Blood Magick Read online

  Not an impulse, she assured herself as she filled the last bottles with fragrant oils for the shop. She’d given it far too much thought, considered it from every side and angle for it to be deemed an impulse.

  No, it was a decision, a choice, and must be fully agreed to by all.

  She washed her hands, wiped her counter, then went over to look into her crystal.

  The cave was empty, but for the red glow of the fire, the dark smoke rising from the cauldron. So Cabhan wandered where he willed. And if he watched, would see nothing that offered him aid or insight. She’d seen to that.

  She rose as Iona came in, and did what she always did. Put the kettle on.

  “You said no worries, but—”

  “There aren’t,” Branna assured her. “It’s just a matter I need to talk over with you and Connor and Fin.”

  “But not Boyle or Meara.”

  “Not as yet. It’s nothing we would do without them, I promise, only it needs to be discussed among us first. So, have you settled it all then on the wedding flowers?”

  “Yes.” Iona hung up her jacket and scarf, tried to shift topics as Branna wanted. “You were right about the florist, she’s wonderful. We’ve nailed that all down, and I’m nearly done—I tell myself—changing the menu for the reception. And I’m glad I’ve left the music in your hands and Meara’s or I’d drive myself crazy.”

  “We’re happy to help, and Meara’s making notes on what you’re doing she might want to turn a bit for herself. Though she claims she’s barely thinking of it all yet, she thinks of it quite a bit.”

  Branna started the tea. “And here come Fin and Connor now. Let’s use the little table so we’re all settled in one place.”

  “It’s serious, isn’t it?”

  “That’s for each to decide. Would you get the cups?”

  Branna brought the teapot to the table, the sugar, the cream, the biscuits her brother particularly would expect.

  And Connor’s eyebrows lifted as he came in. “A tea party, is it?”

  “A party, no, but there’s tea. If we could all sit, I’m more than ready to say what’s on my mind.”

  “And been on your mind for some time.” Fin came over, sat.

  “I had to be sure of my own thoughts and feelings on it before I asked for yours.”

  “But not the full circle,” Connor pointed out.

  “Not yet, you’ll see why it’s for us first.”

  “Okay.” Iona blew out a breath. “You’re killing me now. Spill it.”

  “I thought of what came through me the day Fin and I made the poison for the demon. What I said, all the words, at the moment all the work we’d done there came to fruition. We have the means to destroy Cabhan, and what’s in him, or will when we have the name. And the means to destroy the stone, and close the portal.”

  “I love that one,” Iona commented. “All the light and heat of it.”

  “It’ll take all to close the dark. But there was more that came through me than poisons, than weapons. It’s all risk, all duty, and the blood and death may be ours, any of us. And still, even fully myself again, one thing continued to echo in me. Three and three and three.”

  “And so we are,” Connor agreed. “If you’ve found a way to connect us again with Sorcha’s three, I’d like to hear it, for I feel, and all through me feel, they must be a part of it. They must be there.”

  “And I believe they will, as the shadows of them came on Samhain. To bring them full, it may be another thing. Three and three and three,” Branna repeated. “But there are two armed with only courage and sword or fist. They have no magicks. Sorcha’s three, we three, and Fin—part of us, part of Cabhan. Then Boyle and Meara. It doesn’t truly balance.”

  “You said we wouldn’t leave them out,” Iona began.

  “And I gave my word I’d never lock her or Boyle away, whatever my wish to protect them.” Connor ignored the biscuits, frowned at his sister. “If you think to appeal to others of our blood, to our father or—”

  “No. We are a circle, and nothing changes that. We go, three by three by three, as is meant. But that balance can be met, if we’re willing. And in turn if Boyle and Meara are willing.”

  “You’d give them power.” Fin sat back as he began to understand. “You would give them, as Sorcha did her children, what we have.”

  “I would—not near to all as she did, never that. We need what we are, and I would never burden two we loved with so much. But some, from all of us, to them. It can be done. I’ve studied how Sorcha did it, I’ve worked on how to pass—gently as we can—some of what we are. It’s a risk if I’ve got any of it wrong, and it must be a choice for all.”

