Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

“I’ve evolved. And I love you. We all love you.”

“I don’t mind the marketing,” Branna said, but calmly now. “Or the chores—very much. But I’m grateful to pass some of it on for the time being as we’ll all be busy with more important matters, and Yule’s all but on us. We should have light and joy for Yule. We will have.”

“Then it’s settled,” Iona stated. “If anybody wants to say anything else about it, I’m cooking tomorrow.” She forked up some chicken, smiled. “I thought that would close the subject.”

“Firmly.” Branna reached over to squeeze her hand. “And there’s another subject entirely needs discussion. Cabhan was here.”

“Here?” Connor shoved to his feet. “In the house?”

“Of course not in the house. Be sane. Do you think he could get through the protection I’ve laid—and you as well? I saw him outside. I went out in the back garden to check on the winter plantings, and to get some air as I’d been working inside all day. He was bold enough to come to the edge of the garden, which is as far as he can step. We spoke.”

“After Connor and I went down to the pub.” Fin spoke coolly. “And you’re just telling us of it now?”

“I wanted to get supper on as there’s enough confusion in that with the kitchen full of people. And once we sat, the conversation began on my haggard self.”

“I never said haggard,” Boyle muttered.

“In any case, I’m telling you now, or would if Connor would stop checking out all the windows and come back to the table.”

“And you wonder I don’t like leaving you on your own.”

She shot arrows at her brother with the look. “Mind yourself or you’ll be trying to make such insulting remarks with a tongue tied in knots. I was wandering the garden, with a glass of wine. The light changed, the fog came.”

“You didn’t call for us.”

This time she pointed a warning finger at her brother. “Leave off interrupting. I didn’t call, no, because I wanted to know what he had to say, and I wasn’t in trouble. He couldn’t touch me, and we both knew it. I wouldn’t risk my skin, Connor, but more, you—all of you—should know I’d never risk the circle, what we have to do. Not for curiosity, not for pride. For nothing would I risk it.”

“Let her finish.” Though Meara was tempted to give Connor’s leg a kick under the table, she gave it a comforting squeeze instead. “Because we do know it. Just as we knew he’d try for Branna before it was done.”

“A poor try, at least this time,” Branna continued. “The usual overtures. He’d make me his, give me more power than I could dream of and more bollocks of the same sort. He was still hurting a bit, hiding it, but the red stone was weaker. But he still has power up his sleeve. He changed to Fin.”

In the silence, Fin lifted his gaze from his wineglass, and the heat of it clashed with Branna’s. “To me?”

“As if his illusion of you would shatter all my defenses. But he had a bit more. He’s canny, and he’s been watching us for a lifetime. He changed again, back to when you were eighteen. Back to the day . . .”

“We were together. The first time. The only time.”

“Not that day, no, but the week after. When I learned of the mark. All you felt and said, what I felt and said, all there as it had been. He had enough to make me feel it, to draw me to the edge of my protection. He fed on that so the stone glowed deeper, as did his arrogance, as he didn’t understand I had more than enough to take out my garden knife and give him a good jab with it. As I did I grabbed the chain of the stone, and I saw fear. I saw his fear. Back he went to fog, so I couldn’t hold it, couldn’t work fast enough to break the chain.

“It’s ice. So cold it burns,” she murmured, studying her palm. “And holding it, for that instant, I felt the dark of him, the hunger, and most I felt the fear.”

Connor snatched her hand.

“I saw to it,” she assured him as he scanned for injuries. “You could see the links of the chain scored across my palm.”

“But you wouldn’t risk yourself.”

“I didn’t. Connor, he couldn’t touch me. And had he been quick enough to lay a hand on me when I grabbed the chain, the advantage would have been mine.”

“Certain of that, are you?” Fin rose, came around the table, held out his hand. “Give it to me. I’ll know if there’s any of him left.”

Without a word, Branna put her hand in his, stayed quiet as she felt the heat run under her skin, into her blood.

“And if he’d gotten the knife from you?” Boyle asked. “If he’d used it against you, sliced at your hand or arm when you held the chain?”

“Gotten the knife from me?” She picked up her table knife. And held a white rose. “He gave me an opportunity. I took it, and gave him none.” She looked at Fin. “He put nothing in me.”

“No.” He released her hand, walked back and sat. “Nothing.”

“He fears us. I learned this. What we’ve done, the harm we caused him, gives him fear. He gained some strength from my emotions, I won’t deny it, but he bled for it, and he ran.”

“He’ll come back.” Fin kept his eyes on hers as he spoke. “And fear will have him strike more violently at the source of the fear.”

“He’ll always come back until we end him. And while he may strike more violently, the more he fears, the less he is.”

7

HE THOUGHT TO GO OFF HAWKING. HE’D SADDLE BARU, Fin decided over his morning coffee with dawn barely broken in the eastern sky. Saddle up his horse, whistle up his hawk, and go off. A full morning for himself.

They had the dream potion, and though there was more work, he needed—God he needed some time and distance from Branna. One bleeding morning could hardly matter.

“We’ll take it, won’t we?” he said to Bugs, who sprawled on the floor joyfully gnawing on a rawhide bone Fin had picked up at the market in a weak moment. “You can go along so I’ll have the full complement. Horse, hound, hawk. I’m in the mood for a long, hard gallop.”

And if Cabhan was drawn to him, well, it wasn’t as if he’d gone out looking. Precisely.

He glanced toward the door at the knock. One of the stablemen, he expected, as they’d come to the back. But he saw Iona through the glass.

“An early start?” he said as he opened the door to her.

“Oh yeah, bright and.” Her smile shone bright as Christmas. “I’m picking Nan up at the airport.”

“Of course, I’d forgotten she was coming. From now till the New Year, is it?”

“For Christmas—Yule—and staying until the second of January. I wish it was longer.”

“You’ll be glad to see her. So will we all. And she’ll be back, won’t she, in the spring for your wedding?”

“That’s an absolutely. I couldn’t convince her to stay straight through, but that’s probably for the best anyway. Considering.”

“Out of harm’s way.”

“Still. And she won’t be talked into staying at Branna’s while she is here. I’m taking her to her friend Margaret Meeney. Do you know her?”

“She taught me my letters and sums, and will still tell me not to slouch if she spots me in the village. A born teacher was Mrs. Meeney. Do you want coffee?”

“Thanks, but I’ve had my quota. Oh, there’s Bugs. Hey, Bugs.”

When she crouched down to give the dog a rub, Fin struggled with mild embarrassment. “He comes wandering in now and again.”

“It’s nice to have the company. Mrs. Meeney didn’t teach me my letters and sums.” She looked up at Fin. “I didn’t grow up with you like the others. I don’t have the same history.”

“It doesn’t change what we are now.”