Page 86 of The Seer

“Are you able to transform back to human at will?” Damian asked curiously. As someone possessing an empathic ability, he’d have read Ardghal’s emotions and recognized them for what they were. Not delving deeper was a kindness.

“I haven’t tried,” Ardghal said, “But with the amulet back in my possession, I’ll assume it’s possible.”

“I’m thrilled to see it returned to its rightful owner and Odessa dispatched. She was becoming a thorn in the side of many.” After sipping his wine, Damian set it aside and picked up his utensils. “I’d have been happier if a Death Dealer had been present to obliterate her soul. The corrupt and rotten return worse in their next lives.”

“To be honest, I didn’t give it any thought other than to stop her from hurting anyone else,” Ardghal admitted. “But she’ll not return. I made sure of it.”

“You possess Death Dealer magic?” Damian asked sharply, stilling as he awaited the answer.

Ardghal met his look with a challenge. “From my father’s side, yes. I’ve only ever used it in cases like these. Is that a problem for you, Aether?”

“No.” Appearing satisfied with the answers, Damian cut into his steak. “Getting back to your new goal, I’ve only known the Authority to be fair for the most part. However, there were some council members, in recent years, who only had their own interests at heart.” He chewed a bite in a slow, deliberate motion. Everything about the man was deliberate, as Fintan had come to learn. Ardghal would know this, too, had he been paying attention when his Siren was bonded to him.

A glance showed his princely self to be amused by the act, and he outright grinned when Damian dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “It’s a grand show, but speak plain, Aether.”

“All right, I will. I’m not certain I can condone toppling the entire establishment when it means there will be no law in the magical world.”

“If you say there are trustworthy individuals, then I believe you. I don’t propose destroying it completely, but it needs to be rebuilt from the ground up, with each family represented fairly.” With care, Ardghal set his fork down and picked up his wine. “But I want those controlling Fintan punished.”

Damian frowned, and he sent Fintan a sharp look. “Controlling? A Seer receives their information from their deceased ancestors, or so I’ve been led to believe. What’s changed?”

“Ardghal and my uncle believe they’ve been feeding me what they want to influence outcomes and keep me doin’ their biddin’.” Fintan shook his head, tired of the fucking cloak-and-dagger bullshit associated with working for the Authority. “And they believe it’s the Authority that made a deal with my ancestors.”

As someone who abhorred injustice, Damian’s anger was a living thing. Its energy snapped and snarled like a rabid dog on a chain, eager to be free and bite. The temperature dropped by at least fifteen degrees, as he shoved back his chair and rose to pace.

He halted beside Fintan.

“For how long?” he asked.

“Forever,” Ardghal said, watching him warily.

“All the times, when I turned to you after the Fates suspended my psychic ability, those visions were manufactured?” the Aether asked Fintan.

“Sure, and I can’t say for certain, but we think so, yeah.” He held up his arm, displaying his burning skin. “You might want to calm the fuck down, Dethridge. It’s uncomfortable when you’re riled.”

“Bloody hell.” Damian didn’t lose his cool often, not without consequence. Regret and compassion were in his expression as he laid a hand on Fintan, healing his burnt skin. “My deepest apologies, Sullivan. I was worried about my daughter’s well-being.”

“I’m grand.” He stopped Damian from moving away. “I don’t believe they’ve purposely targeted her, but I can’t say they haven’t, either. They’ve been tormenting me with Taryn’s death.”

The Aether stilled, and the intensity in his eyes was frightening. “How so?”

“Visions of me standin’ over her casket in an open grave.”

“We need to get to her.Now.”

Ardghal was already gone.

Taryn was trapped.

Stillness pressed in from every side, and it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t the quiet peace of sleep, but something more oppressive. Though not floating in an abyss like Fintan had described, it felt very much like it. The scene around her could’ve been crafted from a painter’s imagination, yet it was too perfect. Trees were too symmetrical, and the sky was a perpetual twilight, never growing darker. But the lack of scents and her inability to touch anything were the giveaways. The air didn’t move, which meant no oxygen. And she wasn’t breathing, so there was that.

Thisplacewas a carefully constructed prison, designed to cage her soul. And her wardens lurked in the shadows.

But there was another presence close by. One known to her, though she couldn’t grasp who yet.

“Fintan?” she whispered, hoping like hell it was him. The sound of her voice was swallowed by the glowing atmosphere.

Not him, then.

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