telling you is that you must be inside the circle and at least seven stones must be standing. Finding the circles isn’t hard—getting to and from them alive can be.”
Hellion sneered at me, his black eyes growing deeper and, impossibly, darker. “Do not think this is over.” And he walked away.
Chapter Seventeen
We drove for another five hours with little conversation, both of us reveling in our reestablished whatever-it-was and, equally, contemplating Hellion’s promise of help now and threat later. Bahlin held my hand as he drove, not even releasing it to shift gears but working our hands together on the shifter. I smiled.
He couldn’t, no he wouldn’t, stop touching me, albeit very appropriately at all times. He held my hand and when we stopped for fuel he knelt by my open door and caressed my face, leaning in to kiss me gently. He was so profoundly affectionate, murmuring to me in Gaelic, that I wondered how I had doubted his sincerity despite the continued weight of the prophecy hanging in the back of my mind. Words, once spoken, were impossible to take back, including if not especially the three most important words between us. So while I believed he loved me, I was scared. But there would be time for that later.
We pulled into Edinburgh and drove about until we found a hotel. Again Bahlin got a single room, despite Hellion’s assurances. We made our way to the seventh floor and Bahlin laid down on the bed while I freshened up and hooked up his laptop to the room’s Wi-Fi. When I came out of the bathroom, the computer’s screensaver drew random lines across the black screen on the bedside table and Bahlin’s eyes were closed, his body relaxed. I tiptoed to the edge of the bed and looked down at him, his hair splayed over the pillow and his hands relaxed across his hard stomach. His eyelashes brushed his cheeks and his lips curved the slightest bit, smiling as if he were already having good dreams.
He spoke and I jumped, not anticipating the deep rumble of his voice in the silence. “Won’t you lie with me, mo chrid?”
“Bay, we have to get going. I checked and the moon has three nights before it’s truly full. That only gives us tonight, tomorrow and the following night until the moon crests to find Tarrek, save him and solve the murders”
“And Imeena?” Bahlin asked, opening his eyes.
Holy crap, I’d forgotten Imeena. “I want to save her as well, Bay. Where should we start do you think? What do we have to work with?”
“Tyr is a great resource and will be more helpful since you’re new. But he’s still a god, and they’re fickle creatures.” I snorted, and Bahlin grinned. “I see you agree.”
“Understatement made and duly noted. He said I could meditate and reach him.” I wandered to the balcony to look out at the new night.
“You’ve not the natural temperament or training for meditation, so sleep is your best option if you can think of him long enough before dozing off to establish the connection. It’s tricky, but you can do it.”
“Why does everyone think I’m so angry?” I asked, turning to face him.
Bahlin just arched his brow at me yet again, the physical silence which stretched between us heavily littered with conversations past.
“Okay, okay. I’m not Mother Theresa when it comes to temperament…or anything else. Fine. I’m a raging bitch, but I need help.” I stomped back across the room and threw myself on the bed, bouncing Bahlin. He used the momentum to flip over on top of me.
“Calm down, Maddy, and set your pride aside.”
“My pride?” I asked, incredulous. He thought this was about pride?
“Yes, your pride. You are an incredibly angry young woman, and within the boundaries of your own life you’ve a right to be…to a point. But you’ve got to learn to harness the anger and stop letting it control you. Otherwise you’ll spend your time as Niteclif looking over your shoulder for all the people you’ve pissed off who now have the means, and the desire, to kill you.” His somber eyes were empathetic, and he smiled just a little trying to soften the kill shot. “Your anger at the universe won’t bring your parents back.”
I closed my eyes, unshed tears burning brutally. I remembered my dad. He’d taught me to shoot a gun. But I got angry and frustrated at not being as good as he was. He’d admonished me to control my temper