27. The First Goodbye
27
THE FIRST GOODBYE
She is the pride and I give her the branch.
— ANTHONY RAFTERY, “RAFTERY’S PRAISE OF MARY HYNES”
O n Jonathan’s advice, I told the police and firefighters that we had been sleeping when the fire caught, a result of forgetting to open the flue on the fireplace plus some sparks catching on the rugs and upholstery. I didn’t think he was suggesting that I force them to believe me—even if he had, inception of that sort was nearly impossible. Wasn’t it?
Besides, just like his spellcasting, mindwork was in the moment.
A brief incantation from Jonathan ensured that the flue was, in fact, closed, making it that much easier for the fire chief to come to the same conclusion we did. After they had gone, Jonathan drove us back to town.
I sat numbly in the passenger seat of the Prius as we passed Jonathan’s car, parked on the 101 about fifty yards past the driveway entrance. It must have been where he regained control of himself. Parked the car…and did what? Turned into a cat and rescued me?
I still wasn’t sure what had just happened before the house had gone up in flames.
He pulled to a stop in front of the inn where he was staying, just off Laneda Avenue. We sat in the car for a minute. Numbness descended.
He reached down and covered my hand.
So sorry. I should have told you. I promise I don’t know him .
Again, it was primarily concern that flowed through his fingertips, but as my senses began to sharpen again, I could see that wasn’t all. A jumble of memories filled my mind. Jonathan wasn’t close to his father. In fact, he hadn’t seen him in a very long time, something like fifty or sixty years…
Wait, what? No, that couldn’t be right. My mind was still muddled. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut, then pulled my hand away from his.
“Are you all right?” His voice, burred from the smoke, was tentative. Almost soft.
I sniffed. He smelled of fire, but also something else I had never noticed before. Something extremely feral. Something…feline.
Or was that only in my memory?
It was difficult to differentiate my senses from others’.
“Jesus,” I said, continuing to rub my temples with my hands. The world was starting to spin again.
Gran had been murdered and had known it was coming. She had also left me a small fortune, including mysterious property and a high-ranking position in the magical world. I had been attacked by her shadowy assailant, to come within inches of losing my mind, not to mention my life, only to be rescued by his son, who happened to be some kind of wild cat as well as a scientist and a lawyer.
I opened one eye to peer at Jonathan. Yep, he was still human. But those large cat eyes regarded me cautiously.
“Are you all right?” he asked again.
My other eye opened. “No,” I said, and proceeded to bolt out of the car to the only place I could think of that might offer even a little bit of solace.
Touch the water.
The beach was a silent block and a half from his inn, just off the sleepy town where everyone was probably already tucking in for the night. Jonathan was probably fast—bobcats were fast, I assumed—but I knew every trail on this beach, every secret path through the dunes to the waves and freedom that beckoned below.
Things needed to make sense again, even if just a little bit.
I kicked off my shoes and dashed into the waves to my waist, impervious to the near-freezing temperatures and storm still calling farther out.
Even the whitewash was angry, joining an angry chorus with the rain whipping down the beach.
“Cass! Wait!” Jonathan’s voice was nearly lost in the wind. I didn’t need to turn around to know that he had stopped short of the water, paralyzed by his fear of water.
My teeth chattered as soon as the first wave doused me. Already my toes were starting to numb, but the remnants of the veil that had clouded my senses during the attack finally lifted. The salt—that was mine to taste. The cold was freezing my limbs, not a distant memory.
I leaned into the next wave and let it carry me back toward the shore in its icy clutch. I breathed in, tasting the brine in the back of my throat, smelling the kelp and salt spray that coasted through the air and across my face.
No smoke, no fire. Just water.
The clouds broke, their outlines cast in silver by the newly risen moon.
Beautiful.
Eventually, my heels dragged across soft, wet sand as I washed up on shore. The wind whistled over my body, and my whole body began to shake.
“Cass!”
Jonathan was at my side again, pulling my frozen form off the ground to balance on his shoulder. “Come on, you ridiculous woman.”
My teeth clacked like the empty bones I’d be one day.
But not today.
His body was warm, but his mind was clear. Through some strange blessing, I didn’t See a thing.
