Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(64)

“We’ll let them decide.”

Fin got a baiting pouch as the female still looked for the reward, and pulling on a glove, fixed Sassy’s jesses. She preened a bit, pleased to be chosen, and cocked her head, eyeing him with a look he could only deem flirtatious.

“Sure you’re a fetching one, aren’t you now?” He walked out the gates with her, and turning toward the stables, called for Merlin.

His hawk soared overhead, then went into a long, graceful swoop Fin could only deem a bit of showing off. On his arm, Sassy spread her wings.

“Want to join him, do you? Then I’ll trust you to behave and go where I lead you.” He loosened the jesses, lifted his arm, and watched her lift into the sky.

They circled together, added a few playful loops, and he thought, yes, he and Connor had the right of it. They matched well.

He enjoyed the walk, the familiar trees, the turn of the path, the scents in the air. Though he’d hoped he would, he felt nothing of Cabhan, and traveled from school to stables with only the hawks for company.

He thought the stables made a picture, spread as they were with the paddock, the lorries and cars, and Caesar’s majestic head lifted out the open stall window. The horse sent Fin a whinny of greeting so he went directly over to stroke and rub, have a short conversation before going inside.

He found Boyle in the office, glowering at the computer.

“Why do people ask so many stupid questions?” Boyle demanded.

“You only think they’re stupid as you already know the answers.” Fin sat on a corner—about the only clear area—of the desk. “I’ve just come from Connor at the school,” he began, and spoke with Boyle about the plans for the new package.

“Iona’s keen on it, that’s for certain. And Brian, well, he’s young, but from what I’ve seen and heard, he works hard, and I know he rides well enough. I’m willing to give it a go.”

“Then we’ll smooth out the details. Unless you need me here, I’m taking Caesar. We’ll try a hawk ride as I’ve Merlin and a young female along with me. I’ll map out a potential route.”

“Have a care. Iona and I went by the new house to see the progress early this morning. She saw the wolf, the shadow wolf, slinking through the trees.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I was turned away, and talking with one of the carpenters. She said it came closer than it had before, though she’s put protection around the house.”

“I’ll have a look myself.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Fin saddled Caesar, who was eager to be off as he understood he’d get a run out of it instead of the usual plod. After he’d led the horse out, mounted, he walked a distance away, then baited his glove, called to Sassy.

She landed prettily, gobbled the bit of chicken as if she’d been starved for a month, then settled into it. She and Caesar exchanged one long stare, then the horse turned his head away as if the hawk was nothing to do with him.

“That’s a fine attitude,” Fin decided, and to test both horse and hawk, kicked into a gallop.

It startled the hawk, who spread her wings—another picture—and would have risen off the glove if Fin hadn’t soothed her.

“You’re fine. It’s just another way to fly.” She fidgeted some, not entirely convinced, but stayed on the glove. Satisfied, Fin dropped into a canter, turned toward the woods before he signaled her to lift.

She soared to a branch where Merlin already waited.

“Well done, well done indeed. You’ll lead, Merlin, and we’ll follow.”

His hawk looped through the trees; the female followed. Keeping to a dignified walk, Fin led the horse through.

For the next half hour he took her through the paces, bringing her back to the glove, letting her go again.

The chilly, damp air opened for a thin drizzle of rain, but none of them minded it. Here was freedom for all in a kind of game.

He mapped out the route in his head, thought it would make a fine loop for the package, showing off how the hawks could dance through the trees, and return time and time to the glove without breaking the horse’s easy pace.

Close enough here to hear the river murmur, far enough there to feel as though you rode hawking into another time. And he could smell snow coming. By nightfall, he thought, and it would grace the greens and browns, lie still and quiet for a time.

And come spring, the blackthorn would bloom, and the wildflowers Branna gathered for pleasure and for magicks.

Come spring, he thought—he hoped—he could walk through the woods with her, in peace.

And thinking of her, he changed direction. The hawks and horse could settle down outside her cottage awhile while he worked with her.

When he moved onto a clear path, he let Caesar canter again, then laughed as he saw Bugs running, tongue lolling.

“Now with the hound I’ve all three. We’ll just go by, stop in Branna’s. She might have something for all of you. Then we’ll take a look at Boyle’s new house before going on home.”

Apparently fine with that plan, Bugs raced along beside the horse.

Fin slowed again as they approached the big downed tree, and the thick vines that barred most from the ruins of Sorcha’s cabin.

Bugs let out a low growl.

“Oh aye, he’s coming around now. I feel him as well.”