Page 90 of A Winding Wave of Magic
My blood froze. Sibyl and I were estranged, but that didn’t mean I wanted her killed.
“Relax,” Jonathan said. “Your mother has had someone watching her the minute I arrived here. If something happened to her, I would know.”
I did relax. For better or worse, I was starting to trust him.
“Still,” I said. “Should I go with you? Talk to her about everything? She might know more about the Secret, the will, all of it.”
Jonathan looked torn. “I don’t know. I need to look more into what happened. Clean things up here and double-check the terms of the will. Make sure the path for you is absolutely safe. Until then, I think you should return to Boston.”
I jerked my head back up at that suggestion. “What? Why?” I couldn’t explain it, but something about being separated from him felt…wrong.
“You’ve got some time left to make this decision, and you’ll be safe there.”
“What about Ireland? I thought your job, as executor, was to escort me to this Inis Oírr place and introduce me to a Council mage trainer or whatever. More specifically, I thought you were supposed to help me get to the bottom of this mess.”
I was starting to sound hysterical, I knew. But given the events of the evening, the idea of returning to my apartment with its single sad deadbolt and my golden retriever of a roommate sounded like the opposite of safe. More like turning us into fish in a barrel.
“I am helping you.” Jonathan’s voice shut off the possibility of argument like a heavy anvil.
“Jonathan—”
“No, Cassandra. Listen to me.”
I pursed my lips and waited. Jonathan ran an errant hand through his half-damp hair and took a deep breath.
“I need some time,” he said. “I want to figure out what my father wants with Penny’s Secret, and I can do that better if you’re not there. He doesn’t know we’re…connected…and perhaps he’ll answer my attempts to contact him, if only out of curiosity.”
His lips twisted in disgust at the prospect of meeting his father face to face again, but I had no doubt in his ability to keep those feelings masked when necessary. Jonathan was nothing if not enigmatic.
“You’ve a few months, even a few years if you want them,” he said. “No one knows you’re in Boston, or even that Penny had a granddaughter, except for him, of course. He’ll be looking for you, but he won’t know where to start.”
“You did,” I pointed out.
“I had an address,” Jonathan returned. “He doesn’t. He doesn’t have anything but a few memories from your childhood, right?”
The fact of it twisted like a knife. “Yes.”
“I know it’s hard, but I’m asking you to trust me, Cass. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” He took another deep breath before continuing. “Go back to Boston. Finish your degree. Start your new position here in the fall. Continue with your life as if nothing has happened, and I’ll be in contact as soon as I discover anything. No later than a year. And then, if you want, I’ll take you to Ireland.”
I looked down at my hands, my nails chewed down to nothing over the past few days. I wanted to go with Jonathan, to find the shadowy monster that had stolen my memories and taken Gran’s life, but I couldn’t deny the truth: a bit of normal sounded good. Another year and I’d be that much closer to manifestation, that much closer to being able to learn to control my powers and the strength that would undoubtedly start to grow within me.
It was then I realized that I had a plan to. I would carry on with my life as if nothing had changed, but the truth was, everything had. From the moment I had opened that will, my entire world had shifted.
So for a few more months, at least, I would be Cassandra Whelan, mild-mannered scholar. I’d wear the graduation robes. Become a professor. Do the things I’d always planned to do.
But when the time came, I would leave it all behind. I would go to Ireland and find someone to teach me all the things Gran should have but never did. I’d learn the special arts of mental defense and offense that only seers can do, assume my birthright, and become someone worth fearing in her own right.
And then I’d find Caleb Lynch. And I also knew this: the man would believe he was a chickadee before he’d squeeze another thought out of my unwilling mind or anyone else’s.
“All right,” I told Jonathan. “I’ll wait. A year, then, Jonathan, no more. Otherwise, I’m finding my own way.”
His eyes were the color of green apples as they looked into mine and saw my conviction.
“I understand,” he vowed. “A year. And then you’ll get your revenge, Cassandra. We’ll get it together.”
PART III
JOURNEYS
