Page 29 of The Seer

“Like here, ley lines run under her house,” Brenna said. “She’ll know if you approach.”

Eoin frowned. “Where did ya learn that, love? You didn’t know what a Siren was two years ago.”

“Gran’s diary. The one she left for me has it all.” She tilted her head as if trying to recall something. “She may have mentioned that necklace, come to think of it. Wait while I get it.”

She was gone in a blink, but Fintan didn’t have time to spare. The pressing need to get to Narissa was overwhelming his senses, making him dizzy. If he didn’t get to her soon, the consequences would be dire.

“Send Brenna and Damian if I’m not back,” he instructed Creed. “Don’t come yourself.”

Taryn latched onto his arm. “Fintan. Please, wait for her. That book might have something useful.”

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He grew clammy, and his skin felt too tight for his body.

“I can’t. I’ve got to leave right now.” After prying her fingers from his arm, he lifted her hand and nipped her fingertips. “It’s good to know ya still care, all the same.”

“Pfft.” But her expressive eyes said she did.

Leaning in, he claimed her mouth for a brief kiss. It was unsatisfying in its briefness because he couldn’t spirit her away to his bedroom as his inner Siren demanded. Leaning close, he whispered, “Take care of yourself, Taryn-Taryn. I’d be wrecked if anything happened to you.”

After brushing his knuckles along her jaw, he teleported away.

* * *

“This is bad.Like an asteroid two hours from striking Earth bad,” Taryn said.

Fintan’s brief show of affection had scrambled her brain, and she was nowhere near figuring out his new about-face. For the last few years, if they’d managed to find themselves in the same room, he’d practically hiss like a vampire encountering sunlight before bolting from the room.

She was developing a complex.

But the more pressing matter was his following Narissa into a precarious situation with no intel or backup. Fintan wasn’t a spontaneous guy. From what little she knew about him these days, he preferred guidelines and a carefully crafted plan.

“Yeah, I don’t have a great feeling about this. You?” Creed asked Eoin.

“No.”

Taryn dropped onto the seat cushion, yelped from the small electrical shock she received, and popped back up. “What the… Holy fuckballs! He left the necklace! Why would he do that?”

“We don’t know how it works, and he’s strong enough without it,” Creed assured her.

“But it’s unprotected here. What if whoever is after me guesses we’re alone and comes looking for it?”

“Who’s after you?” Eoin demanded.

“We don’t know,” Creed said with a grimace as he scooted to the edge of his seat and reached for a tea cake. “It’s a Fintan thing.”

Eoin nodded as if it made sense, and perhaps for these two, it did. As for Taryn, she was less inclined to be blasé about someone wanting to end her life.

“When has he been wrong? Is he ever wrong?” she asked. It wasn’t easy to keep the nerves out of her voice. When a fairly trustworthy psychic predicts a dire event, one should take heed.

Creed looked as if he were considering her question, but Eoin wasn’t concerned.

“They’d have to go through the two of us to get you, love,” he said, indicating Creed and himself. Brenna reentered the room. “Make that three of us.”

“I’m not worried for myself,” Taryn lied. “I just feel this necklace shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Based on my research…”

“Sorry to cut you off”—Brenna waved the journal—“but Gran mentions Bloodstone.”

“Where were you when I was deep-diving into its history?” Taryn patted the sofa next to her. “Quick, tell me what she wrote.”

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