Page 6 of The Seer

Aversion?

Before Fintan could ask, Damian added, “I’d like to see Sullivan give it a go first.”

And so saying, the Aether crushed his dreams of avoiding entanglement. Due to the timing of his vision in the foyer, he suspected he knew exactly what trinket they were discussing.

“Don’t ever touch the bloodstone necklace, or it will send you down the path toward your eventual ruin and loss of power,”the ancestors had intoned in their creepy-as-fuck way while imprisoning him in a trance.

The group was awaiting his response, and Fintan reluctantly nodded. “I’ll have a quick look and tell ya any impressions I receive, but I’ll not be touchin’ it or hangin’ about for research.”

Taryn took exception and sneered.

“If you don’t want to work with me, that’s fine. I can take a hint.” She stood and addressed Damian. “I’ll go get it. Maybe there’s someone his royal highness will actually speak to.”

Fintan jumped up. “Taryn, love, I?—”

“Fuckoff, Fintan.” The water in a pitcher at the center of the table swirled and dipped in the center, creating a mini maelstrom. Steam rose from mugs scattered about the table’s surface like geysers, and those closest leaned backward to avoid injury. Taryn’s rage had sparked to life, and she never appeared more beautiful than she did at that moment. “Just fuck all the way off already!”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and it echoed in the chambers of his heart.

The pitcher upended over his head, leaving him standing in shocked silence and looking for all the world like the eejit he was. Yet, he didn’t care one whit about any of it. His focus was locked on her ramrod-straight back as she stalked away, and he experienced the certainty of love. If that fecker Cupid were standing in front of him, grinning like a fool and polishing his nails on his giant diaper for a job well done, it would come as no surprise to Fintan. Because the pain in his chest was as sharp as an arrow’s tip, and his desire to chase after her was too overpowering to ignore, he gave chase.

He’d only taken two steps when Damian’s laughter-filled voice reached him. “You may want to let her cool down a bit, Sullivan. If not, she’s liable to host a lobster boil in the swimming pool with you at the center of it.”

“Sure, and those are wise words, Dethridge, but I’ll not let another minute go by without her knowin’ it wasn’t her I was objectin’ to.”

“It’s your funeral,” Castor said cheerfully. “Who has a mirror? We should scry. The fireworks are bound to be entertaining.”

“Feck off,” Fintan called back as he jogged for the door. The squish and squeaks from his shoes made him wince. Or maybe it was the laughter of the people behind him. His supposed friends, who claimed to have his back.

“Bastards,” he muttered.

In the hallway, he snapped his fingers and dried his clothes, then toed off his soggy shoes. To calm his rioting emotions, he inhaled deeply before searching for Taryn.

Fintan found her pacing the library and cursing him with every breath. Leaning against the doorframe, he remained silent, letting her vent. He admired her creativity, especially regarding which part of his anatomy he could stick the necklace.

“You seem particularly obsessed with shovin’ things up my arse. Should I be worried, then?” he said.

Additional color surged into her cheeks, and she resembled one of Soleil’s prized tomatoes.

“You weren’t meant to hear any of that.”

Her haughty tone was as amusing as her colorful language, and Fintan grinned.

Lifting her chin, she glared. “You’re a contrary ass!”

He nodded. “I am at that.”

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be running as fast and as far away from me as possible?” she asked, with attitude to spare. Her stance was packed with challenge and daring as if she hoped a motherfucker would.

“Aye, I should.”

But I can’t.

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

He frowned.

“Can you hear me?”He thought the question but didn’t speak it aloud. His heart clunked painfully in his chest, and he hoped to hell that he was mistaken about her new ability.

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