Cadence of Ciar (The Fate Caller Series Book 1) by Zoe Parker (11)

The weekend is over way too soon. I swat at the blaring alarm clock and end up catching a little Zag in the process. He squawks loudly for something so small and falls off the edge of the bed.

“Sorry, Zag,” I mutter, rolling over to bury my face in my pillow. Which is suddenly jerked away, the movement dragging me half-way off the bed. Hanging mostly upside down I look up into Ciar’s amused face.

“Why are you yanking me out of bed?” I allow myself to slide the rest of the way off the bed onto the floor. Maybe if I can blend into the carpet he’ll leave me alone and let me sleep.

“If you don’t get your ass moving, monster girl, we’re going to be late for these ridiculous classes we temporarily have to attend. There’s only one that I’m looking forward to and we have to practice for it today.” As he speaks, his voice fades away and then something soft hits me in the face.

Oh, pants.

Calling him at least twenty names not his own, I climb blearily to my feet and head towards the bathroom. I’m already half-way done with my morning business when I realize the water in the sink is running and Ciar is standing there with a toothbrush in his open mouth staring at me.

“What? I had to pee.” Finishing up my business, I slip by him and wash my hands.

“I’m pretty sure your eyes were closed the entire time.”

He’s probably right, otherwise I’d have noticed him in there with me. Shrugging, I put on the pants he tossed at my head and grab my own toothbrush. My mouth tastes like Fluffy pooped in it.

Rolling my eyes at his laughing face I brush my teeth and go in search of a shirt that is clean. I forgot to do laundry over the weekend, so my clothing choices are limited. I could use the laundry service, but I don’t want strangers touching my clothes. Something about it feels icky.

Washing clothes isn’t hard to do, the machines do most of the work. I don’t have that much to do anyhow.

“Why are we doing this since I already Awakened? Aren’t we supposed to report it to the Headmaster and be “chosen” by some fancy such and such to serve their house or whatever. Not that it’s what I want to do.” It sounds legible in my head but he’s looking at me puzzled, maybe it didn’t come out as clearly as I wanted it to? I’m a slow waker.

“No one but us know right now. I cleared the memory from the Healer and the other witnesses. We need to continue like normal until we can establish our own power base. I will not be a servant, and neither shall you.”

The insistent knocking on the door wipes the last vestiges of sleep from my brain. Who in the world is that?

Ciar glances at me before casually strolling towards the door. He yanks it open and blocks the uninvited guest from seeing me. Which is good, because my pants aren’t buttoned and I’m pretty sure my shirt is on backwards.

“Message for student, Keri Nightshade,” a small voice chirps. A messenger Seraphim for me?

Crossing to the door, I lean around Ciar and say, “I’m Keri Nightshade, what is the message?”

The Seraphim is all of eight inches tall with the face and body of a baby. Golden wings dust the area behind him with flakes of gold. Big blue eyes, haloed by curly blonde hair, look at me with the wisdom of a hundred-year-old man. After the once over he gives me, I realize it’s the wisdom of a perverted hundred-year-old man.

“The Headmaster is requesting your presence at first chime in his office concerning your unreported Awakening.” With a rather saucy wink he pops out of existence.

“Fudge, I thought you spelled them?”

“Obviously I missed one. The entire point of this cesspit is to reach Awakenings, which you did,” Ciar explains patiently.

“Do I have to go with whomever they say?”

“Of course not. You need the protection of a power, which you shall have.”

Do what?

“It’s simply going to take me a little while to ensure it.”

“So why didn’t I get some super dooper fireballs or lightning bolts?” I ask, purely for education purposes.

“No, you got something better.”

“How is calling fate to someone better than fireballs?”

His sudden stillness makes me look at him as he asks, “Keri, you silly girl. Don’t you see how fucking special this is?” I shrug. “You can control someone’s fate. Your precious fireballs don’t compare to something like that.”

“There’s a cost—apparently a brand will show up on my body that only my Triad can fix or whatnot.” The look of, ‘You’re an idiot, Keri’ stays firmly on his face.

“There’s always a cost to great magic. Gods Keri—if death by bear is someone’s fate you can literally call it to them right then and by some magical way a bear will end them. Don’t you understand that?”

