Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(25)

Connor said nothing until Fin stopped in front of his house. “I don’t need papers, Fin.”

“You don’t, no, nor do I with you. Nor does Boyle or me with him. But the lawyers and the tax man and all of them, they need them. So we’ll read them over, sign them, and be done with it. It’d be a favor to me, Connor.”

“Bollocks to that. It’s no favor to—”

“Would the pair of you let me out of this bloody lorry if you’re going to fight about it half the night as I’m stuck between you?”

Fin got out. “We’ll pour a couple more pints in him, and he’ll be signing the papers and forgetting he ever did.”

“There aren’t enough pints in all of Mayo for me to forget a bloody thing.”

The edge in Connor’s voice had Boyle shaking his head, leaving them to it. And had Fin laying his hands on Connor’s shoulders.

“Mo dearthair, do you think I do this out of some sense of obligation?”

“I don’t know why you’re doing it.”

“Ah, for feck’s sake, Connor. The school’s more yours than mine, and ever was. It wouldn’t be but for you, as much as I wanted it. I’m a man of business, am I not?”

“I’ve heard tell.”

“And this is business. It’s also the hawks, which are as near and dear to me as you.” He lifted his arm, gloveless. In moments Merlin, his hawk, landed like a feather on his wrist.

“You care for him when I’m away.”

“Of course.”

Fin angled his head so the hawk rubbed against him. “He’s part of me, as Roibeard is part of you. I trust you to see to him, and Meara to see to him. When this is done, with Cabhan, I can’t stay here, not for a while in any case.”

“Fin—”

“I’ll have to go, for my own sanity. I’ll need to go, and I can’t say, not now, if I’ll come back. I need you to do this favor, Connor.”

Annoyed, Connor gave Fin a hard poke in the chest. “When this is over, you’ll stay. And Branna will be with you, as she once was.”

“Ending Cabhan won’t take away the mark.” Fin lifted his arm again, sent Merlin lifting off, spreading his wings in flight. “She can’t be mine, not truly, while I bear it. Until I can rid myself of it I can’t ask her to be mine. And I can’t live, Connor, I swear to you, knowing she’s hardly more than a stone’s throw away every night and never to be mine. Once I thought I could. Now I know I can’t.”

“I’ll sign your papers if it’s what you want. But I’m telling you now, looking eye to eye, when this is done—and it will be done—you’ll stay. Mark it, Finbar. Mark what I say. I’ll wager you a hundred on it, here and now.”

“Done. Now.” He slung an arm around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s go have a pint and see if we can talk Boyle into making us something to eat as we didn’t get that far at the pub.”

“I’m for all of that.”

? ? ?

SHE COULDN’T SLEEP. LONG AFTER THE HOUSE WAS QUIET, Branna wandered through it, checking doors and windows and charms. He was out there, lurking. She felt him like a shadow over a sunbeam. As she walked back upstairs, she trailed a hand over Kathel’s head.

“We should sleep,” she told him. “Both of us. There’s more work to be done tomorrow.”

In the bedroom she built up the fire, for warmth, for the comfort of its light. She could walk through those flames in her mind, she considered, but knew whatever visions came might not bring warmth and comfort.

She’d had enough of the chill for now.

Instead, once Kathel settled, she took out her violin. He watched her as she rosined her bow, thumping his tail as if in time. That alone made her smile as she walked to the windows.

There she could see out, toward the hills, toward the woods, into the sky where the moon floated in and out of clouds, and stars flickered like distant candles.

And he could see in, she thought, see her standing behind the glass, behind the charms. Out of his reach.

And that turned her smile potent.

Look all you want, she thought, for you’ll never have what I am.

She set the violin on her shoulder, closed her eyes a moment while the music rose up in her.

And she played, the notes lifting out of her heart, her spirit, her blood, her passions. Slow, lilting, lovely, power sang through the strings, shimmered its defiance against the glass, against the dark.

Framed in the window, the firelight dancing behind her, she played what both lured and repelled him while her hound watched, while her friends slept, while the moon floated.

In his bed, alone in the dark, Fin heard her song, felt what lifted out of her heart pierce his own.

And ached for her.





6




SHE TOOK THE MORNING FOR DOMESTIC TASKS, TIDYING and polishing her house to what Connor often called her fearful standards. She considered herself a creature of order and sense, and one happiest when her surroundings echoed not only that order, but her own tastes.

She liked knowing things remained where she wanted them, a practical matter to her mind that saved time. To be at her best, she required color and texture and the pretty things that brightened the heart and appealed to the eye.