“Would you say ‘no’ if I
offered to buy you a drink?”
Thom turned slowly on the
bar stool, gazing through slightly blurry eyes at Darius. “Go away,” he spat out.
“Don’t be mad at me because
I told you something you didn’t want to hear.” Darius smiled, taking the seat
next to Thom, flagging down the bartender to order another drink for Thom and
one for himself.
“Why are you here anyway?”
Thom asked. “Don’t you have better things to do, like saving the world?”
Darius chuckled. “Did that
this morning and now I’m home again, which, I gather from the fact that you’re
here on your own, your devoted Keegan isn’t.”
“Well he had to—” Thom shook
his head, turning his back on Darius.
“I heard he was going after
a Scriostóir,” Darius said very quietly. “Unfortunate. That means I’ll have to
give up my campaign to win him over as he’ll be dead soon enough for real.”
“You lie!”
“No, Thom, on this I do not
lie. Keegan has been set up. If he isn’t dead already it’s only because he is
moving slowly and carefully on his assignment.”
“I don’t believe you,” Thom
whispered, spinning around to stare at Darius in horror.
Darius shrugged, lifting his
glass, saying with apparent sincerity, “A toast to the late, great Keegan. May
he finally rest in peace.” He put on hand on Thom’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It
shouldn’t have happened.”
Thom buried his face in his
hands, fighting back tears. He would not give Darius the pleasure of seeing him
cry. Finally he lifted his head to look at the Caomhnóir. “Who?”
“Who betrayed him? Why his ceannasaí
of course. Who else could do that and get away with it.”
With a slow nod, Thom turned
to pick up his glass. For a long moment he started into it before asking. “Why
would he do that?”
“Because of you.” Darius
stood, gripping Thom’s shoulder again for a long moment. Then he turned on his
heel and strode out of the bar.
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