty percent business. So—”

  “Aye, it’s that twenty percent I can see I’m goin’ t’ have t’ keep an eye on,” he winked. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some research. Shall we?”

  If I thought the library seemed a little eerie and empty before, then I had spoken too soon. I’ve never been one to spook easily, but I can admit when a place makes me a little uneasy. And I was glad that I didn’t have to walk through the Pyreshore Library by myself, in the pitch dark. Cian walked the dark hallway next to me, the hum of his energy offering comfort as it mingled with mine.

  “Why is this place so creepy at night?” I whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” he whispered back.

  I elbowed him.

  “Oww. Now, that’s not very nice. You’re goin’ t’ upset the friendly spirits if you’re not nice to me,” he teased.

  “I don’t believe in ghosts, so . . . nice try.”

  “Then why d’ ya find this place creepy at night?” he asked as we reached the door that led into the research area where we’d spent the entire afternoon.

  “The dead have never been a threat to me. It’s the unsavories that lurk about in the dark I’m concerned with. And this place is dark right now.”

  “Hmph,” he blew a breath out and pulled the door open for us to step inside.

  “What?”

  “Just seeing a different side of you, that’s all.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I didn’t. I just stepped through the door and stopped to consider a plan of attack. Dim lighting created a strange ambiance. It would have been excellent mood lighting if I weren’t already a little on edge . . . and trying to avoid mood lighting. I was in enough trouble being around Cian McCallister. I didn’t need assistance from mood lighting.

  “Okay, I say we start with the books that we didn’t get t’ go through earlier. Unless you have a better plan?” I suggested.

  "Nope. But I’d bring the journals too. Never know when ya might need to cross-reference something with first-hand accounts.”

  “See, I knew ya weren’t just a pretty face.”

  Mischief danced in his eyes and he nudged my arm with his. “You think I’m pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just go get the books. I’ll get the journals. Well, the journal. That one is empty, remember?”

  “Grab it anyway,” he said as he started to walk toward the stacks in the back. He turned, walking backward as he talked. “We didn’t look at every page, and sometimes these Keeper types can be sneaky. Someone might have written something on a back page.” He shrugged.

  “Okay. Meet ya back here in a minute.” I headed for the section where the collective journals resided and made very quick work of gathering the two journals I had returned to the shelves just a couple of hours earlier. Less than two minutes later, I was standing by the door waiting for Cian. He emerged from the stacks carrying several books.

  “We didn’t have that many books, did we?” I questioned.

  “I might have grabbed one or two others that looked interesting.”

  “Here. Let me help.” I grabbed two books from on top of his pile to make it easier for him to carry, making sure to avoid touching his hand, because . . . mood lighting.

  “Thanks.”

  Returning down the dark hallway, I had the strange feeling of being watched. I looked back over my shoulder a couple of times, just to check. But the hallway was empty each time.

  “You okay?” Cian asked just as we reached the end of the hall where it opened into the main hub of the building.

  I glanced over my shoulder once more. “Aye. I’m fine. Just . . . I d’know.”

  Cian stopped and turned to look down the hall behind us. I stopped next to him, and he positioned himself directly in front of me and focused his gaze downward. “If somethin’s up, ya tell me. A’ight?” Concern flashed in his expression as he angled his face in a slight slant and crooked an eyebrow.

  “Aye,” I yielded.

  “Good. Now, we have the option to head to the third floor. Or . . . we can take these to your place for a little study session and hit the third floor in the morning. Your call.”

  I met his concern with apprehension and forced myself not to look back down the hallway again. For whatever reason, something didn’t seem right. My internal alarms were pinging all over the place.

  “I think we have plenty to keep us busy tonight. Don’t you?”

  After a pause, he nodded. “I do. Let’s get out of here.”

  Eighteen

  Thirty minutes later, after a quick detour to the other side of town so Cian could grab an overnight bag, we pulled into the driveway of the cottage. Cian had simply ridden with me. He had reasoned that if last night’s visitor decided t
o return, an additional car in the driveway might sway his decision to crash our little research party. It was a valid argument.

  Cian had thought to get small tote from his house to make the research books and journals easier to carry which he slung over his arm as he grabbed both his bag and my backpack from the back seat.

  “I can take one of those,” I offered.