  “Sorcha’s children already had power, through her,” Iona pointed out, “through the blood. I’m newer at this than all of you, but I’ve never heard of transferring magicks into, well, let’s say laypeople.”

  “They’re connected. Not just to us, but also through their bloodline. With or without power, that connection is real. And it’s that connection that would allow this to work, if it’s meant to work.”

  “They’d have more protection,” Connor considered.

  “They would, though as much as I love them, my purpose here is balance. It’s the fulfillment of what prophecy came through me. But it must be our purpose. Ours and theirs. And we can’t know, not for certain, what the powers would be for them.”

  “But in having them,” Fin began, “they, with me, become truly another three.”

  As that was exactly her thought, Branna let out a pent-up breath. “Yes, another three. I’ve come to believe that. Now each of you must think it through, and decide if you’re willing to give them what is both gift and burden. I can show you how it can be done, how I believe it can be done, without draining any of us, or giving them more than they can hold. If any of us aren’t sure, aren’t willing, then we set it aside. If we are, but they aren’t, again it’s set aside. A gift like this must be given freely and with a full heart, and taken the same.”

  “Should any come from me? If there’s willing on all sides,” Fin continued, “should any come from me, as what I have is tainted?”

  “I don’t like hearing you say that,” Iona replied.

  “This is too large a step not to speak plain truth, deirfiúr bheag.”

  “I’ll speak plain truth when I say I asked myself the same while I worked this through my head.” After scanning the table, Branna looked directly at Fin. “Even before we learned you come from Daithi, I had come to believe—again with a full heart—that yes, also from you. They’re yours,” Branna told him, “as they’re ours. And you are of the three. What you have in you isn’t pure, but that—to my mind—makes the light in it all the stronger.”

  “I’ll agree to it, if they do. They must be sure they can accept what comes from me.”

  “You need to take time to think it through,” Branna said, and Connor snorted, grabbed a biscuit.

  “And didn’t I tell you this one thinks too much? Haven’t you taxed your brain on this enough for all of us?” he asked Branna. “Fiddled and figured all the little steps, the ways and means, the pros and cons and the good Christ knows what else? If they’ll take it, it’s theirs.” He looked to Iona.

  “Absolutely. I’m not sure how Boyle will react to the idea. He accepts all this—we all know. And he’ll fight and stand with us. But at the core . . .”

  “He’s a man with feet planted firm on the ground,” Fin said. “That’s true enough. We can only ask, as Branna’s asked, and leave the rest to him, and to Meara.”

  “Well, I can see I wasted time making copious notes for the three of you.”

  Connor grinned at his sister. “Too much thinking,” he said, and ate the biscuit.

  “When do we ask?” Iona wondered.

  “Sooner’s better than later,” Fin decided. “When the day’s work’s done?”

  “Then I’m cooking for six.” Branna shoved at her hair.

  “Happens I’v
e the fat chicken you put on the list for me,” Fin told her. “And the makings for colcannon.”

  “As well. Dinner at Fin’s then. I’ll go over and start on that, but I think it best and fair we tell them what we’re thinking before a meal. They’ll need time to . . . digest it all, we’ll say.”

  “Let’s say they go for it. When would we try it?”

  Branna nodded at Iona, finally picked up her own tea. “Sooner’s better there as well. You know more than the rest of us, there’s a bit of a learning curve.”

  • • •

  SHE DID THE CHICKEN UP WITH GARLIC AND SAGE AND lemon, put the colcannon together, peeled carrots for baking in butter while the bird roasted. As she’d come up with the scheme, the others had decided she would broach it with Boyle and Meara.

  As she worked she considered various ways of putting it all out to them, and finally concluded direct and frank the best possible route. It settled her down, until Meara came in.

  “It smells a treat in here. And looks as though you’ve already done the work when I came soon as I could to give you some help with it.”

  “No worries.”

  “Well, I can set the table at least.”

