Silver at Midnight: A Paranormal Romance Urban Fantasy (The Keepers of Knowledge Series Book 5) by Bridgette O'Hare (best large ereader .TXT) 📕

He offered me a half-cocked grin. “No. I supposed you don’t.” He pondered for a moment like he was trying to decide what he should tell me . . . if anything.

“Do you believe in a Higher Power, Aisling?” he asked point blank.

Grams and Mom brought me up with the understanding that there was always a higher power at work. That we each had a purpose and a calling given to us by that authority. They warned me that many gods roamed the earth with aspirations of becoming more powerful than they were, ambitions they could never attain—"little g” gods Grams had called them—but only one had the power to give life as well as take it. That was the authority we were meant to answer to. That was the “big G” God.

“Aye,” I responded.

“Good. Then I can give the short explanation.”

“And if I’m partial to having all the information?” I asked.

“You can ask whatever questions you’d like,” he assured.

“Okay then. Please tell me about The Elect.”

“Well, the short version is, there are various factions of heavenly beings. The Elect are the highest level of angelic protectors.”

“Guardians?” I posed for clarification.

“Yes.”

“And what do you guard? People?”

A smirk emerged on his lips. “Secrets.”

“Of course you do,” I chided. “And that is why I’m here.”

His smirk grew into a smile. “You’re as smart as I expected. So, no need to waste time.” He turned back toward the book on the table and waved his hand over it. A warm, yellowish glow softly encompassed it and the cover sprang open. Pages began to flip one by one, slowly at first, then faster, before instantly coming to a stop.

I approached the table in an effort to see what secrets might be hidden within the pages, but they appeared blank. As I moved closer, the pendant Grams had given me began to shine with the same soft, warm glow, and faint images of a scroll and a dagger materialized on the page. I reached my hand toward the page to trace a finger over the red blade of the dagger. But I never got the chance.

I was jolted awake by an earsplitting shriek echoing through the house.

Someone was trying to infiltrate my protective barrier.

They wouldn’t have heard the interior alarm. I had made that mistake only once. It’s nearly impossible to catch someone trying to break in when the alarm notifies them that they’ve been compromised, encouraging them to immediately flee the scene. I whispered the command to silence the alarm.

Knowing that without the proper sequence and magic, my protection spell couldn’t be broken, I eased out of the bed and over to the glass wall of my bedroom. That side of the cottage would be the most vulnerable since it was out of view of any neighboring houses. Unfortunately, the upper balcony hid the door below it, and I couldn’t see a thing. So, I made my way to the stairs and tiptoed down. When I was close enough to peak around the side of the stairwell, I held my breath and eased to the edge of the wall. And there he was . . . a tall, shadowed figure just outside the door leading onto the back deck.

My immediate reaction was to whisper a command that would stop him in his tracks, but that would require me taking down the protection spell. I couldn’t penetrate my own barrier and I couldn’t remove it and leave every other entry point into the house vulnerable. My best bet was to try to get close enough to identify my would-be intruder without alerting him to my presence.

And so the challenge began.

I sat my butt on the stair tread I had been crouched on and leaned back. If I remained upright, my neon white locks would have been a beacon that screamed look at me as if I were the star on a Christmas tree. And so, I slinked down the stairs, gently bumping my rear over one tread at a time. On the final tread, I crouched again and judged the distance between the last step and the safety of the island that separated the kitchen from the living area. There was a short window between the two areas through which I could be seen, and I was just going to have to rely on luck.

As I cautiously peeked around the edge of the half wall hiding the stairs from view, it looked as though his back was turned. I watched for a moment, hoping to decipher what exactly he was doing facing away from the door. When it looked like he was about to move, I took my chance and darted across—as much as you can dart in a hunched over position. Only, I miscalculated my own speed and nearly overshot my target. I lost my balance as I tried to stop and had to grab the granite countertop to keep from tumbling into the open. It was a close call, but I managed to recover.

Trying to slink from the cabinet to a hidden position at the end of the couch was another story. My foot got caught in the lamp cord and knocked over a trinket on the sofa table, alerting my perp to the fact he wasn’t alone. He immediately made a dash for the steps off the back of the deck. I swirled my hand to release the protection as I sprinted for the door to follow him. He jumped from the rain-slicked deck, completely bypassing the steps, tumbling when he landed and plummeting into a pile of something I couldn’t quite make out. He quickly recovered and took off running.

I knew I’d never catch him, and, even if I could, I didn’t want to leave the cottage unattended just in case he wasn’t working alone. I flipped on the light and surveyed the immediate surroundings, looking for anything out of place. I checked around the door on the deck attempting to determine what he might have been