Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,30

to think we have no control over what happens to us,” I said, mulling her words over. “But I think fate comes with variables. I don’t think it’s one road from start to finish. I think it’s more like a road with smaller paths branching off. Some of those paths might lead to the same ending, while others might not. Does that make sense?”

“Weirdly, yes.” She eyed me with an observant curiosity, as if she were seeing something new about me.

Paranoid, I lifted a hand to my cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to be a philosopher.”

“I’m not sure that I am,” I admitted, unsure if that was what she wanted to hear. “But I’m a researcher and a scientist—I like to find logic and answers in everything. True, that’s generally based around monsters, but I’m intrigued by humanity, too. And fate is a concept that’s been around for a very long time, so perhaps that’s evidence that there is some truth to it.” She leaned closer as I said this, the two of us almost sandwiched together as we headed out into the night.

She peered up at me, one eyebrow slightly bent in confusion. “You’ve got layers, O’Hara.”

“An onion of sorts, or perhaps a cabbage?” I felt the cool breeze touch my face and wished I’d brought a sweater of my own. Irish summers had their balmy moments, occasionally competing with Mediterranean temperatures, but the heat rarely clung on into the night. I’d have to keep Genie close. Purely to stay warm, of course.

She tilted her chin up and drew a deep, deliberate breath. There wasn’t much in the way of light pollution out here on the island and the constellations were in full bloom, glittering against the bruised, purplish sky. A ghoulish impression, perhaps, but the true darkness of autumn and winter were not yet upon us. I felt happy—it was just a light summer night in the clean countryside air, with the perfect company.

“Let’s go with cabbage. Onions make you cry,” she murmured.

I hope I never make you cry, Genie. With her tugging gently on my arm to keep us moving, we cut through the gardens to the back gate and headed out across the rolling fields, veering right so we’d meet the cliff path. For the first time since she’d decided to stay in the Repository, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter. I was happy just to walk with her on my arm, enjoying the whisper of the waves susurrating against the coves below and the prospect of a warm snack to soothe my growling stomach.

We were no more than a third of the way to the public car park when Genie suddenly stopped. Her body language transformed from relaxed to alert in the space of a second, and she yanked her arm away from mine. She whipped around, eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the shadows around us.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

Her forehead crinkled, her Esprit—a barrette of crossed silver feathers—glowing faintly. “I’m picking up bad vibes. Spidey senses tingling.”

“What do you mean?” As far as I knew, she didn’t have Clairvoyant abilities. But something had evidently spooked her.

“I don’t know.” She turned in a circle, her expression grim. “It’s like an echo of… badness. Footprints of something nasty. Not literal footprints, but… a residual horror. Like something bad happened to someone out here.”

I patted my pockets and took out the specterglass that I’d taken to carrying around. “Has this ‘Spidey sense’ happened to you before?”

She shook her head. “Not like this. I get feelings sometimes, usually when I’m super focused. But this is… different. It’s a clearer sensation.”

Hmm… I can’t feel anything. I scanned the area, looking for the red and white mist that would have suggested a local spirit. But I found only red-tinged darkness. “It doesn’t look like we’ve got any ghosts or spirits loitering around. Did you hear something, maybe?”

“No. I’m just… feeling it. It’s like… a silent cry for help.” Genie darted forward, running along the cliff path, her head scanning left and right. I raced after her, trying to help her look, but without any idea what we were searching for. Part of me wondered if she’d just heard a seagull or a fox and taken it for a scream.

After another 200 yards or so, we reached a lookout point. I came here quite often, especially when I happened to be struggling with a research project or