Cate Tiernan - Strife

“It is,” I said happily. “Oh, and Alisa’s okay! She stopped by earlier.”

“Oh, excellent.”

I paused, thinking about Alisa’s visit and the picture falling. Should I tell Hunter about that? Or would he just think I was paranoid?

“Morgan—” Hunter began. There was something in his tone. What was it? Concern? Fear?

“What is it?” A feeling of dread spread through the pit of my stomach.

“I’ve heard from Sky.”

It took a moment for the news to sink in. “What did she—”

“She’s found some leads,” Hunter went on. “In fact, she believes my parents are not in France.”

“No?” I felt a sudden, horribly selfish wave of relief. Did that mean Hunter wouldn’t have to go to Europe to search for them?

“No,” Hunter replied. “She believes they’re in Canada. Quebec. It would explain the French. I’m going to head up there myself, as soon as possible.”

The room started to tilt crazily, and I had to hold on to the counter for support. “But—but—the council—”

“I’ve spoken with the council,” Hunter said. “Morgan, Ciaran is in custody. Selene and Cal are gone.” He paused. “I’ve asked permission to investigate the Canada leads. There’s no reason for me to be here now.” He sighed. “Don’t you see? You’re safe now. There isn’t anything left for me to do in Widow’s Vale.”

Had he really just said that? “Thanks a lot,” I said bitterly, swallowing the tears that were welling up in my throat.

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it,” Hunter said quietly.

I did know. But it hurt anyway. “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Hunter replied. “It could be a few days or a few weeks. Or longer. It depends on what I find.”

Of course. That was what I was afraid of. The image I’d seen when I scried, the image of Hunter waving farewell, entered my mind, along with the feeling of dread I’d felt when I first saw it. Was it possible. . was it possible that he might never come back? Don’t think that way, I commanded myself, but it was too late. I thought of the picture falling earlier, how frightened I had been. Had something so small really seemed so important just a few minutes ago?

“Just how reliable is Sky’s information?” I demanded. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I hated myself for saying them. But I couldn’t stop. “What if you’re heading into some kind of trap?”

Hunter didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. We both knew that Sky would never have told Hunter he should go to Canada unless she had some overwhelming evidence.

I pulled out a chair and sat down at the breakfast table, my forehead in my palm. This can’t be happening, I thought dizzily. Now that I was safe, Hunter was leaving. I tried to focus on my breathing, on pulling the fresh air into my lungs and letting the old air go. For a crazy moment I wished that I could be in some sort of horrible danger. It was a very strange thing, to realize that I would rather have my life in jeopardy with Hunter than to be safe. . without him.

“Morgan,” Hunter said. His voice grew quieter. “We’re mùirn beatha dàns . You know I love you completely. But you also know how I feel about my parents. You wouldn’t want me to pass up this chance, would you?”

Yes, I thought. I opened my mouth to say it, but I couldn’t. How could I tell him that? What would it do to our love?

“No,” I whispered. “I want you to find them.”

“I knew that was what you would say.” Hunter’s voice was a caress.

I inhaled. I exhaled. I ran my fingers over the ridges of the cotton place mat. It felt impossibly normal to me, incongruously simple.

Out of nowhere, the words Alisa had spoken over a week ago echoed in my mind. I wish things could stay the way they are. For a brief moment I’d been safe, my family had been happy, and I’d known who my mùirn beatha dàn truly was. And now he was leaving me. I remembered the vision I’d had, the one in which Hunter had waved good-bye, and I tried not to think that this separation was permanent.

Trust me. The words hadn’t been spoken, yet they seemed to be all around me, spinning lazily like dandelion fluff on a summer wind. I looked out the kitchen window. The night was dark, and the moon was out. I couldn’t see any stars, but I knew they were there. I could picture them, waiting patiently, their light cutting through the infinite darkness. Fire had never looked so cold to me.

Trust me.

What choice did I have?

“I do,” I said.