It wasn’t until I was resubmerged into water—hot this time, in the oversized tub in Jonathan’s suite—that the shivering finally began to abate. Jonathan was pacing around his room when I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a thick terry cloth bathrobe and a large towel wrapped around my dripping hair. All vestiges of the fire, of the shadow, were scrubbed away. I felt alert and calm. And so, so sad.
I found an armchair facing the gas fireplace at the back of the room, and Jonathan took the other facing me.
“All right?” he asked.
I nodded.
He didn’t look convinced. “One of these days, you’re going to die of hypothermia. And I won’t be able to stop it.”
“You can’t just ask my blood to heat up?” I joked.
Those green eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
Wisely, I didn’t, partly because while I was clean, Jonathan was still a complete mess. Black soot streaked from his right temple to his shirt collar, and half his right sleeve was burned away. The rest of his clothes that weren’t stained with smoke and soot were wrinkled and wet from the storm and the surf.
“Your turn,” I said, nodding toward the bathroom.
“Later.” For once he didn’t fidget. Didn’t try to fix things or rearrange a coaster or anything else.
We sat in silence until the questions in my head began to bubble up all over again.
“Did you know from the beginning? Did you know that it was him?” I asked finally.
I knew he did. But I wanted to hear him say it.
Jonathan opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then seemed to deflate. “I suspected it might have been,” he admitted. “Although there are any number of people who have wanted to know where the Lost Mage was and find her Secret.”
“Did she tell you what it was? The Secret?”
He shook his head. “No, she didn’t, and even if I had tried to probe, I wouldn’t have gotten very far. Penny was the most powerful shield of her generation. It’s why she was chosen in the first place. Once she asked me to be her executor, she still wouldn’t tell me where she was. It was like she knew I would try; every time I’d attempt to book a plane ticket or hotel reservation, something would happen. Flights would be canceled or I’d be called away on urgent business. I’d even come up with reasons not to, even of my own accord. I know it was her.”
I snorted. That sounded like Gran, all right. I could think of more than one instance where I had set out to do one thing during the day and ended up doing something completely different. Decided to go to a frat party in college only to find myself at the library reading old Irish poetry. Wanted to go surfing on a particularly stormy day only to discover that all the beaches were closed until further notice. Despite all her warnings against mind bending, she seemed to skirt that line more than once. Shield indeed.
I worried the edges of my robe. “I’m sorry.”
Jonathan looked up. “Good gods, Cass, for what?”
“For forcing you out. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. Goddess, Jonathan, I’m so confused. And I never should have tried to…you know…”
I blushed, remembering my awkward attempt at kissing him—was that really only a few hours ago?—and then tossing him out in the rain in his bare feet. My head hung in shame, causing the towel to fall to the floor and my tangled black hair into my face.
When I looked through it, Jonathan was crouched in front of me. He reached out and tucked a wet lock behind my ear. Sympathy pulsed there. But nothing more. I didn’t think.
“I’m just glad I got there in time,” he said quietly.
Somehow, I managed a smile. “Thanks. So…a bobcat, huh?”
He pursed his lips together and looked away, a mild flush rising up his pale skin. “Lynx, actually. And you’re one of the few people in the world who know that now, so I’d appreciate it if you could keep that information to yourself.”
I nodded. “Of course. But why the secret?” Something else occurred to me. “Are you actually a shifter, not a sorcerer? Or can you just transmogrify temporarily? Like commanding the rain the way you did? Do you have other unusual talents, like your ability to receive my thoughts, and?—”
I was interrupted when Jonath stood, his face reddened even more. “I—am. A shifter, that is, of a sort. But also a sorcerer. And—it’s…a complicated thing.”
I frowned. Though we intermixed all the time, I’d always been told a fae’s sort depended on their manifestation. You could have a mother who was a seer and a father who was a sorcerer, but you’d only inherit one of their powers. It was sort of like eye color that way.
Or so I thought.
“We’re a special breed, Father and I.”
Oh . I blinked up at his wry tone. Shape-shifters were often referred to as mongrels or mutts by other fae. Perhaps he assumed I was one of those who held that common prejudice. It wouldn’t be unreasonable.
“I don’t—it doesn’t matter to me what you are,” I told him.
