The Night Land by William Hope Hodgson (me reader TXT) 📕

doing there, but even with extra light, I saw nothing that provided any clues. After one more quick survey, I stepped back inside and reestablished the protection barrier around the house.

So much for feeling safe in Pyreshore.

Ten

It’s always quiet, confessional-quiet, just before the sun breaches the darkness and fills the heavens with a blend of oranges, reds, and yellows—colors that I’m not even sure exist other than in the early morning sky. There’s magic in the silvery shimmer that dances across the horizon as darkness loses its battle with light. Watching the night evaporate into day is a reminder than nothing stays forever.

I have always felt closest to Grams and Mom in those moments. Like a rift between this world and heaven has cracked open and I can sense their presence. But it only lasts for a moment.

Coffee in hand, I sat on the deck and listened to the waves ebb and flow against the shore, slowly tracing the steam as it swirled into the cool morning air above the warm liquid. With every taste of the dark roast, I silently thanked whoever’d had enough foresight to make sure the coffee and creamer were stocked even if there was nothing else to be found in the cupboards.

I sipped in solace, relatively confident my nighttime visitor was long gone. Honestly, he was the least of my current worries as I was unable to shake the dreams I’d had over the previous few days. They were certainly unlike any dreams I’d experienced before—unusual even for me. Normally, during dreaming, I was a bystander simply watching it all unfold before me. And after waking, I would find myself constantly scanning my surroundings for some sign that the dream was about to become a reality for some unsuspecting soul. There had been times I managed to change the outcome. Other times, though, I had tried with all I had, and it wasn’t enough.

Grams consoled me the first time I failed to save someone, saying some things were just out of our control and meant to be. She believed God had his reasons for allowing certain heartaches. I never understood what reasons they could be.

Then there were thoughts of how much had happened in my life in a matter of seventy-two hours. Being an agent with Natra, I had grown accustomed to things getting chaotic and changing fast, that’s just part of the job. Those things rarely had any impact on me personally. Well, aside from the time I started a personal war with Lazlo when I accidentally used his favorite coffee mug not knowing he was super OCD about it . . . the first time. I may have purposefully used it every time after that. In turn, he created a false identity for me using my actual home address and signed me up for every religious newsletter and magazine delivery in existence. That felt pretty personal.

But for nearly eight years, I had managed to maintain a hard line between the job and my personal life. This felt different. Even though becoming a Keeper wasn’t technically my job until I completed training, it had already shaken things up in my world just by bringing me to Pyreshore, and I hadn’t even checked in at the office yet.

On top of all that, there was Cian. Definitely more shaking up than I had expected when I arrived in Pyreshore. He wanted an ally against The Saiad. And while taking down The Saiad had never been personal for me, the idea of joining forces with Cian McCallister felt incredibly personal for reasons I couldn’t begin to comprehend. And being unable to comprehend left me feeling unsettled. I needed something more to go on where he was concerned, and if I couldn’t get it from Kara, Uncle Lachlan was next on my list of sources. Just as soon as I finished my coffee.

Apparently, being an early riser ran in the family. As did being a workaholic. When I called Uncle Lachlan, he was at his office . . . at half past seven. . . on a Saturday morning. He offered me a quick tour around the office and the Library when I arrived. What he didn’t tell me was that Nira Garrison would be the one giving me the tour.

When I arrived, Nira stood on the front steps of an intricately detailed three-story structure—a sandstone building that was not only sophisticated but awe-inspiring. My thoughts immediately turned to the history and stories it would share if the walls could talk.

“Good morning, Aisling.” Nira greeted me dressed in a smartly tailored navy pant suit. By the looks of her, you never would have guessed it was a weekend. I suddenly felt underdressed in jeans, a thin V-neck sweater, and lace-up ankle boots. I was certain my fitted leather jacket was not considered business casual.

“G’mornin’, Nira,” I replied cheerfully.

“I know you’re here to see your uncle, but he’s asked me to show you around while he finishes up a call with an Indian heiress. He’s trying to secure the acquisition of a triglyph that belongs in the Fae artifact archives,” she explained.

“Well, that does sound a wee bit important,” I chuckled.

“No doubt it is,” she offered. “Please, come with me, I’ll give you the tour.”

I followed her through a green arched doorway framed by elaborately carved stone. Something about it gave me the feeling we were stepping into another world. Once inside, I understood.

Though the sun shone brightly on the sandstone exterior, the inside glowed with a warmth you would expect from candles on a dark evening. Near the middle of the open space, directly in front of a winding, iron staircase, a welcome desk sat as though poised to protect the entrance to the floor above. My attention moved to the comfy chairs and large desks situated on the left side of the room where a wall lined with sconces illuminated the area further.

The repetitive click-clack of Nira’s heels