Oh, “Like… it’s a literal thing, right then and there?” He nods.

Well, that is cool. I look over at the violin resting quietly on top of the dresser. I locked it in the closet last night and I know no one else touched it. The flipping thing has a mind of its own and a bad sense of humor.

There are stickers on it from a band I liked as a kid. Sneaky thing, using something like that to make me notice it. Doesn’t matter that it works.

“You’re going to need to accept it in your life at some point, Keri. You need the conduit as much as it needs you.”

I can see why I might need it to work whatever mumbo jumbo Faerie gave me, but why would it need me?

“I imagine it has a form of sentience like all objects of power do… and this one isn’t a commonly used one,” Ciar patiently explains. He always patiently explains.

A single note drifts out of it—haunting and magical it expresses one emotion more clearly than any other. Loneliness.

I hate it when Ciar is right.

“Fine, but I’ll need a way to carry—” A flash of blue and in place of the violin sits a small glowing blue bracelet. “That’s handy.”

Grabbing it off the dresser I slide it onto my wrist, it’s warm and I swear it feels like it sighs in relief. Fudge, my reluctance didn’t hurt it, did it? In apology, I rub a finger across its super smooth surface, looking at the detail of it.

The metal rope is blue, exactly like the violin and it feels soft like gold. The only adornment is the circle with the etching of a violin on it. Simple, tasteful and something I’d probably pick out to wear for myself. Magic at work for sure.

“Keri, you’re always a nice person, always too nice for a Fae.” He crosses the space between us and with a soft touch of his fingertip lifts my chin to raise my gaze to his. “Why are you running so hard from this?”

Looking into his piercing eyes I clear my throat and swallow the tears that rise to the surface. It’s a valid question and I’m not sure I have any answers for it. He’s right though I am—was running. “A Triad means more than sex… it’s a bond that transcends everything. My mother told me it wouldn’t happen to me because I don’t deserve that kind of love.”

The rage that flashes in his eyes is so profound that for a moment his shape wavers. My heart rate jumps nervously and I tense. Ciar never loses his temper. As he blinks, the rage fades and in it’s place is a soft look that I can’t quite interpret.

“Keri, your mother was…” I can see him searching his mind for words to describe her and failing. “… dead, and nothing she said to you is worth remembering. You’re a very special, unique woman who still leaves milk out for the Ballybogs.”

My cheeks heat, “They like milk.”

Ballybogs are tiny little Fairy kin that look like little brown balls of mud with legs. They’re incredibly shy but sweet and loyal. The forest is full of them and ultimately, I befriended a bunch. They’re lifespans are incredibly short, but their time moves different than ours.

Myrtle was the first one I found, caught in a Fairy trap. I released her, and she stayed with me the rest of her life, only leaving for a few weeks to return with a husband and a child on the way.

Ballybog babies are smaller than the tip of my pinky finger. She had twelve children who then had their own children and so forth and so on. The children left, and her husband died but Myrtle stayed.

The day she died I felt like I lost a sibling.

“Sad thoughts show that soft heart. Accept what you know is coming and move forward and grow stronger from it. Nothing will not make it go away, monster girl.” With that said he turns away from me and goes to finish dressing.

Yes. I sneak peeks at his shirtless self that I was feeling too sorry for myself to initially notice.

Taking his lead, I finish dressing myself and get ready only to find him waiting by the door with earbuds in his ears, singing. The melody of his voice is eerily beautiful and leaves no question to what he’s listening to.

The song he wrote for our project. He hums it often when he’s doing other things and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Because of those peeks I’ve been able to start piecing it together.

“Let’s go see what this idiot wants. After you,” he motions for me to proceed him out the door.

“You’re going with me to his office?”

“Of course, I am.” There’s the Ciar tone of voice I’m well familiar with.

Smiling I feel Zag’s weight sink onto my shoulders. Sneaky booger has been silent since I knocked him off the bed. In affection and appreciation, I stroke his back between his wings.