  “Don’t bother with it now.” She didn’t want plates and such cluttering up the table when they talked. “Just keep me company. Sure let’s break into Fin’s vast store of wine.”

  “I’m for that. I tell you it’s scraping my nerves raw seeing Cabhan lurking about every time I take a guided through. It must be doing the same with Iona,” she added as she pulled a bottle of white from Fin’s kitchen cooler. “She was nervy today, at least toward the end of it. She and Boyle will be around soon.”

  “So he shows himself to you, to Iona, even Connor now and then, but when Fin and I go out, he avoids us. We’ll keep at it,” Branna decided. “He won’t be able to resist trying to bully or taunt for long.”

  “He doesn’t have long, and that’s my way of thinking.” Meara drew the cork. “It’s good we’re getting together, all of us, so regular like this. You never know when another idea might spark.”

  Oh, I’ve an idea for you, Branna thought, but only smiled. “You’d be right. But let’s put that aside for now. Tell me how your mother’s doing.”

  “Happier than I ever thought she could be. And don’t you know she’s started taking piano lessons from a woman at the church? All the time on her hands, she tells me, and she can put it to use with the lessons, as she’s always wanted to play. As if she didn’t have a world of time before she moved in with Maureen, and—”

  Meara held up both hands as if calling herself to a halt. “No, I’ll say nothing negative about it. She’s there, not here, happy not unhappy and flustered, and Maureen herself tells me it’s lovely to have her.”

  “Nothing but good news there then.”

  “Well, she’s marking some of the world of time she now has by sending me a lorry-load of suggestions for the wedding. Photos of gowns that would make me look like a giant princess wearing a wedding cake, and require so much tulle and lace there’d be none left in the whole of Mayo. Here.” Meara reached in her pocket, pulled out her phone. “Have a look at her last vision for me.”

  Branna studied once Meara had scrolled to the image, a dress with an enormous skirt fashioned of stacked layers of tulle, and that decked with lace and beads and ribbons.

  “I’d say you’re a fortunate woman to be able to choose your own wedding dress.”

  “I am, and she’ll be disappointed when she’s learned I’ve something more like this in mind.”

  She scrolled to another picture of a fluid column, simple and unadorned.

  “It’s lovely, just lovely, and couldn’t be more Meara Quinn. Worn with a little tiara, I’d see, as you’re not the flowers-in-the-hair as Iona is. Just that touch of fancy and sparkle. She won’t be disappointed when she sees you.”

  “A tiara . . . that might suit me, and would give her a bit of the princess she wants.”

  “You could find three—any of which you’d be happy to wear. Send her pictures, let her choose for you.”

  Meara picked up her wine. “You’re a canny one.”

  “Oh, that I am.”

  As Boyle and Iona came in, Branna hoped Meara would think canny a compliment when she’d laid out the choice.

  She waited while Meara passed out wine, while Fin and Connor came in, then asked everyone to sit around the table as there was something to discuss.

  “Did something happen today?” Meara asked.

  “Not today. You could say it happened a little while ago, and I’ve been working it out since.” Straight and direct, Branna reminded herself. “I’ve told you all the words I spoke on the day Fin and I completed the second poison,” she began.

  And when she finished with, “It can be done, and the four of us are willing. But the choice of it is for you,” there was a long, stunned silence.

  Boyle broke it. “You’re having us on.”

  “We’re not.” Iona rubbed a hand over his. “We think we can do it, but it’s a big decision for you and for Meara.”

  “Are you saying you can make witches out of me and Boyle, if only we agree to it?”

  “Not exactly that. I believe seeds of power are in us all,” Branna continued. “In some, they sprout more than in others. The instincts, the feelings, the sensation of having done something before, of having been somewhere before. What we’d give would feed those seeds.”

  “Like manure?” Boyle said. “As it sounds like a barrow-load of it.”

  “You’d be the same people.” Connor spread his hands. “The same people but with some traces of magicks that could be nurtured and honed.”

