Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (8 page)

Bit by bit, Tíereachán's words percolated through the knot of despair in my mind.

Someone would call. With news. I latched on to that single thought more doggedly than a toddler clutching at her mom's leg in a crowd of strangers. My phone. Where was my purse? Red was here, so my shoulder bag had to be somewhere in the car, right?

I must have mumbled something because Tíereachán shifted in his seat and then offered me my bag. As soon as the faux suede hit my lap, I ransacked it, coming away with my iPhone in nothing flat. Bluish light illuminated the backseat, thanks to my Cookie Monster wallpaper. I squinted at the brightly lit screen and then sagged in my seat.
Damn.
No missed calls or texts. I sniffled and fought another wave of useless tears.

It was 10:15, now. We'd arrived at the party around 8:30. If I factored in another twenty minutes of socializing prior to my meltdown, it hadn't been more than ninety minutes since Tíereachán whisked me away. So, perhaps not long enough yet to panic, I reasoned.

I tapped out an urgent text message to both Kim and Kieran, checked the settings to ensure my cell would both ring and vibrate if a call came through, and then maxed out the volume. When I was sure I couldn't miss a call or text, I clutched it to my stomach and stared at nothing through the passenger window as darkness, tinged by the amber glow of the dashboard's control panel, once again claimed the backseat.

Memories of the party weighed on me so heavily I had difficulty drawing breath. "I … I remember smelling smoke," I choked out, bowing my head closer to the window, not wanting to know the details but compelled to ask, "Did … did I … was anyone—?"

I sucked in a shuddering breath, but Tíereachán answered before I finished voicing the question.

"I saw no burning bodies nor did I smell any," he said. "When I pulled you out, a few tables had ignited. Kieran had charged to engage Lorcán. Between the spot fires, my cousin's deft blade, and the hostages, the vampires had plenty to keep them occupied. It helped make our escape somewhat less complicated. While I got you into the car, the alarm sounded. We were hard pressed at that point, so I had little wherewithal to notice more."

"The sprinkler system triggered along with the alarm," Fisk said, shrugging. "Fucking bloodsuckers kept me too busy to see much beyond the tip of my sword."

"Where are we going?" I asked when it seemed Fisk wasn't going to add anything more.

"Another of my mother's gateways. One the king doesn't know about," Tíereachán replied. "Wade is there waiting for us, along with a sizable detachment."

"You may as well stop." I turned to stare at him across the darkened seat. "Everything is off until I know what's going on with my friends and Kieran."

"John and I cannot stand alone against a contingent of sidhe-suckled vampires. We'll not risk stopping for more than refueling until we reach my mother's forces."

"I'm not crossing until I know my friends are safe," I said, but my little voice wondered,
What if they're dead?

"I expected nothing less," he replied.

After a moment, he touched my elbow and I jumped at the unexpected contact.

"Lire, tell us what happened," he urged. "What did Lorcán hope to achieve with such a brazen attack? Red told us he'd been listening to music and missed much of what happened."

Dread sliced through me, and I hunched over my knotted stomach.

What was I going to do about Lorcán? If Julie and Steven and the rest were still hostages, did I have a choice but to find a way to give in to his impossible demand?

Covering my face, I turned back toward my window.

Tíereachán squeezed my arm and tried to pull me toward him, but I shrugged him off. I dropped my arms, my hands thumping to rest limply on my thighs. "His strigoi thugs enthralled everyone, held them hostage. He wants me to retrieve Maeve." I went on to explain the details of Lorcán's ultimatum. "There's no way I can bust her out of there. I'm not a djinn with untold powers. When I told him the whole idea was ludicrous, he ordered one of his vamps to murder my ex-boyfriend. She tore open his throat, and I stood there, stuttering like an idiot while she did it."

I turned to stare at him. Even in the dark, it was easy to discern the shock and sympathy in his widened eyes. "Maybe if Lorcán hadn't told me about Kieran and Nuala and …
who I am
— " I faltered, sucking in a breath at the memory. "I might have been able to keep it together, but— " I shook my head vehemently. "I warned him. I tried. I told him it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge, but the fucker didn't listen. He killed him. Poor Glen … he … he didn't have a chance," I said, my voice breaking. "The rest could be dead too, and it's all my
stupid
fault!"

