Page 77 of Beer & Broomsticks
“I wouldn’t do that, Dovie.”
“I’m not talkin’ to you. And my feckin’ name is Dubheasa.”
He sighed heavily. “You’ll always be me Dovie.”
“I’m not your anything, you delusional toad.”
Minutes ticked by, and he remained silent, not trying to talk to her again. And as they approached the Lincoln Tunnel, heading toward New Jersey, her nerves went on high alert. In the city, she might’ve stood a chance of getting away, but whatever destination he had in mind was too far out for her comfort zone.
“What’s your name?” She’d read somewhere that it might work to make yourself seem human to an attacker. Perhaps it worked similarly with an abductor. “Yourrealname, not the one you gave me when you first showed up at Lamda,” she added quickly.
“Ronan O’Connor.”
One of them was going to die.
CHAPTER31
“We need to find Dubheasa,” Bridget said without preamble. They were all gathered in the Aether’s English home, looking like a bunch of dirty, homeless waifs, which they essentially were. Alastair had arrived at the inn to say they were to wait at the Dethridge estate, until Damian, Castor, and Ronan returned. But that was three hours ago, and Bridget was getting nervous.
“We’ll find her,” Cian promised. “I have all my contacts on it.”
“Why isn’t a simple scry working? It should’ve worked, yeah? Unless… unless…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. If Dubheasa had fallen victim to Loman or one of his mercenaries, Bridget would never forgive herself for not insisting she come home.
“Don’t borrow trouble, my dear. We’ll find your sister.”
She tried to tamp down the urge to rail at Alastair, but he’d been good to her family and her, and he didn’t deserve the lash of her temper. Not to mention, he was showing great restraint in the face of the riot of emotions they were all experiencing and he must be feeling as a result.
The endless hours, they’d been unable to reach her. No amount of scrying with her personal items or the O’Malley blood could locate her, and Bridget was slowly losing her mind.
“Ruairí, your da said something on the phone earlier. He said he’d be gone long before you got there. How could he disappear that quickly?”
“In our family, we were trained to leave small footprints behind where no one would find us. A strand of hair here, a drop of blood there, jumping from one place to the next so it would take a long time to find us. While someone was hunting, we could be in and out and safely behind wards before they’d catch us.”
“So it’s possible he set up a decoy and misdirected us away from Dubheasa?”
“It’s possible,mo ghrá, but not probable. If my father got to Eoin first and was unable to reach her by text, it’s more likely he never found her. Just why she’s gone silent is concerning, as is her ability to hide her tracks.”
She jumped up. “I can’t sit and wait anymore. Dubheasa could be out there, hurt and helpless and unable to get home.”
“Yes, or she might be fine.” Alastair rose and poured her a drink from the sideboard. “Here. But go slowly this time until you’re used to the alcohol-magic mix on your system. Things were done and said when you were socializing with Goibhniu that you probably would like to forget.”
She froze, glass halfway to her mouth. “What did I do or say?”
When he chuckled, Bridget blushed. “It was bad?”
“No, it was adorable,” he assured her with a wide smile. “I promise you.”
The truth, painful as it might be, meant a lot to Alastair. He wasn’t likely to lie to save her feelings, so she took his comment at face value. With a silent toast, she sipped her scotch.
“When do you think the others are likely to return?”
He shrugged. “I’d have thought they’d be here by now. A death match shouldn’t last this long.”
“But you don’t seem concerned. Will ya be telling me why?”
“Even if Loman should defeat Castor, which is doubtful, no amount of power or abilities will allow him to get the better of Damian or Ronan. Both are levels above Castor.”
Taking a closer look at him, she realized he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared. “But youareconcerned because Castor’s your friend.”
