Page 30 of The Seer

“Like the Seer ability, it passes to the only male heir. My grand-uncle, Peter, should’ve been the last to own it before Fintan.” Brenna scanned the pages as she spoke. “According to Gran, it amps up the male Siren’s magic, but she’s not certain how. Other than the Witches’ War, Peter never needed to use it. But she wrote that even then, he couldn’t get it to work.”

“Witches’ War? That was forever ago. How did the thing end up at a garage sale?”

Brenna gaped at her. “That’s where you found it?”

“Yes. I sensed the magic straight away, so I purchased it and took it to Damian.” Taryn glanced between the others and shrugged. It was curious she was able to touch it the first few times, but maybe once its owner had reclaimed it, the stupid thing turned temperamental. “Damian looked, but refused to touch it. He said I needed to speak with Fintan, and I assumed he didn’t know its significance.”

Creed scoffed. “The man is hundreds of years old, serving as the balance between the magical and non-magical communities. If he said he didn’t know, he’s lying.”

Racking her brain, Taryn attempted to recall. “If I remember correctly, he didn’t actually say he didn’t know. His words were along the lines of, ‘You should contact Fintan Sullivan.’”

Brenna laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Taryn demanded.

With casual innocence that fooled no one, Brenna studied the food tray and picked out a macaron. Before taking a delicate bite, she dropped her bombshell. “Whenever Damian or Alastair Thorne seeks to match people they care about, they pull the same trick.”

Taryn groaned. Of course! Beneath those austere exteriors, the two men were romantics at heart. Damian’s matchmaking would be sweet if the result weren’t going to be so freaking tragic. One would think that an Aether able to see the future wouldn’t be inclined to set her up for certain heartache.

“They’re wasting their time. Fintan doesn’t care about me,” she said, trying to sound less woe-is-me and more practical.

“That’s not what I witnessed,” Creed said. “Not then. Not now. Our boy is crazy about you.”

“You’ve heard the saying ‘actions speak louder than words,’ right?” She waited for his nod. “Well, his actions scream ‘back the fuck off’ at every turn.”

A pained expression flashed across his handsome visage. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged and eyed the lemon macarons with regret. There was no time to enjoy her favorite cookies.

“I have to find him and bring him the necklace. I have a feeling he’s going to need it.”

“You’ll wait right feckin’ here like he asked you to do.” Eoin shot her a no-nonsense look. “We live with the man, and I’ll not be subjected to his bad-tempered ways.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she grumbled. But she didn’t argue like she wanted to. Mainly because it wasn’t fair to subject Brenna and him to Fintan’s Grumbly Gus routine. “Okay, fine. But if they don’t return within the allotted thirty minutes, we call Damian and rain hellfire down on Odessa. Agreed?”

CHAPTER10

Fintan watched Odessa’s house from across the street. His ancestors were active in his head, but they spoke in hushed whispers as if arguing amongst themselves. Ignoring them, he continued his vigil. At any second, Narissa might sashay her arse out the door, but he doubted she would. The niggling feeling she was in trouble wouldn’t go away. Yet, walking in their aunt’s residence without a clear idea of the future would see him dead.

Female Sirens were stronger than males, their song ten times more potent and alluring. In demon form, men had the advantage, but only if they were crafty enough. There, he’d freely admit if asked, women were more intelligent and diabolical, in general.

“What does Odessa want?” he asked aloud, hoping the ancestors would pull their heads from their arses and give him a clue. Odds were they wouldn’t. They were undoubtedly still salty at him from the week’s reprieve and his association with Taryn.

“Bloodstone’s necklace.”Uncle Peter’s whisper brushed along his skin, raising the hair at his nape.

“And if she gets it?” he asked.

“My sister is a mad cow. She’ll take it into her head to go after the big fishes: the Aether, the Death Dealer, the Guardians… you.”

“And she’d likely win, yeah?” He didn’t wait for an answer. They both knew an amped-up Odessa would kill him. “Is Narissa alive?”

“Aye, but she’s imprisoned. Odessa utilized the ley lines and created a cage.”

“How do I?—”

“Do you frequently stand on the street and talk to yourself,cher?”

“Jaysus!” Fintan’s heart was pumping so fast it could’ve performed a drum solo at a heavy metal concert. “Where the feck did you come from?”

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