Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(31)

“Let her finish.” Though Meara was tempted to give Connor’s leg a kick under the table, she gave it a comforting squeeze instead. “Because we do know it. Just as we knew he’d try for Branna before it was done.”

“A poor try, at least this time,” Branna continued. “The usual overtures. He’d make me his, give me more power than I could dream of and more bollocks of the same sort. He was still hurting a bit, hiding it, but the red stone was weaker. But he still has power up his sleeve. He changed to Fin.”

In the silence, Fin lifted his gaze from his wineglass, and the heat of it clashed with Branna’s. “To me?”

“As if his illusion of you would shatter all my defenses. But he had a bit more. He’s canny, and he’s been watching us for a lifetime. He changed again, back to when you were eighteen. Back to the day . . .”

“We were together. The first time. The only time.”

“Not that day, no, but the week after. When I learned of the mark. All you felt and said, what I felt and said, all there as it had been. He had enough to make me feel it, to draw me to the edge of my protection. He fed on that so the stone glowed deeper, as did his arrogance, as he didn’t understand I had more than enough to take out my garden knife and give him a good jab with it. As I did I grabbed the chain of the stone, and I saw fear. I saw his fear. Back he went to fog, so I couldn’t hold it, couldn’t work fast enough to break the chain.

“It’s ice. So cold it burns,” she murmured, studying her palm. “And holding it, for that instant, I felt the dark of him, the hunger, and most I felt the fear.”

Connor snatched her hand.

“I saw to it,” she assured him as he scanned for injuries. “You could see the links of the chain scored across my palm.”

“But you wouldn’t risk yourself.”

“I didn’t. Connor, he couldn’t touch me. And had he been quick enough to lay a hand on me when I grabbed the chain, the advantage would have been mine.”

“Certain of that, are you?” Fin rose, came around the table, held out his hand. “Give it to me. I’ll know if there’s any of him left.”

Without a word, Branna put her hand in his, stayed quiet as she felt the heat run under her skin, into her blood.

“And if he’d gotten the knife from you?” Boyle asked. “If he’d used it against you, sliced at your hand or arm when you held the chain?”

“Gotten the knife from me?” She picked up her table knife. And held a white rose. “He gave me an opportunity. I took it, and gave him none.” She looked at Fin. “He put nothing in me.”

“No.” He released her hand, walked back and sat. “Nothing.”

“He fears us. I learned this. What we’ve done, the harm we caused him, gives him fear. He gained some strength from my emotions, I won’t deny it, but he bled for it, and he ran.”

“He’ll come back.” Fin kept his eyes on hers as he spoke. “And fear will have him strike more violently at the source of the fear.”

“He’ll always come back until we end him. And while he may strike more violently, the more he fears, the less he is.”





7




HE THOUGHT TO GO OFF HAWKING. HE’D SADDLE BARU, Fin decided over his morning coffee with dawn barely broken in the eastern sky. Saddle up his horse, whistle up his hawk, and go off. A full morning for himself.

They had the dream potion, and though there was more work, he needed—God he needed some time and distance from Branna. One bleeding morning could hardly matter.

“We’ll take it, won’t we?” he said to Bugs, who sprawled on the floor joyfully gnawing on a rawhide bone Fin had picked up at the market in a weak moment. “You can go along so I’ll have the full complement. Horse, hound, hawk. I’m in the mood for a long, hard gallop.”

And if Cabhan was drawn to him, well, it wasn’t as if he’d gone out looking. Precisely.

He glanced toward the door at the knock. One of the stablemen, he expected, as they’d come to the back. But he saw Iona through the glass.

“An early start?” he said as he opened the door to her.

“Oh yeah, bright and.” Her smile shone bright as Christmas. “I’m picking Nan up at the airport.”

“Of course, I’d forgotten she was coming. From now till the New Year, is it?”

“For Christmas—Yule—and staying until the second of January. I wish it was longer.”

“You’ll be glad to see her. So will we all. And she’ll be back, won’t she, in the spring for your wedding?”

“That’s an absolutely. I couldn’t convince her to stay straight through, but that’s probably for the best anyway. Considering.”

“Out of harm’s way.”

“Still. And she won’t be talked into staying at Branna’s while she is here. I’m taking her to her friend Margaret Meeney. Do you know her?”

“She taught me my letters and sums, and will still tell me not to slouch if she spots me in the village. A born teacher was Mrs. Meeney. Do you want coffee?”

“Thanks, but I’ve had my quota. Oh, there’s Bugs. Hey, Bugs.”

When she crouched down to give the dog a rub, Fin struggled with mild embarrassment. “He comes wandering in now and again.”