Page 11 of Prophecy of Gods and Crows

Giving a small nod was all she had as an answer, but he squeezed her shoulder and let it go.

“Sheriff! Speech is about to start!” someone yelled out, and Justin gave her a wink before turning to help with the gathering crowd.

Slipping under the covered porches, she made her way toward Niamh’s place, letting the shadows of the evening keep her from the eyes of those who would do worse than Dalton if given the chance.

“Sheriff won’t always be around,” one man growled as she walked past, but Bryn kept her face turned away so they couldn’t see her reaction to their words. She wouldn’t give them that.

“Spreading her legs for him, too, I bet. Busy girl. No wonder she hangs out at a brothel...”

“. . . should’ve burned her at the stake a long time ago...”

The last statement had Bryn running to the safety of her friend’s establishment, brothel or not.

Slowing her pace as the crowd moved their focus to where the governor was readying to make his speech, she looked over toward her ex, allowing herself a little peek.

Declan tuned his guitar, the one he made himself long ago while she watched, talking and spending time with him. A memory that tore at her already battered heart. His eyes caught hers, and she watched a million emotions flicker through them before he turned away to look where the governor was calling for everyone’s attention.

His father stood up on a wooden platform in front of the city hall as Bryn swallowed her own emotions to focus on his father as well.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned, but there was no one behind her. Bryn was good about not letting people sneak up on her usually, but if they had been there, whoever it was, they were gone now. Stepping closer to the shadows, she let Finian settle at her feet.

“Good evening! Welcome to our Bicentennial Founder’s Day celebration!”

The crowd cheered at Mr. Rafferty’s words, his dark eyes sparkling in the light of the lanterns and fires lit throughout the street for the night of celebration.

The large brass sculpture of their founding father stood strong and proud behind Mr. Rafferty. The grim face of a lost ancestor watching over the town from his spot near the governor’s mansion. The long-dead man had his hands on his hips, looking out over the town he built, finding the descendants he left to rule in his stead long after he was gone lacking, Bryn was sure. Or so she hoped.

“Two hundred years since our world was lost to us, and we had to survive or die, and our great founder, Cadogan Rafferty, found a way to thrive!” Cheers erupted along with whistles. “He found this place, what was once a long stretch of hell, and turned it into the good city we thrive in today.

“So, on this day, let us remember our forefather and all those that came after, who worked to bring about an oasis in the desert. A place of sanctuary for the weary souls of those who would have been lost to Mother Nature’s wrath.”

Bryn wondered if Mr. Rafferty bought what he sold. She sure didn’t. His too-large smile and false promises were catnip to the crowd, though. A politician through and through.

Just as fast as the cheers grew to a deafening level, they evened out as Mr. Rafferty moved from the platform, the instruments now tuned and in harmony as the music flowed along the road. People lost themselves to the rhythm as the celebration kicked off.

Turning back to look at Declan, his long, curly auburn hair falling around his face, his whiskey-brown eyes watching her as he plucked the strings of his guitar, the sound a siren call to her soul. As always with his music, Bryn was pulled in. Her worries and fears held at bay for another day. His music was almost magical in its ability to sweep the listener away.

Two familiar figures caught her eye, and Bryn looked to where Jace was dancing with a woman. A smile lit Bryn’s face as she took in the couple. The dark skin of her friend with her natural curls free and not pulled back and away from her face like when she was working made her look like a goddess in the waning light of the evening.

Sage.

He did it, he had finally spoken to her, and they were dancing! She was so happy for him.

Both he and Sage laughed as he spun her out, bringing her back into his arms. Bryn sent a mental slap on the back to her cousin, hoping her friend gave him a chance for more than this night. The fact that they were laughing together, and not throwing sharp words, was promising in and of itself.

Leaving Jace and Sage to their joyous dance, Bryn heard the doors of the Sanctuary opening before Niamh stepped out onto the porch with a full glass of wine, the citizens keeping their distance from the place. Niamh nodded to her as she sat on the steps near where Bryn was standing, Finian not making an effort to stand and greet her.

Niamh’s eyes moved over the celebration before landing on Declan with an intensity that gave Bryn goose bumps.

What was that about?

Bryn was sure demons themselves were less intimidating than Niamh as she skewered Declan with a look. It was far more than Bryn figured he deserved... unless she knew the truth of what had ended things between them.

Declan’s father came up beside her, leaning against a post on the opposite side of Niamh.

“Enjoying yourself, Bryn?” Mr. Rafferty asked before she could inquire of her friend about her animosity.

Aaron Rafferty, the governor of their small town, descendant of the founder, and probably one of the few people who kept the entire town from coming down on her and Niamh. She never asked why, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth and ruin a good thing such as his protection.

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