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As they continued on, MacRieve grew quiet, seeming to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Mari couldn't read him and had begun to fear he regretted his earlier declaration.

To break the silence, she said, "You must be missing your clan. I've heard you're a tight-knit group."

He shrugged. "I'm no' much part of that—or I have no' been for some time." At her quizzical look, he said, "They question why I have no' found a way to die after my loss. I want to take you among them and say 'This is why I kept going, you sods. And look at my reward.'"

Mari—alert—over your head!

"Have you been around my kind much before?" he asked.

"I've seen a couple of Lykae out on Bourbon Street—twins—but I've never met them."

"Ah, the infamous Uilliam and Munro. I wonder that they weren't all over you. Were you still with your demon?" He grated the word.

"No, we'd stopped seeing each other by then."

"Why did you break things off with him? Did he hurt you?"

"He left me."

"Doona lie—"

"I'm not! He broke up with me."

When MacRieve nodded slowly, she said, "What? You can easily see that?"

"No, I was just thinking about a saying my clan has: 'Enjoy a bounty if one falls in your lap. Savor it if it was lost by a careless man.'"

Over my head. Maybe she was too young to resist. Maybe he was working her over like dough. Because right now, his prediction that he'd take her tonight was spot-on. "You see me as a bounty?"

"Aye." His eyes were so focused and sincere. "One I'm eager to partake of."

She grew flustered, and to break the moment, she said, "So, MacRieve, tell me five things about you that I didn't know."

He seemed strangely uncomfortable with her suggestion and said, "Why do you want this?"

"To break up the time while we're hiking."

"You first, lass."

"Well, I like to spin in office chairs till I'm nearly sick. My best friend thinks "Laissez les bons temps rouler" means "Plastic beads replace attire." I was a cheerleader—I know, the anti-establishment witch cheerleader. But it was the best way for me to get a scholarship." She sighed. "Until the cloak years."

He raised his brows. "A football cheerleader?"

"And some basketball, but mainly football."

"Happens to be my favorite sport."

"Mine, too! So how many is that?"

"Three. Go on, then. This is fascinatin' stuff."

"I like to play poker for cash, and pool-shark naive frat boys. Five things from you now."

"What about your family?" he asked. "Parents? Siblings?"

"Are you stalling?"

"I'm curious about you. Indulge me." He gave her a half grin. "Since I dinna drop you earlier."

Glancing away, she said, "Both my parents abandoned me at different times when I was a kid. Pops was a warlock—he ditched early and died soon after. My mother is a fey druidess—that's where I get the ears. She left me when I was twelve to go off and study druidry, or whatever it's called." Mari gave a self-conscious wince. "Wow. And I was really trying not to sound resentful."

"I'm sorry, Mariketa. I canna understand how any parent could leave a child behind."

For some reason, she didn't want Bowen thinking ill about her parents. "They must have had their reasons. They did care about me when they were with me." That, at least, she knew for certain.

When he didn't look wholly convinced, she said, "I remember when I was four, my parents took me to Disney World. My dad used magick to make sure I won all the prizes in the ring toss, even though he would raise his hands with an innocent expression every time I frowned at him. Both my mom and dad saw every mind-numbing musical and rode every ride, and all the while, they were weighted down with stuffed animals.

"By noon my dad had started carrying me on his shoulders. At the end of the day, the two of them had that bomb-blast look you see on parents in the final hours of an amusement park sentence. Even so, they'd stopped for one last treat for me. My mom was nearly cross-eyed with fatigue and almost tendered druid coins for ice cream. Then, when we were eating our ice cream in a plaza, my dad jerked up from a bench. 'Jill!' he yelled. 'Where's Mari? Ah, gods! I've lost our daughter!' Then my mother pointed out that I was on his shoulders."

The three of them had laughed until they'd cried.

Bowen cocked his head at her. "They sound like they doted."

Doted. What a fitting word. "I guess they did." After Mari's father had left, her mother continued to lavish her with attention—though Jillian would always appear saddened if they'd enjoyed themselves too much. Even at the end of that incredible day the two of them had spent on the beach, she'd seemed preoccupied—

Mari felt a sudden odd bite in the air and gazed up. She spied ravens circling overhead, making chills trip up her spine.

"What?" MacRieve asked, gently clasping her shoulders. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Probably nothing," she said, yet continued to peer around her.

"If you're having a gut feeling about something, I want to know. I should have listened to you about the bridge and will from now on."

But she couldn't voice what she was feeling, because she didn't understand it. "No, I'm fine," she insisted, forcing a smile. "You still owe me five things."

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking as if he'd rather deal with a mysterious threat than reveal five things about himself.

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