Blood Magick Page 14

  “His own mother.” Shaking his head, Boyle picked up one of the pretty sandwiches Mary Kate put together.

  “Just a woman, and old, so he said. He had no feelings for her. There was nothing in him for her. There was nothing in him,” Fin continued, “but the black.”

  “You heard what spoke to him.”

  Frowning, Fin turned to Branna. “You didn’t?”

  “Only a humming, as we heard when we got there, when we went into the cave. A kind of . . . thrumming.”

  “I heard it.” Absently, Fin rubbed at his shoulder, at the mark. “The promises for more power, for eternal life, for all Cabhan could want. But to gain it, he had to give more. Sacrifice what was human in him. It started with the father.”

  “Do you know it or think it?” Connor asked him.

  “I know it. I could see inside his head, and I could feel the demon trapped in the stone, and its needs, its avarice. Its . . . glee at knowing it would soon be free again.”

  “Demon?” Meara picked up the wine she’d opted for. “Well now, that’s new—and terrifying.”

  “Old,” Fin corrected. “Older than time, and it waited until it found a vessel.”

  “Cabhan?”

  “It’s still him,” Fin told Boyle. “It’s Cabhan right enough, but with the other a part of him, and hungry always for power and for blood.”

  “The stone’s the source, as we thought,” Branna continued. “It came from the blood of the father and the mother Cabhan sacrificed for power. Conjuring it, pledging to it, he took in this . . . well, if Fin says demon, it’s a demon right enough.”

  “Why Sorcha?” Iona wondered. “Why was he so obsessed with her?”

  “For her beauty, and her power, and . . . the purity, you could say, of her love for her family. He wanted, craved the first two, and wanted to destroy the last.”

  Fin rubbed his fingers on his temple, attempting to ease the pounding still trapped inside his head.

  “She rejected him, time and again,” he continued, though the pounding refused to be abated. “Scorned him and his advances. So he . . .”

  Surprised when Mary Kate stepped behind him, stroked her hands along temples, along the back of his neck where he hadn’t realized more pain lodged, he lost his thread.

  And the headache drifted away.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  She gave him a grandmotherly kiss on the top of the head before she sat again. It flustered him, and showed him just where Iona got her kind and open heart.

  “Ah. His lust for her, woman and witch, became obsession. He would turn her, take what she had, and he believes no spell, no magicks can stop him, can touch him. Her power could cause him harm, threaten his existence, and her rejection burned his pride.”

  “Then there were three,” Branna calculated. “And with the three the power, and the threat, increases. We can end him.”

  “In that moment, in the cave, when he took in the demon, and the black of it, he believed nothing could or ever would. But what’s in him knows better. It lies to him, as his mother warned him. It lies.”

  “We can hurt him, bloody him, burn him to ash, but . . .” Connor shrugged. “Unless we destroy the amulet as well, unless we can destroy the demon joined with him, he’ll heal, he’ll come back.”

  “It’s good to know.” Iona spread some cheese on a cracker. “So how do we destroy the stone, the demon?”

  “Blood magick against blood magick,” Branna decided. “White against dark. As we have been, but perhaps with a different focus. We have to find the right time, and be sure of it. I’m thinking it must be Sorcha’s cabin, as before, to draw what she had into it, but we need to find a way to trap him, to keep him from escaping again so it can be finished. And if we can do that, it would be Fin who needs to destroy the stone, the source.”

  “I felt the pull, of the demon, of the witch. And the far stronger one when they united. I felt the . . . appeal, the lust for what they’d give me.”

  “And feeling that, risked yourself to shield me. It’s for you to do when the time comes,” Branna said briskly. “We’ve only to figure out the hows and the whens. Mary Kate, are you certain you have to go back to America, for it’s a joy to me to have someone else fixing a meal around here.”

  Understanding the need to shift the conversation, Mary Kate smiled. “I do, I’m afraid, but I’ll be back for Iona’s wedding, and before it enough to help with some of the doings. And it might be, I’m thinking, I’ll stay.”

