Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [23]
Douglas smiled and gave her a short bow before marching back up the stairs. “It has to reach the public for your prediction to come true,” he said. “And I don’t foresee that happening.”
“You don’t think I’ll tell when I’m released?” The last word came out sarcastic.
His answered with a twisted-sounding chuckle. “Have a lovely evening.” He flicked out the lights.
Brid heard the door shut and several locks click. His footsteps faded. Once they were gone, she stood up and shook herself, loosening her muscles. She stretched, walked around the cage a few times, then settled back down into a ball on the floor, the most warmth and comfort she could expect. When she’d relaxed herself, she began to cycle back through all the information she’d gotten so far. She’d find a way out. She just hoped she found it soon enough.
6
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
The aconite gave her fevered dreams. Bits of memory floated up, one conversation blurring into another until she was just seeing pieces of what had happened. In the dreams, at least, she was out of the cage and back in the familiar meadows of her home.
She remembered circling her brother Sean, waiting for him to make his move. The smell of crushed grass underfoot reached her nose, and her blood soared. The anticipation of the fight was almost better than the fight itself. Almost. He feinted to the side. Instead of lunging at him immediately, she paid attention to the smaller muscle movements telling her which way Sean was actually going. The slight motions were clear to her, despite the darkness. She let him grab her, rolling with it instead of fighting, which took him by surprise. They both hit the ground with a bone-rattling thud, Brid absorbing most of the impact. She used it and her legs to jettison Sean fifteen feet through the air and into the base of a tree.
“I,” said Sean, remaining prone on the pine-littered soil, “have got to learn how you do that.”
Brid grinned, wiping blood from a new gash on her forehead as she jogged over to help him up. She assessed his injuries quickly, popping a dislocated shoulder back into place with a sharp jerk and thrust of her wrist. Sean yelped.
“Easy.”
“I am easy.” She smacked his nose before he could make any off-color remarks to that. “Daddy would have made you wait.”
The aconite burned again, and the scene jumped.
She didn’t have time to duck, only to grab on and twist to the side and hope she fell with an advantage. They rolled several feet, Brid ending up on top, her hand against Sean’s throat.
“Point,” Bran said. He nudged Sean with the toes of his boot. “You have to be more aware of your surroundings.” He lifted his boot and pushed Brid off Sean. “And you have to be careful when you do that. A bigger guy could toss you off.”
“I wouldn’t use it on a bigger guy.” Brid dusted herself off.
“Or you could be too focused on the position and not notice an accomplice.”
Brid shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Bran shook his head. “You need to think these things out more.”
Sean got up off the ground and put his arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Leave it,” he said.
“But she needs to remember,” Bran said, frowning.
Brid gave Sean a one-armed hug.
“Hard to forget when you remind her every ten seconds.” Bran’s frown loosened. “You’re right.” He leaned forward and kissed Brid on the forehead. “Sorry, sis.”
“Me too,” she said.
Sean hushed her. “Shut it. You’ll be a great tánaiste.”
It always amazed her how one word could pack so much weight. Tánaiste. Next in line, heir, one step away from being taoiseach. “You both sound so sure.”
Bran nodded. “You are what the pack needs.” He flicked her nose. “Besides, I will always be here to bail you out after you screw up.”
Brid cocked her eyebrow. “You gonna back