The Seers

by Julianna Scott

  “Wow,” I said, walking toward him slowly, looking at the large medal and sash he had across his chest. “You look very… decorated.”

  “Yes,” he huffed a laugh, glancing down at himself. “It’s a bit much, but for something like this, it’s expected.”

  “Everything’s ‘a bit much’ around here,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “It is,” he agreed, “though, on that note, I wanted to tell you that you did very well this afternoon.”

  “Thanks,” I said, though I was actually distracted by all his finery and only half paying attention.

  I stepped forward so that I could get a better look at his “accessories,” such that they were. The one that stood out the most was the medal in the shape of a cross that hung from a deep purple satin ribbon. The medal itself was very large, probably about five inches both from left to right and top to bottom, and was gold in color with silver accents dotted throughout the filigree details. Underneath the ornate medal and ribbon was a sash that stretched diagonally across his chest, which was exactly the same shade of emerald green as my gown. There were also four or five smaller hanging medals attached to his tux jacket, and a half dozen or so lapel pins, each one with a different inlaid symbol or script.

  “What is all this?” I asked, and subconsciously reached out to straighten the medal so that it hung flat. By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late to stop. My heart may have skipped a beat or so, but I acted as though it was nothing and was happy to find that this semi-intimate exchange wasn’t nearly as awkward as it would have been only a few days ago.

  But I still avoided eye contact, just in case…

  “The sash denotes a clan, or a family,” he said after a short pause.

  “That’s why we’re the same color?”

  “Yes. Alex and Cormac each have one as well.”

  “So we’re a clan?” I asked with a laugh.

  “Not in the strictest definition,” he smiled, “but to all intents and purposes, yes.”

  “What about this one?” I nodded toward the medal.

  “The medal denotes military service, and the color of the band denotes the war.”

  I looked up, surprised. “You were in the military?” Sometimes I forgot how little I really knew about him.

  “British military, yes.” His eyebrows pulled together slightly as though he knew my next question was coming.

  “Which war is the purple for?”

  He hesitated slightly with something between a wince and a smile. “World War One. Of course then it was called the Great War.”

  I know my eyes popped open a little bit, but I couldn’t help it. “Oh… right…” I forgot, you are so old it’s almost creepy. Though I kept that last bit to myself.

  “Yes,” he nodded, glancing away, “I served in the Second World War as well, but only briefly.”

  I wanted to let it go, but I couldn’t help myself – I had to know. “So…” I paused with a cautious grin, “if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, exactly?”

  He laughed quietly, though still looked slightly wary, as if he were worried the answer was going to freak me out. After a moment, he took a breath and replied, “I’ll be two hundred and eleven this year.”

  Wow. “I’m not gonna lie,” I said, not quite biting back a laugh, “that’s still a little weird.”

  Luckily he seemed relieved rather than offended at my admission, and smiled. “You think I’m old, keep an eye out for the gentlemen tonight with this same medal on a pink strap.”

  “Why, what’s pink?”

  “French Revolution.”

  He chuckled when my eyes popped open, but I didn’t have a chance to comment before I realized – or rather felt – that someone else was approaching our little meeting alcove. Alex.

  “I’d better go and make sure Cormac hasn’t gotten lost,” Jocelyn said suddenly.

  “Oh, yeah sure,” I nodded casually, playing it off. I was almost certain he didn’t need to check on Cormac, but rather he knew Alex was coming and was giving us a moment to ourselves. I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or embarrassed, considering that the only way Jocelyn could have known that Alex was nearby was because I’d done something to give it away… and I really didn’t want to consider what that might have been.

  Embarrassing reveal or not, Jocelyn didn’t hang around to belabor the point. With a nod, he stepped off down the hall, and a moment later I turned to see Alex come around the corner.

  I didn’t mean to gawk, or blush, or get a goofy grin on my face, but as he stood there just inside the archway of the alcove I’m pretty sure I did all three. Though in my defense, I couldn’t help it – he looked amazing. I’d never thought of Alex as “hot,” or “gorgeous,” or any of the other terms that a lot of girls my age used to describe a good looking guy. That isn’t to say that Alex wasn’t any of those things, or that I didn’t find him attractive, as I did. Very much so, in fact. His dark blonde hair was always styled, he dressed very well, and his eyes – which had always been my favorite feature – were the most amazingly clear shade of storm cloud blue you could imagine. The thing was that the specifics of his appearance weren’t usually what came to mind when I thought about him. He was Alex. It had never mattered what he looked like.

  And while it still didn’t matter, I was not about to pretend like I didn’t notice. He was wearing a black tux like Jocelyn, but instead of the white shirt and black tie, Alex’s tie and shirt were black, and he also had a charcoal gray vest on under his jacket. His cuffs were French, his shoes shone as though they were new, and across his chest lay the same green sash Jocelyn was wearing.

  Not going to lie, there was definitely a flush rising up my neck….