  “Stay?” Iona reached around the table, grabbed her hands. “Nan, do you mean you’d stay in Ireland?”

  “I’m doing some thinking about it. I stayed in America after your grandda died for your mother, then for you. And I love my house there, my gardens, the views out my window. I have good friends there. But . . . I can have a house here, and gardens, and pretty views out my windows. I have good friends here. And I have you. I have all of you, and more family besides.”

  “You could live with us. I showed you where we’re putting on the room for you to have when you visit. You could just live there, with us.” Iona looked at Boyle.

  “Of course, and we’d love that.”

  “You’ve a sweet heart,” Mary Kate said to Iona, “and you’ve a generous one, Boyle. But if I come to stay, to live, I’ll take my own place. Close by, be sure of that. In the village most like, where I can walk to the shops and see my good friends, and visit with you in your fine new home as often as you please.”

  “I’ve a cottage and no tenant,” Fin commented, and had Mary Kate lifting her eyebrows.

  “I’ve heard as much, but it’s some months till April.”

  “It’s easy to rent it to tourists for short spells who want something in the village, something self-catering. You might have a look at it before you go back to America.”

  “I’ll do just that, and should confess I’ve already had a peek in the windows.” She grinned. “It’s cozy as a kitten, and so nicely updated.”

  “I’ll see you get a key, and you can go in, look around whenever you like.”

  “I’ll do that. I should go. Margaret will start worrying if I’m much later.”

  “I’ll drive you in.” Boyle started to rise.

  “I’ll do it.” Fin stood instead. “I’ll give you the key, and drop you round your friend’s. I need to be home myself.”

  “I’ll get my coat. No, the lot of you stay where you are,” Mary Kate insisted. “I don’t mind being escorted from the house by a handsome young man.”

  When they’d left, Iona got to her feet. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

  Branna’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you?”

  “A bath with some of your own relaxation salts, and Meara’s going to make you a cup of tea. I’d like to send Connor and Boyle to Fin’s to do the same for him—”

  “I’m not drawing a bath for Fin Burke,” Boyle said, definitely.

  “But the two of them are going to clean up in here, just the way you like it. So you can get some rest, good rest, and put all this out of your mind for the rest of the night.”

  “I wouldn’t argue with her once she gets the steam up,” Boyle advised.

  “I wouldn’t mind a bath, or the tea.”

  “That’s settled then.” Iona walked out.

  “And I wouldn’t mind you leaving the kitchen as it is if one of you would go check on Fin,” Branna said. “This was more of a strain on him than it was on me, and I’ll confess, I’m worn through from it.”

  “I’ll give him a few minutes, then go over,” Connor told her. “I’ll stay if that’s what he needs, or stay till I’m sure he’s settled. We can still see to the kitchen. Go on up now, don’t worry.”

  “Then I will. Good night.”

  Meara waited until Branna was out of earshot, Kathel by her side, then walked over to put the kettle on. “You’re the one who’s worrying, Connor.”

  “She didn’t eat, not a thing.” He
glanced toward the kitchen doorway, stuck his hands in his pockets as if he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with them. “She only pretended to eat. There were shadows under her eyes that weren’t there at the start of the spell. Then letting you and Iona fuss over her without putting up a fight? She’s worn to the bone, that’s what.

  “You’ll look after her, won’t you, Meara? You and Iona will see to her. I won’t be long at Fin’s unless I’m needed. And we’ll stay here tonight.”

  “Give Fin what he needs, and we’ll see to Branna.”

  “Without making it like you’re seeing to her.”

  She shot the fretting brother a glance. “I’ve known her near as long as you, Connor. I think I know how to handle Branna O’Dwyer as much as any can. We’ll give her a bit of female time, then leave her alone. She’ll do best with the quiet and alone.”

  “True enough. I’ll run over to Fin’s, and be back as soon as I can.”

