An Immortal Descent (3 page)

“May I suggest another approach, Miss Kilbrid? A game perhaps?”

“That’s odd, Mr. Roth. I thought we were already playing one.”

Creases formed at the corners of his eyes from the slightest hint of amusement. “In that case, I propose a different one. More like a game of truth.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Why ever for?”

James smiled and the creases deepened. “It is the only way either of us shall get any information from the other. An orderly compromise, if you will.”

The idea intrigued me.
A game of truth...
”In the woods so no one will overhear.”

He nodded once and strode past the front gate.

I patted the dog one last time before hurrying to catch up. Across the road, we entered a stand of trees, my skirts turning dark in places from the residual rain that clung to the undergrowth. James stopped in a small clearing next to a stream, which measured no more than three long strides across. Turning toward each other, we faced off like two opponents.

He bent slightly in a sardonic bow. “Ladies first. Ask what you will of me.”

At least the man was a gentleman. “How did you know Deri had been at the inn?”

“I saw her face in your head right after you grabbed my leg.”

My mouth popped open in surprise.
That’s impossible!

“I also saw how you healed that dark spot on Anna’s brain and calmed what appeared to be some nerves.” His gaze moved to my forehead as though he were attempting to see inside once more. “A most interesting talent, if I do say so myself. Though after the run-in with that hound in Pennsylvania, I must confess myself not entirely surprised. I knew then you were different. I just didn’t know exactly how much so at the time.”

The events from the stable flew through my mind, one upon the other.
The shocking cold...losing my balance...groping for something to hold onto... Oh, heavens above!
I had continued to release power from both hands, and as the girl was the greater draw, James had somehow been pulled right into my head.

I shuddered from the intrusion. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Until this moment, I didn’t even know it was possible.

He snorted. “Well it did, and now you’re going to explain it to me. I want to know how you were able to do all that to Anna and Sam.”

My mouth pulled to a knot.
What to tell him...
I had acted to save my life, and once James had experienced my power, Brigid’s law no longer demanded that I keep it hidden. Which might very well explain why I’d flapped my tongue so quickly in the stable—a sudden release from the rules that usually bound me tighter than a swaddling babe.

At this point, all I could do was go forward. James would believe me or not. “It’s a gift from my first mother. I was born from her fire and can heal any living creature, no matter how serious the wound or illness.” I paused to gauge James’s response.

The man’s expression was so blank, the muscles appeared frozen in his face. “I... I don’t understand.”

It would have been a miracle if he had. I glanced at the hand he still cradled against his chest. Blood had begun to coagulate around the puncture wounds that lined the skin. If a picture was really worth a thousand words, James was about to get more than he bargained for.

“Give me your hand.”

He pulled it closer to his chest. “It’s just a dog bite. I’ll have it tended once we return to the inn.”

“Mr. Roth, I can talk till I’m blue in the face, and you won’t understand any more than you do now. If you truly want to understand my gift, then give me your hand.”

His eyes latched onto the tip of my nose. “Heal yourself instead.”

I dropped my gaze and mumbled to the wet grass that surrounded my skirts. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Just a week ago I would have told him that the power only went one way. But that was before my great-grandmother had shown me otherwise. “Because I’m still learning how to,” I admitted sullenly. “So if you want another demonstration, it’s your hand or nothing.”

A battle raged across his face, but after a moment he did as I asked. With no need to hide my gift, I bathed the wound with power. James flinched at the first touch of warmth and tried to pull free. I held on, restoring the skin to pristine order in less than a minute. When I finally let go, his eyes were so round he looked like an owl. Or perhaps like he had just swallowed one. Holding the hand up, he opened and closed his fingers several times, stretching the skin along the back.

“The pain is gone,” he said, clearly awed.

“That’s because I healed the nerves, in addition to the skin, muscles and vessels. Your hand is good as new.”

He flexed the fingers again.

“Probably better,” I added, “since you were developing a strain from holding the reins for so long today. I took care of that as well.”

The hand fell to his side and he looked at me. “This isn’t humanly possible,” he said softly, searching every square inch of my face. “What are you, Miss Kilbrid?”

