“That you knew already.”
“Aye, but she said he comes back, and he lies with women. He whispers in their ear and they think he’s their lawful husband. But in the morning, they know. They weep. She said you gave the women charms to keep him away, but... he lured one of the kitchen maids away, into the bog. No one can find her.”
She knew of it, just as she knew the kitchen maid would never be found. “He toys with them, and preys on the weak to feed himself. His power is black and cold. The light and the fire will always defeat him.”
“But he comes back. He scratches at the windows and doors.”
“He can’t enter.” But she felt a chill through her blood.
Just then Eamon let out a shout, and when he yanked up his line, a fish flashed silver in the sunlight.
“Luck and skill,” Sorcha said with a laugh as she grabbed the net.
“I want to catch one.” Teagan leaned eagerly over the water as if searching for a likely fish.
“We’ll hope you do, as we’ll need more than one, even such a fine one. It’s good work, Eamon.”
They caught three more, and if she helped her baby a bit, the magick was for love.
She rowed them back with the sun sparkling, the breeze dancing, and the air full of her children’s voices.
A good, fine day, she thought, and spring so close she could almost taste it.
“Run on home then, Eamon, and clean those fish. You can get the potatoes started, Brannaugh, and I’ll see to the boat.”
“I’ll stay with you.” Teagan snuck her hand into her mother’s. “I can help.”
“That you can, as we’ll need to fetch some water from the stream.”
“Do fish like us to catch and eat them?”
“I can’t say they do, but it’s their purpose.”
“Why?”
Andwhy, Sorcha thought as she secured the boat, had been Teagan’s first word. “Didn’t the powers put the fish in the water, and give us the wit to make the nets and lines?”
“But they must like swimming more than the fire.”
“I expect so. So we should be mindful and grateful when we eat.”
“What if we didn’t catch and eat them?”
“We’d be hungry more often than not.”
“Do they talk under the water?”
“Well now, I’ve never had a conversation with a fish. Here now.” Sorcha pulled Teagan’s cloak more closely around her. “It’s getting cold.” She glanced up, saw the clouds rolling over the sun. “We may have a storm tonight. Best get home.”
As she straightened, came the fog. Gray and dirty, it slunk like a snake over the ground and smothered the sparkle of the day.
Not a storm coming, Sorcha realized. The threat was here already.
She pushed Teagan behind her as Cabhan rose out of the fog.
He wore black picked through with silver like stars against a midnight sky. His hair waved to his shoulders, an ebony frame for his hard and beautiful face. His eyes, dark as a gypsy’s heart, held both power and pleasure as he scraped them over Sorcha.
She felt them, like bold hands on her skin.
