Chapter 261: Revival 1
CIAN
The main house ca into view as we rounded the last bend. I imagined the delicate and her handler would be waiting impatiently in the lounge. My mind was already running through the questions I needed answered.
Who had put that hex on Fia? Who wanted her dead?
We climbed the front steps together. Ronan reached the door first and pulled it open, holding it for . The gesture was automatic. Sothing he’d done a hundred tis before.
I walked through without acknowledging it.
The lounge was on the first floor. We made our way down the familiar hallway, our footsteps muffled by the thick carpet runner. The morning light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the walls.
Ronan pushed open the lounge door.
Two figures sat in the center of the room. The delicate was easy to identify. She wore a veil that covered her entire face, the fabric so sheer I could make out the vague outline of features beneath it but nothing distinct. Her hands were covered in white gloves that went past her wrists. She sat perfectly still, her posture rigid and formal.
The handler stood beside her chair. A man in his late thirties who sohow now had a full hair of gray and sharp eyes that tracked our movents the mont we entered. He wore a simple suit, nothing flashy, but the way he carried himself spoke of soone used to being in control.
"Alpha Cian," the handler said. He dipped his head in a respectful nod. "Thank you for allowing us into your ho."
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," I said. The words ca out smooth, practiced. "I understand your services don’t co cheap."
"This delicate’s abilities are rare," the handler replied. "And invaluable, better than most of her peers when properly utilized."
I studied the veiled figure. She hadn’t moved since we entered. Neither had she spoken. The stillness was unnerving.
"So I’ve heard." I moved further into the room, keeping my distance from them both. "You can read mories through touch. Objects. People. Is that correct?"
"Yes, Alpha," the handler said when the delicate remained silent. "Physical contact allows her to see what has been. The stronger the emotion attached to the mory, the clearer the vision."
"How do I know she’s the real deal?"
The question ca out colder than I’d intended.
"How do I know she’s truly better than her peers, like you claim? Delicates don’t always see clearly. Sotis they only catch fragnts. Sotis they see nothing at all."
I held the handler’s gaze.
"The reputation they carry didn’t co from nowhere. There’s a reason people call them glorified liars and I know it’s usually because they cannot afford to not see nothing, especially after a large sum is paid. But..."
My jaw tightened.
"... tell , how I can be certain she isn’t going to feed
what she thinks I want to hear. Research about
and what happened must have been done after all. You know my enemies... The people I want it to be badly."
The handler’s expression didn’t change. "The delicate sees what is there. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"That’s convenient," I said. "But I’m not paying that kind of money without proof she can actually do what you claim."
Ronan shifted beside . I could feel his attention sharpening, focusing on where this was going.
"What did you have in mind?" the handler asked.
I turned to Ronan. "Let her touch you."
His entire body went tense. "What?"
"Let her read sothing from you," I said. The words ca out light, almost casual. Like I was suggesting sothing completely reasonable. "Sothing personal. Sothing only you would know. If she can pull a real mory, then we’ll know she’s legitimate."
"No." The word might have co out flat and final to anyone. But not .
His no told
a lot of things. None of them good.
"Why not?" I kept my tone curious rather than accusatory. "It’s just a test."
"I’m the Beta of Skollrend." Ronan’s jaw was tight. "I hold pack secrets. Information that could compromise our security if it fell into the wrong hands. I’m not letting so stranger root around in my head just to satisfy your paranoia." He smiles then. "Cian, I know for a fact she is the real deal."
The response was reasonable. Logical even. But the speed of his refusal, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands had curled into fists at his sides, all of it scread sothing else entirely.
He was afraid.
"Jeez, you sound terrified," I said. The observation hung in the air between us. "It’s just a mory. Unless there’s sothing you’re hiding?" I chuckled too. So he wouldn’t see it as anything other than a joke.
"Well that is the point. I am hiding things." Ronan’s voice stayed level but his eyes were hard. "Not from you of course. But I’m being practical. These people are paid professionals. Which ans they can be bought. They can be swayed with money. Giving them access to anything is dangerous. It’s bad security."
"Fair point." I held up my hand, fingers spread. "Then I’ll do it."
"No." Ronan stepped forward, positioning himself between
and the delicate. "The sa logic applies. You’re the Alpha. You have even more sensitive information than I do. We can’t risk it."
I let my hand drop slowly. "So how exactly are we supposed to verify she can actually do this?"
Ronan turned back to the delicate and her handler. His shoulders were still tense, his posture defensive. "Can you.... ehm... make her feel the room?"
The handler raised an eyebrow. "Excuse ?"
"This room." Ronan gestured around us. "Painful mories must linger in places. Joyful ones too. If she’s as powerful as you claim, she should be able to pick up on sothing that’s happened here. Objects and walls hold echoes of the past, don’t they?"
The handler looked at his charge. The delicate still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t spoken. The silence stretched out for several long seconds.
"She can try," the handler finally said.
The delicate rose from her chair. The movent was smooth, as it was graceful. She reached up and removed her veil first. Her face was young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark eyes that seed too large for her face. There was sothing haunting about her features. Sothing not quite right that I couldn’t pinpoint.
But it was sothing I had consistently heard about delicates.
Her hands went to the gloves next. She peeled them off slowly, revealing thin fingers and skin so white it looked like she’d never seen the sun. She folded both the veil and gloves carefully, placing them on the chair she’d vacated.
"Yes," she said. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "I can feel this place."
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