Page 44 of Crown of Tides and Fury

“Ye’ll need it in order to care for our people.”

“Yerpeople.”

“Ourpeople,garmhac.”

Wickham sucked air deep into his lungs and let it out all at a go. “Let’s get back to Ambition. I need to ken what will kill him.”

“Kill him?”

“Aye. We’ve learned his monsters cannae survive silver through their skin.”

“Monsters?”

“Aye. Minions. Beasts who do his bidding.”

“Mmm. Interesting. I suppose he’s had enough time to craft his own army. But they’ll have no souls. Nothing more significant than mud.”

With time weighing heavy upon him, Wickham suppressed the temptation to paint a clearer picture. Instead, he asked again, how they could kill Orion.

“He cannae be killed in mortal terms. Perhaps, though, ye might contain him again.”

“Ye make him sound like he’s already a god. I thought the purpose of The Covenant was to prevent him from becoming one.”

The old man smiled. “Yer translation is lacking, which is understandable, considering the age of the language. But aye, an Irish translation would suggest the same. Thwarting Ambition would keep him from having a god’s power overthisworld. The Naming was for this world only. The Eight…” He bit his lip, narrowed his eyes as if trying to guess what Wickham already knew.

“The Eight Ideals and the Eight Corruptions?”

“Apt names, I suppose. But aye, they go hand in hand. Cannae wield one without risking the other.Theywere given to this world as well. They must stay…”

“As opposed to?”

The old head wagged. He, too, intended to keep his secrets.

Wickham moved down the list in his head. “Tell me about the DeNoy. If they havenae been eliminated completely, how do we find them?”

The Grandfather leaned forward, grabbed his arm. “If any yet live, kill them where they stand. Man, woman, or child. Do it.” He must have read the distaste on Wickham’s face, for he added, “Heartless deeds have been done before, to save both mankind, to save our kind. And they must be done again.”

Wickham made no promises. “But how do we find one? And what does it mean to lock or unlock them?”

Again, the old head wagged. “Dinnae get yer nose too far ahead of yer feet, laddie. Ye’ll frighten yerself, sure.”

Wickham groaned in frustration. “Ye must understand. I willnae be back a second time. If ye dinnae explain now…” Wickham shrugged. “There is no one else to ask.”

The man scoffed. “Surely, Muirsglen survives, as it always has. The old ones can guide ye.”

Wickham sighed. “Muirsglen burns, even as we speak.”

“Burns? When?” Though the man was stunned, shaken, he still sought to wheedle out the year of his death.

“For us? Days ago. Orion and his army of monsters lay waste to the place. A while back, I’d warned the town that Muir witches were being hunted, that all twins should separate. Many fled then. Some…hoped for the best.”

He thought of Sarah, of the dolls, and the fact that it was the Grandfather who had made sure the legend was passed down. He, Flann, and Brian had decided the risk was too high to mention either the woman or the dolls.

The old man looked green around the gills. Again, his gaze roved to the owl on the grass. His eyes watered, as if he actually cared for witches far in the future, for whom he could do nothing. It only strengthened Wickham’s determination not to become involved in the lives of those witches who still walked the earth.

He could care for them, or he could care for his family with all his heart. Each time those two things were placed on the scales, the witches lost.

“Seanair?” He waited for the man’s attention to come back to him. “Is there a way into this realm within our realm? This hell?”

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