Relief seemed to relax his broad shoulders. “No?”
I shrugged. “You’re some kind of cat wizard who can command the rain to fall harder. I’m a dysfunctional seer who goes crazy with a bad touch. We all have our quirks.”
His mouth—that irritatingly full mouth—twitched. “So we do.”
“Besides, being a lynx half the time is pretty damn cool. And now it makes sense.”
“What makes sense?”
“Your eyes. The color. They do look like a cat’s eyes, you know. Plus, OCD is pretty common in cats.”
He grumbled something unintelligible.
I chuckled. “What’s that?”
“It’s not half the time,” he said more loudly. “I’m not a true shifter who can’t live without changing form every day. Just sometimes. It’s complicated. But I find that assuming that form allows me to go unnoticed by fae in a way I can’t in human form. Caleb Lynch—my father—is extremely powerful, as you might have gathered. I couldn’t risk him seeing my approach.”
“Is he a shifter too?” I thought of the big black raven soaring out to the horizon and shuddered.
Jonathan returned to his chair. “Honestly, I didn’t know he could do that. It would certainly explain how I inherited the ability, but he might have also just transmogrified in order to escape. It’s incredibly hard, and most sorcerers can’t do it, but maybe he can.”
“You don’t know for sure?” Jonathan seemed to know everything about everyone.
“He’s a bit of a mystery to me. I never saw him when I was a boy, and when my mother died, I lived in Ireland before I was sent to boarding school. I only saw him once after that, to cut ties, and we haven’t spoken since. He probably didn’t even know it was me who chased him off. He doesn’t know about my other…form.” He turned to look at me again, and his brow creased. “Please believe me. I don’t mean you anything but goodwill and protection, just as I promised Penny. I didn’t know about him until I came here, I swear it.”
I accepted his outstretched hand and immediately felt the anxiety and regret flow through his brief touch. Every word he said was genuine, especially his intent toward me. Much to my dismay, the urge to kiss him flashed once again through my mind. The earnest vulnerability written across his features wasn’t helping things. Who could resist a knight—or a cat—in shining armor?
Jonathan pulled his hand away and shook his head. “It’s not a good idea, Cass.”
My face immediately flushed a deep crimson. “Why can you See what I’m thinking all the time?”
He swallowed. “I don’t—I don’t know, exactly. It’s not a talent I typically possess. Just with you. Maybe you’re doing it unconsciously.”
I blinked. I didn’t know what to think of that. Was it my doing? I had no clue.
I opened my mouth to protest. To apologize. But he held up his hand.
“Don’t. You’ve been through a lot. It’s only natural to crave comfort. But we’ve got to avoid unnecessary distractions. For Penny, at least.”
Without waiting for my answer, he got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The shower turned on, and I curled toward the fire.
He was right, of course. Gran wouldn’t have wanted me to get involved with anyone at a time like this. You’ll never know how strong you are until you’re forced to stand alone , she would say, often when I asked her why she was so against my parents’ marriage.
Fine, then. It was good that Jonathan had better ethics than most men I knew (or had accidentally touched). Now was a time to figure out what to do, and if I had to be strong, I was definitely going to have to do it alone.
By the time Jonathan reemerged from the bathroom in a pair of pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, I was still wearing the robe, although my hair was slowly starting to dry into thick, messy waves while I watched the last of the dying fire.
“Would you like to borrow some pajamas?”
Jonathan held out a second pair of flannel pants and a white t-shirt like his—both bright and new. I accepted them. All my clothes, other than the wet, scorched ones lying by the hearth, had been torched in the fire. Along with everything else that mattered to me.
I stared at the flannel in my lap. I was literally dependent on this man for everything at the moment. Shelter, food, and clothing.
“We need a plan,” Jonathan said. “First, a temporary ID. Was your driver’s license from Massachusetts or Oregon?”
“Oregon,” I mumbled as I traced a finger down a green stripe in the flannel.
“Well, that makes things easier. We’ll stop at the DMV tomorrow and have it reissued. I have a copy of your birth certificate—it was included in Penny’s personal files.”
“Okay.” I nodded, happy to let him direct things.
“After, we’ll get your papers in order, and I’ll go to Seattle to deliver the car and her part of the estate to Sybil.”
