Mists of Velvet

Cailleach has placed upon the males of Daegan’s line. Bran doesn’t want the extra worry of having to protect you from the goddess.”
    “That’s what I thought. He thinks he needs to babysit me. Well, I can handle myself.”
    “The Dark Times have already consumed Annwyn. There’s danger everywhere, even for those who have lived there always. Safe harbors are no longer safe. If the immortals do not know where to hide from this mage, then how can you be expected to survive while hiding from him and Cailleach? It’s just not safe, Rhys.”
    Rhys felt his temples begin to pound. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt the overwhelming desire to prove himself, not only to Keir and Bran, but to Annwyn; to show the Otherworld that he belonged.
    “No one is questioning your ability to fight, Rhys. Bran knows you can handle yourself. That’s not the issue.”
    Rhys wasn’t normally the macho, dickhead type, but lately, his actions had been leaning in that direction. He really didn’t have anything to prove to anyone, but maybe this feeling he had was the need to prove something to himself.
    “So, what else are you hiding?” Rhys grumbled, preferring to talk about something—or someone—other than himself. “I know you are, so you might as well come clean.”
    Sighing, Keir sat back in his chair and raked his long fingers through his hair. “I have been using the cards to try to investigate Rowan’s past.”
    “What’d the tarot tell you?”
    “Nothing. I mean, it’s so bizarre. I know she’s not fully human. I can feel it. And so can Bran. But what the other part of her is . . . I can’t determine.”
    “And this other part? Do you think you can use it to save her?”
    Keir looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
    “If she’s immortal, can you use whatever immortality she has to save her?”
    “That’s not the way it works. You’re either immortal or you’re not.”
    “I already know that.” Rhys had tried to perform magick, and fuck-all had happened. He was a mortal, with violet-colored Sidhe eyes—the only sign of his immortal blood. Nope, not one magical cell in his body. Just about his only special talent was with a bow and arrow. As a kid, once he’d accepted that magick wasn’t in his blood, he’d picked up a different hobby—archery. He was good— really good —at it; a natural, his instructor had said. He’d always believed that one day, his talent might come in handy. But when compared to magick, playing with arrows was . . . well . . . so nursery school.
    “I figured if I went to the cards, they might help me to learn more about her, but it was just cloudy images, until . . .”
    Keir swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Rhys felt Keir’s agony. The way it ate at him. Rhys had never been in love, and he was suddenly glad for that, because he didn’t want to experience one ounce of what the wraith was going through.
    “This morning, I left the club and went there,” Keir whispered quietly, his voice cracking. Rhys knew exactly where Keir meant—Rowan’s old store, which housed her inventory of new age stuff. Keir was a devout practitioner of the tarot.
    Keir glanced at him, and Rhys knew the wraith could hear his thoughts. “I needed to be close to her, and I needed to know her. I went to see if I could discover her past.” Keir shot him a hooded look. “Instead, I saw her death.”
    Rhys shoved the bowl away and pressed forward, trying to catch Keir’s gaze. But he was a million miles away, lost in the memory. “I saw it in the cards—it is heat and flame and ash. And when the embers die away, and the wind whispers over her grave, the ashes fly up and around, and there is nothing left but a bit of silver that is melted and distorted.”
    “Jesus, Keir,” Rhys murmured as he reached out and clutched the wraith’s shoulder. “You should have told me sooner.”
    “Why?” Keir looked up at him with desperate eyes. “Can you change it?”
    “You know I would if I could.”
    His friend nodded and pushed his coffee cup away. “It’s all just bullshit, you know.” Keir stood and moved away from the kitchen table, prowling like a caged lion. “I shouldn’t even care what happens to her. I’ve known her for what? A month? Hell, I haven’t even slept with her. And yet, the second she looked into my eyes I felt something . . . like destiny, or my fate unfolding. I can’t explain it. I just feel it so deeply, that she is meant for me.”
    “I know