  “Nay. I have them,” he insisted.

  “Ya really are quite the gentleman, aren’t ya?”

  “I try. Don’t always succeed,” he said as he walked around to my side of the car.

  I smiled and created a ward around my sedan. Not because there was anything important being left inside, but it was one more alarm to go off in the event my late-night visitor decided to try something cheeky.

  “Smart,” Cian said as he followed me up the walkway to the front door.

  “I have my moments.”

  “Oh, somethin’ tells me ya have more than that.”

  I took down the ward around the house, unlocked the door, and held it open for Cian since he had insisted on carrying all of the bags. Once inside, I reestablished the ward and tossed the keys into a small dish on a table by the door.

  “This place is much bigger than it looks from the outside,” he observed as he stood and took in the open floorplan with ten-foot ceilings and walls of windows. “Where would ya like me t’ put these?” he asked, holding up the bags.

  “Depends. There are two guest rooms over there,” I pointed to the doors left of the staircase. “Take your pick.”

  He looked around. “Your room is upstairs?”

  “It is.”

  “If it’s all the same t’ you, I think I’ll crash on the couch. Better view of what’s happenin’ around the perimeter.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll make sure ya have blankets and a pillow.”

  “I won’t need them ‘til later since we’re goin’ t’ go over these.” He held up the tote bag with the research books.

  “A’ight. Well, before we start on that, I’m goin’ t’ get a quick shower and get into something a lit’l comfier.”

  “Mind if I do the same?” he asked.

  “Make yourself at home. I mean, I’m still tryin’ to do that myself,” I laughed. “Bathroom is right there between the guest rooms if you’d like to get a shower. Towels are on a shelf by the sink. I’ll be just up there. Speak up if ya need anything. I’ll be back down shortly,” I added.

  He nodded, and I bounced up the stairs.

  Normally, I wouldn’t have thought twice about what I was going to sleep in. I would have stripped down, taken a shower, and grabbed the first thing I got my hands on. Normally. This wasn’t even close to normal. Full disclosure . . . the last time I had even thought about caring what I wore around a man was over six months ago. I knew my guard was already down with Cian—he breezed through it like it had never existed at all. And for whatever reason, I didn’t really care.

  I sucked in a deep breath. Okay . . . get it together, Aisling. I told myself. It’s just a little crush. He’s hot. He’s a little funny. He’s a gentleman. And that dimpled smile. It’s perfectly understandable you have a crush on him. But that’s all it is. My phone dinged as I gave myself a quick pep talk and began to get undressed.

  Kara: “Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. Been a hellacious day here! Call me.”

  Me: “I am about to get a shower and I have a guest. Anything urgent?”

  Kara: “Umm . . . yes! It’s urgent that you call me and tell me what’s happening with this guest. Also, I have a message from Lazlo. But mostly I need 411.”

  Me: “Fine. LOL Give me a min.”

  I took the phone into the bathroom. I turned on the shower to drown out my conversation with Kara and then gave her a call. Not a video call though. I was nearly naked.

  She answered in less than one ring.

  “You have Cian McCallister in your house, don’t ya?” she opened the conversation.

  “Hi t’ you too.” I laughed.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Hi. Now, answer my question.”

  “Fine. Aye. Cian is downstairs,” I admitted.

  “And you’re upstairs?” Kara clarified.

  “Aye, K. We are, in fact, in two separate areas of the house. In two separate bathrooms, actually.”

  “Okay. Just checking. Wasn’t sure if one of his superpowers was hyper seduction or something.”

  A loud laugh escaped unexpectedly, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Hyper seduction? Really?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” she defended.

  “Okay, okay. Well, now ya know nothing immoral is goin’ on, Mom. What’s the message from Lazlo?”

  “Oh no, we are not done with the Cian discussion. Why is he even there? Does he not have his own house? He’s not some homeless creepo, is he?”

  “It’s a long story. Essentially, he and Uncle Lach feel like I need a bodyguard at the moment, and I got outvoted. Now . . . I need t’ get a shower and I have some homework. So, what’s the deal with Lazlo?”

  “Well, he couldn’t find anything on that blade you sent me. There were a few fringe sites that had some weird descriptions of it, but no two were alike. So, dead ends.”

