Page 38 of Vampire's Hearth

Lyra interjected. “Everyone knows that Aine O’Cillian is also a vampire.”

I shook my head again. “Vampire women cannot get pregnant, so even if you believe she is a vampire now, she wasn’t always. And somehow Kieran protected her through four supernatural pregnancies.”

Rory furrowed her brow. I cringed, hoping she did not connect the stories. “If she wasn’t a vampire when the children were born, but Kieran was, they would be like—”

“I have no wish to discuss myself, Rory,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “I believe our next step is Ireland.”

“Why Ireland?” snapped Lyra.

“The lineage stolen from your coven showed a Cure in the family of the O’Cillian vampires descended from the same patriarchal line as Kieran O’Cillian. Since Rory hasn’t been able to locate the Cure by dowsing, I think the next step is to go to where this all started.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “And why should we trust you?”

I sat forward, my gaze boring into hers. “The vampire you seek, the one stronger than the hunters, is the same one that tore my family apart, so I’d like to exact some of my own revenge. If that means I have to help a coven of witches to do so, then I guess I’ll just have to do that.” I turned to Rory. “What do you think? Ireland?”

Rory’s lips parted to answer but she was cut off by her cousin. “No way. She isn’t allowed out of my sight,” barked Lyra, bolting upright in her chair. “Her High Priestess Regent commands it.”

I glanced at Rory as she gave me a slight nod. “Then you will join us. It is decided. I will make the necessary arrangements.”

“I’ll call Aunt Amara about transferring money for our flights,” said Rory.

I tried to catch her gaze but failed. Why was she avoiding my eyes? “Ridiculous,” I said, my words measured as I stood. “Youare my guests, and I do not need your money. Would you excuse me?”

Rory glanced between Lyra and me. “I think I’ll go up to my room,” she said.

I focused on Lyra, a warning in my tone. “It’s best to stay in this room or the one upstairs until we leave.”

“And how do you intend to enforce that?” Lyra asked, her words carrying a challenge.

“I can hear every sound around this house, down to the blue jay singing in the tree by the road and the fish jumping in the river,” I mused.

“Fine,” Lyra replied, her tone dismissive. “I’ll either be here or in my room—well away from the two of you.”

Cormac

Rory and I climbed the staircase, our footsteps echoing softly in the quiet of the old house. The polished wood banister was cool under my hand as we ascended, the grand staircase curving gracefully upward, the aged wood and lavender scent permeating the heavy air around us. When we reached the top, I turned to her, my voice low. “Do you wish to be alone, or would you like to join me as I make arrangements?”

Her lips curved, and I caught the briefest flicker of mischief in her eyes, sending a jolt of warmth through my chest, followed by a hesitance. The invitation to my room, without knowing of the separate sitting area, probably sounded a bit forward. “I’m going to read for a little while,” she said.

I wondered how much of her response was the truth as I nodded, a slight pang of disappointment hitting my stomach. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t expected it. “I need to call the O’Cillians anyway.”

She tilted her head, eyeing me with suspicion through the corner of her eye. “You really know them?”

A slight cold hit the base of my spine. So we were going to get to the heart of what she was really upset about. I looked beyond her shoulder, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’ve known them for a long time.”

“Because you’re both from Ireland?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in an unspoken challenge.

“Yes,” I confirmed, a ghost of a smile on my lips. “Because we’re both from Ireland.” Hopefully, she would forgive me when the truth was revealed, but until I could be assured of her safety, she could not become entrenched with my family.

We walked down the dimly lit hallway, shadows dancing on the walls from the lights. The light through the window at the end of the hall faded as night set upon us.

We reached the doors to our respective rooms in silence. I feared she was piecing together the connections, but she didn’t press for more. She reached for the doorknob to her room. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’m done with the arrangements,” I murmured.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft but tinged with a smile I couldn’t see. I watched as the door closed behind her before going through my door.

Inside my room, I paused, taking in the familiar surroundings, chasing away the thoughts of Rory: her smile, her eyes. The room was just large enough for a few people to converse comfortably, with only a settee and chair sitting before the fireplace—nothing like the receiving room in Waterford. I crossed through the door next to the fireplace and intomy bedroom. The light gray walls contrasted with the dark wainscotting that wrapped around their lower half. The heavy wood furniture, contemporary to the time the house was built, showed the passage of time, even though its owners did not. On the nightstand, a book I’d read countless times sat next to my phone.

I picked up the device, hesitating for just a moment. How long had it been since I last called him? I wasn’t even sure he’d want to hear from me, but better me than one of my other brothers. Did he even have the same phone number? With a deep breath, I flipped through my contacts until I found the entry for my youngest brother. I pressed the button to dial.

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