Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(15)

“God, tell me! I swear it got colder the deeper I went into the woods, then . . . Oh Jesus, it’s the bear!”

She stopped as the massive dog lifted his head from his place at the little hearth, and gave her the same steady stare he had in the woods. “I mean the dog. I thought he was a bear for a minute when he came bursting through the woods. But he’s a really big dog. He’s your dog.”

“He’s mine, yes, and I’m his. He’s Kathel, and he won’t harm you. Have you a fear of dogs, cousin?”

“No. But he’s huge. What is he?”

“Breeding, you mean. His father is an Irish wolfhound, and his mother a mix of Irish Dane and Scottish deerhound.”

“He looks fierce and dignified at the same time. Can I pet him?”

“That would be up to you and him,” Branna said as she brought tea and sugar biscuits to the table. She said nothing more as Iona crouched, held out the back of her hand for the dog to sniff, then stroked it gently over his head.

“Hello, Kathel. I didn’t have time to introduce myself before. You scared the crap out of me.”

She rose, smiled at Branna. “I’m so happy to meet you, to be here. Everything’s been so crazy, and it’s all running around in my head. I can hardly believe I’m standing here.”

“Sit then, and have your tea.”

“I barely knew about you,” Iona began as she sat, warmed her chilled hands on the cup. “I mean, Nan had told me about the cousins. You and your brother.”

“Connor.”

“Yes, Connor, and the others who live in Galway or Clare. She wanted to bring me over years ago, but it didn’t work out. My parents—well, mostly my mother—didn’t really want it, and she and my father split up, and then, well, you’re just bouncing around between them. Then they both remarried, and that was weird because my mother insisted on an annulment. They say how that doesn’t really make you a bastard, but it sure feels like it.”

Branna barely lifted her eyebrows. “I imagine it does, yes.”

“Then there was school and work, and I was involved with someone for a while. One day I looked at him and thought, Why? I mean, we didn’t have anything for each other but habit and convenience, and people need more, don’t they?”

“I’d say they do.”

“I want more, sometime anyway. Mostly, I never felt like I fit. Where I was, something always felt a little skewed, not quite right. Then I started having the dreams—or I started remembering them, and I went to visit Nan. Everything she told me should’ve sounded crazy. It shouldn’t have made sense, but it did. It made everything make sense.

“I’m babbling. I’m so nervous.” She picked up a cookie, stuffed it in her mouth. “These are good. I’m—”

“Don’t be saying you’re sorry again. It’s coming on pitiful. Tell me about the dreams.”

“He wants to kill me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Or I didn’t. Nan says his name is—was—is Cabhan, and he’s a sorcerer. Evil. Centuries ago our ancestor, the first dark witch, destroyed him. Except some part of him survived it. He still wants to kill me. Us. I know that sounds insane.”

Placidly, Branna sipped her tea. “Do I look shocked by all this?”

“No. You look really calm. I wish I could be really calm. And you’re beautiful. I always wanted to be beautiful, too. And taller. You’re taller. Babbling. Can’t stop it.”

Rising, Branna opened a cupboard, took out a bottle of whiskey. “It’s a good day for a little whiskey in your tea. So you heard this story about Cabhan and Sorcha, the first dark witch, and decided to come to Ireland to meet me.”

“Basically. I quit my job, I sold my stuff.”

“You . . .” For the first time Branna looked genuinely surprised. “You sold your things?”

“Including twenty-eight pairs of designer shoes—bought at discount, but still. That stung some, but I wanted the break clean. And I needed the money to come here. To stay here. I have a work visa. I’ll get a job, find a place to live.”

She picked up another cookie, hoping it would stop the flood of words, but they just kept pouring out. “I know it’s crazy spending so much to stay at Ashford, but I just wanted it. I’ve got nothing back there but Nan, not really. And she’ll come if I ask her. I feel like I might fit here. Like things might balance here. I’m tired of not knowing why I don’t belong.”

“What was your work?”

“I was a riding instructor. Trail guide, stable hand. I’d hoped to be a jockey once, but I love them too much, and didn’t have the passion for racing and training.”

Watching her, Branna only nodded. “It’s horses, of course.”

“Yeah, I’m good with them.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. I know one of the owners of the stables here, the hotel uses them for guests. They do trail rides, and riding lessons and the like. I think Boyle might find a place for you.”

“You’re kidding? I never figured to get stable work right off. I figured waitress, shop clerk. It would be fabulous if I could work there.”

Some would say too good to be true, but Iona had never believed that. Good should be true.