A Beast Among Gods (The Mac Tire Chronicles) Garnet Davenport (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

Would you like for me to call them and let them know what’s going on?”

I scratched the skin under my beard. “Could you?”

“You know I will.”

“Thanks.”

“One day, you’ll figure yourself out and forgive yourself. You’ll let people in, and you’ll be happy again. I just need you to do one thing for me when the time comes.”

“What’s that?”

“Let yourself be happy.”

“What if I can’t?” I asked.

“My friend, over the time you’ve been here, I’ve seen you go from hating yourself to accepting what has happened. It takes a strong man to make these steps.”

“Then why do I feel so weak?”

“Because you realized that you can’t change what happened and what will happen. If what you told me about this prophecy is true, most of your life has been chosen for you.”

“Yeah.”

“This will be good for you. You’re feeling less physical pain now. Next is the emotional pain. I know you think you still don’t deserve it, but I know differently.”

I scoffed.

“And what if I never get it?”

“You’ll get it. Aodhan isn’t the only one who knows things. Trust in this.”

“Alright.”

“Good, now, how about you make some of that bacon and teach me what you do to make that bacon taste so good.”

We both laughed and went off toward the kitchen, where I taught Ray to make Jean’s bacon.

➣ Chapter 24

Exploring the World

I decided to take the leap and travel the world. After a few weeks here and several times inside the sweat lodge, I learned there is a future out there for me that includes something more. Aodhan had said that to me when I was little, and several strangers had said it to me throughout my life.

The night I told Ray I’d be leaving, he wished me all the best and said, “Get lost to get found. You’re on the path you should be on.”

“Thank you, Ray, for everything,” I said.

“You’re very welcome, Striker.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Remember, we’re here for you, and if you ever need anything, don’t you dare hesitate to ask for it. There is a long fight ahead, and we are here for it.”

I shook his hand and got onto my bike. My next stop would be somewhere in South America, gods willing. I would have to stop along the way, but Ray had told me about a man that was a hundred and twenty-five still living. He said he would predict the future and speak with animals. Ray thought he could talk to my mac tire and find out what was wrong.

I sold the bike for some cash and a plane ticket to Sān Paula, Brazil. When I got off the plane, I took a taxi to a small little row of brick and stone homes. A white one at the end of the road matched the address I had gotten from Ray on the back of a business card for his sweat lodge service. I knocked on the door and waited. When nobody answered the door, I sat down on the stoop and waited.

I had to have sat there for at least three hours before a man with a wooden cane in his right hand came walking slowly down the road. He had to have been Alvar Cavalcante. As he got closer, I could tell he was at least a foot and an half shorter than me. He had a rosy complexion and… and what was that? He had pointed ears.

“Excuse me, are you Alvar Cavalcante?” I asked as he passed by me.

“Who’s askin’?” He grumbled with a high-pitched voice.

“My name is Striker. Ray Blackwell sent me.”

He stopped in his tracks, turned around, walked close to me, and pulled me down to his level to be eye to eye. He closed one eye and tilted his head back and forth, looking into my eyes, then opened it and closed the other eye and did the same thing.

“Ah, I see. Come… come.” He turned back around, and then over his shoulder, he motioned for me to follow him.

I followed him as he unlocked his door and opened it for us. He didn’t have to duck to get inside, but I did. When my eyes adjusted to the dark space, I realized that everything had been made for someone his height. The table and chairs were all just a bit smaller than normal.

“Sit, mac tire,” he said.

“You know?”

“Of course, I am Alvar Cavalcante of the Elven. The elves can see all. Didn’t ya’ know?” He giggled while he grabbed a kettle to heat over his stove. “I’ll put some tea on, and we can talk. Conall wants to speak. He’s been silent for so long.”

“Kun-al?” I asked, confused.

“Your wolf. His name is Conall.”

“I didn’t know he had a name.”

“Most don’t. You have to ask an elf. Otherwise, you’ll never know. We are the only ones that can hear what your wolf says,” Alvar explained.

“You spoke to him?”

“Yes, of course.”

I sat at his short table and nervously tapped my fingers on the table.

“That… that tapping. Please stop. I am very sensitive to sound.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“That’s alright. Not many humans understand that a whisper is just the same as a shout.”

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“Conall doesn’t want to talk with you.”

“Why?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

“He misses Jamie.”

My arms fell to my sides. How did he know about Jamie? Everything from that night hit me all at once. The night air from the compound, the feeling when I knew something was wrong, and seeing him lying on the floor.

“Conall wants you to remember Jamie. Wants you to stop blocking the pain from his death.”

“I can’t think about that night. I… I—”

“Conall killed your father. He bonded to Jamie.”

“H…how?” I stumbled through it.

“Nobody ever told you anything about your origins, did they?” he asked, pulling the kettle from the stove.

“No.”

“Ah, boy, your soul was split into three the day you were born. Your human, your mac tire, and your ogre. You share this soul, but you