Deceiver's Bond: Book Two of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (24 page)

I remembered my manners. “Are you hungry? I made lasagna for dinner, but we don’t have to eat just yet. If you’d rather have something else, I have cheese and baguettes. Or fruit?” I gestured helplessly. I had no idea what a sidhe might like to eat. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe they just sucked nutrients out of the air. If I hadn’t been so flustered, I might have snickered at the thought.

He actually smiled. I wondered if it was my obvious disquiet that amused him. He replied, “If it pleases you, I will eat when you do. You need not trouble yourself on my account.”

“Oh, okay.” The thought of sitting on my couch, with nothing to do with my hands and just him to stare at, made my stomach lurch. I had to busy myself. “Come on then. I’m ready for dinner. I didn’t have much for lunch.” I led the way back into the kitchen and pointed at the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I tried not to cringe when he sat in Vince’s chair. His gaze followed me as I occupied myself with preparing a salad.

“My presence here. It makes you nervous?”

I stopped midway into slicing a cucumber and glanced at him. There wasn’t much point in lying. I shrugged. “A bit.”

“Do you wish me to leave?”

“No.” I knew that wasn’t strictly true and hoped he didn’t have the same gift for detecting deception as Vince seemed to. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel unwelcome. It’s just … I’m not used to having people here.”

I bit my lip, glancing away from his unwavering gaze. I went back to preparing our salad. “Like I said, Vince is the only other person who’s been able to come inside without some kind of protection. Most people have to wear a skin-suit to keep from touching things, so it doesn’t come up much. And, to be honest, the situation with you and Maeve and … well, that doesn’t help.”

To say the least.

“You were born with the boon of touch?” he asked.

“You mean clairvoyance?” I glanced at him for confirmation before answering, “Yes. Well, from three-and-a-half, so close enough.” I delivered the salad bowl to the table along with the matching serving tongs. “That’s what I mean, why I’ve not had many … guests here.” I’d hardly qualify Vince as a simple guest, but I didn’t think it was necessary to belabor the point.

“This part-blood, Vince, he was your lover?”

I wavered and nearly tripped on my way to the refrigerator. My back to him, I squeezed the thick stainless-steel handle, steadying myself, before I lofted open the door in search of the ice tea and salad dressing.

Was he?

I’d fallen for him, yes. But to call Vince my lover implied a level of closeness and intimacy that I wasn’t sure we shared. Three weeks of little contact from him and his strained demeanor when we’d been together hadn’t done much to raise my confidence.

My back still turned, I replied, “We’re dating.”

I avoided his gaze as I plunked the pitcher and bottles down on the table.

“He was not affected by your boon then. His sidhe blood protected him.”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “At first, we didn’t know why my magic didn’t work on him. Until a few weeks ago, he had no idea he was part sidhe. It wasn’t until Invisius tried to attack me that we got the first clue. They couldn’t read his mind. They knew what he was.”

After retrieving the lasagna from the oven and serving each of us a moderate portion, I sat across from him, wondering about Vince.

“You are unwell?”

His question startled me. I realized I’d been frowning at the table, my first bite of lasagna forgotten at the end of my fork. Kieran examined me, his eyes flicking over my face before evaluating my uneaten food. Short, dark lashes thickly outlined his perceptive brown eyes.

I straightened. “I’m fine. I was just … thinking about Vince, wondering whether he’s even eaten yet.”

“I can promise you, his welfare will not be overlooked.”

I studied his expression, wondering whether he meant to suggest something more than the consumption of food and drink. Again, his cool demeanor stymied me. I forced the image of Vince and Maeve, locked in a passionate embrace, out of my mind, but it didn’t go without a fight.

I shifted in my chair, crossing my ankles, and forced myself to eat, even though my appetite had fled.

“Can you—” I frowned. “I mean, would you mind telling me about your home? I’ve never met a sidhe before, or anyone who’s known one.”

“I am not surprised. Only the part-bloods can live here for long.” He cut into his square of lasagna. “No, I don’t mind. What do you wish to know?”

