Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (9 page)

From the front seat, Fisk's muttered curses rose above the road noise, doing nothing to help my frame of mind. If I hadn't already melded myself to it, I might have shrunk further against the car door.

Tíereachán didn't respond, but his silent outrage washed over me, the ominous calm before the mother of all storms. I held my breath, primed for his response, as if any second it would thunder through the car and startle me out of my seat.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I gave up window gazing and peered across the seat.

Tíereachán stared two holes into the car's ceiling, his arms folded across his chest, head pressed into the seat's neck rest. The darkness did nothing to hide the stark relief of his rigid posture and flexing jaw.

"
Again
, I didn't— " Eschewing the ceiling view, he straightened and then cocked his head from side to side, easing the muscles of his neck.

After a moment, he turned to me, his expression neutral. "Kieran was badly burned in a fire after an earthquake." He pressed his lips together, frowning. "Sidhe healers are more skilled than yours, but they can only restore so much, even with willing donors. It's not uncommon to use a glamour to hide our imperfections from humans. When one lives as long as we do, scars are inevitable. We may not physically age as humans do, but life takes its toll. Glamours allow many of us to blend into your society without drawing unwanted attention to our … otherness."

He studied me, then subtly jerked his chin upward. "As your lover, he should have told you. But for that, I cannot denounce him, much as I might wish to."

My thoughts splintered as I tried to decide whether to be angered or saddened or frightened by this revelation. And since I'm an idiot, I blurted the question that tipped my tongue. "Why? Because you do the same thing?"

"No," he replied, voice going hard. "Because I am not heartless."

A flea could squish me, I felt so tall. I slapped a hand to my face and scrubbed. Honestly. How many faux pas could I cram into the space of five minutes?

I sighed. "Come on. You know I— "

The trill of my phone's ringtone cut off my fumbling apology, all but goosing me onto the floorboards. Hands trembling, I yanked the bright beacon from Red's extended paws and scrabbled at the screen, squinting to read the contact information. I swiped to answer and, before it had even made contact with my ear, burst out, "Kim?"

"Lire, thank God," Kim said in a whoosh. "You got out. Are you with Tíereachán and Fisk? We didn't know for sure— "

"Kieran," I choked out. I closed my eyes, squeezing my cell and fixing it taut to my ear. "Kim, please … Kieran … is he okay?"

Silence, as forbidding as it was deafening, hammered down the open line. For a half a tick, the moment spanned forever and back again. Finally, she said, "He's alive. Out cold, but alive. Duran just got done healing him."

"He needed a healing?" My voice emerged abnormally high. "How serious is it? What happened?"

"He's going to be okay. The injury wasn't crippling, but he took a sword hit to his left shoulder. It was deep enough that we asked Duran if she could help him out, instead of taking him to the hospital."

I could only breathe into the receiver.

"He's okay, hon. Don't worry." She mumbled an aside, probably to Jackie, saying that I sounded fine. "What about you? You okay?"

"No. This is all my fault. If I hadn't lost it— "

"Lorcán wasn't about to leave empty-handed. You did what you had to."

I wondered whether she'd be as understanding if she knew Lorcán hadn't been a threat to me at all, the destruction was because I'd lost control.

"What about Julie and Steven and my friends?" If I clenched my muscles any tighter, I'd be inside out.

She hesitated. "One was already dead when we showed up. Looked like a vamp kill."

"Yeah. That was Glen."

"Ah, okay … well, I didn't stay long after the fire department and police showed up, so I didn't get word about casualties. I didn't see any other bodies though, besides the one, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. I was pretty busy at the time. We eliminated two vamps, but Lorcán and the rest escaped. They took the hostages with them. What does your friend look like?"

"Long, straight brown hair. She had it in a ponytail. Petite. About five-five. Her husband Steven is six-one or so, medium build, blond buzz cut."

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think one of the vamps, black dude in a suit … I think he had them. I know he and several other vamps had hostages. They made it out with Lorcán—along with a top-heavy brunette with a thing for leather and Louboutins."

"She's the one who killed Glen."

