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“I do not think so, Quinn.” He motions with a hand. “The darkness gathers. Do you not sense it? Sucking the magic from this world faster and faster. Soon there will be nothing left, and we will be gone.”
“Why is this my problem?”
“Because, Quinn, it always has been. It always will be.”
“I didn’t ask for this.”
He smiles, but it’s more a grimace than a genuine smile, and shakes his head. My shoulders knot tight and it feels like every breath is a struggle to get.
“No, you did not.”
We stand in a silence that is entirely too easy. I want to be angry. To rage against him, against fate, against all of it, but I’ve got nothing. The stress and pressure is so intimate, so familiar, I don’t know if I would recognize myself without it.
I inhale deeply and the smell of him fills my head with memories of the MacGregors. My hands ache from the memory of trying to work the butter churn. The earthy smell of cows. That heady mix of dung and dirty fur competing with the odors of grass and heather, accented by burning peat. And Duncan. His easy smile. His stubbly face looms large, and it hurts. It hurts like hell.
“It’s not fair,” I whisper.
I want to go back. I do, but how can I? I’m needed here.
“No,” Dugald agrees. “It’s not fair. Life rarely is and you—”
I wait for him to finish the thought, but he leaves it hanging until I look over at him. He’s staring at the darkening horizon, his gaze focused on something I don’t see.
“I what?”
He tears his eyes away from that faraway sight and looks at me with a sad smile.
“You are fate touched. You, of all of us, have the only choice and no choice. It is not fair, but you’ll do it. Again.”
“Again?”
He nods his head. “You need to train, meet the Druid.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“Will you meet the Druid?”
There is no doubt in my mind that he’s not going to answer my question. It’s pointless to try and make him. I close my eyes and part of me wants to keep them closed. To take a nice long nap. That stone bench even looks cozy enough to get some rest on. I’m so damn tired, but I know I won’t sleep even if I try. I know what waits for me behind that veil and I’d rather avoid it as long as I can.
“What good will it do?”
“He could help with those nightmares.”
I snap my eyes open and stare, wondering, not for the first time, if he’s reading my mind.
“You’re serious? How do you know about them?”
“A guess,” he says. “An educated one, but still.” I narrow my eyes in suspicion and he holds up his hand. “You are exhausted. The bags under your eyes, the way you carry yourself, you barely keep yourself from yawning between every sentence. It is merely the power of observation and deduction.”
“Fine,” I say with a growl. “I’ll do it, part-time.”
“That won’t work,” he says.
“Look, it’s all I can give,” I shout. “I’ve got responsibility here besides you’re bullshit.”
“You will fail.”
“Then I’ll fail, but it will be on my terms. Take it or leave it.”
