Page 43 of A Winding Wave of Magic
“And I’m sureyouwould quite prefer the opposite.” One brow raised in an expression that indicated he was perfectly aware that I would enjoy nothing less than catching up with Danny Mansfield. But also that it would be in the sheriff’s best interests not to encounter a sorcerer in a bad mood.
Then, instead of waiting for me to come up with a fresh retort, he extended a hand across the table.
I stared at it.
“I think proper introductions are overdue,” said the stranger. “My name is Jonathan Lynch. And I have something you need.”
I didn’t reply, just waited for him to continue.
“Please, Ms. Whelan. You’ll see I mean you no harm.”
“Is that so? Mr. Lynch, is it?”
“It’s Doctor if we’re still using formal address. But yes.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you’d go by Doctor.”
Nevertheless, I took his hand. It was as warm—and annoyingly comforting—as I remembered.
Lynch emitted a low hiss like he was in pain. But before I could ask why, my Sight kicked in.
A brief recollection of our other interactions flickered through my mind along with a few others that connected. Itwashim at the nightclub asking Aja about me. There were our brief chats after the seminar, again in his car after the pond, him watching me at the pub in Portland, all of it connected with the desire to find me and evaluate me somehow in order to tell me…something.
Which his conscious thoughts were obviously working in overdrive to obscure. His touch conspicuously revealed nothing about his character other than what he said was true—he had no intention of hurting me. He simply wanted to talk.
I let go of his hand.
“You’re some shield, especially for adall,” I remarked, casually using the term Gran had always used for non-seer fae.Dallmeant “blind” in Irish. “And while I appreciate that you don’t, in fact, want to kill me, your thoughts don’t make much of a case against stalking. Closer to supporting it, honestly.”
It was strange to be talking so casually about it, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to be scared. The man had gone out of his way to rescue me twice, even if he had been following me. He wasn’t out to do me harm.
Lynch sighed again. “I’m not stalking you. Although I will admit to telling a small white lie about living in Oregon. Though it is reasonably nice here.” He looked out the window, as if genuinely surprised.
“So I take it you’re not a particle physicist?”
“Oh, I am. But my work is more international.” He smirked as if I should already know what that meant. “By the time we met, I’d been looking for you for a few days and needed to ascertain your identity. I’ve some rather delicate information to share, and I had to be sure you were actually you. Do you always leave for Oregon in the middle of term?”
I smiled to myself at his incorrect pronunciation: “oh-ray-GONE,” instead of the more guttural “OR-ruh-gun” that the locals used.
“I do when there’s been a death in my family. Did my roommate tell you that too?”
For once, the sorcerer’s face was devoid of any kind of derision. Sympathy poured from his large green eyes, and I knew that if I touched him, I’d feel it as well.
“Yes, I was aware,” he said quietly. “That’s why I was sent to find you. Please accept my deepest condolences regarding the loss of your grandmother. She was a lovely woman. I…I was truly sorry to hear of her passing.”
I stared, waiting for him to continue. What did he mean, he was sent here? By whom? And because of Penny’s death? He was in Boston before I had received the telegram—had he known about it before my mother?
How was that even possible?
What was going on?
Lynch made to offer his hand again, but pulled it back to his lap almost immediately, clearly thinking better of the action. Not completely heartless, then, but careful. And perhaps not quite as good a shield as I thought.
I turned to grab my breakfast and magazine from the table behind me and he sighed in relief, realizing that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“You knew her,” I said finally before taking a bite of my pecan bun. My stomach had been growling for the past five minutes. I wasn’t just cranky because of him—I was famished after a two-mile run.
“Oh, yes,” he replied softly. “Our families were great friends…in Ireland.”
