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

by Bridgette O'Hare

  “I want ya to say we have a chance to see if what we started before is what I think it can be.”

  “Darek, we were both undercover Both being someone we weren’t . . . aren’t.”

  “Don’t try t’ downplay it, Aish. Ya know as well as I do that the legend doesn’t change who ya are at your core. Ya can play a part, pretend ya like this music or those books on the surface, but ya can’t fake the real stuff. Ya can’t fake the connection ya have . . . like when you’re standing on Ha'penny Bridge at night watching the lights on the water an’ your hands connect for the first time.”

  The way he looked at me was both familiar and foreign. There was something more behind his gaze. Something deeper than I remembered seeing before. “It doesn’t matter,” I retorted. “There’s no way to know for sure what was truly us and what was just playin’ the part.”

  “Who someone really is can always be found when ya look them in the eyes. I saw what I needed t’ see, Aish. I know ya did too. Besides, I know ya can’t fake this,” he said, closing the space between us and placing a hand on each side of my face. Before I had a moment to dispute, his lips were pressed to mine, and the familiarity took over. Every memory I had suppressed rushed to the surface.

  When Darek pulled back, his hands still lingered in place. The sincerity in his gaze reminded me of why I began to fall for him so many months before. “I know ya have a lot on your plate right now. I’m not tryin’ t’ add t’ that. Seein’ ya again wasn’t somethin’ I ever thought would happen. But now that it has . . . I just wanted t’ know how ya feel an’ I wanted you t’ know where I stand.” His hands slipped from my face back to his pockets. “I’ll let ya get t’ what ya have t’ do, but we’ll talk later.”

  He turned and started down the steps without even a hesitation, leaving me standing there dumbfounded.

  “I . . . I didn’t tell ya how I feel,” I sputtered quietly after him.

  Darek stopped, glanced back over his shoulder. “I learned what I needed to know.” He winked and trotted across the yard and then the road. I watched until he disappeared around the corner near Pyreshore Park, and then I just stood there for a while, my head spinning.

  After Darek left, I called Kara. That conversation lasted nearly half an hour and went about as I had expected—with her telling me I needed to figure out how I felt and be upfront with both Cian and Darek. At that point, a long hot shower was necessary to help clear my mind before I started back on the translation . . . and before I faced Cian.

  I hadn’t even cracked open the first book when Cian arrived. In fact, I had just finished slipping into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt and was towel drying my hair and twisting my platinum locks into a side braid when he knocked on the front door.

  I helped him get a few things started in the kitchen before he shooed me out, insisting that he had it all under control. I felt a little guilty not helping. I felt even guiltier over what had happened with Darek, though I was still trying to figure out why. As I plopped down on the couch with the notepad and my initial translation, my inner angel and devil began a spirited back and forth.

  One justified not telling Cian what had happened because I had only known him a few days, insisting there was no reason to feel like I owed him an explanation. After all, I’d spent several months getting to know Darek during my assignment, and it was understandable that, considering how it ended, we might have some unresolved issues.

  The other countered with reminders about the intensity of my connection with Cian. How he’d made me feel safe and been nothing but upfront and honest with me. How I trusted him, even without understanding why or how I was able to offer my trust so easily. And . . . how I’d told him I’d never give him a reason not to trust me.

  On paper, my history with Darek would make a convincing, logical argument. But emotions were rarely logical. And that’s where my predicament was coming into play.

  I had clearly fought my internal battle more than I had tackled the translation since I only had three lines done when Cian announced that dinner was ready. I placed the pad on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen to help by getting dishes and pouring the wine.

  Cian spooned fettucine onto each plate along with alfredo sauce and sauteed chicken, then placed them on the table. Once we were seated, he stared across at me until I acknowledged him with awkward eye contact.

  “Ya want to tell me what’s botherin’ you?” he asked. “Ya sure have been awfully quiet since I got here.”

  Great. In a matter of a few days, he could read me like a book. “I was just concentrating.”

