We were in the middle of our dessert when I remembered something I’d been meaning to talk to him about. “I saw Desmund again last night.”
“Did you?” He took a sip from his wine glass. “And how did it go?”
“Better than I expected. We both like books and Tchaikovsky, so he thinks I’m not a total lost cause. We even played a game of checkers.”
Tristan’s eyes widened. “You got Desmund to play checkers? I haven’t seen him play anything but chess since I’ve known him.”
“I don’t know how to play chess, so it was checkers or nothing at all.” I dabbed my napkin to my mouth then laid it beside my plate. “Honestly, I think the only reason he played with me is because he’s lonely. Why does he stay up there all alone like that? I mean, I can tell he’s not well, but he’s not that bad, is he?”
Tristan settled back in his chair. “You might be the first person in a long time to feel some kind of empathy for Desmund. He goes out of his way to frighten most people away.”
“Why? He’s obviously intelligent, and he can be nice when he wants to be. Why does he drive everyone away?”
“Desmund is not the same man he was before he became ill. He was charming and outgoing and one of the finest warriors I’ve ever met.”
During my time with Desmund last night, I had seen tiny flashes of the man Tristan described, and it was sad to think of how much he had changed. “What happened to him?”
There was a short pause before he answered. “It was a Hale witch. Desmund and his team were in Algeria hunting a nest of vampires that had wiped out over half a village. The witch took offense to them being in his territory even though they were there to help his people. Desmund confronted him to draw him away from the rest of his team, and he took the brunt of the witch’s attack. He spent many years in confinement before he was stable enough to be released. It’s a testament to his strength that he has come this far, but I fear he will never be the man he once was.”
I couldn’t respond because I was reliving my own battle with a Hale witch, remembering the horror of that vile magic burrowing inside my head like a maggot. My throat tightened at the agony Desmund had gone through, and I felt a surge of admiration for him having taken the brunt of the witch’s power to save his team.
“Are you okay?”
I summoned a smile I didn’t feel. “It just brought up some memories I’d rather forget.” Now I understood the cold nausea that had overcome me when I’d touched Desmund’s hand and the sensation of things crawling over my skin. It felt like the same abhorrent presence that had invaded my mind. What I couldn’t understand was how the witch’s magic could still be alive inside Desmund over a century later. I’d thought Hale witches used their magic to damage their victim, but what if it was more than that? What if they were able to leave some of their magic behind?
“It must have been frightening.”
“It was. Now that I know their magic doesn’t work on me, they don’t scare me as much.”
He nodded approvingly. “You’ve become stronger because of your experience. That is one of the marks of a good warrior.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied wryly. “You do remember seeing me in training, right?”
“I take it your training with Callum is still not going well?”
“No, and I’m pretty sure he’s almost fed up with me.” My shoulders slumped. “I know what he wants me to do, but I honestly don’t know if I can do it. I’ve spent my whole life keeping my Mori under control. The one time I let it out, it almost destroyed me.”
“And now you’re afraid of it.”
“Yes,” I admitted.
He took his time folding his napkin and laying it beside his plate as if he was searching for the right words. “We are taught from an early age how to contain our Mori and to find a balance between ourselves and our demons. It is second nature for us to tap into their power, but even then, we sometimes struggle with control. Your power gives you incredible control over your Mori, and now we are asking you to loosen that control. I can see how that would be very difficult for you, and I’ve been thinking that we may be going about your training the wrong way. Perhaps we should try some other techniques on you.”
“Like what?” I asked hopefully.
“Maybe pair you with a trainer more sensitive to your particular needs. There is one in India who relies heavily on meditation. Janak’s had some success with a few troubled orphans we have sent to him.” By troubled, I knew he meant the orphans were suffering from psychological problems caused by their demons. The older an orphan was before they were found, the more likely it was that their Mori would torment them into insanity.