Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

“Will you tell me what’s troubling you?” she asked him. “I can see it, hear it, under the rest. If it’s something between us—”

“Between us we have today, as agreed.” He heard the edge in his own voice, waved the words away. “It’s nothing to do with that, with what’s between us. Cabhan’s coming into my dreams,” he told her. “Three nights running now.”

“Why haven’t you told me?”

“What’s to be done about it?” Fin countered. “He hasn’t pulled me in. I think he doesn’t want that battle and the energy it would cost him, so he slips and slithers into them, making his promises, distorting images. He showed me one of you last night.”

“Of me.”

“You were with a man with sandy hair and pale blue eyes, an American accent. Together, in a room I didn’t know, but a hotel room I’d say. And you laughing as you undressed each other.”

She gripped her hands together under the table. “His name was David Watson. It would’ve been near to five years ago now when he was in Cong. A photographer from New York City. We enjoyed each other’s company and spent two nights together before he went back to America.

“He’s not the only one Cabhan could show you. There aren’t many but more than David Watson. Have you taken no women to bed these past years, Finbar?”

Darkly green, just a bit dangerous, his eyes met hers. “There have been women. I tried to hurt none of them, and still most knew they were solace or, worse, somehow, placeholders. I never thought or expected you’d not had . . . someone, Branna, but it was hard to have no choice than to watch you with another man.”

“This is how he bleeds you. He doesn’t want you dead, as he hopes to merge what you have with what he has, to hold you up as son, when you’re nothing of the kind. So this is how he damages you without leaving a mark.”

“I’m already marked, or neither of us would have been with others. I know his purpose, Branna, as well as you. It doesn’t make it go down easier.”

“We can try to find what will block him out.”

Fin shook his head. “We’ve enough to do already. I’ll deal with it. And there’s something else, I can’t quite see or hear, but only feel there’s something else trying to find a way in as well.”

“Something?”

“Or someone, and I wouldn’t block without knowing. It’s like something pushing against him, trying to find room. I can’t explain it. It’s a feeling when I wake that there’s a voice just out of my hearing. So I’ll listen for it, see what it says.”

“You might do better with a good night’s sleep than listening for voices. I can’t change the last years, Fin.”

He met her eyes. “Nor can I.”

“Would it be easier on you if we weren’t together now? If we went back to working together only? If he couldn’t use me as a weapon against you, it—”

“There’s nothing harder than being without you.”

She rose, went around the table to curl in his lap. “Should I give you the names of those I’ve been with? I could add their descriptions as well, so you’ll know what to expect.”

After a long moment, he gave her hair a hard tug. “That’s a cruel and callous suggestion.”

She tipped her head back. “But it nearly made you smile. Let me help you sleep tonight, Fin.” She brushed her lips over his cheek. “You’ll do better work for it. Whatever’s trying to get in along with him can wait.”

“There was a redhead name of Tilda in London. She had eyes like bluebells, a laugh like a siren. And dimples.”

Eyes narrowed, Branna slid a hand up his throat, squeezed. “Balancing the scales, are we?”

“As you’ve yet to witness Tilda’s impressive agility, I’d say the scales are far from balanced. But I should sleep better tonight for mentioning her.”

He dropped his forehead to Branna’s. “I won’t let him damage me, or us.”

Iona rushed in the back door, said, “Oops.”

“We’re just having some lunch,” Branna told her.

“So I see. You’d both better come take a look at this.” Without waiting, she hurried through and into the workshop.

When Branna and Fin joined her, they stood looking out the window at the line of rats ranged just along the border of protection.

Branna laid a hand on Kathel’s head when he growled.

“He doesn’t like not being able to see in,” she said quietly.

“I started to flame them up, but I thought you should see first. It’s why I came around the back.”

“I’ll deal with it.” Fin started for the door.

“Don’t burn them there where they are,” Branna told him. “They’ll leave ugly black ash along the snow, then we’ll have to deal with that—and it’s lovely just now.”

Fin spared her a look, a shake of his head, then stepped out coatless.

“The neighbors.” On a hiss of frustration, Branna threw up a block so no one could see Fin.

And none too soon, she noted, as he pushed out power, sent the rats scrabbling while they set up that terrible high-pitched screaming. He drove them back, will against will, by millimeters.

Branna went to the door, threw it open, intending to help, but saw she wasn’t needed.

He called up a wind, sent them rolling and tumbling in ugly waves. Then he opened the earth like a trench, whirled them in. Then came the fire, and the screams tore the air.

When they stopped he drew down the rain to quench the fire, soak the ash. Then simply pulled the earth back over them.

“That was excellent,” Iona breathed. “Disgusting but excellent. I didn’t know he could juggle the elements like that—boom, boom, boom.”

“He was showing off,” Branna replied. “For Cabhan.”

Fin stood where he was, in the open, as if daring a response.

He lifted his arm high, called to his hawk. Like a golden flash Merlin dived down, then, following the direction of Fin’s hand, bulleted into the trees.

Fin whirled his arms out, in, and vanished in a swirl of fog.

“Oh God, my God, Cabhan.”

“It wasn’t Cabhan’s fog,” Branna said with forced calm. “It was Fin’s. He’s gone after him.”

“What should we do? We should call the others, get to Fin.”

“We can’t get to Fin as we can’t know where he is. He has to let us, and he isn’t. He wants to do this on his own.”

He flew, shadowed by the fog, his eyes the eyes of the hawk. And through the hawk watched the wolf streak through the woods. It left no track and cast no shadow.

As it approached the river it gathered itself, leaped up, rose up, sprang over the cold, dark surface like a stone from a sling. As it did, the mark on Fin’s arm burned brutally.

So Cabhan paid a price, he thought, for crossing water.

He followed the wolf, masked by his own fog until he felt something change in the air, something tremble. He called to Merlin, slowed his own forward motion, seconds before the wolf vanished.

• • •

FIN MIGHT HAVE WANTED TO HANDLE THINGS ON HIS OWN, but Iona called the others anyway. Placidly, silently, Branna brewed a pot of tea.

“You’re so calm.” Iona paced, waiting for something to happen. “How can you be so calm?”

“I’m so angry it feels my blood’s on fire. If I didn’t bank it with calm, I might burn the place to the ground.”

Stepping over, Iona wrapped her arms around Branna from behind. “You know he’s all right. You know he can take care of himself.”

“I know it very well, and it changes nothing.” She patted Iona’s hand, moved to get a dish for biscuits while her angry heart beat fists against her ribs. “I never asked why you’re home so early.”

“We decided we could start the whole shift rotation today. I have a lesson at the big stables at four, but Boyle could spare me until.” Iona rushed to the door. “Here they are now. And, oh! Here’s Fin. He’s fine.”