“It seemed beyond all we have and know together. We have the green and the wet in us, and wouldn’t cast it out. But this? The warm and the blue? A bit of the fanciful for someone who rarely gifts herself with it. And all gods know, Branna, the winter’s been cold and hard.”
“It has. But at the end of it, we’ll have more than spring. We’ll have duty done, and the light and breath that comes from it. When it’s done...”
He lifted his head, looked into her eyes. “Ask.”
“Bring me back here again, for both of us, when what’s done is done. And before you go wherever you must. Bring me back.”
“I will. You’ll want to go home now.”
“No. No, let’s stay awhile.” She shifted, sat up, and reached for the glasses. “We’ll finish our wine and enjoy the sun and the water. Let’s take the fancy of this a little longer. For there’ll be little time or chance for it once we return.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder, sipped the starry wine, and watched the sea that spread to the far horizon.
18
WHENTHESIXOFTHEMMANAGEDTOCOMETOGETHER,Branna opted for a quietly celebrational meal of rack of lamb, roasted butternut squash, and peas with butter and mint.
“Sure I didn’t expect such a fuss,” Connor said as he took charge of carving the chops from the rack. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“It’s the first time we’ve sat down, the six of us, in near to a week,” Branna pointed out. “We’ve all talked here and there, and we all know what’s been done and where we are. The brew’s curing well. I checked it only this afternoon.” She took a dollop of the squash for her plate, passed the bowl. “Connor and I made a second bottle of the poison needed for Cabhan, so like the demon’s brew, we’ll have that in case something goes amiss.”
“I’m not going to think of misses.” Meara handed off the peas to Boyle. “Near to a year now that evil bastard’s been dogging us—longer I know for the three, but in this year he’s taunted and attacked with barely a respite. Third time’s the charm, isn’t it? I’m believing in that—and thinking that every time I see him when I’m out on a guided.”
“Today?” Branna asked.
“Today, and every day now, lurking in the woods, even keeping pace for a time. A little closer to the track, it seems. Close enough that twice now, Roibeard’s flown in and taken a dive at him. It. Whatever the bloody hell.”
“He does it to rattle us,” Boyle pointed out. “It’s best not to rattle.”
“True enough.” With the chops severed, Connor took two for himself. “He’s getting stronger or bolder, or both. I’ve seen him skulking about when out on a hawk walk. But today, our Brian mentioned he’d seen a wolf cross the path.”
“As Mrs. Baker saw him,” Branna added.
“Indeed. Now with Brian, who tends to think an errant wind may be a sign of the apocalypse, it was easy enough to convince him he’d only caught sight of a stray dog. But it’s a concern he’s showing himself to others.”
“Would he hurt them?” Iona demanded. “We can’t let him hurt an innocent.”
“He would.” Fin kept his calm. “It’s more likely he’ll keep whatever he has for us, but he would and could hurt others. Someone else with power might tempt him, for that would be a kind of feeding.”
“Or a woman.” Boyle waited a beat, then nodded when no one spoke. “We all know he has needs in that area. So would he take a woman, and if we think he may, how can we stop it?”
“We can spread the protection farther than we have,” Branna began. “If he decided to slake that thirst it would be with the young and attractive. The vulnerable. We can do what we can.”
“It’s not how I’d go about it.” Fin sliced lamb from the bone very precisely. “He can shift his times, he can go when and where he likes. Why draw more attention to where he is, and what he plans here? In his place I’d go back, a hundred years or more, take what I wanted, do what I wished, and set no alarm around here.”
“So, we can’t do anything about it, can’t help whoever he’d hurt,” Iona said.
“We’ll destroy him,” Branna reminded her. “And that’s doing all there is to do.”
“But it’s a month before the anniversary of Sorcha’s death.”
“He’s had eight hundred years to do his worst.” Boyle laid a hand over Iona’s. “We can only deal with now.”
“I know it. I know, and still we can only do so much. There’s so much power here, but we’re helpless to stop him from doing harm.”
“I look through the crystal every morning,” Branna told her. “And every night. Often more than that. I’ve seen him working, and seen some of the spells he conjures. There’s blood, always, but I’ve yet to see him bring a mortal or witch into his cave. I’ve yet to see or hear anything that would help us.”
“It’s all we can do now.” Connor looked around the table. “Until we do more. It’s a month, and that feels long, but in fact, we’ve more things to gather before that time’s up. We need the brew and spell for the cauldron to destroy the stone. With light, as Branna prophesied.”