"Then I'm doubly sorry I couldn't fry her ass. I think Lorcán found a way to share his shroud at distance. The vamps were resistant to my magic. My lightning affected them, but not as much as it should have."

"Tíereachán thinks Lorcán's been sharing his blood with them."

She sucked in a shocked breath and then spat out a few fervent curses. "That explains how she could run in those ridiculous stilettos," she said acerbically and then sighed. "Lorcán is depraved. If that's true … shit. If he's sunk that low, the king will hunt him. He's signed his death warrant."

"I thought the king was already hunting him."

"With his agents, yes. If this proves to be true, though, the king'll definitely spare a— " She faltered but continued smoothly, "He'll find a way to send the
Wuldrífan
."

Find a way? What did that mean? Wasn't it easy for him to dispatch the Hunt? Maybe I didn't have as much to worry about as I thought I did. At least, from the king.

There was so much Kieran hadn't bothered to explain to me.

"Kim, what's going on with Kieran? Can I talk to him?" I just wanted to hear his voice.

And then ream the shit out of him.

"His injury wasn't minor," she replied. "You know how healing magic is. Duran supplemented as much as she could, but Kieran's reserves had to sustain the rest. She figures he'll be out for at least ten hours. He's crashed on the couch here with us."

He should be in our bed, not on the neighbor's darn couch!

Fortunately, I smothered the uncharitable thought before voicing it.

Duran's healing was a great gift. Performing the ritual up in my apartment would have been complicated, requiring Duran, who was human and therefore not immune to my clairvoyance, to wear a skin-suit. I couldn't fault them for not wanting to bother with the inconvenience. And now, to get Kieran across the hall, up the stairs, and into our bed, he'd need to be carried. The djinn could handle that, but it was easier for Kim and Jackie to keep an eye on him if he stayed where he was. Based on my own experience, he'd be dead to the world until late tomorrow at the soonest.

I'd received one major healing in my life, back in my Coventry Academy days when I'd run afoul of a desperate teen with a poisonous bite. My history teacher, a Glindarian like Duran, saved my life, neutralizing the poison and healing tissue damage that would have taken my own body weeks to mend. Compressing that much healing into the span of a few minutes takes its toll, both in pain and energy. Besides the steep monetary cost, it was one of the reasons most people didn't seek out magic healing unless absolutely necessary. The more severe the injury, the more energy required and pain endured. If the healer couldn't (or wouldn't) supply all of the necessary power, the patient's body bore the cost and there's a limit to the energy a person has available to give. Even with a full coven, there's no cheating death, at least, not without resorting to black magic, exchanging one death for another.

I shivered at the sickening thought.

"Lire, have Tíereachán bring you home," Kim said, breaking into my scattered thoughts. "My lord King Faonaín has extended you his offer of protection. You're not safe here right now. This attack proves it. Brassal wants me to tell you that he's crossing over, tomorrow, to escort you to the king's fortress. He'll keep you safe."

"You know as well as I do, he can't protect me from the king."

"The king's not going to hurt you, but his enemies aren't so honorable. You'll be safe in his territory. There's no one stronger or more capable. He commands an army of thousands, all of them trained warriors and skilled in magic. Nothing can stand against them. Listen to me, hon. I've been to his fortress. There's no place safer."

Maybe, but my friends and family would remain unprotected on Earth. And safe was a relative term. I had no desire to be King Faonaín's mate, much less his prisoner. Ostensibly, I'd end up being both.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere without Kieran. And we have to get my friends back from Lorcán and force the strigoi to administer their anti-hypnotic."

"Let the king deal with Lorcán. I'm sure he'll send the
Wuldrífan
. His hunters will deal with the vamps. Antidotes won't matter when they're all dead. Your friends will snap out of it none the worse for wear. And, as far as Kieran goes, he's heading back to the Otherworld tomorrow. The king reversed Maeve's decree."

My mouth froze half open before I sputtered, "He's …
what
?"

Heading back home? No. There's no way he'd commit to that. Not without at least consulting me first.

I frowned, shaking my head. "No longer outcast? Why would the king suddenly do that?"