  His stare narrowed with suspicion. “Okay. You’ll talk to me about whatever it is when you’re ready.” And he began to eat while he told me how he had spent most of the afternoon planning the field trip to the White Mountains for the next day. We’d be leaving late afternoon. It was about a two-hour drive to the coordinates, but he wanted to leave additional time because it seemed like there may not be any state roads or truck paths that led to the exact location. We might have to hike a little, so I would need to dress accordingly. I listened and ate, tried to ask questions here and there, so I didn’t seem so quiet. But the events of the day with Darek still had me off balance.

  Then he started talking about how Darek had suggested doing a search on the Silver Moon in the Keeper’s system.

  “Wait. What?” He now had my full attention. “You told Darek about the note?”

  “Relax, lass. I didn’t tell him about the note. That’s not my secret to tell. I just mentioned I was curious about something I’d seen in a book that I’d never heard about before. And he suggested I look it up in the system.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

  “No apologies. Don’t ya want to know what I found?” His eyes lit up.

  “Of course, I do.”

  “According to the Keeper’s search system, there are two books that contain information about the Silver Moon. One had only a paragraph explaining the lunar cycle of the Silver Moon. In other words, if I’d had that, I wouldn’t have had to do math last night,” he said with a laugh.

  My smile emerged at the sound of his laughter. “And the other?” I asked.

  “The other is sitting in that pile over on the coffee table. There’s only one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s blank.”

  My eyes widened as I realized what he was referring to. “The Tartaros Blade journal?” Confusion laced every syllable. “I don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, me either. But maybe it’s like I said. Maybe there’s something written on a random page and we have to look through the whole thing. We’ll have to give it another look after we eat.” He shrugged and shoved a bite of pasta into his mouth.

  While we continued to eat in silence, I mulled over just how much information I’d had to process over the past several days. It was enough to make my head spin and a little more than overwhelming. The fact that Cian hadn’t pressured me to open up, when I was so obviously withdrawn, was clearly the right call on his part because it got to me.

  Most of my pasta was gone by the time I cracked.

  “Darek was here,” I blurted out.

  Cian froze for a split second, then lowered his fork and leaned back in his chair.

  “He came by before I got here?” The question was calm and without even a hint of irritation.

  “Sort of. He was here waiting when I arrived.”

  “Well, that explains why you’ve been so quiet.” Genuine concern radiated from his gaze. “You okay? You need t’ talk about it?”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Really? You actually want t’ hear about this?”

  Cian reached across the table and slipped his hand around mine. The warmth of his energy mingling with mine was more comforting than exciting this time, and I wondered if the shift had something to do with Darek’s arrival.

  “Look, Aish. I realize ya have a history with Darek.
I realize this whole situation is probably a little more than awkward for you. I’m not going t’ fault you for something beyond your control. Besides, you don’t owe me anything—no explanations, no apologies. You don’t have t’ defend yourself t’ me. If ya need t’ talk about it, I’m happy t’ be here for ya.”

  I drew in a long, slow breath and released it in the same way. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, even though he said I didn’t owe him an explanation. The other part wanted to pretend all of it hadn’t happened so I wouldn’t have to explain why I was feeling the way I was to him . . . or myself. Curse my personal angel and devil—so much for being upfront.

  “Honestly, I’m not quite at a point I want t’ talk about how I’m feelin’. I’m still tryin’ t’ make sense of everything that’s occurred. A lot has been thrown at me in a very short time. But I don’t want t’ keep anything from you. I need for you t’ know what happened. I want t’ be completely open and upfront with you, Cian.”

  Solemn eyes held steady on me, and I tried to summon the courage and the right words to tell Cian what Darek had said, and what had happened.

  “Very well,” Cian acknowledged. “I’m listening.”

  Band-aids are best ripped off, right? Even though it’s never a pleasant experience.

