“This is your father’s blood.” She opened her hands over the cauldron, and the blood poured. “And these are my tears, and yours. He rode to protect us, rode home as I asked him. A trap, set by Cabhan, using my fear, my weakness. He took your father’s life, as he will take mine. The life, but not the spirit, not the power.”
She knelt, enfolded her weeping children. “I would comfort you in every moment I have left, but there is no time for grieving. Remember him who made you, who loved you, and know I go to be with him, and watch over you.”
“Don’t send us away.” Teagan sobbed on her mother’s shoulder. “I want to stay with you. I want Da.”
“You’ll take the light in me with you. I will always be with you.” With hands now clean and white, Sorcha brushed tears from her daughter’s cheek. “You, my bright light, my hope. You, my brave son.” She kissed Eamon’s fingers. “My heart. And you, my steady, searching one.” She cupped Brannaugh’s face. “My strength. Carry me with you. And now, we work this spell together. Stand with me! Say as I say, do as I do.”
She held out her hands.
“With blood and tears we spill our fears.” She waved a hand over the cauldron, and the liquid within began to stir. “A pinch of salt times four to close and bolt the door. Weeds to bind, berries to blind. My children he will not see, and they will live safe and free. Pretty petals tinged with hate, scented sweet and so to bait. Boil it all in fire and smoke, and on this potion Cabhan chokes. When I call he comes to me, as I will, so mote it be.”
The light flashed so all in the circle burned with it.
She called on Hecate, on Brighid, on Morrigan and Babd Catha, summoning the strength and power of the goddesses. The air quaked, seemed to split and crack. It rang with voices as Sorcha stood, arms high in both prayer and demand.
The smoke turned red as blood, fogged the room. Then, as if in a whirlpool, sucked back into the cauldron.
Eyes bright, Sorcha poured the potion into a vessel, sealed it, slid it into her pocket.
“Mother,” Brannaugh breathed.
“I am, and will be. Don’t fear me, or what I give you now. My baby.” She took Teagan’s hands. “It will grow in you, as you grow. You will ever be kind, ever ask why. You will ever stand for those who cannot stand. Take this.”
“It’s hot,” Teagan said as her hands glowed in her mother’s.
“It will cool again, until you need it. My son. You will fly, and you will fight. You will ever be loyal and true. Take this.”
“I would take you. I would guard you.”
“Guard your sisters. Brannaugh, my first. So much to ask of you. Your gift is strong already, and now I give you more. More than Teagan and Eamon, as I must. You will build and you will make. When you love, you will never stop. You will ever be the one they look to first, and will ever bear the burden. Forgive me, and take this.”
Brannaugh gasped. “It burns!”
“Only for a moment.” And in that moment Sorcha grieved a thousand years. “Open. Take. Live.”
She kept only enough, just enough, then let herself slide to the floor when it was done. She was the Dark Witch no more.
“You are the Dark Witch, one by three. This is my gift, and my curse. Each of you is strong, and stronger together. One day you’ll return. Go now, and quickly. Day comes. Know my heart goes with you.”
But Teagan clung to her, kicked, cried when Eamon pulled her away.
“Take her outside, onto Alastar,” Brannaugh said quietly.
But first Eamon knelt to his mother. “I will avenge my father, and you, my mother. I will protect my sisters with my life. I swear this.”
“I am proud of my son. I will see you again. My baby,” she said to Teagan. “You will return. I promise you.”
Brannaugh turned to her sister, passed a hand over her head. And Teagan nodded to sleep.
“Take her, Eamon, and the packs you can carry. I’ll bring the rest.”
“I’ll help you. I’m strong enough,” Sorcha insisted. And she didn’t intend to allow Cabhan into her house.
As they loaded the horse, Brannaugh looked into her mother’s eyes. “I understand.”
“I know.”
“I’ll let no harm come to them. If you cannot destroy Cabhan, your blood will. If it takes a thousand years, your blood will.”
