“What?”
“As you are in the window upstairs, just as I saw you years before when I had it done. A wand in one hand, fire in the other. It came and went like a fingersnap, but was clear as day. So I brought her back for you, when you’re ready for her.”
She said nothing, could say nothing for a moment. Then she rose, went to the door, and let in the little dog she’d sensed waiting.
Bugs wagged around her feet, then dashed to Fin.
“Don’t feed him from the table,” she said absently as she sat again. “It’s poor manners for both of you.”
Fin, who’d been about to do just that, looked down at the hopeful dog.
You know where the food is, little man. Let’s not ruffle the lady’s feathers.
Happy enough, Bugs raced off to the laundry, and his bowls.
“I’ll ride her when we next face Cabhan, and be the stronger for it. You brought us weapons, for both Alastar and Aine are weapons against him. You’ve bled with us, conjured with us, plotted with us, to end him. If your connection was with him, strongest with him, how could you do these things?”
“Hate for him, and all he is.”
Branna shook her head. Hate didn’t make courage or loyalty. And what Fin had done took both.
“I was wrong to try to block you out in the beginning of this, and it was selfishly done. I wanted to believe that connection, you to Cabhan, but it’s not there. Not in the way he’d want, not in the way he needs. Your connection is with us. I don’t understand the why of it, but it’s truth.”
“I love you.”
Oh, her heart warmed and ached at the words. She could only touch his hand. “Love is powerful, but it doesn’t explain, in a logical way, why your feelings for me link you so tight with the others.”
She leaned forward now, her breakfast forgotten. “Between the first three and us, I’ve found no others who’ve been so tightly woven together. No others who’ve gone back dreaming to them, or had them come. Others have tried and failed, but none have come so close as we to ending him. I’ve read no tales in the books of one of the three riding on Alastar into battle, with Kathel and Roibeard with them. And none that speak of a fourth, of one who bears the mark, joining them. It’s our destiny, Fin, but you’re the change in it. I believe that now. It’s you who make our best chance to finish it, you who bear his mark and come from his blood. And still, I can’t see the why of it.”
“There are choices, you know well, to be made with power, and with blood.”
“I feel there’s more, but that alone may be enough.”
“It won’t be enough to destroy Cabhan. Or I mean to say we won’t succeed in destroying him, no more than Sorcha could, without destroying what he took into him.”
She nodded, having come to the same conclusion. “The demon he bargained with.”
“The demon who used him to gain freedom. Blood from his sire, from his mother, shed by him, drunk by him, used by him with the demon’s demands and promises, to create the stone.”
“And the power source.”
“Not just a power source, I think. A portal, Branna, the entry into Cabhan.”
“A portal.” She sat back. “There’s a thought. Through the stone conjured with the blackest of blood magicks, into the sorcerer who made the bargain. There sits the power, and the way into the world. If a portal can be opened . . .”
“It can be closed,” Fin finished.
“Yes, there’s a thought indeed. So it becomes steps and stages. Weaken and trap Cabhan so he can’t slip away and heal again. And as he—the host—is weak and trapped, close the portal, trapping the demon, who is the source. Destroy it, destroy Cabhan for good and all.”
She pic
ked up her fork again, and though the eggs had gone cold, ate. “Well then, all that’s left is figuring out how it’s to be done, and when it can be done, and doing it.”
“I’ve a few thoughts, and may have more when I finish reading up. I spent some time with a Shaolin priest some years ago.”
“A . . . You worked with a Shaolin priest? In China?”
“I wanted to see the wall,” he said with a shrug. “He had some thoughts on demons, as a kind of energy. And I’ve spent some time here and there with shamans, other witches, a wise man, an Aborigine. I kept journals, so I’ll be reading through.”