Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(87)

“It’s not the same as that.”

“I’m with Branna on this,” Boyle put in. “He’d twist you more than any of the rest of us. If it comes down to it, and we have only that way, it must be someone else. Any one of us here.”

“Because you don’t trust me.”

“Don’t play the donkey’s arse,” Boyle said coolly. “There’s not a one at this table who doesn’t trust you with their lives, and the lives of those they love.”

“You’re valued.” Scowling, Meara leaned toward Fin. “And that’s the why of it. And it’s too late not to play the donkey’s arse, as you just did.”

“Apologies, but it’s fact what you see as risk is also advantage, as I could get into his dreams, and out again, quicker than any of us.”

“It’s off the table.” Connor deliberately continued to eat. “And shoving it on again only spoils a fine meal. In any case, I’ve a thought on all this, if anyone wants to hear it.”

“He has thoughts.” Smiling now, Meara gave him an elbow nudge. “I’ve been a witness to the occasion.”

“And my thought is, we might try Kathel. We might have Kathel go along with me, or with Meara or Iona during the walks or guideds. It may be Kathel can find what’s going on in the mind of the wolf, and then Branna could find it from Kathel.”

“That’s not as foolish as it sounds,” Branna considered.

“Thanks for that.” Connor helped himself to another chop.

“I can give him leave to go, then we can see. I’ve been wondering about the vision I had, the words I spoke that weren’t my own when we finished the brew. Three and three and three.”

“Well, the three here, the three in their own time,” Connor said, “and Fin with Boyle and Meara. It seems clear.”

“It felt more. It’s hard to say, but it felt more. And even if it’s so simple, we’ve got to bring Sorcha’s three together with us, at the time, in that place. It’s our time, that was clear. Not theirs, but ours, so we have to keep Cabhan closed in to that.”

“Bell, book, candle.” Iona pushed peas around her plate. “Basic tools. And the need for our guides to be there.”

“Blood and death follow.” Meara picked up the wine, topped off her glass, then Iona’s. “We’ve known that all along. Witch, demon, or mortal blood and death doesn’t change it.”

“You’re valued.” Branna looked from Meara to Boyle. “Sister and brother, for the choice you’ve made for love and loyalty, for right, and for light. We’ve always known your worth, but it’s clear now so the fates do as well.”

A thought wound through her head. Branna drew it back as Connor leaned over to kiss Meara and make her laugh. She kept it there, twirling it like a ribbon as her circle finished the meal.

? ? ?

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS SHE STUDIED AND TWIRLED THAT ribbon over and over. She saw how it could be done, but had to be certain it should be done. And in the end, whatever her own decision, it had to be a choice for all.

She slipped out of bed, on impulse taking her violin with her. Leaving Fin sleeping, she went down to her workshop where she kept her ball of crystal on a stand. After carrying it to the table, she lit the fire, and three candles. Then she sat, quietly playing while she watched Cabhan sleep in a sumptuous bed of gold in a dark chamber of his cave.

His own fire burned low and red, and she wondered what images he saw in the flames. Blood and death, as had been foretold? Or did he see only his own desires?

She could have sent her music to him, disturbed his sleep as thoughts of him too often disturbed hers. But she wanted to leave no trace for him to follow back to what she loved.

So she played for her own comfort and pleasure as she kept vigil.

She sensed him before he spoke, looked over as Fin came to sit beside her.

“You don’t sleep enough, or rest well enough when you do.”

“I’ll be doing both when this is finished. See how well he sleeps. Is that a saying? The guilty lose little sleep? Something of the kind, I think.”

“But he dreams, I know it.”

“Put it away, Finbar. There are five who stand against you there, so the one must bend to the five. I know the wish of it. I thought, well, I could give him a troubled night, by only sending my music into his dreams. But why? What we do, what we send, it can be turned back on us. And we know what we will do, when March winds down.”

“What will we do? There’s something in here.” He tapped her temple. “Something you’re not saying to the rest of us. One not bending to five, Branna?”

“Not that at all. I haven’t worked it all through yet. I promise you I’ll tell you, and all—however I find I stand on it at the end. I only want to be sure where that is first.”

“Then come back to bed. He’ll give you no name tonight, and cause no harm. He sleeps, and so should you.”

“All right.” She laid her violin carefully in its case, took Fin’s hand. “Kathel goes out again tomorrow. He’s been out with Connor, with Meara, Iona, Boyle, and with you as well. You’ve all seen the wolf. I see it through Kathel. But all he—or I find—in the mind is a rage and a . . . caginess,” she added as they moved through the kitchen, toward the stairs. “That’s a different thing than active thought, that caginess, that rage. But it knows its name, as creatures do.”