  “If you need to stay, you’ve only to let us know.” She turned her face for a kiss when he came over, smiled at his quick, hard hug.

  She finished up Branna’s tea while Connor put on his outdoor gear, and turned to Boyle when they were alone. “It looks like you’re left with the dirty dishes.” Meara gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as she sailed out.

  He looked around the empty kitchen, sighed. “Ah, well.” And rolled up his sleeves.

  • • •

  CONNOR WALKED STRAIGHT INTO FIN’S AS HE HAD SINCE the day the front door went up. Before, come to that, as he’d installed the door himself.

  He found Fin with another whiskey in front of the living room fire, the little stable dog Bugs curled up sleeping at his feet.

  “I’ve orders to check in on you,” he announced, and thought it was good he had. Fin looked as worn and bruised as Branna.

  “I’m fine, as you can see plain enough.”

  “You’re not, as I see plain enough,” Connor corrected, and helped himself to a whiskey, then a chair. “Iona’s after drawing Branna a bath, and Meara’s making her tea. She’s letting them, which tells me she needs the fussing. What do you need?”

  “And if I ask it, you’ll give it?”

  “You know I will, though it’s a mortifying thought I may be drawing your bath and tucking you up.”

  Fin didn’t smile, only shifted his gaze from whatever he saw in the fire, met Connor’s eyes. “It was a hard pull, a bloody brutal pull. For a moment I could feel all it promises. That power beyond what any of us hold. It’s black and it’s cold, but it’s . . . seductive. And all I have to say is, I’ll take it.”

  “You didn’t. And you won’t.”

  “I didn’t, this time. Or times before, but it’s a call to the blood. And to the animal that’s inside all of us. So I’ll ask you for something, Connor, as you’re my friend as near as much a brother to me as you are to Branna.”

  “I’m both.”

  “Then you’ll swear to me, on your own blood, on your heart where your magick roots, if I turn, if the pull is too much and I fall, you’ll stop me by whatever means it takes.”

  “You’d never—”

  “I need you to swear it,” Fin interrupted, eyes fierce. “Otherwise I’ll need to go, I’ll need to leave here, leave her—leave all of you. I won’t risk it.”

  Connor stretched out his legs, crossed his boots at the ankles, stared at them for several moments.

  Then slowly, he lifted his gaze to Fin’s.

  “Listen to yourself. You want his end more than the three, more than the three we come from, but you’d step away, on the chance you’ve put in your block of a head you could fall when you’ve stood all this time.”

  “You weren’t in the cave. You didn’t feel what I felt.”

  “I’m here now. I’ve known you near to all our lives, before the mark came on you and after. I know who you are. And because I do, I’ll swear it to you, Fin, if that’s what you need. What I have comes from my heart, as you said, and my heart knows you. So you’ll have your brood, and I’ll say you’ve earned it. And tomorrow we’ll be back to it.”

  “All right then.” Steadier now, Fin sipped his whiskey. “I have earned a brood.”

  “That you have, and I’ll brood with you until I finish my whiskey.” Connor sipped and sat awhile in silence. “We both love her,” he said.

  Fin leaned back, shut his eyes. “That’s the fucking truth.”

  And love, Connor knew well, pulled stronger than any dark promises.

  10

  FIN CONSIDERED HIMSELF SOCIABLE ENOUGH. HE KNEW when to stand a round in the pub, was a good guest who could make conversation at dinner. If he had mates over to watch a match or play some snooker, he provided plenty of beer and food and didn’t fuss about the mess made.

  He hadn’t been raised in a barn, after all, so he understood as well as any man the basic expectations and duties when hosting a party.

  Iona reeducated him.

  In midafternoon on the last day of the year, she came to his door with her sunlight crown of hair tucked into a bright blue cap he remembered her Nan had knit her for Christmas. And loaded down with shopping bags.

  “Didn’t we just have Christmas?”

  “Party supplies.” She pushed some bags in his hand, carried the rest with her as she walked back to his kitchen. After dumping them on the center island, she pulled off her coat, scarf, hat, gloves, then her boots—and took all of them into his laundry room.

