An idea occurred to me. “Hang on, there’s something I need first.”
I raced into the kitchen. Rowan stood behind the island, counting under his breath as he chopped carrots into perfectly symmetrical sticks. “Rowan? I need some kind of glass jar or something. It has to be small enough to fit in my purse.”
He glanced up. “Jar?”
“Yeah. We’re going to the church today and it occurs to me that if baptisms are somehow anathema to fae, then holy water might also be poisonous or something. So I thought I might try to sneak some out while the Vicar was in the middle of the Hail Marys.”
Rowan smiled. “If Flynn was here, he’d have to tell you that Hail Marys are for Catholics, not protestant heathens.”
“But you’re much cooler than that. So, jars?” I glanced around the huge kitchen. “Where would I find one?”
“I’ve only got giant preserving jars left,” Rowan said. “Check in the recycling. Sometimes the guys throw them in there instead of washing them like I ask them to.”
That was the closest I’d ever heard Rowan come to complaining about his housemates. He wiped a dreadlock out of his eye and smiled crookedly.
I went over to the recycling bin and hunted through it. Rowan was right – amongst the juice boxes and beer bottles, I found a small preserving jar with a screw lid. It had a label on it.
“Got one,” I said, rinsing it under the hot tap. I leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks.”
“Can I have a look?”
I handed him the jar and Rowan frowned. “Odd.”
“What’s odd?”
Rowan turned it over so I could see the label. “This is the bottle from the sleeping draught I made so we could follow you to the fae realm. There was enough left for at least one more dose, even after Blake took that trip into the fae realm where he came back with the hand. So why is it empty and in the bin?”
A car honked outside, and Flynn yelled at me to “get a wiggle on.”
“I don’t have time to ponder it,” I said, grabbing the jar out of his hand and shoving it into my purse. “I have a baptism to attend.”
“Will you sit still?” Jane grumbled as Flynn wriggled beside her. “Your leg is jiggling so much, Connor thinks he’s in his bouncy seat.”
“Can’t help it. I’m excited. I never did have a baptism, meself.”
“Aren’t you Irish? I thought you guys were all ra-ra-baby-Jesus over there?”
“Ra-ra-baby-Jesus?” Flynn choked with laughter. “Mother Mary, I never heard the like. We may be all ‘ra-ra-baby-Jesus’, as you say, but when your mother’s a crackhead, just getting a hot meal is a triumph, let alone any kind of religious pageantry.”
I snapped my head back to look at Flynn. He’d said that sentence with the same easy tone he said everything else. His eyes held no emotion when he spoke of his mother. I wondered how deep his hurt must go to make him so indifferent.
Did all my boys have such broken pasts?
“Were you baptised, Maeve?” Jane asked, trying to change the subject. “I’m guessing not, being that you’re a dirty heathen witch.”
“Actually, I am. In our church, you don’t baptise babies – baptism is something you do when you’re old enough to choose a life dedicated to God. My sister Kelly and I did it together whenI was fifteen. I didn't want to do it, but it made my Dad and Kelly so happy, and I figured since I didn’t believe in any of it, all it boiled down to was going swimming with my clothes on. So I gritted my teeth and did it so they’d shut up about it. Dad brought me a book about black holes as a baptism gift, so I think I came out of it pretty good in the end.”
We arrived at the church to find a group of people clamouring at the gate. I grinned as our driver pulled up across the street. “Look at how many people have shown up for Jane and Connor. Not everyone in this town is a prudish witch-hunter.”
“I don’t think they’re here to support Jane.” Flynn frowned out the window.
I shoved open my door in time to see Sheryl Brownley wobbling across the road, holding her skirts up with one hand while she waved with the other. “Jane, Jane, I tried to call you, but the boy at the castle said you’d already left and I couldn’t get you on your mobile.”
Jane pushed open the door and slid her leg out, tapping the pocket of her jacket. “I’ve been so busy I must’ve left it behind. We’re here now. What is it?”
“Get back and that car and leave,” she yelled. “We have to cancel the baptism, I’m afraid! All these people are?—”
“What?No.” Jane’s face paled, and I knew exactly what she was thinking.No baptism means that Connor is in danger of becoming the fae’s blood sacrifice.