  Though red as I was, oddly enough, Alex’s didn’t blush at all. I’d have thought with me ogling him the way I was, that his ears would be ablaze, but then again, he seemed far too preoccupied to notice the way I was looking at him. Preoccupied… looking at me. His eyes clung to me like condensation on a glass, with an expression that seemed to hover between anger and fear – though deep down I knew it was neither. Still, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

  Why didn’t he say anything? Was he upset? Did he not like the dress? Was something wrong?

  I took a breath to speak, but before I could find my voice he was coming straight toward me. He didn’t look around, didn’t check the hall, or so much as shift his eyes away from mine as he crossed the small alcove in three strides, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

  And dear God… what a kiss…

  His mouth moved against mine with more passion than I’d ever felt from him before. His right hand slid up into my hair and gently but firmly held my mouth to his, while his left dropped to my waist and pulled me tightly against him. His fervor poured over me like boiling water over ice, melting me down to my core. I had no idea what had come over him, but whatever it was, it was hot, it was intense, and if he wasn’t careful, it was going to bring me to my knees.

  But what hit me the hardest wasn’t his sudden hunger or intensity, but the hint of something deeper, driving like an undercurrent beneath his passion. It was something I’d never seen from him before, but unmistakable all the same.

  Possession.

  Alex had never been a dominant or outspoken person in general, but conscious or not, something in him was definitely sending a message: “She is mine.” It may have only been implied, but it was definitely there, and the very idea sent a tingling shiver across my skin as I gripped the lapels of his jacket with a throaty sigh. The message was raw, it was primal, and above all else, it was true: I was his. And he was mine. The fact that we had to hide it around these people didn’t make it any less valid. We belonged to one another.

  Forever.

  A few short seconds later he pulled back with a husky breath, resting his forehead against mine for a moment before releasing me and stepping back slowly, his eyes glowing. He hadn’t said a word – he hadn’t needed to.
I smiled, hoping he saw the “I love you” in my eyes. His answering smile told me he did.

  When we heard Cormac’s voice come echoing up the hall, we both looked away, doing our best to resume our façade of casual acquaintance. It took some effort, but by the time Cormac and Jocelyn came around the corner a moment later, I was perfectly cool and collected.

  On the outside anyway.

  “My goodness, Becca,” Cormac said, coming up and taking my hand in his. “Aren’t you the sight of an angel!”

  “Thank you,” I smiled, seeing that he too had an array of pins and small medals decorating his tuxedo jacket.

  “Yes,” he winked. “It’s a miracle I can still walk under all these silly baubles, is it not?”

  “You look very handsome,” I grinned.

  “Are we ready then?” Jocelyn asked.

  With a collective nod, we all turned toward the hall as excitement once again tickled my neck. I stepped up next to Jocelyn who tentatively offered me his arm, which I took, and together we walked out into the hall and began heading toward the distant echo of festivities, with Cormac and Alex following just behind.

  CHAPTER 6

  When we arrived at the upstairs gallery where the gala was being held, we stood in the receiving line outside the door, and waited to… be received, I guess. I could see Alva up at the front of the line, smiling and greeting each person or small group as they approached, every bit the charming, elegant hostess.

  I stood in line quietly, feigning a fascination with the artwork and the architecture while once again trying to pretend that everyone wasn’t staring at us or gesturing our way. At least this time I felt up to par in the wardrobe department, but unfortunately my attire didn’t do much to help the uncomfortable itch their eyes sent crawling up and down my back.

  “I am never going to get used to this,” I whispered as the line took a few small steps forward.

  “To what?” Jocelyn asked under his breath.

  “The staring, the whispering, and pointing… take your pick.” We took another step forward. “How does this not drive you crazy?”

  He glanced down, his eyebrow raised. “Who said it doesn’t?”

  I paused a moment, surprised. “It does?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then how are you always able to look so comfortable?”

  “Practice.”

  I sighed. “So there’s no trick?”

  “Afraid not.” We took another step forward. “But don’t worry, they will lose interest after a while.”

  “We can hope,” I added.

  “Yes,” he grinned, “in the meantime, try to ignore it. And if it helps, you can always think about how bad it could be.” When I looked up confused, his grin grew wry. “If they knew,” he mouthed silently.

  Dear God, he was right…

  If they somehow found out the truth about me and my abilities, I’d have had to lock myself in the bathroom for the rest of the trip.

  Jocelyn must have seen the color drain from my face, because he chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry, we’ll on our way back home soon. With any luck, we will get the whereabouts of our friend Mr Shea tonight, so until then,” he whispered, as we took the last step to the front of the line, “smile.”

  “Jocelyn,” Alva beamed as she stepped forward extending her hand, “welcome!”

  “Alva, you look radiant as ever,” he replied, taking her hand and demurely kissing her knuckles.

  Wow, he really was good at this…

  “Heavens above,” she exclaimed, turning to me and fanning herself dramatically. “What a vision you are, my dear! Why, your card will be filled the moment you set foot through the door!”

  “Thank you,” I said, my polite smile back in place. Though I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that last bit.

  “And of course, Cormac… and Mr Bray, lovely to see you as well. Please, allow me to show you all in.”

  “There is no need for that, Alva,” Jocelyn said, glancing at the line. “We could not take our hostess from her other guests. We can see ourselves in.”

