Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(67)

Branna took the brew down to the slowest of simmers.

Satisfied, she turned, found Iona studying her.

“Watching you work,” Iona explained. “It’s all so pretty, so graceful, with power just flowing all around.”

“We’ll want this restorative on hand, as well as the balms and salves I’ve been stocking up.” Branna tapped the door to a cupboard she thought of as her war chest.

“Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.”

“A good policy.”

“It’s what you’re doing with Fin?”

“Being with him—and not just for the sex—lets me remember all the reasons I fell in love with him. He has such kindness—and I wanted to forget that of him. His humor, his focus, his loyalty. I want to remember all that now, for the comfort of it, and for the unity. Remembering who he is means I can give him all my trust in this. All of it. And I’m not sure, no matter how I tried, I did before. Because I can and do, there’ll always be some best to hold on to.”

“Is he coming today?”

“I told him no need. We’re still shy some of the ingredients so we can’t begin to make the poison as yet. He has his work as I have mine. And I appreciate you giving me so much of your off day.”

“I like playing with your store stock—and the more I can do, the more time you have for demon poisons. I want to take Alastar out later, and was hoping you’d want to go for a ride with us.”

“A ride?”

“I’ve seen you ride, and Meara mentioned you don’t take much time for it, the way you once did.”

She hadn’t, Branna thought, as it reminded her of Fin. But now . . . He’d brought Aine for her, and she hadn’t given herself the pleasure of testing the bond with the horse.

“If what needs doing is done, I would. And if the pair of us rode out for pleasure, it’s a nose-thumbing in Cabhan’s direction.”

“We’re seeing him every day now.” Idly, Iona stacked the pretty soaps into colorful towers. “Skulking around.”

“I know it. I see him as well. He tests my borders often now.”

“I dreamed of Teagan last night. We talked.”

“And you’re just telling me of it?”

“It was like a little visit. Sitting in front of the fire, drinking tea. She’s showing, and she let me feel the baby kick. She told me about her husband, and I talked about Boyle. And it struck me—what you’d said about all of us being connected—her husband and Boyle are so alike. In temperament, his love of horses and the land.”

“Boyle’s connected to the three through the man Teagan married? Yes, that could be.”

“We didn’t talk of Cabhan, and isn’t that odd? We just drank tea and talked of her husband, the baby to come, Boyle, the wedding plans. At the end of the dream, she gave me a little charm, and said it was for Alastar.”

“Do you have it?”

“I put it on his bridle this morning before I came. I had a charm in my pocket, one I’d made for Alastar, so I gave it to her.”

“We’ve exchanged tokens, each of us with each of them. I think it’s more than courtesy. Something of ours in their time, and something of theirs in ours. We’ll want all three gifts with us when we face Cabhan again.”

“We’re still not sure when.”

“It’s a frustration to me,” Branna admitted. “But it can’t be done until we have all we need to destroy the demon. I have to believe we’ll know when we must.”

“Demons and visits in dreams with cousins from centuries ago. Battles and whirlwinds and weddings. My life is so different from what it was a year ago. I’ve been here nearly a year now, and it feels as if the life I led before was barely there. Is it silly—and unrealistic—for me to plan and cook a kind of anniversary dinner for Boyle? Surprise him with it—and I mean something he can actually eat without pretending it doesn’t suck.”

Both amused and touched, Branna glanced over while Iona rearranged her towers. “Of course it’s not.”

“I can still see him just the way it was when he first rode up on Alastar. The way both of them just shot straight into me. Now they’re mine. I want to mark the day.”

“So you will.”

Something brushed the edge of her thoughts. Branna paused, waited for it to come, and the door jangled open.

One of her neighbors, a cheerful, grandmotherly type, stepped inside.

“Good day to you, Mrs. Baker.”

“And to you, Branna, and here’s Iona as well. I hope I’m not a bother to you.”

“Not at all. Would you have some tea?” Branna offered.

“I wouldn’t mind it, if it’s no trouble. It’s tea I’ve come for—if you’ve the blend you make for head colds. It would save me a trip to the village if you’ve some on hand I can buy from you.”

“I do, of course. Here, take off your coat, and sit by the fire. Have you a cold coming on?”

“Not me, but my husband has one full blown, and is driving me mad with his complaints. I swear a cup of tea by your fire here with women who know better than to think their life’s finished because they’ve got a cold in the head would save my sanity. Oh, and aren’t these soaps as pretty as candy in a jar.”