Kelley Armstrong - Omens

“She’s seen something,” Patrick murmured. “That’s what has her up so early, worried about Gabriel. Whatever you two planned for today, you may want to reconsider.”

“You believe in it, then?” I said.

“The sight?” His brows shot up. “You might as well ask if I believe in oxygen. I can’t see it, but I’m quite certain it’s there.”

I glanced at him, expecting to see a knowing smile. He was watching me with a very different sort of amusement, the sort reserved for the child who insists there is no such thing as oxygen.

He waved me to a chair. “The sight is one of the manifestations of the old blood. Bendith y Mamau .”

The hair on the back of my neck rose. “That’s Welsh, right?”

He smiled. “Very good. It means ‘the mother’s blessing’ and is one Welsh name for the fae. The more common one is Tylwyth Teg , which translates to the fair folk. In the context of the current conversation, Bendith y Mamau seems more appropriate.”

I tried to follow what he was saying, but my mind stayed stuck on my first question. “So you know Welsh?”

“Some. It’s common enough in Cainsville. It was founded by exiles from the British Isles and hasn’t come very far since. You may have noticed that.” He lowered his voice to a mock whisper. “Not exactly the most racially diverse town in Illinois.”

I looked at Patrick, sitting there, smiling slightly.

He’s playing with me.

No, he’s not. Look at him, Olivia. Really look. You know there’s something—

A noise in the hall. Gabriel and Rose, talking as they approached. The door swung open, Rose holding it as Gabriel carried the tray.

“I remember MKULTRA,” Rose was saying, looking relaxed now. “Mind control.” She rolled her eyes. “What rubbish.”

“Says the woman with second sight,” I murmured.

Gabriel’s lips quirked in a smile.

“Apples and oranges.” Rose took the teacups and began filling them. “I cannot inflict my sight on anyone. No more than a person who sees omens can force another to see them, too.”

I tensed, but Patrick was adding sugar to his tea, and he didn’t notice.

“What about hypnosis?” I said to Rose. “You do that.”

“Hypnosis merely taps into something already present in the subconscious. At most, it plants an idea. I can use it to help someone who wants to quit smoking; I cannot use it to force someone to quit against her will. That is mind control, and it is beyond the realm of possibility.”

“Mmm,” Patrick said, stirring his tea. “Beyond the realm of science, I would agree. But the idea of controlling another person is very common in folklore and the occult, everything from fully possessing another person to controlling the risen dead. Even simple spell-craft—incantations, potions, and the like—aims to control behavior. Now, if the CIA’s scientists had been more open to those explorations, I’d wager they’d have had better luck finding their elixir.”

“Sadly, it seems the people we’re hunting only practiced the simplest version of behavioral control,” I said. “Shutting someone up by putting a bullet through him.”

Patrick’s lip curled slightly. “How pedestrian. If that’s the angle you’re pursuing, then I’m not sure my research helps, but if you still want it…”

“I do. Please.”

Patrick was right. As much as I appreciated his research, I wasn’t sure it got us anywhere now.

What he’d found was another Druidic link. Each stone left in the victim’s mouths had a small hole through it. At first, they’d been mistaken for amulets, the presumption being that the holes had been carved. Later, they were discovered to be naturally occurring perforation.

Adder stones, Patrick called them. They often had a glassy center, usually flint. Ancient Celts believed that center was the hardened spittle of snakes—or even dragons. Adder stones were particularly prized by Druids. They were known as Gloine nan Druidh, or Druid’s Glass, in Scottish Gaelic, and were said to aid in spirit travel.

What did that mean? We had no idea, only that it was a second Druidic link. Patrick said he’d keep digging for more. I told him he didn’t need to, but apparently he was having fun chasing this particular mystery.

Mind control. That was an interesting possibility. It couldn’t be done by natural means; Patrick was sure of that. Even by unnatural means, it was difficult. One could certainly influence behavior. There were also charms and trances. But their effect was sadly limited. Yet if there was a way to mingle the scientific and the mystical … Very intriguing.

Equally intriguing was the fact that Olivia and Gabriel seemed to actually be making headway in their efforts to prove the Larsens innocent. That was unexpected. It was presumed among the Tylwyth Teg of Cainsville that the Larsens were in fact guilty, that the ritualistic aspects of the crimes proved they were responsible even if no one quite knew what the ritual was supposed to accomplish.

Was it possible they had been, as the boinne-fala would say, framed ?

Definitely intriguing.

Patrick stayed to visit longer with Rose. As we left, I commented to Gabriel that they seemed to know each other well.

Gabriel shrugged. “Well enough. They have similar interests, as you noticed.”

“What do you make of him?”

Gabriel looked over, frowning, as we reached the bottom of the steps.

“It’s just…” I began. “Cainsville seems very old-fashioned in some ways. Respect for elders and all that. But Patrick appears to be exempt. If anything, he seems to be as respected as the elders. Which seems odd for a guy younger than me.”

Another frown, deeper now. “Patrick? He’s older than I am, Olivia.”

“What?”

“Not by much, I presume. But I recall him as a young man when I wasn’t more than a teenager. He’s definitely older than I am.”

I remembered what Patrick said when I commented that he’d seemed young to be published. I’m older than I look. Apparently so. That explained a few things.

As we crossed the road, Gabriel said, “Catch,” and I turned just in time to see silver flashing toward me.

“I’m driving?” I said as I caught his keys.

“Yes, though those were just for dramatic flourish. Technically, you don’t need the keys. As long as they’re in the car, you can drive it.” He paused. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

I grinned. “In other words, from now on, whoever gets to the driver’s seat first takes the wheel?”

“Unless I refuse to get in the passenger seat.”

“Spoilsport.” I walked around the Jag and opened the driver’s door. “You’re serious, though. I get to drive?”

He waggled his cell phone. “I need to check e-mail.”

“So I’m actually chauffeuring you.”

“Are you arguing?”

I slid in. “Nope. Are we still heading out to interview that MKULTRA subject? Patrick seemed to think Rose had a vision that we shouldn’t.”

“She did receive a warning. Typically vague, something to do with me, terrible danger, and all that.” He climbed into the passenger seat. Then he paused before closing the door. “On second thought, perhaps we should switch places…”

“Too late.”

I started the engine. He only smiled as if he’d been teasing.

“You don’t take the warning seriously, I presume?” I said.

“I do, but a warning only means that I should be alert, and that was all Rose wanted to tell me. Be careful. Danger is in the cards today.” He fastened his seat belt and made a show of double-checking.