“We’ve been betrayed,” Bran spat down the line. “The fucking contact at the coven didn’t deal with the fucking jacket. He took the money and gave the jacket to Eva Mulhern. Ethan Mulhern’s sister.”
A growl vibrated in Fionn’s throat. “Well, whichever one she was, she’s dead. I slaughtered every one of them.”
“Not everyone. Apparently a witch got away, but it wasn’t Eva.”
“I decimated their bodies. Clothes and all. They can’t trace Rose now.” That was something at least.
“You’re booked to London and then to Baltimore. I’ll have a car waiting for you at the Baltimore airport. You sure this is a good idea? You’ll be on the other side of the world to her.”
“It’s this or wait for her to give herself away. This way seems more expedient.”
“She’s not stupid. She must know you’ll do this. What’s her thinking?”
Fionn wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Rose was clearly determined to stop his plans of vengeance. To keep him with her or just to save the other fae-borne … or both? He didn’t know. But Fionn couldn’t let her disappear. If something happened to her because he let her go …
His plan was to fly to the States, break into Rose’s childhood home, steal an item (or several for backup) that belonged to her, and use it to find her. “This is the plan. As for Niamh, just keep your ear to the ground.”
“Who would have thought it? Fionn Mór: Protector of the Fae.”
An ugly sting sliced through Fionn at Bran’s teasing. “This changes nothing.”
“Of course, it does. You’re determined to protect Rose because she’s your mate, and you’re determined to protect Niamh because you think she’s your descendant and the only living member of her family she has left was recently murdered.”
It was true.
There was no way for Bran’s genealogist to trace Niamh’s family all the way back to Fionn’s. But she had traced it back to the 1500s to an aristocratic clan called Ó Faracháin, a family rumored to have ties to the mythical Rí Mac Tíre.
The evidence wasn’t one hundred percent there that Niamh was his descendant, but Fionn felt it in his gut. Moreover, it was just the sort of sneaky, cruel thing Aine would have done to him.
Except it didn’t feel so cruel as he’d kneeled before his kin, an ethereal beauty who grieved for her brother with the passion of an Ó Faracháin. Fionn decided in that moment as she stared into his eyes, as if she could see into his very soul, he’d make sure Niamh Farren was safe too before he departed this world.
“That’s all that has changed, Bran. The plan still goes ahead.”
Bran emitted a rare animalistic snarl. “You’re a bloody fool, Fionn Mór.”
Then he hung up on him.
Bran hung up on him. Again.
It was like no one had any respect for him anymore.
The sun was supposed to make everything better.
It was supposed to assure her that there would be very few vamps in this part of the world. The sun was supposed to warm her skin, make her feel languorous and at peace. At least for a while.
However, as Rose laid on a lounger by the resort’s cliff top pool, she felt nothing but worry and guilt.
Her felonies had racked up in the last day.
First, she’d experimented with her powers and placed a hand on an ATM in Munich and used her magic to dispense €5000. She’d intended to use that money to rent a car but discovered she needed ID for that. Rose would rather use the mind-control crap as little as possible, so she decided it was less immoral to pull a Fionn, mess with the license plates on a rundown car parked on a leafy residential street, and steal it. With the new phone she’d bought, she used GPS to get her back to Stuttgart—this time to the airport.
Upon a quick Google search, Rose discovered that Lanzarote, one of the Spanish Canary Islands, was the warmest place in Europe at this time of year. She didn’t want to travel too far away because of Niamh.
Despite how wrong it felt, Rose knew she had to let Niamh go until her mission with Fionn reached a conclusion. It was what Niamh wanted.
Rose had booked a direct flight from Stuttgart to Lanzarote, remorsefully using the mind-warp shit since she didn’t have a passport. Her powers, thankfully, weren’t required at security because Rose had already rid herself of An Breitheamh. She’d taken an out-of-the-way route to