I clicked my tongue. “Patience, Mr. Roth. It’s my turn to ask a question.”

He sucked in a quick breath as though to protest. Then seemed to have a change of heart. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Why do dislike being home so much?”

This time, the blood seeped past the cravat to stain his fair cheeks a dark red. “Because my elder brother is a muddleheaded idiot.” He fell silent and I gave him an expectant look, in no wise satisfied with the answer. James heaved an irritated sigh and scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “The Roths have held the title of baronet for the past three hundred years in Branbury. We were a prosperous family for most of that time, right until my father attained the title. He was a foolish man, prone to all manner of vice and lasciviousness, and what he didn’t gamble or drink away, was spent on a lifestyle to befit a king. At his death, the baronetcy passed greatly diminished to my half brother.”

James closed his eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. When he looked back to me, I saw the pain that came with the memories. “My brother, Sir John Roth, Baronet, has a heart of gold. He also has the common sense to match my horse. Born of my father’s first wife, he is thirty years my senior, and under his stewardship, the estate has gone from greatly diminished to bankrupt.” James shook his head. “He really tried, Miss Kilbrid, and there I cannot fault him.”

I hung on every word, waiting for more once James fell silent. When none came, I took the risk to prod him further. “Is this why you became Henry’s secretary?”

Something hard glinted in his eyes. “Lord Fitzalan and I have been friends since childhood. When money ran out at home for my education, his father saw that all the bills were paid and then some. Neither the duke nor his lordship expected anything in return, but I refused to continue living on their charity.” James’s gaze drifted over my shoulder, only to snap back harder than before. “Accepting the position also freed me from ever returning to Branbury. I knew the estate would be lost to creditors once my brother died, and I had no desire to see the woman who put the last nail in our financial coffin.”

Confusion bunched between my brows, which James seemed to find strangely amusing. “My brother’s wife,” he clarified, “a lowborn fortune hunter who thought she’d found a pot of gold the day she married Sir John. The estate may have been salvaged if we’d taken immediate action upon my father’s death, and having a good mind for business, I outlined a plan to turn our fortunes around. But she would have none of my interference.” The humor receded, leaving only sadness behind. “You see, Miss Kilbrid, she thought I meant to rob her blind as I am next in line to inherit the title.”

A breeze lifted a branch, sending down a small shower of rain that had collected on the leaves. James shook the water from his hair. I just stood there, water dripping down my neck as this newest information found root. “And this is why you hate me, Mr. Roth?” The answer was so obvious, I needn’t have even asked. And with my luck, the woman was probably Irish to boot.

James considered the question. “Yes, Miss Kilbrid, it is exactly why I hated you.”

The subtle change surprised me.
Hated? As in no longer?

He cut me off the second I opened my mouth for clarification. “It’s my turn.”

“Very well,” I sighed, already well aware what he would ask next.

“I would know what you are. And don’t try to claim a witch, as only the superstitious and rustics believe that rubbish in this day and age.”

I paused at the dilemma that yawned before me. To be sure, the attacks in the stable justified the use of my power in front of James. But to reveal the entire truth might go further than the law allowed.

“Fair is fair, Miss Kilbrid. I divulged my past, now it’s your turn to ante up.”

He had a point. We’d made an agreement, and surely Brigid would not punish me too much for honoring my word, especially now that James knew me to be different.

I offered the condensed version. “I am goddess born, Mr. Roth.”

The words hit him square in the chest, and I looked on innocently as he struggled to keep his breath steady. “And what precisely does that mean?”

“That I am descended from Brigid of the Tuatha Dé.”

He frowned and the name rolled over his tongue like a foreign object. “Tooah day... Are you referring to the Fae?”

“Faeries aren’t real,” I said, irked to no end by the popular misconception. “The Tuatha Dé are an ancient race of gods and goddesses who left the human world more than two thousand years ago. As Brigid’s direct descendant, I am part goddess.”

His nostrils flared. “Do you really take me for such a simpleton?”

I stood my ground, unflinching. “Do you take me for fully human?”

