Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(59)

“Sure and I’ll help you.” She reached out a hand for his, and punched power into it. The old man flew back in a tumble.

“Do you think to trick me with such a ploy?” She tossed back her hair as the old man lifted his head, to look at her. “That I couldn’t see through the shell to what’s inside?”

“You stopped, outside your protection.” As the old man rose, he became Cabhan, smiling now as the red stone pulsed light.

“Do you think I’m without protection? Come then.” She gestured with an insulting wiggle of her fingers. “Have a go at me.”

The fog spread, nipping like icy needles at her ankles; the sky darkened in a quick, covering dusk. Cabhan dropped to the ground, became the wolf, and the wolf gathered itself, leaped.

With a wave of hands, palms out, Branna threw up a block that sent the wolf crashing against the air, falling back.

Poor choice, she thought, watching it as it stalked her. For in this form she could read Cabhan like the pages of a book.

She probed inside, searched for a name, but sensed only rage and hunger.

So when he charged as wolf from the right, she was prepared for the man rushing in from the left. And she met fire with fire, power with power.

It surprised her the earth itself didn’t crack from the force that flew out of her, the force that flashed out at her. But the air snapped and sizzled with it. She held, held, while the muscles of her body, the muscles of her power ached with the effort. While she held, the brutal cold of the fog rose higher.

Though her focus, her eyes, her magicks locked with his, she felt his fingers—its fingers—crawl up her leg.

Sheer insult had force. She swung what she had out at him so it struck like a fist. Though it bloodied his mouth, he laughed. She knew she’d misjudged, let temper haze sense, when he lunged forward and closed his hands over her breasts.

Only an instant, but even that was far too much. Now she merged temper, intellect, and skill and called the rain—a warm flashing flood that washed away the fog and burned his skin where the drops fell.

She braced for the next attack, saw it coming in his eyes, then she heard, as he did, the thunder of hoofbeats, the high, challenging cry of the hawk, the ferocious howl of the hound.

“Soft and ripe and fertile. And in you I’ll plant my seed and my son.”

“I’ll burn your cock off at the root and feed it smoldering to the ravens should you try. Oh, but stay, Cabhan.” She spread her arms, stopped the rain, held a wand of blinding light and a ball of fire. “My circle comes to greet you.”

“Another time, Sorcha, for I would have you alone.”

Even as Fin slid from his still-racing Baru, his sword flaming, Cabhan swirled into mists.

Fin and Kathel reached her on a run, and Fin gripped her shoulders.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I’m not hurt.” But as she said it she realized her breasts throbbed, a dark throb like a rotted tooth. “Or not enough to matter.”

She laid one hand on Fin’s heart, the other on Kathel’s head. “Be easy,” she said as the others came up on horseback or in lorries. The hawks—Roibeard and Merlin—landed together on the roof of Boyle’s lorry. Before she could speak through the rapid-fire questions, she saw Bugs running for all he was worth down the road to her.

“Brave heart,” she crooned, and crouched to gather him up when he reached her. “It’s too open here,” she told the others. “And I’m right enough.”

“Connor, will you see to Branna’s car? She’ll ride with me. My house is closest.”

“I can drive perfectly well,” Branna began, but he simply picked her up, set her in the saddle, then swung up behind her.

“You take too much for granted,” she said stiffly.

“And you’re too pale.”

She held Bugs safe as Baru lunged forward.

If she was pale, Branna thought, it was only because it had been an intense battle, however short. She’d get her color back, and her balance with it quickly enough.

No point in arguing, she decided, as the lot of them were worried for her—as she’d have been for any of them in the same case.

When they reached the stables, Fin swung down, plucked her off, and called out to an openmouthed Sean, “See to the horses.”

Since she deemed it more mortifying to struggle, Branna allowed him to carry her into his house.

“You’ve made a scene for no reason, and will have tongues wagging throughout the county.”

“Cabhan going at you in the middle of the road in the middle of the day is reason enough. You’ll have some whiskey.”

“I won’t, but I’d have some tea if it’s no trouble to you.”

He started to speak, then just turned on his heel, leaving her on his living room sofa as he strode off to the kitchen.

In the moment alone, she tugged at the neck of her sweater, looked down at herself. She could clearly see the imprint of Cabhan’s fingers on her skin over the top of her bra. She rose, deciding the matter would be best dealt with in private.

And the rest of her circle, along with her dog, crowded in.

“Don’t start. I want the powder room a moment first.” She sent a look at Meara, at Iona, the request clear in her eyes.

So they followed her into the pretty little half bath under the stairs.