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Sabrina flashed him a look.
Brendan lowered his arm to cock a quizzical brow in her direction. “Thought I hadn’t caught that, didn’t you? This isn’t the first time St. John has used you as a weapon against the Domnuathi.”
“It’s not?”
“What is there between you and Máelodor’s creature?”
She caught herself picking the nail of her right index finger. Whipped it behind her back. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?”
He grew serious. “Can’t say I’m in a jolly mood.”
She cocked her head, regarding him steadily. “That’s hardly a promise.”
He sighed. Tenderly leveraged himself to a sitting position. His bruises stark against the chalky gray of his face. “Have I ever laughed? Even when you came to me with tales of trolls under your bed, did I let out so much as a snicker?”
“No, you didn’t.” She paused. “But that turned out to be true.”
“Needless to say, in this, Sabrina, I’m the same as I ever was.”
She gazed on him long and hard. In almost every way, he was so different from the thin, gawky, untidy brother of her childhood. The one whose manner held a guarded reserve, his true emotions carefully hidden beneath a veneer of sarcasm. Except with her. Or so she’d always thought. But his confessions had shaken that faith. Had she really known Brendan at all?
He seemed to understand her dilemma. Hurt dulled his already beaten features, and he hunched his shoulders. “Please, Sabrina. Trust me.”
His need ripped through the last of her worries. Aidan had been the brother she idolized. Brendan was the brother she loved.
“I’m part of Daigh’s past.” He scowled his confusion. “I know it sounds insane, but I’m able to fall into his memories. I see things as he remembers them, but they’re memories of me. And him. Together. It’s more than a vision, it’s as if I’m there. As if I traveled through a portal to the past. As if his memories are a way through time itself.”
His eyes grew steadily wider as she spoke. His concentration almost visible in the keenness of his gaze. “You . . . but . . . how . . .” He seemed to ponder her confession, tapping his chin. Mumbling to himself. “Think, Brendan . . . that would mean . . .”
“You don’t think I’m mad, do you? Or that Máelodor’s spells have infected me with some evil magic?”
He focused back on her with a start as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Mad? Who called you mad?”
“Aidan said—”
Brendan snorted. “You know our brother’s opinion of magic. I’m sure it hasn’t changed much since I last saw him. No, Sabrina, you’re not mad. I’ve heard of this phenomenon, but it’s rare. There are few Other who can pass through time. The true Fey guard that power fiercely.”
“I can’t pass through any time. Only his time. His memories. And I don’t do it intentionally. It just happens.”
Pent-up frustration and fear spewed out of her in a torrent of explanation and conjecture and worry and grief until sobs choked off her words. Brendan was as good as his word. He listened to everything, interrupting only to ask a question here. Obtain a clarification there.
Rain dripped puddles across the floor and their breath fogged the chilly air. Brendan’s shaking intensified, fatigue and sickness carving deep lines into his face. But the scholar’s light burned intensely in his eyes.
“He uses memory as a way to fight his bondage? Incredible. Nothing like that was recorded in the texts.” His finger’s tapping sped up. “Could Daigh be pulling you in unintentionally as he fights Máelodor’s control?”
“How?”
“You’ve said just before it occurs, you experience a surge of emotion to the point where your normal empathic gift is flooded. Like a dam releasing a wall of water.”
“But how are the two connected?”
“Suppose he’s opening the door with the force of his emotions and, without even knowing it, you’re falling through.”
“How do I stop it from happening?”
His nervous tapping stopped, his expression at once both sympathetic and fearful. “Once Máelodor arrives, I don’t expect it will be a problem.”
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Stared up at the rain-streaked window, numbness stealing over her with every moment passed in horrible uncertainty.
