He didn’t even need to think about it – and it wasn’t even as if he’d been keeping count. Somehow, he justknew, as if his heart itself was keeping score, without him consciously knowing it.
He couldn’t think about this right now, though – he was the only one here, the one holding down the fort for the next two weeks, until his agents returned from their Christmas vacations. Losing himself in bitter memories wouldn’t do anything except make him unable to focus on the task at hand.
Mentally shaking himself, Hardwicke let out a low, slow breath. He’d find his composure again in a minute – he always did. And it wasn’t as if anyone had ever guessed at the raging gouge that had torn through his heart all those years ago. He’d been able to keep his secrets, and not only that, keep them well.
And he’d go on keeping them for the rest of his life.
There was no other way, after all. His mate had rejected him, and he’d never wanted anyone else. All that was left for him was his work, and Hardwicke intended to remain the loyal, hardworking, dedicated agent he’d always been.
The softpingof his computer pulled him out of the continued contemplation he had, despite his best efforts, been drawn back into.
Finally succeeding in dragging his mind back to where it should be, Hardwicke leaned forward, opening the email he’d just received and giving it his full attention. He didn’t have time to be wallowing about in old memories now.
Hardwicke – sorry, I know it’s just you there for now, but we’ve had a report of some strange activities in the seaside town of Portsmith – you can see the details of the location in the attachment, which will also have details of the mission. All your office’s work can be redirected while you’re carrying out your investigation – we need someone out there asap, and you’re the closest. Besides which, I think we’re going to need a shifter who can fly or swim for this one, and none of our amphibious shifter types are available. Respond when you get this. – Lausten
Hardwicke’s own boss, Harold Lausten, was efficient as always, Hardwicke thought. He appreciated that – he didn’t like time-wasting himself. It had been a little while since Hardwicke had done fieldwork, though – they must really be desperate if they were coming to him, regardless of how close he was to the mission area. Of course, Hardwicke still ventured out of the office if one of his agents seemed to be in serious trouble, or when it was needed. But conducting an investigation on his own hadn’t been something he’d done in a while.
It will be good for us,his pegasus said, shaking its silvery mane and stretching its massive golden wings.We’ve been stagnating here – we must find new purpose, new life.
This wasn’t so much a new purpose as the rediscovery of an old one, Hardwicke supposed as he waited for his computer to finish unencrypting the details of the mission Lausten had sent him. And perhaps his pegasus was right. Maybe he’d been sitting here going over the past and digging up old miseries because he hadn’t had enough to do recently.
A mission will take care of that,Hardwicke said, smiling despite himself as the computer finally finished its work and the details of the mission popped up on the screen.It’ll be just like old times.
And, hoping he was right, Hardwicke began to read.
Chapter 1
Argh. And there’s another one.
And just for once, Celeste Williams wished she was talking about the gray hairs that had started to pop up, one by one, over the past few years.
Gray hairs weren’t really a problem, though. She’d never really been one to care that much about her appearance, beyond wanting to make sure she was neat and tidy on the rare occasions when she was seen by other people. But even before she’d taken up her life of enforced solitude, she’d never really minded that much about how she looked.
Maybe it was because she’d always known she wasn’t going to be out in the world much longer than her twenty-third birthday. Or maybe she would have been like that, regardless of the fate she was bound to.
Whatever the case, it wasn’t the growing gray streak that was slowly but surely making progress across her temple to her forehead that was bothering her – in fact, Celeste thought, it would be quite wrong to be bothered by such a trivial thing when something much, much,muchworse was going on.
The tremors had started rocking the tiny island she lived on only a couple of months ago. Really, it was kind of an overstatement to even call it anisland– it was more a large rock about a mile off the coast of an island, which was itself a few hundred feet off the coast of the mainland. The only thing on her rock was a lighthouse, and that was where she lived.
Alone.
Just as she had done for the past twenty years.
Well, twenty-two years, seven months, two weeks and one day,Celeste thought ruefully.
She couldn’t really say sheresentedit though – her parents and the rest of her family had been very clear about what was in store for her once she came of age. It was, after all, what everyone in her family who had been given the hereditary gift of magic had had to do. Her parents hadn’t had it, and so they’d never been called up for the duty of living alone in the lighthouse, keeping the magic wards that protected it in place.
It had been Celeste’s great aunt who’d been the last one to live here before her, until Celeste became old enough to be her replacement, and allow her Great Aunt Marian the rest she’d earned after a lifetime of isolation and loneliness.
Not that Great Aunt Marian had ever seemed to resent it – when Celeste had gone to stay with her as a little girl to learn from her what she’d have to do when she grew up, Marian had always seemed quite cheerful, jovial even.
She’d always made sure to tell Celeste that the life she’d have here at the lighthouse wasn’t a burden:It’s an honor,she’d said, nodding sagely.It’s something that’s been passed down in our family for generations. You should see it as a carrying on of that tradition – that you, over everyone else in your family, were chosen for this. And let me tell you, when I think about going out into the world in this day and age, I think I’d rather just stick with my library and books!
Celeste had to admit, Great Aunt Marian had had a point there. She supposed it was just lucky that she loved reading anyway – but spending most of her time reading when she wasn’t tending the magical wards was not something she considered a hardship.
The generations of lighthouse keepers who’d come before her had amassed a seriously impressive library, after all, and Celeste honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend her time than curling up with a book under a threadbare blanket on one of the rounded couches that hugged the curved wall of the lighthouse, and simply losing herself in the story until it was time to sleep.
She didn’t get any kind of TV reception out here, and the internet was spotty at best, so books were really what helped her to escape to other worlds, other lives. Other possibilities.