Ciar isn’t wrong. I’m a big old softy and it’s gotten me into so much trouble over the years. I can’t stand to see something in pain or killed needlessly. Never could leave an injured animal or Fae behind, that’s why I collected quite a zoo growing up.

I always let them go when they were ready. Nagan even took me on a road trip to another state to return a Kelpie to their family waters. That one I didn’t find so much as free. Some Fae think they’re superior to other types of Fae. Especially the Unseelie type like the Sluagh or me… even Ciar.

We’re all Unseelie. In human lore the Unseelie were the darker Fae, while in our reality the Unseelie are the ones that are not as pretty. Ciar is pretty, he is ungodly pretty, but he’s dark and menacing and animalistic. Which makes him Unseelie in their eyes.

Not that they live long enough to make too many judgements. Ciar isn’t like I am. And right now, he’s not wearing a kind look on his face. Ciar and the Headmaster aren’t going to get along.

Not one bit.

Impulsively, I snatch his phone out of his pocket. I pick through the songs on his playlist and find one that’s upbeat and one that will pull at his Fae nature. Finding it I gently cram one headphone in his ear and the other in my own. As the song starts and the bass kicks in I begin to skip.

Then I start to sing, and it takes me several seconds to realize I no longer sound like a strangled cat. Oh, no I sound like…

‘A Fae?’ he cuts in.

Elbowing him, I sing louder and dance beside him while we make our way up the hallway. For the first half of the song he’s stone-faced and watches me with an occasional eyeroll. Full of mischief I up the ante.

Grabbing his hand, I spin myself, coming to rest against his body and with a laugh spin away. He’s a Puca he can’t help but chase me. This is how we made our way to the Headmaster’s office, two dancing singing fools without a care given to those early risers left staring in our wake.

Skin flushed with pleasure I stop at the secretary’s desk and try to put on my best serious face. I’m not the best at it and the look on hers reaffirms that. Her hair bun looks a little tight and maybe if she smiled more she’d be pretty. If she lost that sour look on her face too.

Her face is round and full, her blue eyes beady behind the glasses that look too small for her head. She even gives Ciar a look of distaste, oh yeah, she’s a sour one.

Her desk is cluttered with pictures of her and cats, looking at them I think it’s many cats.

‘A sour puss,’ Ciar adds in my head.

“We’re here to see the Headmaster,” Ciar says, to her his voice like honey.

Knowing him and his tones that one is especially dangerous.

“The Headmaster requested the presence of Miss Nightshade, not the Nightshade siblings.” Even using a dismissive tone, I catch her subtly check him out, then turn to me with such a scathing look I felt slightly singed from it.

“Shall we see ourselves in then?” Grabbing my hand, he pulls me along behind him, taking the choice from the woman to let us both in or not.

Not that there is a choice.

Without knocking, he opens the door labeled for the Headmaster and then turns and heads straight for the large cherry desk dominating the room. Well, he likes fancy things. The curtains are made of velvet, the cushions on the seats a matching fabric. The plush red carpet alone is thick enough to sink into. There’s even a fishbowl on his behemoth desk that’s holding what looks like a Water Nymph in it.

Do what now?

Staring at it, my head tilts to the side and my purple hair falls forward, blocking my view of the rest of the room. The Nymph mimics my movements.

‘It’s an illusion,’ Ciar informs me, cutting off the burgeoning plans of rescue.

Smiling benignly, I turn my attention to the two men in the room.

What do I call this toad? Headmaster, master? Your grace? “You asked to see me, sir?” I finally get out, deciding on the term that I think covers most of them without sounding insulting.

When the frown deepens on his face and those big bushy red eyebrows of his draw even closer together, I mentally sigh. Sir isn’t the right word. Wide-eyed I stare at him, weighing him in a similar way to the look he’s giving me.

He likes to eat, evidenced by the size of his paunch hanging over his too tight tailored pants. Which I think might in fact be made of silk. Aristocrats wear silk but not usually silk pants, although one never knows. They wore them hundreds of years ago and it quite possibly might be back in style again.

Fads tend to be something I avoid. I’d rather do my own thing and be happy with it than rely on other people to decide if my butt looks big in those pants. Mister Headmaster doesn’t have that same problem, his butt does look big in those pants.

