Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5) by Bridgette O'Hare (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📗

was that on my sixteenth birthday Grams gave it to me and told me to never take it off. She said it would always help me find the path to where I was meant to be.

“Tis not an e’ryday emblem. Tis the insignia of the originals of our bloodline. So, while ye may run across it on an artifact or ancient tome, ye aren’t goin’ t’ find it on merchandise in the souvenir shop,” he explained with a smile. “Each medallion issued t’ a Keeper or High Council member ‘tis specially forged using the purest silver laced with a secret metal known only by the forger. Tis a secret passed down through their family, so, if it ever comes int’ query, only they can validate the authenticity of a Keeper or Council member using their medallion.”

Part of me wanted to ask more questions, but I knew asking questions might lead to questions being asked of me. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to reveal anything just yet. Even to my own uncle. I needed to do a little research for myself, now that I knew there might be more to the symbolism of my pendant. It was possible I had trust issues. Maybe it was partly because of my job, maybe it stemmed from Grams telling me there would only be one person I could trust completely, and I was positive I didn’t know who that person was. Either way, I felt more comfortable keeping things to myself.

“Have a seat,” Uncle Lachlan motioned to one of the leather club chairs situated in front of his desk.

His office felt like an extension of the comfortable atmosphere of his home. There was a large stone fireplace, more mahogany walls, and rustic everything accentuated by built-in shelving on the inside wall that held even more books and artifacts. The outside wall was floor-to-ceiling windows like the other office I had passed on the way.

I accepted his offer to sit and dropped into one of the chairs. The one with a decorative pillow. I wanted to ask why there was only one pillow, but I only had so much time and . . . priorities.

“I sensed ye had something important t’ talk t’ me about when ye called this morning,” he said and leaned forward to rest his arms on his desk, awarding me his full attention.

I contemplated my reply. “Aye. Well, maybe. I’m honestly not sure just how important it is in the grand scheme of things. But I’d like your insight on a matter, if ya don’t mind.”

“Of course, lass. I’ll help where I can. What’s on yer mind?”

“Cian McCallister.” I decided to just come straight out with it.

A hidden smile formed beneath his stare. His expression almost seemed amused. “And what about Mr. McCallister would ye like t’ know?”

I let out an exasperated sigh and slumped lower into the chair. “T’ be fair, Uncle Lach . . . I’m not even sure. Everything, I suppose. Whatever you can tell me that might help me get a better read on him. He’s quite difficult t’ read and I just want t’ know if I can trust him,” I admitted. Uncle Lachlan knew I could instantly decipher auras and identify a person’s origin. He didn’t know I also possessed Soul Sight. So, I wasn’t surprised when he assumed I was referring to Cian’s aura.

“How much time did ye spend with Mr. McCallister?”

“About an hour, last night at the café. At Nira’s recommendation, I stopped in for a bite and coffee.”

“I see.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his lap.

I waited. Not so patiently, but I waited for him to continue his response.

“Ya know, Aisling, Cian McCallister isn’t yer typical Pyreshore resident,” he disclosed.

“Please explain,” I requested.

“It’s not a simple explanation. But if yer main concern is whether or not ye can trust him, then I have only two things t’ offer . . . In my own experiences with Mr. McCallister, I can say that I have ne’er heard even a whisper of a reason t’ distrust him or his word. Also, in all matters, trust yer heart, m’dear. Ye have everything ye need to help ye find the right path.”

I angled my head and tightened my glare for a moment at Uncle Lach’s mention of the right path, but I brushed off the coincidence as it was more likely that the phrase was one both Grams and Uncle Lach had heard growing up. They were just passing it along to me as the sole heir.

I finally nodded my head slowly, considering Uncle Lachlan’s opinion and advice but not yet sure as to how it would influence whether I offered my trust.

“Do ye mind if I ask why ye need to know if ye can trust Mr. McCallister?” Uncle Lachlan inquired.

I needed to talk to someone, but who do you talk to when you aren’t sure who you can trust.

“Well, I’m having breakfast with him in—” I glanced to the clock. “Fourteen minutes. And I simply wanted to have some idea as to how much trust I should allow someone when I can’t read them.”

“I do find it unusual that you can’t read someone, but I can personally vouch for Cian, if that is, in fact, all ye needed t’ know.”

“I’m sure there will be more, but that does help set my mind at ease. Thank you,” I stated while rising from my comfy spot in the chair.

“I’m not sure how much actual help I have offered, but ye are welcome, lass.”

“I appreciate your time, Uncle Lach. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Aye, lass. Red Harp Diner, say around seven?”

“Sounds good.”

“Well, ye best get going so ye won’t be late fer breakfast. Punctuality is important. Please, tell Cian I said hello.”

I nodded an acknowledgement, eased into the hallway, and walked to my car without even a sliver of solid information on Cian McCallister. What I did learn was that Uncle Lachlan was holding out