  “If you think to add protection for us—”

  “There’s the benefit of that.” Fin interrupted Boyle in calm tones. “But the purpose is as Branna said. The balance, the interpretation of the prophecy.”

  “I need to walk around with this.” Boyle did just that, rising and pacing. “You want to give us something we lack.”

  “To my mind, you lack nothing. Nothing,” Branna repeated. “And to my mind, this was always meant. Always meant, just not seen or known until now. I may be wrong, but even if right, we’ll find another way if it feels wrong for you.”

  “It feels wrong you’d give up something you have, to add to what we have,” he said. “Sorcha left herself near to empty by doing the same.”

  “This is a worry for me as well,” Meara put in. “Giving up power is part of what cost her life.”

  “She was one giving all she had to three. We’re four, giving a small part of what we have to two.” Connor smiled at her. “It’s arithmetic.”

  “There’s another choice, should you accept the first. It may be three into two,” Fin added. “What I would give has some of Cabhan in it, so it’s another piece to consider.”

  “It’s all or it’s none,” Boyle snapped back. “Don’t insult us.”

  “Agreed.” Meara took a long drink. “All or none.”

  “Take whatever time you need to think on it.” Branna rose. “Ask whatever comes to mind, and we’ll try to answer. And know whatever your choice, we value you. We’ll eat, if that suits everyone, and put this aside unless you have those questions.”

  “Eat.” Boyle muttered to himself, continued to pace as food was brought to the table. Then Iona simply walked over, put her arms around him.

  He heaved a sigh, met Meara’s eyes over Iona’s head. Meara’s response was a simple lifting of shoulders.

  “If we agree, how would it be done?” he wanted to know.

  “In much the same way Sorcha did with her children,” Branna told him. “At the base of it in any case. With some adjustments, of course, to fit our own needs.”

  “If we agreed,” Meara added, “when would it be done?”

  “Tonight.” Connor waved off his sister’s protest. “The ifs they’re putting out are smoke. They’ve both of them decided to agree, because they see, as we do,
it’s another answer. So it’s tonight, a clean, quick step, and giving them time to adjust to what’s new in them.” He took a heap of colcannon for his plate, before passing the dish to Meara. “Am I wrong?”

  “You’re a cocky one, Connor, but not wrong. Let’s eat, Boyle, and eat hearty, for it’s our last meal as we are.”

  “It doesn’t change who you are, even what you are.” Iona rubbed a hand on Boyle’s arm. “It’s . . . Think of it like gaining a new skill or talent.”

  “Like piano lessons,” Meara said, and made Branna laugh and laugh.

  So they ate, and talked, they cleared and talked more.

  Then all six stood together in Fin’s workshop.

  “Cabhan mustn’t see what we do here,” Branna told Fin.

  “He won’t. I’ve cloaked my windows and doors to him long since, but another layer wouldn’t hurt. Add your own. I have what we’ll need. I read your notes,” he added. “I’ll lay out what’s needed, and we’ll leave it to you to use them.”

  “He’ll feel something though, won’t he?” Iona glanced toward the windows. “Power feels power.”

  “He may feel, but he won’t know.” Connor took Meara’s hand. “You are the love of my life, before and after.”

  “That may be, but I’m hoping I get enough of whatever it is to give you a jolt whenever you might need one.”

  “You give me that already.” He swept her back for a dramatic kiss.

  “You’re easy with it all,” Boyle commented.

  “I’m nervous as a cat in a dog kennel.” Meara pressed her hand to her stomach. “But let’s be honest, Boyle, we’ve seen our lives long what this is, what it means. We’ve four here who’ve shown us what this is must be respected and honored, so we will. And the more I think of it, the more I’m liking the idea of having a bit more to turn on Cabhan and his master.”

  “There is that, for certain, and I can’t claim not to consider it. Even if I’d rather just use my fists.”

  “You’re the man you are, so you don’t see it’s you who’s giving tonight, not us.” Iona took his face in her hands. “It’s you.” Then stepped back. “Is there something you need from us, Branna?”