Tíereachán shifted in his seat, reminding me that at least one side of this conversation wasn't private. I wondered if he could hear Kim's voice over the ambient noise, too.

She hesitated. "I guess because the trial's over and the truth has all come out."

If that wasn't the vaguest answer ever, I didn't know what was.

I turned toward my window and shifted my phone to my other ear, lowering my voice. "Kieran said he's going back? He's going back, tomorrow. He actually said so?"

Again, the slight pause. "Yes."

Much as I didn't want to believe her, it must be true. Like the sidhe, part-bloods, especially ones bound to a full-blooded mate, wouldn't deign themselves to lie.

Although keeping secrets was another matter.

"I don't understand," I said. I hardly recognized my own voice. It sounded oddly distant. "He didn't even consult me."

The silence went on for so long, I worried the line had dropped.

"Kim? Hello? You still there?"

"Yes."

I breathed again, not realizing I'd stopped, waiting for her response. "This isn't something Kieran would do without at least talking to me about it." Maybe it was pride, but I had to believe that. "Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

Another delayed response. Something was definitely up.

"Jackie's worried about you," she said. "Talk to her. She wants to know if you're okay."

"What? No. Kim, hold up— "

Jackie's voice cut in, "Hey, Lire … I think Kim needed to talk to Duran. What's going on? You with Tíereachán?"

I sighed. "Yeah."

"That was some dicey shit at Peabody's. You all come through it okay?"

"Yeah. I think so." I shifted in my seat as if it might restore my equilibrium. The world had taken a dire turn, slipping from under my feet like a Teflon-coated flying carpet. "Tíer's hurt, but I guess it's not bad. One of the vamps had a knife or something."

"More than one of them did. Fucking biters," she said, and I pictured her studious brown eyes pinched scathingly. "That's the last thing any of us expected. Christ. If they'd gone down as easy as they do in the movies, life would've been a hell of a lot simpler. Between me, Kim's lightning, and the few part-bloods already in the neighborhood, we barely kept them off us. Never a nice surprise when the only thing in the arsenal goes over like week-old Pepsi. Thank fuck the furniture in that place was wood. A couple splintered chair legs made all the difference, let me tell you."

I cringed imagining how Julie and Steven's shop must look. I'd managed to destroy their business, instigate one of their friend's murder, and get them kidnapped, all by showing up at their place for twenty goddamn minutes.

I clenched my jaw.
Focus, Lire.

"Jackie, what's going on over there? Kieran told Kim he plans to go back home tomorrow. Any idea why?"

"Some," she replied, her single word managing to convey many unsettling things—reluctance, anger, and something that felt a lot like pity.

I waited. When she didn't elaborate, my patience snapped. "Jesus! Is no one going to tell me what the fuck is going on?" I huffed. "I know you don't want to violate Kim or Brassal's confidence, and I don't expect you to, but can you throw me a goddamn bone? Something? I'm stuck in a car speeding down I-5 to God knows where and I'm getting really tired of being clueless all the time!"

She exhaled sharply and then cursed. "I'm in a difficult spot here. Believe me, I'd fucking love to give you an earful over what complete and utter
shit
this is, but I gave my word to Brassal that I'd keep my damned teeth together. All I can say is,
yes
, the king overturned Kieran's outcast status." She virtually chewed on the last bit and then blew out another exasperated breath.

After a moment, though, in a tired whisper that I strained to hear, she added, "Lire … just … use your head. Now that Maeve's out of the picture, think about what that means in terms of Kieran's duties. Okay?"

Duties?

She cleared her throat. "Look, I gotta go."

"Uh, sure." I frowned, trying to puzzle her out. "Thanks, Jackie."
I think.
"As soon as Kieran wakes up, can you please have him call me?"

"I'll tell him," she promised. "And, Lire?"

"Yeah?"

"You should … call Michael. He's, uh, probably been too busy with
all his travels
to call you. And I bet he's worried."

Travels, huh?

"Gotcha. I owe you."

We disconnected.

"Trouble in paradise?" Tíereachán asked. I didn't have to spare him a glance to know his left eyebrow had twitched upward. No doubt, he had his arms crossed too.