Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [25]
“Yes, Daddy.”
Brannoc leaned down a little and looked her in the eye. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”
Brid didn’t bother trying to hide it. Lying to her father was next to useless, and he’d keep picking at it until she started talking to him. She looked toward the archery range, even though the forest blocked it from view. All she could see was the occasional patch of stars and moon in the sky whenever the trees gave way.
“Ah,” her father said. “You’re wondering if I made the right decision.”
She looked him in the eye and nodded.
“I’m positive I chose correctly.”
“I didn’t just win by default? We’re pretty evenly matched.”
“You and Sean?”
“Not funny, Daddy.”
Brannoc put an arm around her. She leaned into him, taking in his smell along with the sharp tang of pine. “You did not win by default.” He hushed her anticipated follow-up question. “I know what you’re going to say, and yes, it was a factor. But it was not the only factor, and that’s all you need to know for now.”
“Do you think he’s disappointed?” She kicked absently at a pine cone.
“Secretly relieved, I think.”
“I hope so.”
“How’s school going?”
Brid let him change the subject. She was as done with it for now as he was. “Good. Hectic, but good.”
“You getting enough to eat? Running all the time like we talked about? Watching your stress levels?”
Brid smiled. “You know, for an Alpha, you sound a lot like a mother hen.” He pulled on her ear. She leaned away with a giggle but returned to the circle of his arm. “I’m fine, Daddy. I’m not going to hurt anyone.”
“I’m more worried about someone hurting you.”
They turned the bend in the trail, and she caught sight of the house. As much as Brid loved the city, loved going to school, she missed her home. The smell of pine and grass. The quiet broken only by blue jays or crows. No one but her pack for miles. She smiled at the warm glow of lights and watched as a few children chased one another in the yard. They whooped and hollered, excited voices carrying as they play-fought across the lawn. An adult ran up, herding them inside for dinner.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on smell and sound. Lingering on the threads of Bran and Sean as they mixed with her father’s scent. Home. “Natural daddy stuff,” she said, opening her eyes, “to worry about me at school, but I could take on the football team without too much trouble. I’m surrounded by humans all the time. Who would hurt me?”
Her father didn’t answer, just pulled her closer.
The drug did funny things, jumbling past and present in her mind. Thoughts rushed forward sharp and clear, only to fuzz and dissolve as soon as she grabbed them. She floated in and out of herself, not sure what was memory, what was dream, and what was happening right now.
Douglas placed two fingers against Bridin’s wrist, feeling for the flutter of her pulse. Slow and steady. He nodded at Michael to open the cage, choosing to carry her to the wall himself. Recent experiences had taught him that it was best not to lead young Michael into temptation. Unless, of course, it suited Douglas. He propped her up, eyeing Michael carefully as the were pulled on his gloves and closed the manacles. Once she was secured, held only by her thin little wrists, Douglas let her body sag.
He placed his own hands over the runes carefully etched into the manacles. They were skillfully made. Money well spent. He smiled and pushed his will into the runes, invoking them into being, painting metaphysical silver over the cold iron. Closing his eyes, he went over the lines in his head, making sure each one was in its place, each node of power where it should be. Precisely crafted runes would count for nothing if he invoked them poorly. Hastily drawn symbols begged for flaws in the work. Flaws were unsafe. Worse, they were sloppy, and he was anything but.
Michael slipped off his gloves and pulled up a chair. He spun it around backward, like he was in study hall