  “We’ve got candles,” she began.

  “I have candles. I bought some from Branna not long before Yule.”

  “Not enough, not nearly.” Both firmness and pity lived in Iona’s shake of the head. “You need them everywhere.”

  She dug into a bag, started taking things out. “These are for the living room mantel. You’ll get a twelve-hour burn, so you want to light them about a half hour before you expect people to start coming.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do,” she said definitely. “They’ll set a pretty, celebrational yet elegant atmosphere. These are for the powder room up here, and for the bathroom downstairs, and the main bath upstairs. No one should go into your master suite unless invited, but there’s extra so you should put some there, just in case. And these are guest towels—pretty, simple, and disposable.”

  She laid out a wrapped stack of white napkins embossed with silver champagne flutes.

  “So people don’t have to dry their hands on the same cloth towel someone else dried their hands on.”

  Fin let out a quick laugh. “Seriously now?”

  “Fin, look at my face.” She pointed to it. “Deadly serious. I got some extra candles for your dining room in case you didn’t have enough there, and others for the mantel on your lower level. Now, it’s essential you make sure there’s plenty of TP in the bathrooms. Women hate, loathe, and despise when they’re sitting there and there’s no TP.”

  “I can only imagine. Fortunately.”

  “I plan to do an hourly check on the bathrooms, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “You’re a comfort to me, Iona.”

  She laid her hands on his cheeks. “I got you into this, and I said I’d help. I’m here to help. Now. The caterers will pretty much take over the kitchen, and they’ll know what they’re doing. I checked on them, and they’re supposed to be stellar. Good choice.”

  “Thanks. I do what I can.”

  She only smiled. “We’ll just want to be sure the servers understand they’ll need to cover your lower level with food and drink because you’re going to have a lot of people gathering down there to play games, dance, and hang out. You’ll have fires going, of course.”

  “Well, of course.”

  “I know everyone will have plenty to eat and drink. It’s not called The Night of the Big Portion or . . . wait.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Or Oiche ne Coda Moire, for nothing.”

  Now he grinned at her. “You handled the Irish brilliantly.”

  “I’ve been practicin
g. We don’t have to get into the New Year’s Eve tradition of cleaning the house—I read up on Irish traditions—because yours is already spotless. You’re as scary as Branna there, so I’m going to put these candles where they belong, and the guest towels, and oh—” She reached into another bag. “I picked up these pretty mints and these candied almonds. The colors are so pretty, and it’s a nice thing to have here and there in little bowls. Oh, and Boyle’s picking up the rolling rack I borrowed from Nan’s friend’s daughter.”

  “A rolling rack?” For reasons he didn’t want to explore, he got the immediate image of a portable torture device.

  “For hanging coats. You have to do something with people’s coats, so we’re borrowing the rack. It should work fine in the laundry room. One of us will take people’s coats as they come in, hang them up, get them when people want to leave. You can’t just toss them on the couch or on a bed.”

  “I hadn’t given it a thought. I’m lucky to have you.”

  “You are, and it’s also good practice. I’m already planning a blow-out party next summer when our house is finished and furnished, and we’re settled in.”

  “I’m already looking forward to it.”

  “We’ll have finished Cabhan by then. I believe it. We won’t be working every day as we are now on how and when. We’ll just be living. I know it’s been a hard week, on you and Branna especially.”

  “It’s not meant to be easy.”

  Carefully, Iona tidied the stacks of guest towels. “Have you seen her today?”

  “Not today, no.”

  “This morning she said she was going to try some calculations on finishing this a year from the day I arrived—the day I first went to the cottage to meet her.”

  He considered. “There’s a thought.”

  “And she looked as doubtful it’s right as you do, but it’s something to consider. So we will. But not tonight. Tonight is party time.”

  “Hmm. What’s in this other bag here?”

  “Ah, well . . . some people like silly party hats and noisemakers.”