  “Darek came here to find out if there was a chance we could pick up where we left off,” I explained and then held a long pause, not really wanting to divulge the next part but knowing it needed to be out in the open. “And . . . he kissed me.”

  A blank stare covered his face. After a moment, Cian bobbed his head up and down slowly, pressing his lips tightly together. Then he asked, “And you’re not ready t’ talk about this? Or just not how you feel about this?” I knew, deep down, he meant the kiss, but I didn’t think either of us wanted to say it.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure I’d be able t’ discuss any of it intelligently at the moment. He said a few things that have my head spinning more than I expected.”

  “I see. Well, a’ight then. I guess we’ll hit the books and talk about it when you’re ready t’.”

  My brows knotted together. “That’s it?” I hadn’t been involved in many relationships over the course of my adult life, but I’d had a few. And that was by far some seriously mature behavior. Or he was a psycho, and I just hadn’t seen him snap yet. I was praying for the maturity.

  “Aye. That’s it. Now, if ya happen t’ be wonderin’ if I like any of this . . . I don’t. At all. But I have no claim here, Aish. I’m trusting my gut. I meant what I said last night. I believe we are stronger together—you and me. Stronger than either of us might realize. Stronger than Darek’s presence. I told ya I don’t believe in coincidence. So, if you’re askin’ me, this connection between us . . . it’s no coincidence. There’s a higher power at work and believing everything happens for a reason means trusting that what’s meant to happen will happen. I know what I feel. I believe you feel it too.”

  Ugh. Why had they both said that to me? How could they know what I was feeling? I didn’t even know what I was feeling. Scratch that. I was feeling like I had too many pieces to a puzzle, and I didn’t have a clue where any of them fit—or which ones didn’t fit at all.

  I sat there, staring at Cian’s hand wrapped around mine, basking in the comfort radiating from his touch. As uncertain as I felt, I had never felt calmer than in that moment.

  “I want to believe that everything happens as it should,” I finally admitted, my voice an uncertain half whisper.

  “You will in time.” He smiled, and I almost believed him. “Now, how about we clean this up and get to those books? We have a big day planned tomorrow. Let’s knock this out so we can get a decent night’s sleep.”

  We were deep into the research session when Cian received a call from Uncle Lachlan. I was reading through my translation and putting the phrases together. While there was nothing overtly disturbing in the translation, the phrases sent an unsettling concern through my core—almost making me a little nauseous, though I couldn’t explain why. When Cian put Uncle Lachlan on speaker, I pushed the feeling aside and focused my attention on the conversation.

  “Is Aisling with ye?” the Keeper asked Cian.

  “She is,” Cian replied.

  “Right here, Uncle Lach.” In order to hear better, I scooted to the other end of the couch, closer to Cian. Of course, it also meant being subjected to the warmth of his magic reaching out to mine. All at once, the nausea dissipated.

  “Good! I need t’ speak with the both of ye. I jus’ finished a call with one of Nira’s contacts in Cairo. I managed to get some rather interesting information regarding the whereabouts of the Kanna Stone. When I spoke with the liaison from the Tribe earlier this afternoon, she sent me on a bit of a wild goose chase. However, after some convincing, and a little bribery, to be honest, I was able to get an audience with the elder of the tribe. She offered information that led me to a prominent Werewolf pack in South America. After some negotiation, I was finally offered the information I needed in exchange for an update and a small token from the location once we have concluded our search.”

  “What kind of update do they want?” Cian inquired.

  “They want t’ know the artifact has been secured in one manner or another. So, locked away in the Keeper archives or destroyed.”

  “Well then . . . sounds like you have been busy,” I exclaimed.

  “Aye, m’dear. That I have. But I have the location in which the Minoan Pack is said t’ have, and I quote, ‘disposed of the Orb of Evil.’”

  I swear a shiver ran down my spine. Going after something called the Orb of Evil wasn’t super high on my bucket list. But neither was fighting in a war between races.

  “So, what’s the location?” Cian asked.

  “The Lunar Ruins,” Uncle Lachlan replied.