And those chops he has going on, bright red against the sickly paleness of his shiny white bald head. At least the few hairs on top are combed and pomaded down. As my eyes work their way down his head I see that he’s staring at me with a look of disgust and his jowls are droopy with his displeasure.

He looks a bit like a put-out bulldog.

“Young lady, I was informed that you have Awakened and not followed the proper procedure to report it. Given the color of your hair, this seems to be the case indeed. What have you to say for yourself?” As he talks I’m reminded of the many times I was chastised as a child for speaking with a full mouth. Except he sounds like he has a mouth full of marbles or pebbles. The only reason I understand what he’s saying is because he speaks slowly.

The disgust in his eyes increases, as if this human Mage has any right to look at me that way. Or demand answers from me, I’m only here because Mada insisted, otherwise I’d still be in my home.

“She Awakened, yes—but keep in mind human, we are here as a courtesy only. Your Pact laws have no impact on creatures of the Dark Forgetful Forest.” Ciar speaks quietly, but the Headmaster reacts as if he is physically slapped.

Yeah, his reaction I completely understand, Ciar threw out the DFF card. Although I’m not sure what Pact he’s speaking of.

‘They cannot control or hold a member of the Dark Forgetful Forest for breaking their laws.’

‘I’m not a blood relative, Ciar.’

My eyes drop down to the nameplate on the desk, Headmaster Patton—clears his throat nervously. “I was only aware of the sponsorship, I was not aware that one of you were clan there. Which one of you is it?”

I bet my eye-teeth he doesn’t know that Ciar is the Lord of the Hunt.

“It doesn’t matter. Miss Nightshade has indeed Awakened, but she has not received her full Triad, until that event transpires, we will remain in this town unhindered by your Regulators.” Regulators are the military that enforces the customs of Awakening. They’re a nasty lot from what I’ve heard, and I’d rather not have to deal with them.

“Now is there anything else we can help you with today, Headmaster?” As the last syllable falls into the silence of the room I fight the urge to cheer.

That was one heck of a speech.

Headmaster Patton’s face is so red it’s nearing purple. Ciar might want to tone it down or the poor man’s head is going to pop like a full balloon.

“Ahem,” he coughs nervously, “has any of her Triad been discovered? An Awakened typically only does so once one member of the Triad has been claimed.”

Automatically my gaze goes to Ciar who’s eyes happen to be on me. Slowly his lips spread into that smile that’s all teeth and intent. The red of Patton’s face hits purple, him having a different reaction than I do.

“Indeed, I’m her Pinnacle. Any more questions, Headmaster Patton?”

For a split second I felt sorry for him as he looks back and forth between us blinking like a sleepy owl. It’s darn hard not to laugh out loud.

“Pardon?” he blurts out.

“I’m. Her. Pinnacle.” Ciar leans forward, his fingertips spread out on the desk in front of Patton, his face mere inches from the much shorter man’s.

He’s out of patience.

“But you’re her—” Ciar keeps smiling and shakes his head.

“No one ever said we were siblings,” he answers, then turns and walks towards the door. This meeting is apparently over.

With some pep in my step I practically run out ahead of him to keep from losing it and laughing like a hyena.

“I can tolerate many things, but I will not have some pompous Mage giving us any kind of order. Mada be damned,” Ciar mutters under his breath, as his long legs eat up the distance to our room. I’m jogging to keep up. I’m not super short, probably a hair’s breadth from five-foot-nine and I’m still pushing it to keep up with him.

There’s more to the story I’m sure. Pompous or not there’s no way that Patton got to Ciar that quickly over something that simple. I ask him.

“He was trying to spell you,” he grits out between his teeth.

Well, fudge. Why would the Headmaster try to spell me?

“Someone is very interested in you and your Awakening, but since I can’t actually read minds, I could not determine it from that idiot.”

Do what?

“What do you mean you can’t read minds? You’ve been reading mine forever.”

Ciar stops so suddenly I run right into his back and then I immediately find myself in his grasp facing him.

“You are an exception to everything.” Releasing me he turns and continues walking, leaving me staring after him like the idiot I’m starting to think I am.