Dinner was done, and they had consumed every morsel. She smiled. There was something satisfying about handling five very dangerous men.
It had taken every ounce of her willpower to hear the whole story. At first, she just sat there. Her ancestor had been the first Shadowguard? This remarkable woman five centuries ago had accepted the magic of the Veil, understood what she had to do, used her power to stop Chaos all on her own. She’d built the now failing wards and closed the font against any threat that would seek to manipulate it.
“She looks shell-shocked,” Twister said, “Should I pull out the smelling salts?”
“This sounds like an epic fantasy, not real life,” she murmured, seeking out Flash as if he were an anchor in this cosmic storm. Those steady gray eyes grounded her. She held onto that feeling. “Let’s move to the living room where it’s more comfortable.”
They made the shift, and as they settled, Fly said, “Let me assure you.” His beautiful Caribbean-blue eyes showed every bit of his experience. “It’s real. I’ve lived it and had to rewire my brain to accept it. When I was fully realized at the end of our reparations trial, I became the kite, and I’m not even sure of the power I can wield in the Veil. I can tell you it was awesome, humbling, and a bit scary. We’re all learning as we go. I’m sure it was the same way for your ancestor.”
“Maybe…” Lechuza couldn’t shake the feeling that there was so much more to this than she could fathom. “You’re saying that in the Veil, I’ll become a white owl.” She snuggled closer to Flash and he put his arm around her shoulders.
“You already have, subconsciously. You saved my life when I parachuted into Ecuador, before the Guardian spoke to me,” Flash said.
“I did?” She turned to him, met those eyes again, and her heart went into her throat. The memory flashed through her, jolting her. She gasped. “I thought that was a…a dream. Oh, my God. That actually happened?” She swallowed hard, the memory of being an owl, flying to him, supporting him so he could pull his ripcord was vivid. He had been threatened, and she refused to kowtow to any pushy asshole who told her that she had to listen. She’d saved Flash…in the dream, but apparently it hadn’t been a dream.
She reeled, rising and pacing, her body warming, sweat building. She trembled. Before she could take another step, Flash stopped her, taking her hands into his.
“We know this is overwhelming,” he said with a squeeze. “We’ve had the chance to learn everything bit by bit. Take your time.”
“Who would I even consult? My grandparents are old, but not that old. Even mygreat-grandparents wouldn’t know anything about a confrontation that happened five hundred years ago.” His expression softened. “I’ve never heard one word about this ancestor, but since the…Guardianseems to know about her, I guess I have to take that at face value.” She clutched Flash’s hands. They were warm and solid. Without thinking, she curled into him, suddenly cold. “There might be information about her in my family’s library, but five centuries is a long time. Do you know her name?”
She was met with blank faces.
She took a breath. “You’re telling me I have to open a font that was closed and that I’m the only one who can do it because of my bloodline. That means we have to find the font. Do you know where it is?”
“The Guardian assumes it’s near the home of the Inca,” Fly said. Lechuza opened her mouth, but Fly beat her to it. “We know. Six possible countries, twenty-five hundred miles.”
“That guy was a wealth of information,” Twister said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
“Do you know why she closed the font? How to open it?”
Again, blank faces.
“So, you’re well-prepared.”
Her dry tone made Flash chuckle.
“I guess we thought you would somehow know,” Easy said gingerly, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Right. I’ll just contact my dead ancestor through a Ouija Board and ask her. My head hurts.”
“I’m getting a good vibe here,” Easy said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “So is that a yes?”
“Yeah, get on the…um…how do we communicate?” Lechuza asked, completely out of her element. She would have to rely on these men to connect with a magical being. She couldn’t even believe what she was saying.
“Well, you see, Flash has these golden threads that he uses to bind us in brotherhood,” North began, his voice earnest and booming in the small space, “and somehow he has a direct line to?—”
North cut off due to her staring at him, her eyes going wide. Every rational, here-and-now bone in her body rebelled.
Then she pushed on Flash’s chest and looked up at him, her brain completely frozen. “Golden threads…” she stuttered, the words tasting like insanity in her mouth. Her whole body melted at the thought that he was holding all this together.
“Yeah, he can use them to travel through the slip corridors, too. It’s pretty cool,” North added, completely oblivious to the fact that he was describing a cosmic loom as if it were a newpiece of field gear. “We traveled from San Diego to Virginia Beach in twenty seconds flat.”
Lechuza's palm had remained against Flash's chest the entire exchange. His heartbeat under her palm was steady and warm, and somewhere inside the absurdity of this conversation, the steady thud of him was the only thing keeping her upright.
“North…” Fly put a hand on the big man’s forearm, his expression a perfect mask of pained resignation. He then shook his head, a silent, desperate plea to just stop talking before they had to sedate her.
Twister leaned over to Easy and whispered loudly, “Ten bucks she pulls a gun on him before the night is out.”
