Dark Witch (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #1)(28)

“That’s fine then.”

“Thanks for the job.” She gave Alastar a last stroke before getting off the fence. “I’ll work hard.”

“Oh, I’ll see that you do, be sure of it.”

“Well.” Now her hands felt sweaty enough to rub against her jeans. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“My best to your cousins.”

“Okay.”

He watched her walk away, moving fast, as if getting clear of something boggy in the ground.

Pretty thing, he thought, though he’d be wise to ignore that. Pretty and sunny and a bloody faerie goddess astride a horse.

Ignore all that for certain. Harder, he figured, to ignore the fact that he’d just hired a witch.

“A dark one, the last of the three. All here together now, with hound and hawk, and by God horse.” He gave Alastar a scowl. “You’d be Fin’s doing then, no doubt of it. And what in hell’s name will that mean?”

He wondered, too, what Fin—friend, partner, next to brother—had in his mind, in his heart.

As if expressing his opinion on Fin, and Boyle for that matter, Alastar raised his tail and shat.

Boyle managed to jump aside before the opinion hit his boots. Then, after one fulminating stare, he threw back his head and laughed.





6





SURE OF HER WAY, IONA HURRIED THROUGH THE WOODS. She saw a young couple, strolling along, hand in hand, and thought hotel guests, maybe honeymooners. Tourists, taking advantage of a dry day and patchy sunlight.

She’d be a guest of the hotel for a few more days, but no longer qualified as a tourist. She was an expat.

It sounded strange and glamorous even if she smelled of horses, and maybe just a slight whiff of manure. But as she was already a little late, she didn’t want to take the time to go back to her room, shower, and change.

She’d have to work out some sort of loose schedule, she thought, which included that visit to the falconry school and a trip to Cong. Maybe she could work the visit into her break tomorrow, assuming she had one. If Connor was up for it, she’d buy him that pint in the village after her lesson with Branna, maybe have dinner.

And she could hardly wait to email Nan, tell her about the job, about her day, about whatever she learned from Branna. Her life, so scattered and unsatisfying only days before, now brimmed with possibilities.

This was her walk now, to work, to home. No more commuting in traffic to and from her tiny apartment. No more wishing for just a little adventure because now she was living one.

No more wondering what she lacked that made it so easy for people to walk away from her. This time she’d done the walking. No, she corrected, she’d done the arriving. That mattered so much more.

Now it was up to her to make it all matter.

As she came to the downed tree she felt that pull, that yearning, and heard the seductive whisper of her name. Pausing, she looked around, saw no one.

And yet, it came again, that soft, almost sweet whisper of her name.

She hesitated—was there a light, faint, and distant flickering through that wall of vines? Like a light in a window, a welcoming home?

Though she reminded herself she was late, that Branna had told her not to linger there, to explore there, she took a step closer.

It would only take a minute, just to look.

Another step, and it all became so dreamy. The light growing stronger, the whispers deeper, and a sleepy warmth, creeping out, creeping into her.

Home, she thought again. She’d wanted one for so long. And this . . .

As her fingers touched the vines, the air pulsed like a heartbeat; the light dimmed softly to twilight.

Behind her, the dog barked sharply, jolting her back.

She trembled, like a woman teetering on a cliff, and took several steps back until she stood with the dog, one hand braced on his handsome head.

Her own breath sounded so loudly in her ears she barely heard her thoughts through it.

“I was going through. It felt like I had to, and wanted it more than anything else. I almost broke my word, and I never do. What is this place?” She rubbed her chilled hands together, gave one last shudder. “I’m glad you came, and I bet it wasn’t just happenstance. We’ll go. I imagine she’s waiting for both of us.”

The wind lifted as they walked away. Before she came to the edge of the woods, rain pattered down, from a single cloud as far as Iona could tell, as the sun continued to send out pearly light.

She and Kathel quickened their pace. Though she’d aimed for the cottage door, she caught a glimpse of Branna in the workshop, and changed course.

As before, the workshop smelled glorious—smoke and herbs and candle wax. Branna stood, her hair bundled up, a sweater the color of plums skimming her hips. She set a white flowerpot on the work counter, arranging it with a white bowl, a fat white candle and a white feather.

“I’m late. I’m sorry, but—”

“You said you might be on the message you left on my phone. It’s not a matter.” She studied Iona as Kathel walked over to rub against her leg. “Congratulations to you. Your first day went well?”

“Amazing. Fabulous. Thank you. Thank you so much.” As she spoke, Iona rushed across the room to throw her arms around Branna in a hard hug.

“All right then.” Branna gave Iona a little pat on the back. “Still it’s Boyle who did the hiring.”