“I don’t know.”
I lean in a little closer, practically cheek to cheek with Aaron. Granted, I can’t see the etchings very well, but they look like a bunch of scritch-scratch to me.
Leo continues, “This middle one is antlers.”
“For protection?” asks Avery.
Leo nods absently as he spins the ring a bit to feature the last symbol in full. “And this is a spear. It’s an Irish heritage thing.”
I take a long look at him. “You have Irish blood?” He’s too dark, if you ask me. Although there is that little hint of red in his hair.
“From somebody way back in my line.”
Avery swipes the ring again. “Is it the Spear of Lugh?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” She squints at the marks, then arches a brow at Leo. I wonder if she’s tempted to use her psychometry.
“Lugh the Celtic god?” I ask.
Leo’s eyes cut to me. “You know about the Celtic gods?”
“Only a little.” And mostly from fantasy novels.
I wait patiently while Avery and Aaron each take a turn studying the ring. When it’s finally passed to me, I sit on the couch close to Leo and take my time looking it over. I can sort of see the objects in the markings, or at least a suggestion of them. It’s primitive, almost, in style and design.
I peer at Leo. “What’s it made of?”
“Pure silver.”
I don’t know a darned thing about metals, but this is one tough ring. Not just because it’s survived generations, but because of the way it feels. Powerful. Like it contains some sort of ancient magic.
Softly, Leo asks me, “What are you doing there?”
“What? I…here.” I thrust the ring back at him.
But he doesn’t take it. “You were sensing it.”
“Not on purpose.” I feel like I violated him. “It just kinda happened.” Thankfully, Avery and Aaron are discussing ancient alphabets and are unaware of my embarrassment.
Leo traps my hand in his, enclosing the ring in my palm. “What are you picking up?”
As I explain what the ring feels like, his eyes widen in wonder. So, apparently I can not only read trees and herbs and crystals, but inanimate objects, too? Surely not. I must be sensing Leo’s grandfather, or imposing the symbols’ meanings on the energy I’m picking up.
I give it back to Leo. “Has Avery had a crack at it?”
“No. Not yet.” He slides itback on his finger.
Across from us, the psychic in question lazily twists in the desk chair as she rolls her eyes at Aaron and shoves her hand into the bag of M&M’s. When she yawns, I grin and say to Leo, “I’m not sure she has the energy to right now.”
“Doesn’t look like it, does it?”
All four of us are slouched and limp. It seems I’m finally coming down from my little high. The torn purple Ghirardelli wrapper sits on the coffee table amongst the extinguished candles and small glasses of mead. Since the beginning of our ritual, the energy in the room has gone from electric to ‘walking dead.’ I force myself to sit upright as Leo does the same, groaning like an old man. His sleepy brown eyes meet mine and slowly he smiles.
“Tired?” he asks.
I nod.
