“What journal?”
“He k-kept a journal with a-all his pr-rophecies in it. M-most Seers do. I r-remember because he di-idn’t have any f-family when he died, so my p-parents had t-to oversee his will. In it he a-asked for the jou-urnal to be destroyed, but n-no one could ever f-find it. They as-ssumed he’d des-stroyed himself when he g-got sick.”
“A book with all his predictions in it?” Any number of people could have wanted that, including Taron or Darragh. “And no one knows what happened to it?”
“N-not that I know of.”
“Steven,” I beamed, overjoyed to have actually found out something useful. “You are amazing, thank you so much!”
“H-happy to help,” he smiled shyly.
“You’ve done more than help, you may have just saved our trip! Though,” I paused as a twinge of guilt hit me, “there is one more thing, if you don’t mind… could you not let anyone know that I asked you about Ciaran?” I hated to ask him as he didn’t seem like someone who would be OK with lying – or any good at it for that matter – but I knew I had to at least ask.
I was relieved to see he appeared to only be confused and not upset. “Why?”
“We think there might be people who don’t want anyone looking into him, so we are trying to keep it all on the down low for now.”
He nodded without hesitation. “I w-won’t tell. Just pr-romise to tell me if you f-find anything,” he said, with a spark of excitement in his eyes, obviously enjoying the intrigue.
“Absolutely.”
As we continued down the hall, I wondered if I could ask him about Bastian and the whole Brian Connor thing, but decided that was going too far. Jerk or no, Bastian was still his brother after all, and I didn’t want to do anything that would upset him when we’d finally become friends. “Hey,” I said, as we neared the end of the hall, “my room is just down the way, do you want to come back with me? We could hang out for a while and then order lunch to the room.”
“I d-don’t know,” he said, tension beginning to tighten his frame, “I should g-go back and g-get my b-books.”
I nodded with a smile, noting how much more pronounced his stutter was when he was nervous. “Yeah, that’s fine,” said casually, hoping to help him relax, “I just–”
“Steven!” came a sudden bellow down the hall. “What are you doing out here?”
Both our heads snapped to the right where Bastian was storming our way like a charging bull, hands fisted and eyes blazing. He was still wearing his white fencing outfit, though had lost his gym bag and helmet, and was clearly not at all pleased with finding Steven and I together.
“You were told not to leave your room,” he scolded, his voice growing softer as he approached while his tone remained just as fierce. “Get back to your suite,” he ordered, completely ignoring me, “and stay there until Mother comes for you this afternoon.”
“Hey!” I snapped, stepping in between them. “Don’t you talk to him like that! He is walking with me because I asked him to, and what we do is none of your damn business!”
Bastian glared down at me like a bear would an unarmed hunter, but I met him toe to toe, unwilling to so much as flinch under his eyes. After a long moment he looked over my shoulder to Steven, jerking his head to the right in a silent command. Obeying, Steven took off quickly back up the hall before I even had a chance to say goodbye.
“What the hell is your problem?” I growled at him the moment Steven was out of sight.
“Trust me,” he huffed haughtily, though the fire didn’t quite leave his eyes. “I’ve done you a favor. He’s not the sort of person you want to be seen with.”
I lost it. “Don’t tell me who I want to be seen with, I’ll talk to whomever I want! And don’t you ever treat him like that in front of me again, or you’ll spend the next few days as the one who doesn’t want to be seen as you nurse a black eye!”
“Clearly you don’t understand the way things work around here.”
“I understand perfectly well, thank you, I just don’t care! I don’t care what you all think about him, and I don’t care what you think about me. The only thing I care about is the fact that he is the only person I’ve met at this pretentious festival of bullshit that can put two words together without spewing either a load of pompous drivel or,” I gave him an exaggerated onceover, “blatant lies!”
“Yes, well I suppose lies would abound when you spend your days inventing plots and making wild accusations.”
“I’m sorry, what accusations were those? The ones where you’re a liar, or the ones where you spent six months spying on my family?”
“I,” he looked down his nose at me, “am not now nor have I ever been a liar. And as to the rest, I won’t even justify the notion with a response.” With a lift of his chin, he turned to go, but unfortunately, I wasn’t about to let him have the last word. I had ammo and it was time to use it.
I crossed my arms, cocked, and fired. “Did you have a nice workout?”
“Excuse me?” His tone was almost bored, but something flashed in his eyes.
“Your workout,” I gestured to his outfit. “Fencing, yes?”
“Very good.”
“Looks like you worked up quite a sweat,” I said, eyeing his dry and perfectly coifed hair. “But then I guess sitting at a computer can do that to a guy.”
Any traces of aloof detachment remaining in his expression were gone in a blink, and before I’d even realized he’d moved, he was an inch from my face with a flare of malice in his eyes like I’d never seen before. Not going to lie, for a minute… I was scared.
“You followed me?” he breathed, his locked jaw quivering under the strain of his clenched teeth.
“I happened to see you,” I shrugged, managing to call back some of my bravado.
“You happened to be on a restricted floor?”
“I got lost.”
