Page 45 of Shield of Fire

“The gods certainly would,” I replied with a laugh. “Trust me on that.”

He grinned. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“More speaking from association.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met them?”

I hesitated, suddenly wary though not entirely sure why. It was an innocent enough question and one I certainly would have asked had the roles been reversed. Still, given what Beira had said about her enemies being on the rise, it was probably better not to widely advertise her visits. One casual mention in the wrong place could lead to disaster.

“Mom did, not me.” I shrugged. “Nothing much came of it.”

Nothing aside from me and a long-lasting association with the hags, that is.

“Nothing much ever comes of meetings with the old gods,” he said. “Or rather, nothing much good. History tells us that.”

“I guess.”

I returned my attention to the road as we skirted around Swansea’s center. A few miles later, we stopped at a pub for a drink but mainly so I could change into my so-called “sexier” outfit. That consisted of a black corset-style long-sleeved top that made the most of my assets without leaving me shivering, tighter-fitting jeans, and knee-high black boots that emphasized the length of my legs.

Eljin was texting someone when I reentered the dining room but glanced up as I neared the table.

His gaze briefly skimmed my length and came up heated. “Perhaps we should skip the questioning and get straight down to the seduction.”

I laughed. “No, because there’s no way I’m pouring myself into this outfit again tomorrow.”

“Shame. You look amazing.”

“I’d rather comfort over looks, thanks.”

“The gentlemanly thing to say here is that I like both on you, but if I’m being honest...” He trailed off and, with a grin, hooked his arm through mine and escorted me out to the SUV. The evening had definitely become colder but the sky, at least for now, remained clear.

Fitzgerald’s house was larger than I expected, given he was ostracized and unlikely to have any monetary input from the family’s business. It was also a surprisingly modern, white rendered two-story building with a stepped-back wing on the left and a triple garage on the right. It sat on at least an acre that held little in the way of trees but did possess an awesome view over the ocean. While I appreciated the latter, it was an odd place for a light elf to settle.

Eljin parked the car, then climbed out and ran around to the passenger side to open the door. Then, with a hand to my spine, he guided me toward the steps that led up to the patio. It was stone rather than wood, which again was an odd choice for an elf. But perhaps he wasn’t, as I’d been presuming, from a highborn line, but rather the merchant class. It would certainly fit his persona of a collector more.

Eljin stepped past me and rang the doorbell. Deep inside the house, chimes played, and a few seconds later, footsteps echoed lightly through the distant song of the floorboards.

That song seemed to hold a hint of... warning?

I frowned, stepped back, and looked up. To the left of the door was a security camera, and to the right, one of those small blue lights that went off when the alarm was triggered. There were also multiple, barely visible layers of protective magic, which, given the additional costs of hiding spell work, meant they were very expensive and very expansive. Far more expansive than anything I had protecting the tavern, anyway.

The door opened to reveal a tall, thin man with sharp blue eyes, pale silver hair, and tight-looking facial features that no longer resembled an elf’s. A result of the plastic surgery he’d needed, presumably.

“Professor Eljin Lavigne, I presume? You are right on time, good sir. Please—” His gaze came to mine, and his eyes widened. “As I live and breathe—Meabh! What a great pleasure it is to see you again.”

I simply stared at him, surprise holding me mute.

The very last thing I’d ever expected to find in a coastal city so far away from Deva was someone who’d known Mom.

Chapter

Eight

“No,” Eljin said into the brief silence. “This is Bethany. I have no idea who Meabh is?—”

“She was my mom,” I said.

“She’s left us?” Loudon shook his head, his tight features altering little but his eyes glinting in sadness. “That’s a great loss indeed for the relic-hunting world. Please, come in. First door on your right.”

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