Page 135 of Killaney Fire

The candlelight catches his face. It's old, weathered, with deep lines carved into his skin. On the left side of his face, just below his cheekbone, is some type of mark or scar. I can't tell.

The only thing I know for sure as I stare at him is that I do not recognize the man staring down at me.

"I don't know who the hell you are," I say, doing my best to hide the tremble in my voice.

"My name is Cormac Donoghue," he says. "Known to my followers as the Phantom King."

He then reaches into the folds of his robe and pulls out a blade. It's long, the edge catching the candlelight.

"I am the one," he continues, his eyes locked on mine, "who will soon spill your blood for the Morrígan."

My throat closes up and I can't swallow, can't breathe, can't think beyond the cold, sharp fear slicing through me.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then tucks the blade back inside his robe and pulls his hood up again.

"But first," he says, arms outstretched once more, "you must be prepared for the sacrifice. Your body must be marked by the Morrígan, so death may find you."

The chanting resumes, now faster. The robed figures move forward all at once, tightening the circle around me. Their red robes rustle with every step.

I thrash, yanking at the ropes with everything I have. My wrists and ankles burn from the friction, and my shoulders scream in protest, but I don't stop.

I twist, pulling harder. "I'm here with someone! He will come for me!"

Cormac starts laughing again, the sound echoing off the walls.

"The one you came with tonight?" he says, his voice laced with amusement. "What's his name? Ah, yes. Octavian Voinea."

I freeze.

My blood runs cold.

How the fuck does he know his name?

"Did you know," Cormac continues, his tone conversational now, almost friendly, "that his mother's maiden name is Ionescu? Do you know who they are?"

I don't answer.

I can't.

"The Ionescus have wanted a foothold in America for a long time," he says. "And you, dear Keira, were the key. All your precious Octavian had to do was step aside and let us take you."

I shake my head, the motion frantic, instinctive.

"Bullshit."

He laughs again. "Your Romanian has been playing a longer game than you realized."

I shake my head. "Shut up."

"You really think he didn't know?" Cormac laughs.

I try to fight it, but my mind slips back to before my fall.

I remember the way Octavian tensed when we walked in, the way his hand hovered near his gun, the way he scanned every exit.

He knew something was wrong.

So why didn't he pull me out?