Read Online Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles by Leigh Morgan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leigh Morgan
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had just missed her high school graduation, where she was salutatorian. He’d also missed every swim meet, every volleyball game, her award banquet for student counsel and her award dinner for best nationwide article by a high school newspaper editor. She was seventeen and pissed.
It was the last time she’d seen a charm he’d designed for her bracelet. It was the last time he talked to her about his search for proof of anything having to do with Celtic goddesses. It was the last time she saw that special spark in his eye or that special charge of energy he gave only to his work. It was the last time he shared his dream with her.
Taryn hadn’t realized until just now that something died inside her, and probably for him as well, when he put that bracelet away. She couldn’t have her father back, it was too late for that. Could she have a piece of him, of his dream, or was that dead too? Taryn fought to take in enough air to clear her head, only half listening to Mary’s response.
“Mr. O’Shay-”
He cut her off. “-Just Shay, ma’am.”
Mary inclined her head regally, her body language telling him and everyone else in the room, pay attention. This next bit’s important. “Perhaps, Shay , we shouldn’t stand on ceremony. I won’t call you Mr. O’Shay if you’ll agree to call me Mary instead of ma’am. It makes me feel like I’ve got blue hair and one foot in the grave.”
Shay winked at her and Mary actually blushed. Can this day get any more surreal?
“People across cultures and throughout time have tortured, maimed and murdered to gain access to objects of great historical and mythological significance.” Mary said, once again capturing the attention of everyone in the library, including Jesse who stiffened beside Taryn at the mention of murder.
Jesse walked Taryn further into the library with one hand at the small of her back. He wasn’t pushing exactly, more like meaningfully guiding. It was a battle Taryn chose not to fight, allowing him to guide her to the couch, where she sat next to Reed. He remained standing, tall and so silent he seemed to become a part of the room more than separate from it, his eyes weighing every word Mary said and every nuance of her body language as she continued.
“I can see your skepticism, Shay. And since you are clearly needed elsewhere, I will try to connect the dots quickly by asking you to consider the quest for the Holy Grail in Christian mythos. What is it? Is it the search for an ideal? Does it exist as a tangible object, and if so, what miracles would it yield for the one who possessed it?”
Shay didn’t look impressed. Taryn had heard this analogy before, so it lost some of its punch for her too, although she’d heard her father wax poetic about it long before Indiana Jones or Dan Brown.
“I can see you are a born cynic, sir,” Mary said to Shay, sighing heavily for effect, something her mother did often in the classroom. “If the grail story doesn’t float your boat, then what about Hitler’s quest for the Spear of Destiny? How much mayhem do you think was unleashed in that megalomaniac’s name to find and secure the spear that pierced Christ’s heart? Items of spiritual significance are worth killing for in every culture, in every age. People will always believe in miracles and magic, legend and myth. I used two items from Christianity because those of us in this room are familiar with them and most of us have heard these stories since birth. We don’t question that these legendary objects may well be spiritually supercharged. Why would you doubt that other spiritual objects are worth killing or dying for to possess?”
No one spoke. Mary waited, letting them absorb the implications of what she was saying.
Jesse went to Mary’s side. He held out his hand and Mary dropped the charm bracelet into it. He looked at it, holding it up to the light that poured through the western windows. He turned to Taryn, still holding the
It was the last time she’d seen a charm he’d designed for her bracelet. It was the last time he talked to her about his search for proof of anything having to do with Celtic goddesses. It was the last time she saw that special spark in his eye or that special charge of energy he gave only to his work. It was the last time he shared his dream with her.
Taryn hadn’t realized until just now that something died inside her, and probably for him as well, when he put that bracelet away. She couldn’t have her father back, it was too late for that. Could she have a piece of him, of his dream, or was that dead too? Taryn fought to take in enough air to clear her head, only half listening to Mary’s response.
“Mr. O’Shay-”
He cut her off. “-Just Shay, ma’am.”
Mary inclined her head regally, her body language telling him and everyone else in the room, pay attention. This next bit’s important. “Perhaps, Shay , we shouldn’t stand on ceremony. I won’t call you Mr. O’Shay if you’ll agree to call me Mary instead of ma’am. It makes me feel like I’ve got blue hair and one foot in the grave.”
Shay winked at her and Mary actually blushed. Can this day get any more surreal?
“People across cultures and throughout time have tortured, maimed and murdered to gain access to objects of great historical and mythological significance.” Mary said, once again capturing the attention of everyone in the library, including Jesse who stiffened beside Taryn at the mention of murder.
Jesse walked Taryn further into the library with one hand at the small of her back. He wasn’t pushing exactly, more like meaningfully guiding. It was a battle Taryn chose not to fight, allowing him to guide her to the couch, where she sat next to Reed. He remained standing, tall and so silent he seemed to become a part of the room more than separate from it, his eyes weighing every word Mary said and every nuance of her body language as she continued.
“I can see your skepticism, Shay. And since you are clearly needed elsewhere, I will try to connect the dots quickly by asking you to consider the quest for the Holy Grail in Christian mythos. What is it? Is it the search for an ideal? Does it exist as a tangible object, and if so, what miracles would it yield for the one who possessed it?”
Shay didn’t look impressed. Taryn had heard this analogy before, so it lost some of its punch for her too, although she’d heard her father wax poetic about it long before Indiana Jones or Dan Brown.
“I can see you are a born cynic, sir,” Mary said to Shay, sighing heavily for effect, something her mother did often in the classroom. “If the grail story doesn’t float your boat, then what about Hitler’s quest for the Spear of Destiny? How much mayhem do you think was unleashed in that megalomaniac’s name to find and secure the spear that pierced Christ’s heart? Items of spiritual significance are worth killing for in every culture, in every age. People will always believe in miracles and magic, legend and myth. I used two items from Christianity because those of us in this room are familiar with them and most of us have heard these stories since birth. We don’t question that these legendary objects may well be spiritually supercharged. Why would you doubt that other spiritual objects are worth killing or dying for to possess?”
No one spoke. Mary waited, letting them absorb the implications of what she was saying.
Jesse went to Mary’s side. He held out his hand and Mary dropped the charm bracelet into it. He looked at it, holding it up to the light that poured through the western windows. He turned to Taryn, still holding the
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