Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

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Blood Magick: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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County Mayo is rich in the traditions of Ireland, legends that Branna O’Dwyer fully embraces in her life and in her work as the proprietor of The Dark Witch shop, which carries soaps, lotions, and candles for tourists, made with Branna’s special touch. Branna’s strength and selflessness hold together a close circle of friends and family—along with their horses and hawks and her beloved hound. But there’s a single missing link in the chain of her life: love… She had it once—for a moment—with Finbar Burke, but a shared future is forbidden by history and blood. Which is why Fin has spent his life traveling the world to fill the abyss left in him by Branna, focusing on work rather than passion. Branna and Fin’s relationship offers them both comfort and torment. And though they succumb to the heat between them, there can be no promises for tomorrow. A storm of shadows threatens everything that their circle holds dear. It will be Fin’s power, loyalty, and heart that will make all the difference in an age-old battle between the bonds that hold their friends together and the evil that has haunted their families for centuries. **Don’t miss the other books in the Cousins O’Dwyer Trilogy
** Dark Witch **
**Shadow Spell

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“So we’ll fill up tonight, eat careful there, and be back here for leftovers.” Connor stabbed a bite of goose.

“It’s my first major holiday with Boyle’s family.” Happiness rolled off Iona as she looked around the table. “I’m taking bread pudding—and I won’t be in the runoff, as Nan walked me through it. We’re going to pick a holiday, Boyle, for us to host. Make a tradition. How’re things going on New Year’s, Fin?”

“They’re coming.”

“I could make bread pudding.”

He smiled, adoring her. “I’m having it catered.”

“Catered?”

He flicked a glance at Branna’s instant shock. “Catered,” he said firmly. “I look at a menu, say, this, and that, and some of these, hand over the money, and it’s done.”

“You’ll enjoy the party more without having to fuss,” Mary Kate said lightly.

“It’s for certain everyone will, as they’d enjoy it less if I’d tried my hand at making the food.”

“God’s truth,” Boyle said, with feeling. “He’s hired Tea and Biscuits for the music.”

“You hired a band?”

This time Fin shrugged at Branna. “People want music, and they’re a good band. If guests want to pick up a fiddle or pipe or break out in song, that’s fine as well.”

“It’ll be good craic ,” Connor decreed.

“How many are coming?” Branna wondered.

“I don’t know, precisely. I just set the word out.”

“You could have half the county there!”

“I didn’t set word that far out, but if that’s the case, the caterer will be busy.”

“Patrick and I used to have parties that way,” Mary Kate remembered. “Oh, we couldn’t afford a caterer in those days, but we’d just set the word out with friends and neighbors. It’s friendly. A good céili .”

“Branna’s not happy with the idea altogether,” Connor put in. “She’d rather we didn’t have any sort of party until we’ve done with Cabhan.”

“We won’t bring him to the table tonight,” Branna said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Did I hear Kyra got a ring for Christmas, Connor?”

“You did, and you’ve ears to the ground, as she only got it last night, I’m told. She’s flashing what there is of it everywhere.” Thinking of their office manager, he wagged his fork at Fin. “Be sure you get into the school and make over it like it was the Hope Diamond. She gets her nose out of joint easy.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. My ear to the ground tells me that Riley—you remember Riley, Boyle, as his face ran into your fist some months back.”

“He earned it.”

“He did, and it seems he earned the same again from one Tim Waterly, who owns a horse farm in Sligo. I’ve had some dealings with Tim, and we’ve dealt together well. You’d think him a mild-mannered sort of man, but in this case, Riley’s face ran into Tim’s fist during a lively discussion on if trying to pass off moldy hay was good business practice.”

“He’s a fucker is Riley, right enough. I’m begging your pardon, Nan.”

“No need, for a man who’d try to sell moldy hay, or worse, mistreat a horse as he did your sweet mare Darling, is a fucker indeed. Would you pass me those potatoes, Meara? I think I’ve room for another bite of them.”

