Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

“You heard what spoke to him.”

Frowning, Fin turned to Branna. “You didn’t?”

“Only a humming, as we heard when we got there, when we went into the cave. A kind of . . . thrumming.”

“I heard it.” Absently, Fin rubbed at his shoulder, at the mark. “The promises for more power, for eternal life, for all Cabhan could want. But to gain it, he had to give more. Sacrifice what was human in him. It started with the father.”

“Do you know it or think it?” Connor asked him.

“I know it. I could see inside his head, and I could feel the demon trapped in the stone, and its needs, its avarice. Its . . . glee at knowing it would soon be free again.”

“Demon?” Meara picked up the wine she’d opted for. “Well now, that’s new—and terrifying.”

“Old,” Fin corrected. “Older than time, and it waited until it found a vessel.”

“Cabhan?”

“It’s still him,” Fin told Boyle. “It’s Cabhan right enough, but with the other a part of him, and hungry always for power and for blood.”

“The stone’s the source, as we thought,” Branna continued. “It came from the blood of the father and the mother Cabhan sacrificed for power. Conjuring it, pledging to it, he took in this . . . well, if Fin says demon, it’s a demon right enough.”

“Why Sorcha?” Iona wondered. “Why was he so obsessed with her?”

“For her beauty, and her power, and . . . the purity, you could say, of her love for her family. He wanted, craved the first two, and wanted to destroy the last.”

Fin rubbed his fingers on his temple, attempting to ease the pounding still trapped inside his head.

“She rejected him, time and again,” he continued, though the pounding refused to be abated. “Scorned him and his advances. So he . . .”

Surprised when Mary Kate stepped behind him, stroked her hands along temples, along the back of his neck where he hadn’t realized more pain lodged, he lost his thread.

And the headache drifted away.

“Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

She gave him a grandmotherly kiss on the top of the head before she sat again. It flustered him, and showed him just where Iona got her kind and open heart.

“Ah. His lust for her, woman and witch, became obsession. He would turn her, take what she had, and he believes no spell, no magicks can stop him, can touch him. Her power could cause him harm, threaten his existence, and her rejection burned his pride.”

“Then there were three,” Branna calculated. “And with the three the power, and the threat, increases. We can end him.”

“In that moment, in the cave, when he took in the demon, and the black of it, he believed nothing could or ever would. But what’s in him knows better. It lies to him, as his mother warned him. It lies.”

“We can hurt him, bloody him, burn him to ash, but . . .” Connor shrugged. “Unless we destroy the amulet as well, unless we can destroy the demon joined with him, he’ll heal, he’ll come back.”

“It’s good to know.” Iona spread some cheese on a cracker. “So how do we destroy the stone, the demon?”

“Blood magick against blood magick,” Branna decided. “White against dark. As we have been, but perhaps with a different focus. We have to find the right time, and be sure of it. I’m thinking it must be Sorcha’s cabin, as before, to draw what she had into it, but we need to find a way to trap him, to keep him from escaping again so it can be finished. And if we can do that, it would be Fin who needs to destroy the stone, the source.”

“I felt the pull, of the demon, of the witch. And the far stronger one when they united. I felt the . . . appeal, the lust for what they’d give me.”

“And feeling that, risked yourself to shield me. It’s for you to do when the time comes,” Branna said briskly. “We’ve only to figure out the hows and the whens. Mary Kate, are you certain you have to go back to America, for it’s a joy to me to have someone else fixing a meal around here.”

Understanding the need to shift the conversation, Mary Kate smiled. “I do, I’m afraid, but I’ll be back for Iona’s wedding, and before it enough to help with some of the doings. And it might be, I’m thinking, I’ll stay.”

“Stay?” Iona reached around the table, grabbed her hands. “Nan, do you mean you’d stay in Ireland?”

“I’m doing some thinking about it. I stayed in America after your grandda died for your mother, then for you. And I love my house there, my gardens, the views out my window. I have good friends there. But . . . I can have a house here, and gardens, and pretty views out my windows. I have good friends here. And I have you. I have all of you, and more family besides.”

“You could live with us. I showed you where we’re putting on the room for you to have when you visit. You could just live there, with us.” Iona looked at Boyle.

“Of course, and we’d love that.”

“You’ve a sweet heart,” Mary Kate said to Iona, “and you’ve a generous one, Boyle. But if I come to stay, to live, I’ll take my own place. Close by, be sure of that. In the village most like, where I can walk to the shops and see my good friends, and visit with you in your fine new home as often as you please.”

“I’ve a cottage and no tenant,” Fin commented, and had Mary Kate lifting her eyebrows.

“I’ve heard as much, but it’s some months till April.”

“It’s easy to rent it to tourists for short spells who want something in the village, something self-catering. You might have a look at it before you go back to America.”

“I’ll do just that, and should confess I’ve already had a peek in the windows.” She grinned. “It’s cozy as a kitten, and so nicely updated.”

“I’ll see you get a key, and you can go in, look around whenever you like.”

“I’ll do that. I should go. Margaret will start worrying if I’m much later.”

“I’ll drive you in.” Boyle started to rise.

“I’ll do it.” Fin stood instead. “I’ll give you the key, and drop you round your friend’s. I need to be home myself.”

“I’ll get my coat. No, the lot of you stay where you are,” Mary Kate insisted. “I don’t mind being escorted from the house by a handsome young man.”

When they’d left, Iona got to her feet. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

Branna’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you?”

“A bath with some of your own relaxation salts, and Meara’s going to make you a cup of tea. I’d like to send Connor and Boyle to Fin’s to do the same for him—”

“I’m not drawing a bath for Fin Burke,” Boyle said, definitely.

“But the two of them are going to clean up in here, just the way you like it. So you can get some rest, good rest, and put all this out of your mind for the rest of the night.”

“I wouldn’t argue with her once she gets the steam up,” Boyle advised.

“I wouldn’t mind a bath, or the tea.”

“That’s settled then.” Iona walked out.

“And I wouldn’t mind you leaving the kitchen as it is if one of you would go check on Fin,” Branna said. “This was more of a strain on him than it was on me, and I’ll confess, I’m worn through from it.”

“I’ll give him a few minutes, then go over,” Connor told her. “I’ll stay if that’s what he needs, or stay till I’m sure he’s settled. We can still see to the kitchen. Go on up now, don’t worry.”

“Then I will. Good night.”

Meara waited until Branna was out of earshot, Kathel by her side, then walked over to put the kettle on. “You’re the one who’s worrying, Connor.”

“She didn’t eat, not a thing.” He glanced toward the kitchen doorway, stuck his hands in his pockets as if he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with them. “She only pretended to eat. There were shadows under her eyes that weren’t there at the start of the spell. Then letting you and Iona fuss over her without putting up a fight? She’s worn to the bone, that’s what.