The glint of his spectacles reflected the soft glow of the fire, his brown eyes huge behind the frames.
“What are you saying? That she initiated the attack?”
His features sobered as he said carefully, “No one has been able to work out how the Cù-Sìth and Talorgan bypassed the ward. However, I think Nora did it without knowing.”
I inhaled sharply. “How?”
Since the attack, I knew Gage checked the wards twice a day. Everyone was concerned that they might drop again.
Ian gestured to the pendant on my chest. “The pendant protects those who are of the blood. It can also act as a conduit, feeding on emotions. I think the pendant was trying to locate you, and because its power was so strong, I think it created the rip in our wards. Talorgan would have felt that rift, especially on Samhain. And when he felt that push of energy, he knew the wards had come down, and took that moment to send in the Cù-Sìth to attack Nora.”
I shivered. The only noise in the room was the crackle and pop of the logs on the fire. “Have you told Gage?”
Ian shook his head. He leaned back in his chair, resting his chin in his hand as he held my gaze. “I don’t think we’ll ever truly know what happened, but it’s the best I can come up with. Ultimately, we don’t want the wards to drop again. If we lose the only safe haven we have, we’re all lost.”
I swallowed at the truth of those words. These walls housed more than just me. Aiden was only nine. I could understand McKenzie’s concern. Especially if I failed to do what was needed.
“It’s hard to believe Nora’s gone,” Ian murmured softly. “She had an energy about her that belied her age. I thought she’d last forever, that she’d see this prophecy through to the end.”
“So did Gage.” I could still remember his face when he’d told me what had really happened to Nora—that she’d been murdered.
“You’ll prove them all wrong, Brydie. I know it.”
Startled, I caught Ian’s stare, saw the conviction there. He believed in me. Panic immediately clawed up my throat. “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Ian,” I warned. “I will make mistakes. Let’s just hope they’re not fatal.”
His jaw firmed. “You need to believe in yourself, Brydie; in this game, doubt kills.”
He was deadly serious. Swallowing, I turned away to face the fire. After a few seconds of silence, I cleared my throat and asked Ian about the Cù-Sìth. What Ian described was a creature of horror. Gage had bested this creature! Was it just the start of what was to come?
“There’s no way out of this, is there?” I whispered.
Ian’s face sobered. “No. There’s only the end.” He reached out and grabbed one of my hands. “But you’re not on your own. There are five of us, and we all have a part to play.”
Five descendants—except there were still only four. “What about the fifth player? Have Gage or McKenzie figured out who that is yet?”
Ian fiddled with his pen. “Not yet, but we’re working on it.”
I reached up to clasp the pendant. Holding it, I remembered it was also another weapon, a powerful tool I hadn’t yet unlocked. I waved a hand at the Lore Book that was ever-present in Ian’s hands. He spent most of his time at the Estate searching its contents, finding a way to awaken my magic. “Does the book explain how I can unlock the power in the pendant?”
“No. It’s a conundrum because, just like your magic, the pendant is rarely mentioned. There’s just a note that it protects those of the blood and acts as a warning when danger is near.”
I bit my lip. More non-answers. “Do you think it requires magic to be effective then?”
He grimaced. “Yes.”
He understood what this implied, the pressure it would add. Everything rested on my being able to unlock my power. Argghhh! It was incredibly frustrating. There were so many unknowns. So much we didn’t understand—most of all, the prophecy. And like all prophecies, it was full of riddles, open to interpretation.
Ian had shared that the prophecy was never recorded as an oral verse or written in detail in Cailleach’s Lore Book. The significance of what had happened all those years ago was instead entrusted to a select few, and only those who had witnessed the death of Cailleach’s lover—my great grandfather of many generations ago—and Talorgan’s fall to the darkness. Ian had explained that each of the descendants aligning in the prophecy hailed from each of these key players. They were our ancestors, but we were tasked with paying their dues.
We knew that the others all hailed from an early Celtic tribe that originated in Scotland. A tribe who was taken to inking blue whorls on their skin. The history books referred to them as the Picts, a term that was coined by the Roman Catholics. Whereas, my great grandfather had come from France when the Celtic Gauls migrated west. I knew his name was Tritus, but his ancestry was unknown as the Celtic Gauls had not recorded their history.
Ian interrupted my musings. “Once you find your magic, your first task will be to cut Talorgan’s tie with the demon. We can’t fight both of them.”
I froze. “What demon?”
Ian’s features tensed. “Gage hasn’t told you that yet, has he?”
“Told me what?”
“It’s Gage’s call, Brydie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Ian,” I warned. “Tell me.”
He considered me. I clenched my jaw, determined. I was not content to be left in the dark any longer. As if realizing the extent of my stubbornness, he came to a decision and began, “You know Talorgan is immortal, but what you don’t know is that Talorgan is immortal because he has a bond with a demon. The Dark God Arawn gifted him one of his pets, Falin, who takes the form of a dragon. The relationship is parasitic. Arawn isn’t able to cross worlds, and neither is Talorgan unless it is Samhain. But the demon is a different story and on other days of the year he is given free rein to cross over when the veils become thin.”
“A dragon,” I choked, ice in my veins.
“Yes.” Ian’s face was tight. “But there’s more. There’s a reason he needs to cross over. In order to sustain Talorgan’s immortality, Falin requires sustenance.”
“What type of sustenance?”
“Mortal flesh. Those who are touched by the gods.”
Oh my god—our people!
Ian saw the look that crossed my face. His brown eyes were hard. “Yes, Druids are susceptible to his call, but there are also others.”
I heard the raw note in Ian’s voice. “You lost someone, didn’t you?”
He was so still that I didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he shared quietly, “My fiancé, Caroline.”
My stomach dropped. “I’m so sorry, Ian.”
His voice was neutral as he continued, “Our people can’t resist the demon’s call. It gets into their heads.” He turned to look into the fire, his countenance frozen as he relived the memory. “Caroline was able to speak to the dead. She was more susceptible than most. That Samhain, I was here, looking after some of the young children who weren’t old enough to attend the Institute. I’d told her to stay in Perth as the apartment is warded. Caroline didn’t listen, though. She drove out here, said she wanted to see me because she had news.”
Pain flooded his features, his stoic countenance shattering as he added, “It wasn’t until after that I found out what that news was. The doctor rang me the next day to personally pass on his congratulations.” He looked up, and his expression was agonized. “I was going to be a father. Twelve weeks—she was twelve weeks pregnant.”
My heart squeezed, and I reached out silently to take his hand. Ian didn’t seem to notice, his focus on the flames, lost to a memory forever ingrained. The fire crackled in the silence, the room otherwise hushed and still. I sat there quietly, not pushing Ian to talk, just giving him the time he needed. I understood pain, understood losing those you love. It was a scar that never healed, no matter how much time passed.