Chapter 23 #2
“Yeah . . . okay . . .” I curled my hand for Warwick to bring me a drink. He pushed off the table, handing me his glass. It was silly, but I liked that he automatically shared with me instead of getting me my own.
The burn of extremely potent Pálinka watered my eyes. I watched his attention dart to the object on the table, brows furrowing.
“What the fuck is this?” he snapped at Ash.
“Right . . .” Ash cringed. “Look, man, I was going through it for you when she woke up . . . and . . .”
“And what?” Warwick sucked in, spine going rigid.
“I thought why not let her try to read it.”
“Are you kidding me? You let her touch a fae book? Especially this one.”
“She’s fine.”
“Fine?” Warwick barreled over to Ash. I squeaked, jumping up as he grabbed Ash’s throat. A small cry of pain bent me forward, but I moved over to them.
“Warwick, stop. I’m all right.”
He shoved into Ash, ignoring me. “You know what that book is capable of.”
“I didn’t let her do it alone. I held her hand, but Warwick, I’ve never seen the book respond this way. It took to her instantly, shoved me out instead.”
Warwick’s mouth pinched. “It blocked you?”
“Yeah.” He nodded in shock. “I could feel it. It wanted her. As though it had been waiting for her or something.”
Warwick let go of Ash, whirling to me, staring at me like I was some mystery.
“What?” I stepped back. “Was it not supposed to? I thought you said it couldn’t hurt me.”
“Not physically, but if you are weak or have nefarious plans for it, it has been known to make people go crazy or to hold them prisoner.”
“Prisoner?”
“It has the power to trap your mind in it, not letting you out.”
“And you let me touch that thing?” I yelled at Ash, motioning back to it.
“The book only protects itself. You have to have ill will toward it. You do not. It was a gut feeling. I just felt the need for you to touch it . . . like it was asking me to.”
“What did it show you?” Warwick leaned into me.
I stared up into the very eyes I saw look upon me on the battlefield.
“You,” I whispered.
His jaw rolled, but he didn’t respond.
“It showed me Ash and Ms. Kitty, I mean Janos . . .”
Warwick inhaled when I said the name, stepping back, running his hand over his face as he started to pace.
“Yeah, I had the same response,” Ash said.
“Why?” I looked between them.
“No one else knows that name but the three of us. Kitty said Janos died that night in the war. She has never allowed us to mention the name or acknowledge him again. To her, he did die. There’s no way you’d know it unless . . .” Ash trailed off.
“I was really there,” I filled in.
“What else?” Warwick demanded.
“I watched them find you . . .” My legs started wobbling from fatigue, and I lowered myself onto the bench. “Dead.”
He didn’t react, but his shoulders strained against his dark shirt.
“You-you were . . .” The images of him dead had me shaking my head, my throat tightening with nausea. “What they did to you.”
“Yeah, I know what they did,” he grumbled. “That was it?”
“Yeah,” I lied, scared to admit he woke up and saw me. I could feel it in my bones, his gaze embedding into me. But it was ridiculous. There could be no way I was actually there at that moment. The book replayed what had already passed, so I couldn’t interact with it.
Warwick’s eyes went back and forth between mine, sensing there was more. I hiked up my walls, keeping my face emotionless and not letting him in.
We stared at each other; the pressure of him trying to push in thumped at my skin. He had always been able to just invade me, take what he wanted, see and feel my emotions.
“No!” My shoulders rose defensively, and I could feel myself pushing back, trying to not let him in.
He jerked his head, his chest rising in huffs of fury, but he eased back.
Holy shit, I had never done that before. I could block him out like he had me.
“Szent szar,” Ash muttered, his head wagging in disbelief. “You two . . .”
Warwick snarled over at him. “There is no us.”
“You can lie to yourself all you want.” Ash poured more liquid into his glass, drinking it down in a gulp. “But I can practically feel colors sparking off your auras.”
“I don’t have one,” both Warwick and I said in unison.
Ash’s regard lingered on me. “How do you know you don’t have one?”
“Tad . . .” I swallowed nervously. “He told me I didn’t have one.”
Both guys stared at me, a memory tickling at the back of my head from the night of the attack.
“She has no aura; I don’t sense anything there. Like you.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what. I’m simply stating facts. Seems odd neither of you have auras . . .”
I nipped my lip. “Tad said it was most likely because I got good at blocking . . .” Though I was starting to doubt that.
“Tad? Who’s Tad?” Ash asked.
“Tadhgan.” Warwick rubbed at his scruff.
“The Druid, Tadhgan?” Ash’s mouth parted.
“Yeah, why?”
“I thought he was dead. I mean, that guy is probably the same age as the book.” Ash motioned to the ancient item on the table.
“He was in Halálház,” Warwick added. “They kind of became friends.”
Ash pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting his head to me. “You and the oldest Druid known to exist just happened to become prison buddies?”
“Yeah.” I looked to Warwick and back to Ash. “Why?”
“Seems odd out of all people, the Druid gravitates toward you . . . And what the fuck was he doing in there anyway?” Ash set down his glass.
“I didn’t ask.” I shrugged.
“No, I mean, Druids’ magic is different from fae. As powerful as Tadhgan is, he could have probably walked out any time he wanted.”
I had learned Druids were different from fae.
At one time, they were normal human witches who did favors for fae gods when fae had ruled Earth.
The fae gods were so taken by them, they gave a few clans gifts of true magic, long lives, and extraordinary powers.
They lived for many centuries and could heal similar to fae as well.
Their magic had first been coveted by the fae leaders, working as healers, future tellers, and spirit guides, until they became more powerful than the fae.
The jealous old Seelie queen in the Otherworld had almost obliterated them from existence, except those who went into hiding. It was why they were so rare now.
“Who gives a shit why he was there?” Warwick turned to me. “He said you had no aura? Saw nothing there?”
“Yes.” I nodded, peering at Warwick through my lashes. “Like you.”
In frustration, Warwick dragged a hand over his face.
“The coincidences finally making you wonder, old friend?” Ash smirked into his glass. “I could sense them, but a Druid can see them. Or the lack of them.”
“Fuck off,” Warwick grunted, pacing the room. The room grew silent, tension growing as Warwick moved around the space, finally growling, “Fine, let’s say there is a reason we both don’t have one, and we have this strange connection. What does that mean, and how can we break it?”
“I need to learn why and how it happened before I could possibly start trying to figure out how to cut the link,” Ash responded.
My mind went to the image of me leaning over Warwick’s dead body, my palm touching his skin, a whoosh of magic slamming through me . . . the feel of death. Of life . . . The book had taken me there for a reason.
I already knew the answer to Warwick’s question. It felt like it had been waiting for me to acknowledge it . . . I just didn’t want to. But I also couldn’t deny what I saw. What I felt. What I knew in my soul.
“Then do it!” Warwick’s voice ordered his friend.
Perched on the edge of the bench, I stared at my toes. I could feel the buzz of the book from across the table, still rolling through my system, the moments replaying over and over. Fear clotted my throat, and I wrapped my arms around my body.
“I know why.” I spoke too softly for them to hear me. So I cleared my throat, picked my head up, and said louder, “I know why.”
Ash and Warwick stopped, all attention pointed at me.
“Know what?” Warwick rumbled.
“Why we are connected.”
Both men stared at me, tension saturating the air.
“It was me.”
“What was you?” Warwick’s deep voice prickled against my skin with the anxiety of running too fast at a cliff’s edge to stop.
My eyes looked straight into his, the same ones that opened on me the night on the field.
“I think I was the one who brought you back to life that night.”