Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(66)

Fin palmed the third biscuit, then stepped closer to read over her shoulder.

“Dried wing of bat—best from Romania?”

“I’m told.”

“Tail hairs from a pregnant yak.” Fin arched a brow. “No eye of newt or tongue of dog. Apologies,” he said to both Kathel and Bugs.

“You may joke about the English bard’s witches three, but I’ve formulated this from the best sources I can find.”

“Wolfsbane, Atropa belladonna berries—crushed—tincture of Amazonian angel’s trumpet, conium petals from Armenia, sap from the manchineel tree. I know some of these.”

“All poisons. All of them natural poisons. We have some of this in what we’ve devised for Cabhan, but there are a number of ingredients here that are more exotic than I’ve worked with before. I’ll have to send for some, obviously. It requires water blessed by a priest, which is easy enough. Blood remains the binding agent. It’s yours we’ll need. Your blood, some of your hair, and nail clippings.”

He only grunted.

“I’d started on the amounts, and the orders. My sources conflict somewhat on both, but we’ll find the right mix. And the words need to be right. The potion will be black and dense when we have it right. It will hold no light, reflect no light.”

He reached up, massaged her shoulders. “You’re knotted up. You should be pleased, not tense. This is brilliant progress, Branna.”

“None of it will have a hope of working unless we choose the right time, and there I’ve made no progress at all.”

“I’ve thought on it. Ostara? The equinox. We tried the summer solstice, for light. Ostara is light as well, the balance of it tipping to the light.”

“I come back to it, again and again.” She pushed her hands through her hair to secure loosened pins. “But it won’t hold for me as the other tries did. It should be right; maybe it is and I just can’t see it through the other elements.”

He turned her, still rubbing her shoulders. “We might try devising the spell, and the potion with Ostara as the time, and see if it holds then. Providing we find a pregnant yak.”

She smiled as he’d hoped. “My father tells me he knows a man who can acquire anything, for a price.”

“Then we’ll pay the price, and we’ll begin. I’ve still got an hour or so, and I’ll help with the spell. But tonight, I think you could use a distraction, having your mind off all this.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I think you should come out to dinner with me. I’ve a place in mind you’ll like, very much.”

“Out to dinner? And what sort of place would this be?”

“A very fancy place. Romantic and elegant, and where the food is a god.” He twined some of her loosened hair around his finger. “You could wear the dress you wore New Year’s Eve.”

“I’ve more than one dress, and would consider going skyclad to be served food fit for gods that I don’t make myself.”

“If you insist, but I’d rather see to getting you skyclad myself after dessert.”

“Are we having a date, Finbar?”

“We are. Dinner at eight, though I’ll pick you up at seven so you’ll have some time to enjoy the city before we eat.”

“The city? What city?”

“Paris,” he said, and kissed her.

“You want us flying off to Paris for a meal?”

“A brilliant meal—in the City of Light.”

“Paris,” she repeated, and tried to tell herself it was frivolous and foolish, but just couldn’t. “Paris,” she said again, and kissed him back.





14




WHAT WAS IT LIKE? PARIS,” IONA ADDED. “WE HAVEN’T had a chance to talk about it without the guys around since you went.”

“It was lovely. A bit breathtaking really. The lights, the voices, the food and wine, of course. For a few hours, another world altogether.”

“Romantic?” Iona tied pretty raffia bows around softly colored soaps, and boldly colored ones.

“It was.”

“I wonder why that part of it worries you.”

“I’m not after romance. It’s the sort of thing that weakens resolve and clouds sense.” Branna measured out ground herbs. “It’s not something I can risk now.”

“You love each other.”

“Love isn’t always the answer.” While Iona helped with store stock, Branna focused on more magickal supplies. Another battle would come, other attacks were likely. She wanted a full store of medicinals on hand, for any contingency.

“It is for you, and I’m glad of it.” She added precisely six drops of extract of nasturtium to the small cauldron. “It adds to what you are, strengthens your purpose.”

“You think it weakens yours.”

“I think it can, and now more than ever that can’t be allowed. Both Fin and I know we can live without each other. We have done so, and well enough. We know what we have now may only be for now. Whatever the rest, with or without, waits until Cabhan is finished.”

“You’re happier with him,” Iona pointed out.

“And what woman isn’t happier when she can count on a good shag with some regularity?” After Iona’s snort, she held up a finger for silence, then holding her hands over the cauldron, brought the brew to a fast boil. Murmuring now, drawing light down with one hand, a thin shower of blue rain with the other. For an instant a rainbow formed, then it, too, slid into the pot.