Page 9

CHAPTER 9

N oah paced the confines of the Black Cat Inn’s parlor, sick with worry for Fi. Another night had passed with no sign of her, and he was ready to lose his bloody mind. The O’Malley’s had used their full range of resources, to no avail.

Why had he let her go? His instincts had argued against it, against allowing her to run off with a stranger, regardless of the fact she wasn’t Noah’s to protect. But he’d wanted to be. Why had he let his past color his future? Why not go all in when he’d had the chance?

He was a bloody fool, was why.

“We should contact the Aether,” Ronan said grimly.

Noah paused in his pacing.

The Aether.

The one person he never wanted to meet.

“Are you all right there, Noah?” Cian asked. The other man’s watchfulness was natural for someone who’d worked for the Witches’ Council, as Cian had. As a spy, he would’ve learned to study movement and expression. Noah imagined it came in handy for him in situations such as these.

“Aye,” he lied. “I’m worried about Fi, and the not knowing is distressing.”

“Understandable.” But there was doubt in Cian’s keen-eyed stare. “Have you met the Aether, then?”

It took all of his willpower not to react to the name. This time, he didn’t need to lie. “No.”

“What do you have against him?”

“Who said I did?” he snapped, immediately giving himself away. “For feck’s sake, it’s no one’s business, yeah? I don’t know the man, and that should be enough.”

Ronan approached him, and the Guardian’s power flared to life, blinding him and forcing him to throw up his hands to shield his eyes.

Fucker could tone it down!

“I could, but then you wouldn’t have given me the response I was after, would you?” Ronan replied aloud.

Dropping his arms, Noah locked gazes with him.

“You can read my mind?” he asked silently.

“No. But it seems you can telegraph what it is you’re wanting others to know.” A wary look settled on Ronan’s face, and his silvery eyes narrowed with displeasure. “Who and what are you?”

“I’m a pub owner. That’s all. I’ve no special abilities other than those of a standard witch.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” replied a cultured voice from behind him.

Noah’s arsehole clenched.

The voice was similar to the one from his childhood. The one he’d grown up answering to whenever he stepped out of line. That of his father, Damarius Dethridge. But it couldn’t be Da. He was long dead.

Gathering his courage, Noah turned.

The black-haired man bore no resemblance to his father, just as Noah hadn’t. Damarius had been golden with blue eyes leaning toward gray. They’d darkened in later years, becoming the color of a storm cloud, and eventually they turned flat, as if the weight of his sadness had stolen all the light from his soul. Other than his handsomeness, there wasn’t much to recommend his father. No shining personality traits that made him stand out amongst the crowd.

But then again, he’d lost his wife and young son to the Darkness, an evil far greater than any could imagine. Damarius had barely escaped into the night with baby Noah bundled tightly in his arms, and he’d mourned for his remaining days. As did Noah, for a mother and big brother who would never be his. For a childhood that should’ve been filled with love and laughter, but was instead void of both.

The Aether was an inch or two shorter than Noah’s six-feet-one, but his presence commanded attention. While the man wasn’t slight in stature, he wasn’t bulky either. Indeed, his build was somewhere in between, suggesting he was lean and fit underneath his elegant shirt and slacks. His obsidian-colored irises were dark enough to make them blend with his pupils if it hadn’t been for the silver slivers. The surprise in them was amusing if one were inclined to think shocking an Aether was a good thing.

“Hello, big brother,” Noah said. “I’m guessing by your surprise, you didn’t know I existed, yeah?”

One or two of the others present gasped, and behind him Bridget crowed, “Pay up, ya scut! Sure, and didn’t I tell ya they were related?”

But he ignored them as he watched the range of emotions—disbelief, acceptance, regret, along with a host of others not so easily discernible—flit across the perfectly symmetrical face of his only sibling.

“How?” Damian Dethridge slowly approached him, and his practiced casualness would be off-putting to someone who didn’t recognize it covered deeper feelings. Noah had utilized the trick himself on many occasions.

“Are you asking how I exist? The normal way, I’m guessing.” Yes, he was being flippant, but old habits died hard, and the smooth voice was too similar to their father’s, grating on his last nerve. Although a muscle twitched along his brother’s sculpted jaw, any other sign of his irritation wasn’t visible to the others.

Noah felt it, though.

He hadn’t lied to Ronan in that he didn’t possess many abilities, but the ones he did were those of an empath and a telepath, along with the standard witchy gifts of teleportation and conjuring what he needed. All the extras he’d been born with were bound by his father and a Goddess known to his da. By using a two-superior-being whammy to remove what should’ve been Noah’s, Damarius had ensured those abilities would stay bound long after his death.

