“Can we meet without him?” I direct this question to Dylan.
“We’ll have to,” he replies, shutting the door and walking to a leather armchair. I’m surprised when he sits down. Dylan rarely sits at these meetings. “We’re running out of time.”
“What’s going on?” Clinton asks from his spot across from me. Damien sits in the chair next to him.
“You all witnessed my fight last night. The shaman plucked a fear out of my head I hadn’t been able to recognize on my own.” He glances at me. “Well, not all of it. I’ve conquered a few demons since then.”
“This is about the Morrigan, isn’t it? She said something to you,” Damien says. He leans forward in his seat. “What was it?”
“Wait,” I say before anyone goes further. “The fights aren’t ’real’, how could she say something to you?”
“It’s real enough,” Sam says from beside me. “It’s a magic that channels energy from an alternate universe. Like how your weapon showed up in the fight against Hildi. It’s real, but not real.”
A rock forms in my stomach. “So you’re saying that was the real Morrigan?”
Dylan swallows and nods. “Some part of her, yes.”
“So she isn’t dead.”
“No.”
I start to stand but Sam tugs me back. I yank my arm away, glaring down at him. “You said she was gone?”
“We said she split from you. There was no evidence she’d been eliminated entirely.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe what they’re saying. “That’s rubbish. I’m evidence. I’m not hearing her voice anymore, or having mood swings or you know, off on a horny bender of sexual energy swapping like before.”
“To be fair,” Clinton says, “I think your sexual appetite is being satisfied on a more consistent basis now that you’ve declared your mates.”
“What about the voices? They’re gone. In fact, I’m creatively dry. Whatever the Morrigan was feeding me for my book has stopped completely.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Dylan says. “The Morrigan was split from you. In the myths there are often three incarnations. You may just be one.”
“Why would you say that?”
I don’t like the set of his jaw when he replies, “Because she told me the Darkness was still in this world. People are going to die—if they haven’t already.”
“I haven’t hurt anyone.”
“That you know of,” Damien points out.
“Are you saying you suck so much as Guardians you’ve let me wander around the city infecting people? Because that sounds like more your problem than mine.”
“We may have been a little lax,” Dylan admits. “But not anymore. Not until we figure this out.”
“What you’re saying is that you don’t trust me.”
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we don’t exactly know what is going on. I did warn you it was possible to have fallout from using dark magic,” he says, holding my angry stare.
“So you don’t trust me and it’s my fault.” I’m being irrational. I know this, but that’s the thing about irrationality. It doesn’t make sense. I move to leave the room and feel Dylan’s large hand wraps around my arm. “What?”
“We don’t blame you. But it’s our job to stay on top of this. We’ve all been a little distracted.”
I jerk away and head to the door. “Don’t worry,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m just going to my room. I can’t kill anyone up there.”
Chapter Twelve
Clinton