He ground his teeth and took a step back. “You had no right…”
“No,” I countered, “I think I had every right to follow you and snoop into your life. I think they call that comeuppance.”
“What in God’s name do you want from me?”
“I want you to admit you were in Pennsylvania two years ago. I want you to tell me who sent you and what you told them about us. I want you to stop treating me like an idiot and admit I am right! I know you think you are so sly and that no one is ever going to figure it out, but I saw you panic last night when I asked you to dance. You were able to catch it before anyone else saw, but we both know what it was. Why can’t you just admit it?”
For the first time he hesitated before answering, as something strange bubbled under the anger in his eyes. Indecision? Fear? Guilt? I wasn’t sure what to call it, but what I did know was that it was vulnerable, which was an emotion that, until that moment, I wouldn’t have believed him capable of. That is, if I’d really seen it, because a moment later it was gone, the icy glare back in its place.
“I can’t admit to being in the States, because it didn’t happen,” he said flatly, his snooty cocked brow back in place. “I didn’t tell anyone anything about you because I don’t know anything about you worth telling, nor do I find myself inclined to learn more. And the so-called ‘panic’ you saw in me last night, was not panic but irritation, and was due entirely to the fact that I have no desire to marry you.”
“What? Marry me?” Did he seriously just say that?
“I assure you, the idea was in no way my own.”
“Are you serious with this,” I asked, ignoring the blatant insult, “or are you just trying to distract me?”
“I am quite serious. I find it hard to believe that you haven’t seen her intent, but perhaps you don’t know what to look for. However, if my mother hasn’t yet mentioned it to you, I can guarantee you she has mentioned it to your father.”
Was he for real? I mean, sure, Jocelyn had said that as his daughter, I’d generally be considered a good catch, and that Alva would likely try to set up Bastian
and I, but he hadn’t said anything about her specifically talking to him about it. Looked like he and I would need to have a chat later…
“As you may or may not know,” Bastian continued, “marriage for members of our company is quite different from what I would suppose you are accustomed to.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”
“My mother has made no secret of the fact that she wishes to see our lines joined, and thanks to your attending this week, she believes this to be the perfect opportunity to make that happen. As I have no desire for such a union with you, I decided the best way to avoid the matter was by avoiding you – an effort ruined by your request for a dance. The last thing I needed was you showing an interest in me and adding fuel to an already well-stoked fire, hence my ‘panic.’”
“Please,” I scoffed. “Interest in you? Don’t flatter yourself. I wanted information, not a date.” Though I had to admit, I really hated how much sense his story was making.
“Well, I can assure you that was not how the rest of the room saw it. From what I have heard, most expect that our engagement will be announced before the end of your stay here.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, with a grimace I didn’t appreciate.
Much as I was annoyed at the turn the conversation had taken, I knew I had to circle back to the topic. Marriage plot aside, it didn’t change his face in my memory or what I knew in my gut to be true, which was that he was playing me.
“And how do I know you aren’t just making all this up to throw me off?” I asked, wishing I could have said it with a bit more conviction.
A slimy grin tugged his mouth. “Well, I suppose that could be true. I am a liar, after all, isn’t that right?”
“Not exactly a denial,” I said, ready to go for broke, “but that’s fine. If you don’t want to tell me what you are up to, I’m sure your mother will.”
I held my breath as his eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you threatening me?”
“Sounds that way.”
We stood in a frozen standoff as the tension hung over us like icicles in a cave, ready to fall on us at the slightest vibration. Finally, Bastian lifted his head looking much calmer than I would have liked.
“Fine,” he said, relaxing his shoulders. “If that is the way you want to proceed, be my guest. Tell my mother; tell anyone you would like. But just know that I will be there right behind you, and after they are finished hearing what you have to say… they will hear what I have to say.” Pausing, he reached out toward the side of my neck and gently took the chain of my Sciath between his fingers, shifting it slightly so that the clasp was once again in the back, hidden under my hair. “And I think we both know that you are a far more interesting subject.”
Before I could catch my breath to reply, he turned and walked up the hall, leaving me standing in a stupor.
So much for not knowing anything worth telling…
CHAPTER 13
ASS! Lying, shady, pompous, two-faced, stuck up, self-righteous ass!
With more vehemently evil thoughts than I had ever harbored against a single person, I stormed through the halls of the manor toward Jocelyn’s room. Between spying, talking to Steven, then arguing with Bastian, the last half hour of my life had been the definition of an emotional rollercoaster, but luckily I’d come out of it with information that may actually help us, so I figured the best thing to do was focus my raging energy on sharing what I’d learned.
When I didn’t find Jocelyn in his room, I checked in Cormac’s and Alex’s, but they were both empty as well. I started making my way around the manor, moving from activity to activity, trying to find someone I could unload my information – and pent up frustration – on, but I wasn’t having much luck. They weren’t having drinks in the main receiving room; they weren’t at the lawn bowling tournament; nor were they in the library, the game room, or any of the half a dozen parlors and mingling rooms scattered around the premises. I was about to give up and go back to my room to fume in private, when I passed by the door to an outside patio where there were a few dozen people gathered having drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
I quickly scanned the crowd and found Jocelyn standing with a small group of men not far from the door. Taking a deep breath and collecting myself, I stepped out onto the patio and over to where Jocelyn stood, quietly taking a place just behind his elbow and waiting to be noticed.