As I slumped to the seat, he pulled me into his arms. Red scrabbled over my back, jumping to the window's ledge to avoid inflicting his defensive spells on him. I collapsed against the warmth of Tíereachán's chest, grief-stricken and too wrecked to resist the enticing comfort of his embrace.

He tucked my head under his chin and shushed me, whispering tender endearments and holding me close. Boneless and sniffling, I swallowed my tears and tried to think positive. Kieran would call any minute. It took time to save everyone and defeat Lorcán. He'd be okay. Soon enough, he'd tell me, in his alluring, musical baritone, that Julie and Steven and the rest of my friends were okay. The disheartening bombshell about his continued deception … I didn't have the strength to dwell on it, not when I awaited news of their possible deaths, knowing the fiasco was my fault.

After several minutes, Tíereachán murmured, "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner. I didn't receive Wade's warning message about the revelations at Maeve's trial until late, and Michael neglected to inform me of your friend's party until afterward. I felt your anguish and we were still blocks away." His arms stiffened, crushing me against him. At my squeak of protest, he eased his hold. My head rose and fell along with his heavy sigh.

This was the first I'd heard that he could sense my emotions through our blood connection. A spark of unease fluttered through me, but I cataloged the disturbing thought under the heading, 'Things To Freak Out About Tomorrow.' Or next week. Better yet, how about never?

He muttered bitterly, "What was my cousin thinking, allowing you to attend that party in the first place?"

I crumpled the smooth weave of his shirt as shame swelled up to lodge heavy in my throat. I turned my face into his chest, trying to hide from the world, from my mistake, from everything. "My fault— "

"No, Lire," Red scolded from his window perch. "I will not allow you to bear this burden. You have every right to live your life—more cause than most, in my mind. Any fault in this lies entirely with Lorcán. The decision to leave the relative safety of your building was mutually decided. Even had we stayed, you know as well as I, the safety there is an illusion. A fact proved by Lorcán's brutal yet effective tactics."

Red explained the strategy behind our evening plans to Tíereachán and Fisk. If either one thought it naïve or misguided, they kept their opinion to themselves.

As my frantic, guilt-plagued thoughts quieted, I became aware of Tíereachán's gentle stroking along my spine. At first, the unsolicited contact had been a dimly noticed comfort, but now that the heat of his body and his clean, citrusy scent had risen to the fore of my mind, unease hitched along for the ride, troubling me like a pebble under my heel that grew more noticeable the longer I walked on it.

Tíereachán must have sensed my growing disquiet because he pressed the whole of his hand against my back and, in an affected, haughty tone, said, "When you speak to my cousin, be sure to tell him of my virtuous behavior despite your delightful proximity. When you finally acknowledge me as the better sidhe, I want no thought spared to underhanded influence," he tsked. "And you simply must stop pawing at me, woman. It's embarrassing."

As he no doubt intended, I uttered an indignant growl and pushed at his chest, levering myself away from him to sit upright. I raised my arm to deliver a backhanded smack, but his hiss and pained expression halted me, my snarky retort frozen on my tongue.

I eyed him critically. "You're hurt."

He straightened in the seat and crossed his arms, but the grimace that had replaced his cocky smile told me the move wasn't an easy one. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Good. Then you won't mind proving it." I scooted closer while I tried to recall where I'd placed my hands when I'd shoved myself away from him. "What happened? Show me."

"Mate, sit down. I don't need your fussing."

I ignored the irritating endearment, which he'd used because he knew it got on my nerves and no doubt hoped it would distract me.

"You're gonna get more than fussing," I said, passing my phone to Red who'd retaken his perch on the back of the front passenger seat. "You'll get a knuckle sandwich."

I ran my fingers over his arms, checking the fabric of his black button-down shirt for tears or the wet, sticky signs of blood. Not finding anything, I attempted to pry his unyielding arms loose for access to the parts of his torso he'd deliberately hidden.

Stymied, the truth dawned on me. I froze and stared at him, horrified. "It was my fire. You're burned. I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me."

There was no hesitation in his reply, but I didn't buy it. When his dark appendage wrapped around me, I'd been going up like a dead pine in a forest fire. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner?

When I continued to stare at him, distress knitting my brows, Tíereachán tilted his head and peered at me. "After all this, you will not take my word?"

