Prophecy: Tome of Skin

15. Brutus

Joyful laughter wafted through the shop, filling the usually serious space with a more cheerful air. Though Liam had only been awake since the day before, he had already learned all the right things to say to make Myrna giggle uncontrollably-though that wasn't a hard thing to do anyways. His Irish accent didn't hurt either, and though she pretended to be annoyed and disinterested the rest of the time, it gave Percy a rush of butterflies in her stomach as well. The two of them watched over him now, keeping him comfortable as he sat up in bed and sipped at the warm cup of tea that had been supplied to him upon request.

"Well, obviously the bullet didn't work the way that Alistair intended, seeing as you're still alive. I'm sorry, hon, but I'm just not sure how to go about checking you over-Qui'hara's the one who can see wounds, inside and out, and she says you'll be fine. I guess we've just got to keep you comfortable right now and see what happens, but I'll keep doing my research anyways." Myrna offered, giving him an apologetic smile. It was true that the demoness had given him a clean bill of health, though the nature of the unfamiliar territory gave her cause for doubt.

"Don't you worry about me, mavourneen." He said gently, rubbing the hand she had placed near him while using the pet name he'd given her. She would've asked what it meant, but the mystery was part of the thrill. Like most women, he could see the way his charm easily lured her in, but unlike most women he found that she charmed him too. He wasn't sure if it was the red hair that made him feel at ease with her, or another facet of her sweet personality. "O'Malley, that's Irish, right?"

"Uh, well, I don't know. Maybe somewhere down the line, a long time ago." She laughed again, "but my family has had deep southern roots for as far as I can remember, going back passed my daddy, and his daddy, and his great granddaddy."

"We get it, Liam O'Connor is an Irish name, O'Malley probably is too." Percy barked from the corner, floating closer because she couldn't bear to listen to them go on for another moment. That was how it had been.

"Don't be jealous, little one, I haven't forgotten about you. Persephone is beautiful too though, no? Like the Greek goddess." Liam lightly brushed his hand through her arm, smiling.

"It was my grandmother's name," she shrugged, still acting annoyed but pleased to be noticed.

"How fitting, and to hold such a name I imagine she must've been every bit as beautiful as you. As you know, I just made the journey to your country last year, and of that time I've only been in this city for a short while now. Yet you look so familiar to me, are you sure you've never taken a trip across the waters?" With a quick motion he pushed his hair out of his face, settling back in and pursing his lips.

"No, not to where you're from." It was her turn to laugh lightly, knowing that they probably should clear the air sooner rather than later. "You probably recognize me because you know my father."

"Oh? And who is he?"

"He's sort of the man who shot you."

"You are Alistair's daughter?" The information gave him some surprise, and he looked at his hands while humming softly, thinking it over. "I hope he's not the reason for your condition."

"No. Well, yes, I guess he is, indirectly. Just like my entire life, I got caught up in his little games and made to be a pawn." With a tug she pulled up one corner of her mouth, not caring to give it any more thought.

"You are not a pawn. You are a queen. Never forget that." Liam told her, looking her dead on and nodding his head. "Besides, who else could come back from the dead and defy the laws of nature? I am quite curious to know how you managed that."