  “Where’s that?” I questioned, expecting some exotic location like a Brazilian rainforest or an Aztec temple in South America.

  “Deep within the White Mountains. The site of the ruins is hidden, much like Pyreshore, and one of the most protected sites of the Werewolf race—sacred t’ the wolves, so we must treat it with as much respect as we would treat our own sacred grounds,” Uncle Lachlan explained.

  Cian and I locked eyes. The White Mountains seemed to be a rather popular place, and though neither of us said a word, I knew he was thinking along the same lines. With plans to visit the White Mountains the next night during the Silver Moon, we needed to know where these Lunar Ruins might be in relation and possibly go there first.

  “If it’s hidden by the wolves, how are we supposed t’ find it?” I posed.

  “I was given precise directions and instructions on how t’ enter. Being as we aren’t of wolf decent, permission had t’ be bestowed, and we must follow detailed specifics,” he informed us.

  Cian raised an eyebrow. “And if we falter on said specifics?”

  Uncle Lachlan hesitated, then said, “Let’s just make sure we don’t falter.” The air went silent for a moment as if Uncle Lachlan needed a dramatic pause. He didn’t. The moment seemed plenty dramatic without one. “Aish, have ye completed the translation? Anything helpful in it?” he asked.

  Personally, this would have been where I’d have inserted the dramatic pause, but he’d already used it, so I just began with my reply. “I finished just as you called, actually. And I can’t say there’s anything helpful in it. Interesting and a little ominous, but not necessarily helpful in regard t’ the Kanna Stone.”

  “Well, at least we have a solid lead,” Cian interjected.

  “Aye. Speaking of leads, Uncle Lach, when they gave you the directions to the Lunar Ruins, did they give you anything like an address to go on? We had planned to head up that way tomorrow for something a little unrelated, but if they are close by, maybe we can make a day of it,” I suggested.

  It was at that point I had to explain our trip to Uncle Lachlan and answer a hundred questions. But, w
hen it was all said, we had what we needed to determine a general location for the Lunar Ruins and to estimate the distance between the two sites.

  We ended the conversation with the promise to call Uncle Lachlan back and let him know when he needed to be ready. He was intrigued by the Silver Moon celestial event and decided to come along. And to be honest, I was perfectly fine with having an extra pair of eyes to keep a look out for whoever had sent that message.

  Cian placed his phone on the coffee table and leaned back next to me. I was still sitting quite close to him on the couch. He reached his arm behind me and rested it on the back of the cushion, then turned slightly toward me.

  “I can tell something didn’t set well with ya in that translation, ya want t’ tell me what?”

  I both loved and hated that he read me so well. I leaned over and grabbed the notepad I had been writing on. “I don’t know why it affected me the way it did. It’s not like there’s anything here that’s going t’ change the world.”

  His shoulders bobbed once. “Might change someone’s world. What’s it say?”

  “It reads like a prophesy of some kind. It’s written by the elders of the Kanna Tribe although it doesn’t give me a definite year or era when it was written. They foretell of those that ‘hail from a heavenly bloodline.’ It calls them ‘Dreamwalkers with one foot in the earthly realm and one in the realm of the heavenlies.’ It says there are three of their kind that, during the year of silver skies, will place the stone and wield the blade and each face the choice between darkness and light. It warns that darkness leads t’ death and light will bring life. I’m not sure what it means by ‘the stone,’ but I think it’s referring t’ the Tartaros Blade, since it happens t’ be drawn at the bottom. And that’s all it says.”

  A flash of contemplation emerged before he furrowed his brow. “It’s definitely a little strange. Can ya pinpoint what it is that bothers ya about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “One foot in the earthly realm and one in the heavenlies sounds a lot like somethin’ I once read describing the origins of Davar Magén. But I don’t ever recall anything about Dreamwalkers.” Cian’s chest rose and fell quickly with the frustrated thought. “I’m just graspin’ at straws.”