“Someone’s mother liked The Three Musketeers,” he joked.
Michael just rolled his eyes. He wasn’t named by his mother. She’d been long gone when his birth certificate was filled out.
A nun at an orphanage named him.
But that was no one’s business.
“Smartass.”
The caretaker of the castle was saying nothing, mainly because he was thinking about what D’Artangnan had just said.
Did he hate his name?
Should he stop calling him that?
It was when Ian touched his arm.
“You in there?”
Graham had to focus.
“Yeah, I was just thinking about who I can call, if there is anyone I can call.”
Ian tried to help him out.
“Are there any tarot card readers or…?”
He nodded.
“Yes, there are some card readers in the village,” he admitted. “I’ve never gone to them, so I can’t attest if they are the real thing or not.”
Finn clued them in.
He was trying to help.
“My sister, Maisie, went to one of them. She said she was eerily good at what she did. I’ll get her name. Maybe, we can figure out what’s going on with her help.”
Graham was to the point.
“I need to clear that with Callen and Chris first,” he admitted. “We don’t know if they want some psychic wandering around here looking at everything that has been done in the place. Remember, this is supposed to be lowkey and a protected space. Everyone here is tied to the family, with the exception of me—but I work for them.”
He had a point, with the exception that he didn’t realize that once you worked for the Blackhawks…
You.
Were.
One.
“On top of that, if that stirs the shit up…”
Yeah, that was a good point.
The last thing they needed was more chaos.
“I’m with Graham on this one,” Michael stated. “This is their home away from home. I’d be hella pissed if while I wasn’t home, someone had a ghost orgy with a psychic, a Ouija board, and a bunch of dead people.”
Finn laughed.
