Нора Робертс - Blood Magick

“Not exactly that. I believe seeds of power are in us all,” Branna continued. “In some, they sprout more than in others. The instincts, the feelings, the sensation of having done something before, of having been somewhere before. What we’d give would feed those seeds.”

“Like manure?” Boyle said. “As it sounds like a barrow-load of it.”

“You’d be the same people.” Connor spread his hands. “The same people but with some traces of magicks that could be nurtured and honed.”

“If you think to add protection for us—”

“There’s the benefit of that.” Fin interrupted Boyle in calm tones. “But the purpose is as Branna said. The balance, the interpretation of the prophecy.”

“I need to walk around with this.” Boyle did just that, rising and pacing. “You want to give us something we lack.”

“To my mind, you lack nothing. Nothing,” Branna repeated. “And to my mind, this was always meant. Always meant, just not seen or known until now. I may be wrong, but even if right, we’ll find another way if it feels wrong for you.”

“It feels wrong you’d give up something you have, to add to what we have,” he said. “Sorcha left herself near to empty by doing the same.”

“This is a worry for me as well,” Meara put in. “Giving up power is part of what cost her life.”

“She was one giving all she had to three. We’re four, giving a small part of what we have to two.” Connor smiled at her. “It’s arithmetic.”

“There’s another choice, should you accept the first. It may be three into two,” Fin added. “What I would give has some of Cabhan in it, so it’s another piece to consider.”

“It’s all or it’s none,” Boyle snapped back. “Don’t insult us.”

“Agreed.” Meara took a long drink. “All or none.”

“Take whatever time you need to think on it.” Branna rose. “Ask whatever comes to mind, and we’ll try to answer. And know whatever your choice, we value you. We’ll eat, if that suits everyone, and put this aside unless you have those questions.”

“Eat.” Boyle muttered to himself, continued to pace as food was brought to the table. Then Iona simply walked over, put her arms around him.

He heaved a sigh, met Meara’s eyes over Iona’s head. Meara’s response was a simple lifting of shoulders.

“If we agree, how would it be done?” he wanted to know.

“In much the same way Sorcha did with her children,” Branna told him. “At the base of it in any case. With some adjustments, of course, to fit our own needs.”

“If we agreed,” Meara added, “when would it be done?”

“Tonight.” Connor waved off his sister’s protest. “The ifs they’re putting out are smoke. They’ve both of them decided to agree, because they see, as we do, it’s another answer. So it’s tonight, a clean, quick step, and giving them time to adjust to what’s new in them.” He took a heap of colcannon for his plate, before passing the dish to Meara. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re a cocky one, Connor, but not wrong. Let’s eat, Boyle, and eat hearty, for it’s our last meal as we are.”

“It doesn’t change who you are, even what you are.” Iona rubbed a hand on Boyle’s arm. “It’s . . . Think of it like gaining a new skill or talent.”

“Like piano lessons,” Meara said, and made Branna laugh and laugh.

So they ate, and talked, they cleared and talked more.

Then all six stood together in Fin’s workshop.

“Cabhan mustn’t see what we do here,” Branna told Fin.

“He won’t. I’ve cloaked my windows and doors to him long since, but another layer wouldn’t hurt. Add your own. I have what we’ll need. I read your notes,” he added. “I’ll lay out what’s needed, and we’ll leave it to you to use them.”

“He’ll feel something though, won’t he?” Iona glanced toward the windows. “Power feels power.”

“He may feel, but he won’t know.” Connor took Meara’s hand. “You are the love of my life, before and after.”

“That may be, but I’m hoping I get enough of whatever it is to give you a jolt whenever you might need one.”

“You give me that already.” He swept her back for a dramatic kiss.

“You’re easy with it all,” Boyle commented.

“I’m nervous as a cat in a dog kennel.” Meara pressed her hand to her stomach. “But let’s be honest, Boyle, we’ve seen our lives long what this is, what it means. We’ve four here who’ve shown us what this is must be respected and honored, so we will. And the more I think of it, the more I’m liking the idea of having a bit more to turn on Cabhan and his master.”

“There is that, for certain, and I can’t claim not to consider it. Even if I’d rather just use my fists.”

“You’re the man you are, so you don’t see it’s you who’s giving tonight, not us.” Iona took his face in her hands. “It’s you.” Then stepped back. “Is there something you need from us, Branna?”

“Three drops of blood from each who gives power. Three only. But first, we cast a circle, we light the fire to ring it. It’s your home, Fin. You begin.”

“Here and now the circle cast protecting all within, so inside its ring the ritual begin. Flames arise but not to burn, through the light our powers turn. Close the door and seal the locks. Turn away whatever knocks.”

Fire flashed to ring them, cool and white.

“We are connected,” Branna began. “Are now, have been, will be. If not by blood and bone, but heart and spirit. We seal that connection here with a gift, given and taken willingly.

“So say we all?” Branna asked.

“So say we all,” the others answered.

So she began.

“Wine and honey, sweet and dark.” She poured both into a bowl. “To help the light within you spark. Oil of herbs and joy-shed tears stirred within to ease your fears. From my heart a drop of blood times three.” She pricked her wrist at the pulse, added the three drops to the cup. “Sister, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”

She passed the bowl to Fin. “From heart, from spirit I shed for thee, a drop of blood times three. Sister, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”

When he finished, he handed the bowl to Connor. “And now on a new journey you embark, I give three drops from my heart. Lover, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”

And to Iona.

“You are my heart, you are my light, so that holds fast upon this night. From the beat of my heart, for sister, for love, one, two, and three. I share my light with both of thee.”

“Sealed with fire, pure and white, the gift we give upon this night.” Branna took the bowl, held it high as white fire flashed within. “Bless this gift and those who take what’s given, know by right all here are driven. From bowl to cup for one, for two, pour forth this consecrated brew.”

The liquid in the bowl fountained up, split into two with each arch spilling into a waiting cup.

Branna gestured to Connor, to Iona. “Those closest should make the final offering.”

“Okay.” Iona picked up a cup, turned to Boyle. She touched his cheek, then held out the cup. “In this place and in this hour, we offer you this taste of power. If your choice to take is free, say these words back to me. ‘This I take into my body, into my heart, into my spirit willingly. As we will, so mote it be.’”

He repeated the words, hesitated briefly, then looked into her eyes. And drank.

Connor turned to Meara, gave her his words, her own.

She grinned at him, couldn’t quite help it, and drank.

“Is that it?” she asked. “Did it work? I don’t feel any different.” She looked at Boyle.

“No, no different.”