She passed the bowl to Fin. “From heart, from spirit I shed for thee, a drop of blood times three. Sister, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”
When he finished, he handed the bowl to Connor. “And now on a new journey you embark, I give three drops from my heart. Lover, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”
And to Iona.
“You are my heart, you are my light, so that holds fast upon this night. From the beat of my heart, for sister, for love, one, two, and three. I share my light with both of thee.”
“Sealed with fire, pure and white, the gift we give upon this night.” Branna took the bowl, held it high as white fire flashed within. “Bless this gift and those who take what’s given, know by right all here are driven. From bowl to cup for one, for two, pour forth this consecrated brew.”
The liquid in the bowl fountained up, split into two with each arch spilling into a waiting cup.
Branna gestured to Connor, to Iona. “Those closest should make the final offering.”
“Okay.” Iona picked up a cup, turned to Boyle. She touched his cheek, then held out the cup. “In this place and in this hour, we offer you this taste of power. If your choice to take is free, say these words back to me. ‘This I take into my body, into my heart, into my spirit willingly. As we will, so mote it be.’”
He repeated the words, hesitated briefly, then looked into her eyes. And drank.
Connor turned to Meara, gave her his words, her own.
She grinned at him, couldn’t quite help it, and drank.
“Is that it?” she asked. “Did it work? I don’t feel any different.” She looked at Boyle.
“No, no different.”
“How do we know it worked?” Meara demanded.
The circling fire flashed up in spears to the ceiling. The air quivered with light and heat. A shining beam of it showered over Boyle, over Meara like a welcome.
“That,” Connor concluded, “would be an indicator.”
“What can we do? What should we do?”
“We give thanks, close the circle.” Branna smiled at her lifelong friend. “Then we’ll see.”
20
THEY PROVED NIMBLE STUDENTS AND WITHIN A WEEK could both spark a candlewick. Branna moved them on from that most basic skill to test them with other elements.
It didn’t surprise her that Meara showed more aptitude with air and Boyle with fire. That connection again, she concluded. Meara to Connor, Boyle to Iona.
They put in a great deal of time training, discovering, and the progress pleased Branna. Meara could create tough little cyclones and found her affinity with horses enhanced. When goaded, Boyle conjured golf-ball-sized fireballs.
Frustrated, he slumped into a chair at Fin’s. “What good does it all do? When he comes around, I’m bound by our agreement not to show our hand and left to give him nothing stronger than a hard look. And if I could give a taste of what I have now, he could smack it away like a tennis player returning a lob.”
“The player’s more likely to end up getting beaned,” Connor pointed out, “if the lob comes from an unexpected direction. You’ve done considerable, you and Meara, with the little you were given, and done considerable in a short time.”
“Time’s the trouble, isn’t it?” Boyle pointed out.
“It is, and that’s a hard fact.” Fin contemplated his beer. “We thought as he wouldn’t know we were looking, we’d find a way into the demon’s name. Now I wonder if Cabhan’s forgotten it, as the demon’s been part of him for so long.”
“That’s a troubling thought.” Connor considered it. “If it’s true we can’t end it without the demon’s name, and if there’s no longer a name to find, it may be it’s Cabhan’s name we have to speak as we poison them.”
“Are such matters ever that simple?” Fin asked.
“They haven’t proved to be. Still, maybe this will be. Only the name. The rest is complicated enough.”
“And only days left to us now,” Boyle put in. “Only a few weeks left till our wedding, and Iona isn’t able to think of it the way women do. Not with this between.”