We'd been through a lot together, true. I'd rescued him from Azazel's clutches. And, even when he'd been under the archdemon's thumb, forced into the guise of a demon by a blood pact and unaware of his true sidhe identity, he'd never lied to me.

But I also knew it was possible to skirt the truth without lying. And there's no way he'd missed coming into contact with my fire, not when his magic had wrapped around me so securely.

Given sidhe touchiness when it came to their honor, there was no tactful way to answer his question, so I didn't even try. "I'm not stupid. You guys parse the truth like nobody's business. Technically I didn't hurt you, but my fire did, right?"

One look at his narrowed eyes and inflexible jaw told me I was most definitely
not right
.

Where was an open well when I needed one?

"Unlike Kieran, I have never sought to deceive you,
Lire
. You do all other sidhe a disservice when you cast us in his mold."

For once, he'd used my actual name in lieu of a cocky endearment, but instead of pleasing me, it stung as if I'd been slapped.

Chastened and heart-heavy, I retreated to my side of the car. I glanced up in time to catch Fisk's disapproving eyes in the rear view mirror, but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm. "He took a blade tip to his side when he yanked you out of the shop. It's a minor injury that I've tended to, so stop worrying."

I felt the weight of Tíereachán's scrutiny, a near palpable pressure along my left side. At that moment, with shame and anger burning in my chest and heating my cheeks, nothing shy of physical force would have prompted me to meet his gaze. Hugging myself, I huddled at the window, wishing I was anywhere but inside the car with these two imposing men, even if they had saved my life.

"You said Lorcán told you something before he issued his ultimatum," Tíereachán observed, sounding wary. "It obviously upset you. What was it?"

I gritted my teeth, pressing my arms tighter to my abdomen.
Nope. Not going there.

"He revealed something," he pressed, ignoring my silent protest. "Something Kieran hadn't told you. Something that concerns Nuala and who you are."

"You don't know?" Fisk's surprised inquiry pierced the night-dimmed interior. "She's descended from Nuala's father. They've tracked both sides of his line for generations, hoping the spark would manifest somewhere along the way, even with the years of diluted blood."

I bit my lip. My relation to Kieran's former mate was less like a daughter and more like a half-sister. Although, genetically speaking, after two thousand years of intervening lineage, one could hardly say we were related. Not that it mattered, of course, since neither consideration made the situation with Kieran feel any less smarmy.

"Kieran knew?" Tíereachán's voice rose. "He kept you ignorant and then seduced you?" He bit out a curse. "I should have suspected as much. When I get done with him, my cousin is going to wish Lorcán had gutted him." He spewed a long series of harshly bitten Silven words that I didn't have to work hard imagining as curses.

When Tíereachán finished his rant, Fisk grunted his agreement and said, "At the soonest," and then, with a severity that almost surpassed Tíereachán's, he snapped, "I'll fucking help." Which, considering Fisk's surliness toward me, came as a shock.

Call me crazy, but their threats eased some of my crushing worry. If they were imagining what they'd like to do to Kieran, both men must harbor little doubt that he'd survived the fight with Lorcán.

It wasn't enough to distract me from the ongoing humiliation of Kieran's betrayal, however. It was one thing to have a preference for women with green eyes, quite another to seek out the distant relation of your former lover. I wondered whether doing so had bothered him. Had it made him feel guilty? Couldn't he see how creepy it was?

I gritted my teeth. This constant emotional tug of war—fear and worry followed by humiliation and betrayal—had left me feeling wrung out and carsick.

"I'm sorry," Tíereachán said, his words clipped by his remaining anger. "If I'd known Kieran had been keeping this from you … I'd have forced him to tell you."

I nodded, relieved when he didn't pile on by using Kieran's mistake to paint himself as the better man. Both his and Fisk's reactions had already made that point painfully clear.

Gaze firmly averted, I shifted in my seat. "So … I have to ask … is there, I don't know, maybe something I should know about Kieran's appearance?" I paused, tucking my hair behind my ear, not sure whether I wanted to know the answer, but nevertheless compelled to learn it. "Two of the strigoi said something bizarre about his looks, as though he was flawed somehow. What they said, it just— " I huffed. "It struck me as odd—crazy, in fact. And then Lorcán said something about Kieran wearing a mask, like it was something Kieran did for my benefit, since he and the strigoi could see through it."