The way he looked at me when he said, Aoram dhuit. I will worship thee.
Each repetition hurts more than the last. Aithinne thinks I lost my memories because my body was destroyed. That when the Cailleach’s magic brought me back, my mind took longer to piece together. When Aithinne’s power connected with mine, she opened the floodgates.
Catherine’s brother Gavin settles on the log beside me. “You look miserable.”
His blond hair is longer now, almost touching the base of his neck. Stubble has grown along his jaw, obscuring part of the scar that begins just below his eye.
How different he is from the boy I knew growing up. Gavin went from the perfect, titled gentleman to this—one of the few humans left alive, thanks in no small part to his gift of the Sight, the natural ability to see the fae. We earned our abilities the same way: by dying and coming back.
All things considered, Gavin is taking my miraculous return rather well. When he saw me, all he did was smile and say, “You really intend on stretching the definition of dead until it loses all meaning, don’t you?”
What would he say if I tell him my borrowed magic is all that’s keeping me alive? That none of us will survive if I don’t find the Book of Remembrance?
His response would probably be like Derrick’s. You’re like a cat: You’ll just gain another life.
I sigh. “My head is splitting. I may vomit.”
“Ah. Well, then this will either help or make it infinitely worse.” Gavin presents a bottle of whisky. “You look like you could use a dram. Just don’t throw up on my shoes.”
“Good god, Galloway,” I say with a laugh. “Only you would manage to have whisky on hand after everything’s been destroyed. What’s the occasion?”
Gavin shrugs. “You’re alive. What you see here is probably the last bottle in existence, and I want you to enjoy it with me before the world ends.”
I make a face. “Morbid.”
“Appropriate.”
A voice rings out from behind us. “There had better be some for me.” Derrick flies over from one of the cottages and settles on my shoulder. “I’m out of honey,” he grumbles, wings flicking my hair. “That foul-smelling peated shite is all that’s left to help me achieve my goal of complete oblivion.”
My body relaxes with Derrick there. Now that my memories are intact, I feel more in control. You don’t realize how important even the smallest interactions are until your mind has been emptied of them all. It was as if I had never lived.
Gavin looks at the pixie and raises his eyebrow. “If you want me to share, don’t insult my drink.”
“Shiiiite,” Derrick sings. “Go on, then. Give us a toast.”
Gavin uncorks the bottle and raises it in a salute. “To Aileana’s return, just in time for the inevitable war and our probable demise. But until then, slàinte.” He takes a long swig. I can tell by his face that it burns. “Fair warning,” he says hoarsely, passing me the bottle, “this is not going to go down smoothly.”
I take the bottle from him, but I don’t drink. “Probable demise? I don’t suppose you or Daniel have had a vision that gives us some hope of winning?” My smile is forced. “If not, I’m hoping for a relatively painless death this time.”
Aside from seeing faeries, those with the Sight have other abilities. Gavin has premonitions of the future, and Daniel hears voices that contain prophecy—about me, specifically. According to those voices, I’m the girl whose gift is chaos, who can either save the realms or end them.
I lived up to my gift: I’m the one who broke the world.
Gavin shakes his head. “No visions. Daniel hasn’t heard any voices either. Everything has gone quiet, which I’m taking to be something of a bad omen.” He winks at me. “So drink up, darling. Might as well drown our woes while it’s still calm.”
The whisky scorches a path down my throat and I swear I’ve lost all feeling in my tongue. The sound I make is somewhere between a cough and a choke. “That is absolutely vile,” I say, passing it back.
“Last bottle of whisky on earth”—Gavin grimaces at another sip—“and it tastes of despair. You can thank the pixie for finding it.”
Derrick looks offended. “So ungrateful. See if I bother bringing you another bottle if I find one. I’ll light it on fire in front of you and watch you weep.”
Gavin smiles. “Complain, complain, complain.”
He offers me another swig and I shake my head. “So.” I look pointedly at Gavin as I lean forward to feed another log into the fire. “I take it from your silence on the matter that you’re not allowed to mention Kiaran.” I tilt my head to Derrick. “This one just spent two days refusing to call him by name.”
“He deserves it,” Derrick grumbles. He drops a sewing thimble in my palm. “Pour some of that piss in here, will you?”
I roll my eyes and fill the thimble with whisky. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you changed the subject.”
“I didn’t change the subject. I’m celebrating your return by sampling this miserable beverage. Welcome back! You still owe me a dance in a pirate costume.”
Gavin looks interested. “Pirate costume?”
I relax as the new log blazes and sends a blissful wave of heat toward me. “Don’t ask. For god’s sake don’t ask.”
“Oh, but now I must know. In fact, I find myself keenly interested.”
Derrick happily opens his mouth and I shush him. “Don’t you dare. Gavin, stop indulging his deranged fantasies. He’ll probably make you a gown.”
Derrick brightens. “Oh, my giddy aunt, I never thought of that.” He immediately gives Gavin a long, assessing look, as if sizing him for a gown. “You would look so beautiful in flounces and lace, Seer. I think blue is just your color. I’d even make you a corset—”
Gavin makes a choking sound at the back of his throat.
“—with little bows. And then I’ll make you fancy undergarments—”
“Aileana, make him stop.”
“You’re the one who encouraged him. You deserve it after not telling me about Kiaran. Now speak up. Tell me everything.”
Gavin hesitates and looks at Derrick. “Aithinne might not have threatened my life,” he finally says, “but she was very clear: She wanted to be the one to talk to you when she gets back.” He rests his elbows on the log and leans back. “Frankly, I was hoping you’d take the whisky and pass out.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t remember Kiaran at all,” Derrick grumbles.
I make a sound of frustration. Fine, then. I have plenty of other things to ask. “Then tell me what happened to Lonnrach and Sorcha.”
Gavin shrugs. “No one has seen Lonnrach since . . .” I notice the way his eyes linger just below my collarbone, as if he’s searching for the scar that killed me. Then he looks away. “You wounded him and he fled after the attack. Sorcha, too.”