“Becca,” he said surprised, turning when he saw the other men in his group look my way. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Gentlemen,” he ushered me forward, “allow me to introduce my daughter, Rebecca. Becca, this is Mr Callaghan, Mr Ryan, and Mr Doyle.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Clavish,” Mr Callaghan said, as I shook their hands one at a time. “I have been hearing quite a bit about you. It is wonderful you could join us this year.”
“Thank you,” I smiled, actually caught off guard by his sincerity and overall lack of pride. “I’m happy to be here.”
“Keeping your old man in line, I hope,” Mr Ryan – apparently a kinetic and the only one with an ability I was able to recognize – said to me with a chuckle.
“I do my best,” I smiled, playing along. Why did older people always have to ask things like that?
“I have a daughter, Shannon, who is about your age, Becca,” Mr Callaghan said. “I’ll have to be sure to introduce you while you’re here.”
Shannon’s dad. Immediately my stomach flipped and I fought the sudden urge to shrink back behind Jocelyn. He certainly looked the part – tall, with dark eyes and brown shoulder-length hair that had more body and style than most women I knew, yet somehow he still managed masculine. What had Shannon and her harpy mother told him about me? He had said that he’d been hearing quite a bit about me. Did he mock me behind my back too, like the rest of his obnoxious family? Would he tell them he’d met me? What would they say?
Dear God, when did I become so insecure?
Damn it, I refused to be this person. I was not going to let some chick I’d never even met intimidate me like a dog barking at a squirrel. Enough was enough.
With as friendly a smile as I had, I nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.”
“Weren’t the younger folk headed to the stables for an outing today?” Mr Doyle asked, glancing to Mr Callaghan.
“Yes, they are there now, I believe. You didn’t want to go riding, Becca?”
“I didn’t realize they were going,” I said truthfully, “though it’s probably for the best. I don’t think anyone is in the mood for a trip to the hospital.”
As the men chuckled at my lame joke, Jocelyn turned to face me. “I’m glad you happened by, I was about to come and find you. We need to get going.”
“We do?”
“Gentlemen,” he said looking back to the men, “it’s been wonderful catching up, but we have an appointment to keep. I will see you all on the course tomorrow?”
“Indeed, and prepare to be shamed,” Mr Callaghan laughed, ribbing the man next to him. “It was a pleasure, Miss Clavish,” he added, bowing slightly.
“Miss Clavish,” the other two nodded in turn.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, then followed Jocelyn back into the manor. I waited until we reached a patch of empty hall before leaning in and telling him my news. “I found something.”
He stopped suddenly and looked down at me. “What do you mean?”
“About Ciaran. He kept a book that he wrote all his prophecies and stuff in, like a journal or something. Brassal and Alva were in charge of executing his will, and apparently in it, Ciaran asked that the journal be burned when he died, but no one could ever find it. I bet that’s what Taron wanted.”
I looked up eagerly awaiting his reaction, but if I’d expected his excitement to match my own, I was sorely mistaken.
“How did you come to find out about this?” he demanded, his eyes critical.
What the hell, he was mad at me?
“I… asked a friend.”
“Steven.”
“You spoke to Steven about this?”
Clearly he wasn’t happy, but what I couldn’t figure out was why. “Yes,” I said, feeling slightly defensive, “what’s the problem? He’s not going to say anything, and I found something out, didn’t I? Isn’t that what we were supposed to do?”
“That is what Cormac was supposed to do. You were to wait until I spoke to Brassal about getting the books from the archives. Didn’t you hear a word I said this morning?”
“No one even talks to the poor kid, who’s he going to tell?”
“That’s not the point!” he scolded. “If you are going to take part in things like this with us, you can’t take matters into your own hands…” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now there is a more pressing mater to be dealt with.”
Yeah, the fact that Bastian knows about me and the Iris?
Though given his reaction to finding out I’d talked to Steven, I figured I should hold off on telling him about that until later.
“Cormac was able to find out where Shea is buried,” he continued, “but, in doing so, he also discovered that someone else has been asking after Shea lately, specifically where he was laid to rest. Any family or friends Shea may have had would not have needed to ask for his location, which leads me to believe–”
“That someone else is going to try to read him?”
“Or try to tamper with what memories are left,” Jocelyn nodded. “I’d hoped to avoid a reading, but if someone else is interested in Shea, we need to get to him before they do. Cormac, Alex, and I are going to the cemetery now. If we are lucky, the other person would not have had the chance to visit the site yet.”
“But if they have how will we know?”
“I will be able to tell. We should be leaving within the hour,” he said stopping at the hallway leading to his room. “You go back to your room and stay there until we return. If anyone asks, we went for a tour of the countryside, but you were not feeling up to joining us.”
The Seers Page 13
