Page 51 of Redeemed
Okay, he had me until the sarcasm. I’m coiled, ready to spring under the table if the woman starts shooting fire out of her fingertips. There’s not a doubt in my mind that she could.
“Meascach.” The growl in her voice makes the hair on my neck stand up straight.
Connor just sits there, head cocked like he’s daring her to take a shot. The tension grows so thick even Lydia starts to look worried, a single crease forming between her brows. Accalia must have ice in her veins because she’s still fussing with her phone like we’re debating our next round of cocktails.
The woman blinks first. “Enough.” She springs out of her seat, dragging Dash with her. “I want word from you. Soon.”
Making a diva turn, she strides toward the door. The phouka waves over his shoulder, his expression somewhere between worry and terror. “Too bad you didn’t get a crack at him without his keeper,” I murmur, and Connor chuckles.
“Not sure it would have done me much good. He’s got some kind of hex that’s keeping him from answering that specific question. She’ll kill him before she gets anything out of him.”
“Huh. Now I feel bad that we didn’t keep him here.”
Connor’s expression grows thoughtful. “Yeah.”
“Ordinarily I’d complain that you didn’t introduce us to whoever that was,” Accalia says. “She could give me nightmares.”
“Ananda Pendragon, the Morrigan.”
I jump and Accalia yelps, “No way.” Even Lydia laughs.
“Yes, that was the living god and my many-times great grandmother. I sincerely hope none of you run across her again.”
“Elves, goddesses; is there anybody you haven’t pissed off,” Lydia murmurs.
Connor catches my eye and laughs. “Give me time,” he says, and I shake my head.
We order another round because nerves, and during our conversation I manage to point out that the Were Authority hearing on my unauthorized pack formation was poorly timed.
“It’ll be fine, David,” Lydia says, giving Accalia a hard look. “It’s just a formality.”
Accalia doesn’t say anything and while I should be reassured, I’m not. They take off soon after that, with a final warning regarding Jacques.
“He’s winding things up, I hear,” Lydia says. “Pulling together allies so when it’s time for whatever he’s planning, he’ll have plenty of help.”
Neat.
I’m disappointed when a waitress picks up my debit card, instead of the waiter with the perfect hair.Oh well. We’ve got time to kill and I still have questions. “So is your great-whatever grandmother on your mother’s side or your father’s?”
“Mother’s.” Connor’s dry tone suggests that further questions will be unwelcome—so of course I keep going.
“Who’s your father?”
The silence between us drags on long enough that I’m reframing the question when he finally answers. “I don’t know, David. My mother would never tell me, so I learned not to ask.”
There’s a warning in his voice, as if I should learn not to ask, too. “But he must be a supernatural being of some kind. I mean, a bodach isn’t a Tuatha Dé Danann trait.”
“I know,” he says tightly.
“Aren’t you curious?”
He doesn’t answer, but the way the muscles in his jaw work tell me I’ve pushed hard enough for one night. “Well, whoever he is, he must be powerful a-f, because I’m pretty sure you just told a living god to go to hell.” I speak lightly and he relaxes a skosh.
Our phones chime at the same time. I get to mine first. “Hey, it’s Trajan.”
Headed back. Where can I find you?
I’m bringing someone who might want to join the pack.
