Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I don’t understand. “What’s that noise?”
“A magical calling card,” Sabelle explains, looking somewhat bewildered herself. “To be polite, we send a distinct sound to another residence when we wish to visit.”
“Each person has an individual bell ring?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you know who that one belongs to?”
“Everyone,” Bram calls from the narrow dining room’s portal. “This is Tynan O’Shea.”
Mr. O’Shea is, in a word, yummy. Hair as dark and shiny as ink and slightly spiked, like a model ready for a photo shoot. A rugged face, a strong chin, and bronzed skin all give the appearance of a hearty outdoorsman. But his gray eyes look flat, as if all his happiness has been sucked dry.
He holds up a large palm by way of greeting, not meeting anyone’s eye, then turns an intense gaze to Bram. Clearly, he isn’t here to be sociable.
“Sit.” Bram gestures toward an empty seat at the table. “Hungry?”
O’Shea shakes his head. “I came to talk. I want answers.”
“Has something happened to your family?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve heard rumors that Mathias has returned.”
I frown. Rumors? Of course Mathias has returned. How does Tynan not know?
“Have you asked your grandfather?”
Tynan drills Bram with a derisive stare. “Would I be here if I had answers?”
“Officially, as a Council member, I’m not at liberty to—”
“Fuck the Council!” Tynan erupts suddenly. “Who killed Auropha MacKinnett?”
Clearing his throat, Bram sighs. I get the distinct impression that he’s stalling for time.
“We haven’t yet determined precisely—”
“The truth, you damn prat!” O’Shea flushes red, looking close to burst blood vessels. His eyes flare to furious life, like smoke and danger and determination. “Are Mathias D’Arc and the Anarki back?”
Chapter
Forty-Five
Bram clears his throat. “Well, some have speculated that a rogue vestige of the Anarki is wreaking havoc—”
“And some have been attacked!” O’Shea refuses to hear Bram’s vague answers. “While others claim they’ve seen Mathias. I know something terrible is happening. I held Auropha’s mangled, branded body before I buried her,” he chokes out.
My heart hurts for Tynan. He’s genuinely anguished. And furious, as if he has a death wish. If he avenges Auropha first, Tynan O’Shea will die a satisfied man.
“I deserve the bloody truth!” Tynan insists.
What the sodding hell is going on? Mathias on the loose should be all over magickind’s version of the news. Maybe he’s been living in a fishbowl? Confusion and desperate need twist his expression. The man clenches his fists, clearly trying to hold back. Tension vibrates in the air. O’Shea is close to snapping.
Finally, Bram sighs. “You know I’m not allowed to speak of Council matters.”
“Do not fuck with me. I loved Auropha. She was to be my mate after her transition. If that Satan’s spawn raped her until she found her nextlife, then I want to show him his. The more painful his death, the better.”
I hold my breath. Ice curses softly. Duke studies Bram, as if waiting for a cue. Will no one tell this grieving man about the Doomsday Brethren?
“Damn it, have you formed a clandestine army?” he demands. “There are whispers. I visited the Pullman family after they were attacked. One of the neighbors thought you might be gathering warriors to combat Mathias and doing it under the Council’s nose.” He rises and growls. “If you’re fighting, I want in.”
“Rumors,” Bram returns weakly.
My jaw drops. Then I snap my mouth shut. Why is Bram lying?
“Spot-on rumors, I’d say,” Tynan sneers. “Only in dire circumstances would I find a Deprived like Rykard supping at the same table as the ultimate Privileged. You need only your friend Lucan MacTavish to complete the picture. Where is he?”
Dead silence falls. I bite my lip. Can’t these people see Tynan’s anguish? Why won’t they help the man? Seeing how much his searing loss has crushed him almost breaks my heart. How can they refuse this poor man something as simple as the truth? Besides, if the odds are so seriously against the Doomsday Brethren, don’t they want another warrior?
“Lucan is injured,” I finally say, testing the waters.
Every head at the table whips in my direction, especially O’Shea’s. His gaze fixes on me until I feel pinned as surely as if he squashed me to the ground.
Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.
“And they’re fighting Mathias as a group, human?”
How does he know I’m human? Not important now. Instead, I catch Bram’s gaze, silently asking why he won’t tell O’Shea the truth. Finally, the blond wizard sighs.
“All right. Unofficially, yes. We have formed a group, the Doomsday Brethren, designed to both keep the Doomsday Diary safe and fight Mathias, who has returned from exile, and his Anarki. If you take the information about the Doomsday Brethren to your grandfather, I will deny it to him and the rest of the Council with my dying breath.”
“Why would I end a group that can help me avenge Auropha and prevent this tragedy from befalling another family? I’m relieved you’re taking action. I know the Council will do nothing to quell Mathias. They’ll merely deny his existence, despite news like this.”