I looked up. “I thought I was supposed to do that.”
Jonathan looked uneasy. “I don’t think you should now. Penny had a number of protection spells set up to protect her and the house, and somehow my father managed his way through them. His next stop would logically be her next of kin. If he can find her.”
My blood froze. Sibyl and I were estranged, but that didn’t mean I wanted her killed.
“Relax,” Jonathan said. “Your mother has had someone watching her the minute I arrived here. If something happened to her, I would know.”
I did relax. For better or worse, I was starting to trust him.
“Still,” I said. “Should I go with you? Talk to her about everything? She might know more about the Secret, the will, all of it.”
Jonathan looked torn. “I don’t know. I need to look more into what happened. Clean things up here and double-check the terms of the will. Make sure the path for you is absolutely safe. Until then, I think you should return to Boston.”
I jerked my head back up at that suggestion. “What? Why?” I couldn’t explain it, but something about being separated from him felt… wrong .
“You’ve got some time left to make this decision, and you’ll be safe there.”
“What about Ireland? I thought your job, as executor, was to escort me to this Inis Oírr place and introduce me to a Council mage trainer or whatever. More specifically, I thought you were supposed to help me get to the bottom of this mess.”
I was starting to sound hysterical, I knew. But given the events of the evening, the idea of returning to my apartment with its single sad deadbolt and my golden retriever of a roommate sounded like the opposite of safe. More like turning us into fish in a barrel.
“I am helping you.” Jonathan’s voice shut off the possibility of argument like a heavy anvil.
“Jonathan—”
“No, Cassandra. Listen to me.”
I pursed my lips and waited. Jonathan ran an errant hand through his half-damp hair and took a deep breath.
“I need some time,” he said. “I want to figure out what my father wants with Penny’s Secret, and I can do that better if you’re not there. He doesn’t know we’re…connected…and perhaps he’ll answer my attempts to contact him, if only out of curiosity.”
His lips twisted in disgust at the prospect of meeting his father face to face again, but I had no doubt in his ability to keep those feelings masked when necessary. Jonathan was nothing if not enigmatic.
“You’ve a few months, even a few years if you want them,” he said. “No one knows you’re in Boston, or even that Penny had a granddaughter, except for him, of course. He’ll be looking for you, but he won’t know where to start.”
“You did,” I pointed out.
“I had an address,” Jonathan returned. “He doesn’t. He doesn’t have anything but a few memories from your childhood, right?”
The fact of it twisted like a knife. “Yes.”
“I know it’s hard, but I’m asking you to trust me, Cass. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” He took another deep breath before continuing. “Go back to Boston. Finish your degree. Start your new position here in the fall. Continue with your life as if nothing has happened, and I’ll be in contact as soon as I discover anything. No later than a year. And then, if you want, I’ll take you to Ireland.”
I looked down at my hands, my nails chewed down to nothing over the past few days. I wanted to go with Jonathan, to find the shadowy monster that had stolen my memories and taken Gran’s life, but I couldn’t deny the truth: a bit of normal sounded good. Another year and I’d be that much closer to manifestation, that much closer to being able to learn to control my powers and the strength that would undoubtedly start to grow within me.
It was then I realized that I had a plan to. I would carry on with my life as if nothing had changed, but the truth was, everything had. From the moment I had opened that will, my entire world had shifted.
So for a few more months, at least, I would be Cassandra Whelan, mild-mannered scholar. I’d wear the graduation robes. Become a professor. Do the things I’d always planned to do.
But when the time came, I would leave it all behind. I would go to Ireland and find someone to teach me all the things Gran should have but never did. I’d learn the special arts of mental defense and offense that only seers can do, assume my birthright, and become someone worth fearing in her own right.
And then I’d find Caleb Lynch. And I also knew this: the man would believe he was a chickadee before he’d squeeze another thought out of my unwilling mind or anyone else’s.
“All right,” I told Jonathan. “I’ll wait. A year, then, Jonathan, no more. Otherwise, I’m finding my own way.”
His eyes were the color of green apples as they looked into mine and saw my conviction.
“I understand,” he vowed. “A year. And then you’ll get your revenge, Cassandra. We’ll get it together.”