“He did not read your mind. He only entered to the point of seeing those faces. Nothin’ more.”
Why was he angry at her assumption? “You two have telepathic communication,” she argued.
“That does not mean I can speak to anyone mind-to-mind, only with ... my people.”
Just who were those people he kept referencing?
She had to find out.
Every time she had her anger securely in place, he knocked it loose.
Drake had been considerate since last night’s battle, even if he had hunted her down again. He’d fought, covering her back when those Imortiks attacked at her cottage and when they met again in the forest.
In fact, if she were honest, she might not have survived had Drake and Quinn not have shown up when they did in the forest.
“I did not read your mind when I said I would keep ya safe, lass. I could see your white knuckles on the edge of the building while ya hesitated on goin’ forward or not,” he explained.
His deep voice spoken so softly rattled her. And he’d started calling her lass instead of Luigsech. A nice change since he’d used her last name almost like an angry curse at times.
Then he destroyed what few good points he’d gained by grumbling, “We need to keep movin’ and find that grimoire.”
Turning back to check around the corner once more, she said, “Cloak us.”
A second later, he said, “’Tis done. Ya have room to walk eight to ten feet from me.”
Not nearly enough.
She hurried ahead until she reached the walkway to the front door of her building.
He stood right next to her when she retrieved a key to the lock she’d hidden outside the building.
She’d have to find a new hiding spot.
Once inside, she asked, “Can you shield the office lights?”
“Would be best if we had a candle to carry around inside the cloakin’ instead.”
She left the lights off and dug the LED keychain light from her pocket and pressed the button to deliver light.
“Clever lass. You can shine that anywhere and my cloakin’ will hide it from sight.”
See? There he went again giving her a compliment. “Okay, good.”
She moved beyond the front office to the bookcases on the backside of the wall behind Fenella’s desk. This place seemed empty without her, much like the hole in Casidhe’s chest from worrying about her friend.
Casidhe had been here alone many times, but deep down inside she’d always believed Fenella would return.
Now, she didn’t know what to believe. “How long before we hear from Quinn about Fenella?”
“I will tell ya as soon as I hear.”
Spinning to him, she asked, “Do you have a phone?”
He shook his head.
“Can Quinn reach you with telepathy from wherever he went?”
He nodded. “Where will ya start lookin’ for the book?”
She could only stall so long. What would happen if she found the grimoire and Drake took the information from her to hunt for it on his own?
Cathbad would kill her and Fenella.
She had no doubt. She’d realized it while walking today. He’d given her a book of the dark druids. Duh.
And she wouldn’t be surprised if Cathbad was in charge of those druids, the top of the heap. The Seanóir.
She could not keep putting off finding out who Drake was. To show him anything on finding the grimoire would be dangerous without full disclosure of who she had staring over her shoulder. He had the ability to take anything from her and cloak himself to leave.
He had other abilities he had yet to show her.
Stepping back as far as the cloaking would allow, she turned to face him. “I’ll be honest with you, Drake. I am not comfortable huntin’ that grimoire without knowin’ more about you.”
All the pleasant time spent with this man melted beneath his flash of anger. “Ya will just have to become comfortable. I must have those volumes and soon. Every minute, every hour, and every single day counts. I have many lives dependin’ upon it.”
“So you say. You’ve come here and snooped on me, then expect me to just accept whatever you tell me.” The backpack had become heavy over the last two miles, but she would not take it off and sacrifice fast access to her sword. “If I make a mistake and give you even one volume—that’s if I can find it—and then Cathbad shows up, he may kill Fenella.”
Drake shoved a hand through his thick hair. “We established that we both have people in danger and we must work together.”
No, he had not established that Tristan was a real person who had been captured. “That all sounds fine except I don’t know which side of you and Cathbad to stand on.”
He stilled. “Ya say you are a Luigsech. Tell me what ya know of the Treoirs.”
“Why?”
“If ya truly know the history, then I will give ya a reason to work with me.”
“I’m not sharin’ Treoir history.”
His face erupted in fury. “’Tis not a game. People will die if we do not find those volumes!”
“So you say.”
“Is it money? I will pay whatever ya ask.”
That was a hell of an offer, but she slowly shook her head. “Information on some families can’t be bought. It must be given freely, but only to those who deserve it. Offerin’ me money proves you do not know who the Luigsech family were to the Treoirs.”
He crossed his arms and calm returned to his face. “Actually I know more than ya realize. A Luigsech squire would carry the history from one generation to the next, ready to freely share it with those from the Treoir family. Ya are not human. Ya are not of the Luigsech family. Ya are an imposter.”
She snapped, “I know who the Luigsech squires are and I know who I am. The issue here is not me. It’s that I. Don’t. Know. You! And I don’t trust you. And everythin’ around me has gone to shit from the minute you showed up in my life. I am not huntin’ those volumes to