They ate their way through the feast, and some groaned their way through the cleanup, but somehow managed pie or trifle or some of both. There was Fin’s champagne, and gifts exchanged. Delighted hugs, and a pause as carolers wandered by.

And no sign of Cabhan, Branna thought as she checked out the windows yet again.

When she slipped out to the kitchen to check from there, Fin followed her.

“If you don’t want Cabhan brought up, stop looking for him.”

“I’m after another bottle of champagne.”

“You’re after worrying yourself to distraction. He’s burrowed in, Branna. I’ve my own way of looking.”

He got out the bottle himself, set it on the counter.

“I just want tonight to be . . . unspoiled.”

“And it is. I’ve something for you.”

He turned his hand, empty, turned it again, and held out a box wrapped in gold paper and topped with an elaborate silver bow.

“We’ve exchanged our gifts.”

“And one more yet. Open it, and I’ll open this.” He turned to the champagne.

Thrown off yet again, she unwrapped the box, opened it as Fin drew the cork with a muffled pop .

She knew the bottle was old—and beautiful. Its facets streamed with light, shimmering with it so it seemed to glow in her hand. It had held power once, she thought, long ago. Then traced a finger over the glass stopper. A dragon’s head.

“It’s stunning. It’s old and stunning and still hums with power.”

“I found it in a fussy antiques shop in New Orleans, though it didn’t come from there. It had passed from hand to hand long before it came to that fussy shop where they had no idea what it was. I knew it for yours as soon as I picked it up. I’ve had it a few years now as I wasn’t sure how to give it so you’d accept it.”

She stared down at the bottle. “You think I’m hard.”

“I think nothing of the sort. I think you’re strong, and that makes it hard for both of us. Still, I couldn’t leave it in that shop where they didn’t know what they had, and not when I knew it for yours.”

“And you know when I look at it, I’ll think of you.”

“Well, there is that advantage to it. All the same, it’s for you.”

“I’ll keep it in my room, and despite my better sense I’ll think of you when I look at it.” She couldn’t risk her lips on his, but brushed hers to his cheek, and for a moment rested her cheek to his as she’d once done so often, so easily. “Thank you. I— Oh, she had it made very particularly. I have a glimmer here,” she murmured, staring at the bottle. “The dragon was hers, I think. And she had this made, just so, to hold . . . to hold tears. A witch’s tears—so precious and powerful when shed for joy, when shed in sorrow.”

“Which did this hold?”

“I can’t see it, but I’ll think joy, as it’s Christmas, and a beautiful gift. It should hold joy.” She set it carefully on the counter. “We should have champagne, and we should have music. And I won’t check the windows any more tonight.”

• • •

THAT NIGHT, LATE, SHE PUT THE BOTTLE ON HER DRESSER, and, sliding into bed, watched it catch all the golds of the fire.

And thought of him. And thinking of him, laid a charm under her pillow to block dreams. Her heart was too full to risk dreams.

• • •

THINGS NEEDED DOING, BRANNA THOUGHT AS SHE SPENT the day—happily alone—in her workshop. She’d enjoyed every minute of Yule, of Christmas. Gathering with her circle, preparing the food, making music together. She’d loved the trip to Kerry on Christmas Day, didn’t feel the least guilty she’d magickly flown to see her parents, to spend time with them and other family. And had felt warmer yet, as Connor did the same, with Meara.

It had done her spirit good to see her parents so happy with this new phase of their lives. Boosted her confidence to recognize their complete faith in her, in Connor.

But now it was back to practical matters again. To the work that earned her living. To the work that was her destiny, that was life or death.

She replenished some of her most popular lotions and creams, worked on the pretty travel candles that all but flew off her shop’s shelves.

Then she gave herself the pleasure of experimenting with new scents, new colors, new textures. She could focus her mind on her senses, how did this look, what mood did this scent evoke, how did this feel on the skin?

She glanced up when the door opened, found herself happy to see Meara come in.

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