Cariocecus stood near the archway where Thom and I had gotten married. He was studying the dormant vines that tangled around the metal thoughtfully, so intensely that I more than half wondered if he was trying to figure out what kind of vine it was—and if it could be turned into a weapon in a pinch. He didn’t seem to notice our approach until Thom cleared his throat loudly.
Then he spun toward us, gaze lighting on Thom and I for a moment each before his eyes narrowed at the sight of Phelan.
“Going to hit me again?” he asked. There was a purpling bruise on his jaw and I could see the faint imprint of Phelan’s hematite ring along Cariocecus’s jawline.
He’s lucky that he didn’t break his jaw—and Phelan’s lucky he didn’t break his fingers.
Phelan glared at him and I put a hand on his arm to restrain him. “No,” I said. “He’s not going to hit you again. At least not before we get to talk.”
Cariocecus stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slightly and seated himself on a nearby bench. “All right,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “Let’s talk, Seer.”
I glanced toward Thom and he gave me a slight nod. I nodded back and then turned my focus back toward Cariocecus.
Your show this time, Marin. Let’s see what you’ve got.
“Why are you looking for Phelan’s cousin?”
Cariocecus’s brows shot up. “Of all the things you could have asked me, you lead with that?”
My eyes narrowed and I took a step forward. Sometimes, I wish I was bigger, just so I’d seem more imposing. “Something tells me finding that out is more important than some of the other things I could lead off with. ‘Why us’ and ‘why here’ are answers that can wait—or that we can figure out by some logical deduction. I can’t bloody well fathom the answer to the question I just asked because I don’t know enough yet.”
Cariocecus’s gaze flicked toward Phelan for a moment and he grinned ferally. “Keeping them in the dark about little things, are you, Wanderer? So much for secrets.”
Phelan’s jaw tightened. “Shut up, you lying bastard.”
“Touchy.” Cariocecus smiled a little and I grimaced. The bastard was enjoying this—probably more than he had any right to.
“Enough,” I said, my voice deliberately quiet but hard. “Why are you looking for Seamus?”
His eyes narrowed briefly, then he sighed. “If you absolutely must know, it’s because he and his descendants are keys to everything that comes after the end of everything, according to the old tales.”
Next to me, Phelan stiffened.
He’s wondering how much more Cariocecus thinks he knows—not just about Seamus and his potential offspring, but about all of us. It took every ounce of my control not to reach over and squeeze his hand.
Now wasn’t the time to show any sign of weakness.
“Really,” Thom said from his spot at Phelan’s shoulder. “Because he hasn’t been dead for centuries so far as anyone’s known.”
“Since the last war,” Phelan muttered.
Cariocecus shrugged. “All I know is what the legends and tales say.”
“And clearly, you believe them all,” Phelan spat.
He canted his head to one side as he looked at Phelan. “Clearly, more than you do, Wanderer. What a sorry fate for the Taliesin, not to believe the stories he’s supposed to cherish and protect, to pass on to other generations.”
Phelan spat a curse and launched himself at Cariocecus. Thom tackled him.
Me?
I just stood there and sighed.
