Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy 3)
“Would the pair of you let me out of this bloody lorry if you’re going to fight about it half the night as I’m stuck between you?”
Fin got out. “We’ll pour a couple more pints in him, and he’ll be signing the papers and forgetting he ever did.”
“There aren’t enough pints in all of Mayo for me to forget a bloody thing.”
The edge in Connor’s voice had Boyle shaking his head, leaving them to it. And had Fin laying his hands on Connor’s shoulders.
“Mo dearthair, do you think I do this out of some sense of obligation?”
“I don’t know why you’re doing it.”
“Ah, for feck’s sake, Connor. The school’s more yours than mine, and ever was. It wouldn’t be but for you, as much as I wanted it. I’m a man of business, am I not?”
“I’ve heard tell.”
“And this is business. It’s also the hawks, which are as near and dear to me as you.” He lifted his arm, gloveless. In moments Merlin, his hawk, landed like a feather on his wrist.
“You care for him when I’m away.”
“Of course.”
Fin angled his head so the hawk rubbed against him. “He’s part of me, as Roibeard is part of you. I trust you to see to him, and Meara to see to him. When this is done, with Cabhan, I can’t stay here, not for a while in any case.”
“Fin—”
“I’ll have to go, for my own sanity. I’ll need to go, and I can’t say, not now, if I’ll come back. I need you to do this favor, Connor.”
Annoyed, Connor gave Fin a hard poke in the chest. “When this is over, you’ll stay. And Branna will be with you, as she once was.”
“Ending Cabhan won’t take away the mark.” Fin lifted his arm again, sent Merlin lifting off, spreading his wings in flight. “She can’t be mine, not truly, while I bear it. Until I can rid myself of it I can’t ask her to be mine. And I can’t live, Connor, I swear to you, knowing she’s hardly more than a stone’s throw away every night and never to be mine. Once I thought I could. Now I know I can’t.”
“I’ll sign your papers if it’s what you want. But I’m telling you now, looking eye to eye, when this is done—and it will be done—you’ll stay. Mark it, Finbar. Mark what I say. I’ll wager you a hundred on it, here and now.”
“Done. Now.” He slung an arm around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s go have a pint and see if we can talk Boyle into making us something to eat as we didn’t get that far at the pub.”
“I’m for all of that.”
• • •
SHE COULDN’T SLEEP. LONG AFTER THE HOUSE WAS QUIET, Branna wandered through it, checking doors and windows and charms. He was out there, lurking. She felt him like a shadow over a sunbeam. As she walked back upstairs, she trailed a hand over Kathel’s head.
“We should sleep,” she told him. “Both of us. There’s more work to be done tomorrow.”
In the bedroom she built up the fire, for warmth, for the comfort of its light. She could walk through those flames in her mind, she considered, but knew whatever visions came might not bring warmth and comfort.
She’d had enough of the chill for now.
Instead, once Kathel settled, she took out her violin. He watched her as she rosined her bow, thumping his tail as if in time. That alone made her smile as she walked to the windows.
There she could see out, toward the hills, toward the woods, into the sky where the moon floated in and out of clouds, and stars flickered like distant candles.
And he could see in, she thought, see her standing behind the glass, behind the charms. Out of his reach.
And that turned her smile potent.
Look all you want, she thought, for you’ll never have what I am.
She set the violin on her shoulder, closed her eyes a moment while the music rose up in her.