That jab wasn’t lost on me. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” She swirled her glass. “Because if I were looking for a power source, you’d be the first thing to pop up on a map.” She squinted slightly. “What are you, love? Hybrid?”
“Guardian Witch, yes,” I said.
I was still a bit offended, but she may not have been entirely wrong. Most of my abilities were self-taught. Yes, I’d learned a lot in the last six or seven years, but without a mentor from childhood—which I assumed she’d had—there wasn’t a way for me to reach my full potential.
But I wasn’t incompetent either.
“What’re your family names?”
“Lewis on my dad’s side and Axel on my mom’s.”
She arched a brow. “Irish and Scandinavian?”
“To my knowledge. Is that relevant?”
Guinevere raised a shoulder. “Not really. I’m not familiar with either, so I doubt you come from any prominent bloodline.” She glanced me over again. “Quite powerful to come from two nobodies, I must admit.”
Apparently, I shouldn’t have been shocked by her words a few moments prior. Fancy, she may have been, but not considerate enough to avoid a sensitive topic.
“That’s the other thing we wanted to ask you about,” Declan said. “Do you know anything about the par animarum?”
She stopped swirling her wine in her glass, breaths slowing to a near halt. Her eyes slid between us as she carefully placed her glass on the table. “I think we all know some things about the par animarum. Why do you ask?”
“Are they real?” Declan asked.
Guinevere laughed. “Depends on who you ask.”
That expression meant something. Just the mention of them stopped her air. “In your opinion, are they real?”
“In my opinion, they’re far more than a fairytale.” She paused, tracing her tongue along her thick lips. “Although, they’re a bit more Jacob and Willhelm than Disney.”
Obviously, I knew what that referenced. The famous Brother Grimms’ Fairy Tales. “Are you implying it’s darker than we’ve been taught?”
“The true story of the par animarum is bloody tragic. But, while I may know more about it than most, my knowledge is still limited. I do know, though, that they were cursed.” She glanced between Declan and me as she lifted her glass to her lips. “They’re all supposed to die young in every life, never getting the happy ending they deserve.” A knot stiffened in my belly. “Tell me again, why do you ask about the par animarum?”
“Is it possible that—” Declan began.
I kicked him under the table.
She knew something about them, and that expression made me wonder if she was intentionally withholding information. Considering the reference to a curse, that she’d just mentioned the vast number of hexes she cast in the last few months, the very retro, old appearance she carried all while referring to people who died young…
Forgive me for being a bit wary.
“How do you know they’re real?” I asked.
“Darling, you haven’t paid me for an interrogation,” she said. “If you lend some insight as to why you’re curious, I may be able to give some answers. But I cannot answer questions you don’t ask.”
“The legend we heard was that they feel one another’s pain,” I said. “Is that true?”
“It’s very true. As is the hearing through one another’s ears, seeing through one another’s eyes, and all the other strange aspects of being bound as one. That is one part of the myth I will say is absolute fact.”
“What else is a fact?”
“The end.” Her eyes grew dismal as she held the stem of her glass between her thumb and forefinger, spinning the wine into a small tornado that almost resembled blood. It was half full, but she lifted it to her lips, tilted her head back, and drank until only a small pool laid on the bottom. She set it to the white tablecloth. “When the par animarum unite, there will be a war unlike anything this world has ever seen.”
Suddenly, the air felt thick.