  “Well, if you insist,” she said, obviously a bit deflated. “But I will make sure to send Brassal over to greet you this evening, he has been so looking forward to seeing you again. And I shall have to introduce Bastian to your lovely daughter this evening, as well.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jocelyn nodded in agreement, though he didn’t share her enthusiasm.

  We followed the people before us down the hallway toward the gallery, and as soon as I heard Alva begin to greet the next group and was sure we wouldn’t be overheard, I turned to Jocelyn, “Who is Bastian?”

  “Her son.”

  Her son? Wait... was she trying to...

  But before I could form the question, Jocelyn answered my expression. “Yes, she is trying to set you two up.”

  “You knew that and you still said yes?” I asked, appalled.

  “Well I could hardly say no.”

  “I guess,” I grumbled.

  “Besides, I had expected this would happen,” he admitted as we made our way into the gallery. “The Bhunaidh family structure is much like that of the earlier days, when marriage was a contract between families, and little more. Their first concern is making the best match and strengthening their lines. I am bregbunhass and you are my daughter, which in the eyes of the Bhunaidh makes you,” he paused, trying to hide the smile in his voice, “quite a catch.”

  “So, what then? Every mother with an eligible son is going to be sizing me up like a horse at the track?” I asked, trying to remember to keep my voice down.

  “It is a possibility, yes,” he admitted, actually having the nerve to smirk.

  “This is not funny!”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed, though the corners of his mouth were still a little higher than they should have been.

  “What’s a card?” I asked, hoping to change the subject and take my mind of my new broodmare status.

  “What?”

  “A card. She said ‘my card would be full.’”

  “Oh, dance card. It means everyone will want to dance with you.”

  “Right, right,” I nodded, realizing I should have known that.

  “Which reminds me,” he said, his tone more serious, “should you be asked to dance, you can politely decline, or if you’d rather, I can do it for you.”

  “Why would I decline? I like to dance.” And I was damn good at it, if I did say so myself…

  “This isn’t going to be the kind of dancing you are used to,” he said simply.

  I could have protested, but I decided to let it go, content to prove his assumptions wrong later. Little did he know that I happened to be quite a proficient dancer, and was familiar with most of the traditional ballroom dance styles thanks to my Uncle Joe. He’d taken me with him to his dance studio for lessons all throughout middle and early high school, and I’d actually become pretty good. Besides, even if I had wanted to say something, the moment we came to the end of the hallway and stepped into the gallery, I was struck completely speechless.

  It was a sight I wouldn’t have thought was possible outside of a fairytale. The room was almost three times as long as it was wide, with a cathedral ceiling made of deep brown molded wood, a stained glass window that covered the entire far wall, and three enormous crystal chandeliers hanging down from the rafters. Beneath them was a glittering bustle of chiffon, gemstones, and silk, as breathtaking as the room itself. The women were floating across the room in exquisite gowns and dazzling jewelry that probably cost more than the average car, while the men were displaying all manner of medals, decorations, and sashes on what no doubt were the finest tailor made tuxedos. All we needed was a pumpkin carriage with a midnight curfew, and it would have been a storybook come to life.

  The four of us walked round the perimeter of the room until we found a grouping of armchairs and settees that were unoccupied and claimed them. Cormac, Alex and I sat, while Jocelyn remained standing, surveying the
various clusters of people all chatting and laughing amongst themselves.

  “I see Oden Shawn across the way,” he said, nodding toward a group of men talking next to one of the huge fireplaces on the opposite wall. “I should go and say hello.”

  “You go ahead,” Cormac said, “I saw Oden this afternoon when we arrived.”

  As Jocelyn walked over to the group of men, I leaned my elbow on the armrest of the chair with a sigh. I wanted to look over at Alex and see what he thought of all this, but with our encounter in the alcove still fresh in my mind, I quickly decided that was a bad idea. If I looked over I would blush, and if I blushed he would blush, and if we both started blushing… Yeah, bad idea. So instead, I turned my attention to the center of the room and casually watched the ocean of glittering haute-couture and humming conversation ebb and flow around us.

  The spectacle of elegant mingling was much like it had been earlier that day in the lobby, with one notable difference: the addition of young people. Alva had mentioned there being other Holders that were closer to my age, but thus far all I had seen was the evil-eyed girl from the lobby that afternoon, the one Alva had called Shannon. But it looked like all the teenagers had come to the gala, each one looking like a perfectly primed and proper miniature of the adult they silently shadowed. At an event like this back at home, I would have expected to find all the younger people together, sitting in their own area, or maybe off talking in a corner, but not here. Here, they blended in seamlessly with the adults, conversing, circulating, and air-kissing like seasoned pros.

  I scanned the crowd to see if I saw Shannon anywhere nearby, hoping she wasn’t while simultaneously trying to act like I didn’t care. It took a moment for me to find her, but when I did somehow I wasn’t surprised that she was one of the most stunning women in the room. She was wearing a cobalt blue gown, and her auburn hair was done up like a modern Marie Antoinette. She was standing with her mother, also in cobalt, and an older man and younger boy – father and brother? – both of whom were wearing cobalt sashes.