  I blew out a breath in frustration. “Ask him t’ send me what he found, no matter how weird or obscure. I’ll pan through it. Maybe I’ll find a nugget.”

  “Okay. We will talk tomorrow. I’m going to wanna know more. You know that, right?” Kara insisted.

  “I know.”

  “Okay, don’t do anything I would do.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “And stop calling me that.”

  “Stop acting like it and I’ll think about it,” I laughed. “I’ll talk t’ ya tomorrow. Love ya! G’night.”

  “Fine. Goodnight.”

  I tossed the phone on a towel and proceeded to the shower.

  When I walked back into my bedroom to get dressed, I heard a commotion coming from downstairs. I rummaged through the suitcase I had yet to unpack and chose the first thing that matched—a black tank top and a pair of gray PJ pants with black and pink unicorns. Then I grabbed a black sweater and headed downstairs to see what was going on. When the kitchen came into view, Cian was standing at the stove in a gray, fitted V-neck t-shirt and plaid flannel pants, stirring something in a pot.

  “Umm . . . whatcha doin’ there, Cian?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he warned as he glanced over and shot me a bemused smirk. “Ya jus’ keep your nosey lit’l self in your adorable pajamas over there.”

  The fireplace was going, which meant I might not need the sweater, but I put it on anyway to keep from feeling so exposed. Our research books had already been set out on the coffee table and there were two large mugs on the counter waiting to be filled. My guess was they soon would be.

  “Are those unicorns?” Cian asked, suppressing a grin.

  I looked down and back up at him. “They are. Ya got somethin’ against unicorns?”

  “No ma’am. They are, after all, magical creatures.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Go get comfy,” he said like a suggestion. “I’ll bring this over when it’s done. It’ll be a minute or two.”

  The aroma was beginning to waft through the kitchen. Something chocolate and it smelled heavenly. I eased over to the dark corner of the living room, where only the light from the fireplace danced on the panes of the window laden wall. I was all but hidden, but I had the best view of the waves crashing on the sand. I stood close enough to feel the chill radiate through the glass, and I watched the moonlight meander a line over the ocean and past the horizon, skirting a path to the lighthouse just beyond the jetty.

  I lost my thoughts in the rise and fall of the ocean, breathing in its rhythmic ease. So much so, that I didn’t hear Cian approach, but I felt his presence the moment he was close enough for our magic to reach out to one another. The warmth of his chest pressed ag
ainst my back for a moment as he stretched a mug-filled hand around and in front of me.

  “For you, m’lady,” he offered, his voice low and affable.

  “Why, thank ye, kind sir,” I replied in a very proper tone and wrapped both hands around the mug, unable to avoid contact. His fingers brushed mine as he slid his hand away. I glanced up, just over my shoulder, to meet a deep gaze holding me in place for just a few seconds too long. I whipped my focus to the heat nestled in my palms, mirroring the sparks in my core. I needed to add some distance, but a step forward meant face planting into the windows. A step backward meant full contact with the man I was trying to distance myself from to maintain my own sanity. Talk about a rock and a hard place. Wait. No. Probably accurate.

  I stole a sip from the mug, and my taste buds exploded. Thankfully distracting me, at least a fraction, from the gravitational pull I was fighting. “Holy hades! This is amazing!” I praised the sweltering liquid chocolate in my mug. “What is in this?”

  “You know, the usual.”

  “I do not know what the usual is. But it’s delicious.”

  “Glad ya like it.”

  “You know what would go great with this?”

  He chuckled. “The antidote?”

  “No . . . wait, what?” I whipped around to face him. “Funny. Real funny.”

  At this point, he’d found himself quite amusing and was laughing harder. I smacked him on the shoulder.

  “I told you I’m hilarious,” he managed to spit out between fits of snickering.

  “You are so lucky you’re hot,” I blurted without thinking.

  His expression perked up. The laughter morphed into a sensual crooked grin. He took a step in my direction, closing the already miniscule gap between us. “Is that why this window is fogging up?”

  I felt my back press against the chill of the glass. It was a welcome sensation, a profound contrast to the heat in my veins and the warmth of Cian pressed close to me. I knew I should look away, but I didn’t want to. His eyes were so different in that moment, softer. Softer than I knew eyes could be. And I was drawn in. I had one last ditch effort to regain control of the situation.