His mouth opened, then snapped shut without so much as a word. I waited, not wanting to pull him faster than he could run. After a minute, his lips parted hesitantly. “Brigid is a myth, left over from pagan times.”

“That’s odd, since I just saw her last summer. But I’ll let her know the next time we meet in the Otherworld.” Not that I had any idea when that would be since the only altar I knew outside of the Colonies was in London at All Hallows.

“This is absurd. This...” He sputtered to a stop just long enough to find the right words. “This is beyond absurd. This goes against the entirety of man’s understanding. Against the very order of things!”

Well, that seemed a bit of an exaggeration. Different didn’t make me absurd, nor against the natural order of anything. I breathed deeply through my nose, and struggled for patience. “What I did today may exceed
your
understanding of the world, but believe me, my existence as a goddess born does not begin nor end with your approval. The Tuatha Dé and their descendants have existed on this earth for thousands of years without it, and I think I shall manage just the same.”

James’s eyes bugged with indignation. “What do you—”

I held up a hand to interrupt. “Look at it logically. You know I’m not fully human. So what other explanation is there for my kind? Why would I lie to you about being Brigid’s descendant? I gave you the truth. Take it or leave it, it’s your choice.”

The battle had turned to a full-scale war. On one side stood everything he had ever known to be true. On the other stood the irrefutable facts of what I had done today, stunning Sam and Anna, healing their brains, healing the dog and the bite mark on his hand.

Turning, James looked at the stream. A squirrel scurried across the far bank, up the side of a tree. One of the last remaining leaves drifted slowly to the ground. “Does Lord Fitzalan know of your...ancestry?”

“Henry’s known since last summer. The duke knows as well, which is why I believe he changed his mind about me. Apparently, he’s not opposed to having a goddess born for a daughter-in-law.”

James took a moment to mull this last bit over. Then he turned back to me. “If I accept Brigid is real, how did your kind come about?”

Now we were getting somewhere. “Brigid married King Bres and they had three sons. I am one of their descendants.”
Easy as that.

“And Deri, is she the same as you?”

“Similar, though not the same. She’s descended from Cailleach, the goddess of death and disease. So where I can heal, Deri can kill.” I wanted to stop there, but for James’s sake, I continued. “And you may need to revise your opinion of witches if what I’ve learned of late is true. Deri may also descend from the witch Carmen. Have you ever heard of her?”

James shook his head.

“She was responsible for laying waste to Ireland long ago. Legend has it that once she died, King Bres buried her beneath the oak trees in Wexford.”

The name connected immediately. “Is that why Deri is bringing Nora there? To visit her mother’s grave?”

“It’s possible that Carmen is still alive and trapped somewhere near Wexford. For some reason Deri thinks Nora may be the key to set her free.”

James’s gaze drifted once more over my shoulder, I assumed to the large oak at my back. Or perhaps to nothing at all, after everything I had given him to think about. Silence settled between us. A long minute passed when he pinched the bridge of his nose as though fighting off a headache. “This is not what I expected,” he said. “If you would have asked me yesterday about any of this, I would have laughed outright. Now, I would be a fool to believe otherwise.”

It was a lot to take in at once, and much more than James had originally agreed to. Though I hated the idea of traveling alone, in good conscience, I had to offer him a way out. “Mr. Roth, there is no loss in honor if you choose to turn back now.”

He looked like I had just slapped him. “I will never stop, not until Nora and Lord Fitzalan are safe. Whatever awaits us, so be it.”

“Even the loss of your life?” I raised a brow in question. “You’ve seen the madness Deri can cause. What you haven’t seen is how she can spread disease with a single touch. And if Carmen is real, she will be a hundred times more dangerous than Deri.” I hesitated before pushing to the end. “According to the legend, it took four full-blooded Tuatha Dé to subdue the witch during her bloody rampage. For all of our sakes, I pray to God that she isn’t real. Or if she is, that King Bres stripped her powers when he imprisoned her. Otherwise I am not sure we will prevail.” I lifted my chin a fraction of an inch as if death did not scare me. Nor the death of those I loved most in this world.