“I didn’t know about your existence,” Damian said smoothly, recovering well. “How is it you’ve been able to stay hidden as long as you have?”

“Sure, and that would be goddess magic.”

“Which one?” Although the cadence of the Aether’s tone was even, his emotions beneath the surface were a bubbling cauldron and would require nothing to boil over.

Noah suspected the next words he uttered might make that happen. He paused overly long and studied his brother, noting all the similarities in their appearance. Many who’d met them both had commented on the resemblance, but Noah had been quick to laugh it off with a quip or two. Acknowledging their connection was dangerous to his continued safety.

“Which one, Mr. Riley? Or should I say, Mr. Dethridge ?” Damian asked silkily, almond-shaped eyes narrowing in warning.

It was Noah’s turn to be surprised. Exactly how his brother knew his chosen name was in question.

“Ronan called me yesterday when you first arrived.” The Aether plucked the thought from Noah’s brain, and the smugness of his answer nearly drove Noah mad. Damian’s dark eyes narrowed briefly before shooting to Ronan. “He failed to mention we look enough alike to be twins.”

“Ah! That explains it, then,” Noah said casually, mentally shaking off the feeling of having his mind violated. Yeah, that’s what he’d done to Ronan earlier, but he figured the arrogant bastard needed to be taken down a notch.

As did the one in front of him.

“Indeed,” Damian said. His expression hardened. “Now, please answer my question. Who was the Goddess?”

“Isis.”

The Aether’s slap of pained disbelief caused the occupants of the room to suck in their breaths or gasp at the stinging sensation.

“Dethridge! Pull it back!” Ronan barked.

With a shake of his head, Damian inhaled deeply, smoothing the look of betrayal from his face. “Did you know about me, Noah?”

“Aye.”

All expression disappeared and was replaced by a mask of cool indifference—another look Noah had perfected for himself. For the longest moment, he held his breath, awaiting Damian’s backlash.

It didn’t come.

Their father would’t have been as controlled.

“I have a lot of questions, if you care to answer them one day, but that’s not why we’re here, is it?” With a nod of politeness, Damian turned, his back arrow straight, and strode to Bridget. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and bussed her knuckles like a gentleman of old.

Of course, that’s what they were. At over two hundred years old, Damian and Noah were of another time, when courtly manners meant something. His older brother had retained all the niceties, where Noah had done away with them over the years, adapting when necessary to fit in with the common folk. He’d designed his pub to cater to both the magical and non-magical communities, with a stern warning to witches and warlocks that no abilities were allowed in his place while those without were present.

“Ronan explained about Patrick’s disappearance, my dear. I’ll do what I can to help,” Damian said.

“O’Malley isn’t the only one missing.” Anger bubbled inside Noah. It seemed everyone was so concerned with Patrick that they’d forgotten Fi and her brother were unaccounted for. “My… uh, Fionola Bohannon disappeared with him.”

Assessing eyes watched him, and Noah struggled to keep his feelings hidden. He’d mistakenly revealed them to the O’Malley family, and although he had no reason to suspect Damian would hurt Fi, he didn’t trust him. The grapevine had produced glowing reports about the Aether and how fair he was in his dealings, but Noah knew better and wouldn’t give him the ammunition. His father had drummed into him that the Darkness lurked within their line, insisting one day Damian would accept the call of its evil, and if not him, then Noah surely would.

“Bohannon.” Damian frowned and glanced at Dubheasa. “Isn’t that one of the names on our list of Loman’s victims?”

She nodded. “It is.”

“Tadhg Bohannon is Fi’s brother,” Noah replied. “He’s not been the same since he returned from that bleeding island.”

“And he’s one of many who have up and disappeared over the last year, with no word to family or friends,” Ronan added grimly. “Seems someone’s decided to finish what my father started.”

“Have no fear, my friend. They won’t succeed,” Damian promised.

Through his gift, Noah sensed his brother’s sincerity, and it was surprising. By nature, the Aether was an unfeeling bastard, taking magic when it suited and doling out judgments as if his own actions weren’t questionable in nature.

“You’re angry with me,” Damian said to him abruptly. “Before we proceed, I’d like to know why.”

“It’s none of your feckin' business,” Noah growled. “And if all anyone here plans to do is stand around, then I’ll find them myself.”

The suddenness of Damian’s grin was disarming. “You’re in love with the girl.”

“I’m not!” he denied hotly. Only he had to know it was a lie. “And I’ll have words with any who say otherwise.”

Damian’s black brows shot up.

“Fi works for me, and I’ve promised her mam and da I’d find her.”

“Then find her, we shall. I— dammit, Beastie! ”

In a flash of golden light, a young girl stood in front of Noah with a wide grin on her adorable elfin face. “Hello, Uncle Noah.”