“Wait. Red mentioned that Earth’s magic makes it uncomfortable for you to live here, but … it doesn’t physically hurt you, does it?”

Maybe that’s what Kieran had meant about it not being any easier for him. Before he could answer, I burst out, “Being forced to stay here … it won’t kill you?”

“Are you concerned for my livelihood?”

I flinched at his sarcastic tone and then snapped, “I might be furious about what you’ve done, for the pain you’ve caused me, but I’m no sadist. If you are suffering, of course it would bother me.”

After a moment of frank evaluation, he nodded. He scooped up another bite of lasagna and answered, “The level of magic here is … overpowering. However, time spent among magic users, especially those with the boon of thought or touch, alleviates it somewhat. I won’t die of it, but over time, the profusion of magic will begin to age me. After long enough …” He shrugged.

How much time was he talking? Weeks? Months? Or would it take years before the magic affected him? And what was the shrug about? Did that mean he’d eventually waste away until he could no longer function?

I picked up my glass of tea and eased back into my chair. “Does your kind not age otherwise? When you’re at home, I mean.”

He looked at me askance. “Obviously we age.” He ate another bite and then gestured at me with his fork. “Like all the fae, we are born and we grow, just as humans do, but we don’t die from old age. Our bodies do not wither over time and few diseases affect us.”

I couldn’t help examining him as he ate. Relaxed, his face appeared youthful and smooth, but more than once I’d noticed the small furrows between his brows and fine lines at the outer corner of his eyes. If he were human, I’d have pegged him for early thirties.

But, now, my curiosity was peaked. I had to know. “How old are you, then?”

His expression seemed to say:
Isn’t that cute? The silly human woman wants to know my age.
But he tilted his head in thought before replying, “By your reckoning? I don’t know. Twenty-seven hundred years, give or take. The first time I came to this land, I found only wilderness.”

My God.
He’d been alive before Christ. I bit back the impulse to ask him whether he’d met the man, knowing it would just paint me as stupid.

I wondered what it would be like to live for so long. Would I try to do and experience as many things as possible, travel to countless places? Or would I worry of an accident cutting things short and become less adventurous over time? Could I stand to be around the same people, the same loved ones, day in and day out, for an eternity? I enjoyed what I did for a living, but after a while I could imagine getting sick of the grind. I wondered whether the fae had an economy like ours. Did they need to work for a living? If so, after many years, did they burn out and seek out a new career?

I stalled out on our conversation just contemplating all these questions.

Focus, Lire.

“Why would spending time with magic users make you feel better?” I asked.

He seemed surprised by my question, as if I should already know. “The consumption of magic decreases what surrounds you by a small but noticeable amount.”

“But why are telepaths and clairvoyants especially helpful? It doesn’t seem like I’d use any more magic than a magus.”

“A magus applies his skills infrequently, whereas your consumption is continuous.”

“You mean just the fact that I keep my shield up all the time … that makes enough of a difference?”

“It helps.”

My gaze slid toward the stairs. “What if I’m in the next room?” I couldn’t help wondering about our nighttime arrangements. He wasn’t sleeping with me. I didn’t care what he said.

“The effect diminishes with distance. Conversely, touch increases it, but you need not concern yourself. I will not trouble you.”

I realized my expression and inadvertent glimpse in the direction of my bedroom had probably made it clear what I’d been thinking. I sliced into my lasagna with the side of my fork. “I didn’t think you would.”

Both to fill the silence and indulge my overwhelming curiosity, I urged him, “Please, tell me about your home. I don’t know anything about the Otherworld.”

“It’s hard to know where to start. Our world is very different from this one.” He looked thoughtful. “Our sun is red, for one thing, and it appears much larger in the sky compared to yours. In most places, the climate is arid and cold. There are very few who live on the surface, unlike here. Most of our cities are underground, carved into the stone and lit by magic.”

“What kinds of things grow there? Do your farmers live on the surface?”

