Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

“So it will.” She rubbed the dog briskly, kissed his nose. “That’s better now, isn’t it? All clean and smelling like a citrus grove. An Egyptian one. Give him his treat, Fin, for he’s a good boy, a good, brave boy.”

Bugs turned those adoring, trusting eyes on Fin, then gobbled down the offered treat.

“He could do with some water before . . .” She glanced down, and stared. Truly horrified. “Belleek? You’re using Belleek bowls for the dog’s food and water.”

“They were handy.” Flustered, he took the dog, tossed the towel on the counter, then set Bugs down by the water bowl.

The dog drank thirstily, and noisily, for nearly a full minute. Let out a small belch then sat, stared up at Fin.

“He only needs a warm place to sleep for a while,” Branna told him.

Fin picked the dog up, snagged a pillow from the sofa in the great room, tossed it down in front of the fire.

Egyptian cotton, Belleek bowls, and now a damask pillow, Branna thought. The stable dog had become a little prince.

“He’s tired.” Fin stayed crouched down, stroking Bugs. “But he doesn’t hurt. His blood’s clear. There’s no poison in him.”

“He’ll sleep now, and wake stronger than he was. I had to give him a boost to bring him back. He’d lost so much blood.”

“He’ll have a scar here.” Gently, Fin traced a finger over the thin, jagged line on the dog’s throat.

“As Alastar carries one.”

Nodding, Fin rose as the dog slept. “I’m in your debt.”

“You’re not, and insult us both by saying it.”

“Not insult, Branna, gratitude. I’ll get you some wine.”

“Fin, it can’t be two in the afternoon.”

“Right.” He had to scrub his hands over his face, try to find his balance again. “Tea then.”

“I wouldn’t say no.” And it would keep him busy, she thought as he walked back into the kitchen, until he settled a little more.

“He’s for the stables. It’s been two years, thereabouts, since he wandered in. I wasn’t even here. It was Sean cleaned him up, fed him. And Boyle who named him.”

“Could be he wandered here for a reason, more reason than a bed of straw and scraps and some kind words. He’s in your home now, sleeping on a damask pillow in front of the fire. You took him on Samhain.”

“He was handy, like the bowls.”

“More than that, Fin.”

He shrugged, measured out tea. “He has a strong heart, and I never thought Cabhan would pay him any mind. He’s . . .”

“Harmless. Small and harmless and sweet-natured.”

“I brought him in one night. He has a way of looking at you, so I brought him in.”

Yes, still some of the boy, she thought, and all the kindness born in him. “A dog’s good company. The best, to my mind.”

“He chases his tail for no good reason but it’s there. I haven’t any biscuits,” he realized after a quick search. “Of the human sort.”

“Tea’s fine. Just the tea.”

Understanding he’d want to be close to the dog, she took a chair in view of the fire, waited until he’d brought the tea, sat with her.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I wanted a ride, a good, fast ride. The hills, the open.”

“As I wanted to walk in my garden. I understand the need.”

“You would. I thought to ride, to do some hawking, and took Bugs along to give him an adventure. Christ Jesus.”

“Your horse, your hawk, your hound.” She could almost see the guilt raging around him, hoped to smooth it down again. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re the only one of us who can link to all three.”

“I wasn’t looking for Cabhan, but in truth, I was more than pleased he found me.”

“As I was, walking in my garden. I understand that as well. Did he attack?”

“He started with his blather. I’m his blood, the lot of you will betray me, shun me, and so on. You’d think he’d be as bored with all that as I, but he never stops. Though this time out he promised to give you to me, should I want you, and that was fresh.”

Branna angled her head, and her voice was dry as dust. “Oh, did he now?”

“He did. He understands desire well enough. Understands the hungers of lust, but nothing of the heart or spirit. He knows I want you, but he’ll never understand why. I turned it on him. Began to draw him to me. It surprised him I could, for a moment, I could, and it threw him off. I called for the three—for we’d promised that—and as he became the wolf I pulled the sword from the cupboard upstairs, enflamed it.”

He paused a moment, got his bearings. “I could have held him off, I’m sure of it. I could have engaged him, with Baru and Merlin with me, until you came and we went at him together. But he didn’t come at me. He streaked to the side, had Bugs by the throat. All so fast. I went at him, struck at him, but he shifted away. He went for the dog who barely weighs a stone, tore his throat, then vanished away before I could strike a single blow. He never came at me.”

“But he did. He struck at your heart. Baru, Merlin, yourself? There’s a battle. The little dog, a strike at you with no risk to himself. A fecking coward he’s always been, will always be.”

“He rounded behind me when I went to the dog.”

Because, Branna knew, Fin thought of the dog before his own safety. “He knew you would go to the hurt and the helpless. Go to what’s yours.”

“I would have faced him man to man, witch to witch.” Now Fin’s eyes fired, molten green, as rage overcame guilt. “I wanted that.”

“As we all do, but that’s not his way. You may come from him, but you’re not of him. He keeps at you, as he can’t conceive you’d make the choice not to be.”

“You left me because I’m of him.”

“I left you because I was shocked and hurt and angry. And when that cleared, because I’m sworn.” She closed a hand around her pendant. “I’m sworn by Sorcha and all who came after her, down to me, and Connor and Iona, to use all we are to rid the world of him.”

“And all who come from him.”

“No. No.” Outrage would have come first at any other time, but she still felt his guilt under everything else he felt. “You come from him, but you’re one of us. I’ve come to know that was meant. I’ve come to believe none who’ve come before us succeeded because none who came before had you. Had his blood with them. None of them had you, Fin, with your power, your loyalty, your heart.”

He heard the words, believed she meant them. And yet. “I’m one of you, but you won’t be with me.”

“How can I think of that, Fin? How can I think of it when even now I can feel the urgency of what we’re sworn to do building again? I can’t see beyond that, and when I do, when I let myself think about what might be once this is done, I can’t see any of the life we once thought we’d make together. We were so young—”

“Bollocks to that, Branna. What we felt for each other was older than time. We weren’t the young and foolish playing at love.”

“How much easier would it have been if we had been? How much easier now? If we only played at it, Fin, we wouldn’t be bound to think of tomorrows. What future could we have? What life, you and I?”

He stared into the fire, knowing again she spoke the truth.

And yet.

“None, I know it, and still that feels like more than either of us have without the other. You’re the rest of me, Branna, and I’m tired enough right now to stop pretending you’re not.”

“You think I don’t mourn what might have been?” Hurt radiated through her, into the words. “That I don’t wish for it?”

“I have thought that. I’ve survived thinking that.”

“Then you’ve been wrong, and it may be I’m too tired as well to pretend. If it was only my heart, it would be yours.”