Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy 3)

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 aw

ay, 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.”