“No. Magic allows us to cultivate everything we need below ground, but there are some things that thrive above—hardy plants and even hardier animals that feed on them—none of which I would deem fit for consumption. However, there are those who profess to enjoy eating them.”

I tried to imagine such a world, a life below ground, and failed. “What do your cities look like? Do you have individual houses? Or is everything like this?” I gestured at our surroundings. “Is everything apartments?”

“The residential areas of each city are parceled into blocks and allocated to individual families, based upon their rank. The families decide how to best accommodate their members, but most carve out separate villas for each of their line. Those who do not live in their family compounds and have not yet attained the standing to receive their own block can find shelter in public houses, which are, in some sense, similar to your apartment buildings.”

“And what about you? Do you live in your family’s villa?”

“No.”

I studied him. “Why not?”

“My mate is dead and I have no children.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He frowned at me. “I have never understood the human desire to apologize for such a thing. Why be sorry? It is hardly your doing.”

Flustered, I almost apologized again. “True. I suppose it’s because most people don’t like the idea of bringing up a subject that might be painful.”

He simply nodded.

I was intensely curious to know the circumstances of his mate’s death but decided it was none of my business. “So, is that the general rule? Only those with children may live in the compounds?”

“It is the personal choice of each family and the individual.”

“Oh.” I wiped off the condensation on my glass before picking it up to take another sip.

He fixed me with an inquisitive stare. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“You have no detectible sidhe blood. How is it that you possess more than one boon?”

Having multiple gifts put me in the same league as a sidhe? That was news to me.

I marveled for a moment before shifting in my seat, conscious of his expectant stare. “It’s a long story.”

“Please indulge me.” He frowned and added, “Unless, of course, there are other more important tasks requiring your attention. I do not wish to intrude.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t a total bastard. So far, he’d been amiable and polite, and I didn’t think it was an act. If it weren’t for his earlier strong-arm tactics and Vince’s abduction, I might have actually liked him.

I replied, “No. It’s fine. Other than just wanting to get my boyfriend back, I have nothing pressing to do.”

Although my tone hadn’t been the least bit snarky, his lips pressed together.

I ignored it and explained, “Like Daniel mentioned, I sometimes work with the police. Last month, I consulted with the Chiliquitham PD on a serial murder case. The police had nothing to go on, so they asked me to read the victims’ remains. That’s not something I’d normally do, but a good friend of mine had been one of the victims. I was angry and a little … reckless.”

I sighed, casting my eyes toward the family room where I knew Red was listening. “A lot reckless, as I’m sure Red will profess. Anyway, what I didn’t know—what none of us knew—was the murderer had been working with a demon to siphon each of his victim’s psychic powers using an ancient spell. When I touched their remains, the spell transferred their talents to me. If anyone else had touched them, nothing would have happened, but the residual magic in the victims’ bones responded to my clairvoyance. Unfortunately, it took a while for me to realize what was happening, otherwise, I might have stopped after the first reading.”

“The first? How many did he kill?”

“Four. All psychics.”

His eyes widened. “And you acquired the boon of each?”

“No. I wasn’t asked to read my friend’s remains. He was killed in another county and the police there had already identified him. Anyway, he was a clairvoyant.”

“But you have the boons of the other three?”

“Yes.” His laser-like scrutiny made me want to dive under the table. Instead, I stood and gathered our empty plates.

“What is your fourth?”

I yanked on the dishwasher door, practically throwing it open. “Ice.”

“Even for a sidhe, a quartet is rare. It is little wonder the demon has marked you.” His voice hardened. “Has it seduced you into calling upon it? Do you know its true name?”

Glaring at him, I wanted to tell him to go stuff himself, but he’d likely interpret my evasion as a sign of guilt. I clipped off each word so there was no misunderstanding. “No. I have not called it. I’m not completely stupid, despite what you think.”

He folded his arms, managing to look both regal and smug at the same time. “Intelligence has little to do with it. You’ve already bargained to save yourself once. It will happen again.”

It took all of my willpower to keep my temper under control, but Red interrupted before I could reply.