I frowned at the revelation. “He told me differently.”
“Oh, he’s always claimed it, he has, though I suspect that be to have a stronger hold on me.” She lifted her gaze skyward, not that there was much to see beyond the fog. “One thing’s for certain, Calhoun’s got an abundance o’ Balor’s blood, and an evil eye that can kill a man in his boots. It’s why he wears that patch, to keep from striking people dead in a fit o’ anger.”
I stared at her. “Do you mean the king of the Fomorians?” That ancient race had disappeared from Ireland thousands of years ago.
“How many other Balors do you know?”
“None,” I admitted. “But I thought he was a myth.” Surely my mother had taught me that.
“Balor be real, all right, and with the one giant eye that could level a whole army. Calhoun don’t have that kind o’ power. Mostly he causes dreadful headaches, but I’ve seen him kill men when his blood’s boiling. Paddy’s got it the same, and wears a patch like his da.”
It came as no surprise that Calhoun’s true gift involved suffering and death. “Have either of them ever used it on you?”
“Paddy, no, but Calhoun did it twice, and I swore me brain was being picked to pieces.” She pulled her arms tighter, propped her chin on her knees. “‘Tis the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and that’s including when you near burned me up.”
A recent memory pushed to the front of my thoughts. “He almost used it on me, didn’t he? When we were arguing over the rope.”
“He was thinking about it.” She lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “Maybe he does have a few drops o’ Cailleach’s blood after all and didn’t want to be hurting himself in the bargain.”
Hurting himself indeed. A broken limb or a laceration would be considered hurting oneself. Having one’s brain picked to pieces qualified as unmitigated agony. The thought alone caused a phantom ache to lodge directly behind my eyes.
Damn Calhoun for a scoundrel. And damn James for insisting we sail on the Sea Witch. A loud grumble shook my stomach, and I grabbed one of the apples, taking a bite. I took another bite, and yet another, my poor mood growing quicker than the apple disappeared.
Why hadn’t I listened to Justine and Julian and waited for another ship? From first sight, they hadn’t trusted Calhoun, and now here I was stuck in the back of a cart with a mortal enemy for company when I should have been with Henry, the two of us working to save Nora.
Ailish watched me, her expression contemplative. “Do you really love him so?” she asked, the question coming from nowhere.
“Who do you mean?”
“Henry, o’ course.”
My shoulders tensed. “How do you know about him?”
“I listened at the cabin door when you was talking with the other lady. You must love him dearly to give up living so long.” She spoke without the least shame or surprise.
“You know it’s considered rude to listen through doors.”
This got a smile. “Been doing it ever since I can remember, being small for me age and quiet as a mouse. The shadows be the best place to gather me secrets.”
“Did you discover anything else?”
Her face wrinkled with effort as she reached a hand around to itch her back. Dissatisfied with the results, she took to rubbing the space between her shoulder blades against the cart rail. “I saw how the dark gentleman lusts for you.”
My gaze slid past Ailish to the trees lining the road. Scraggly branches and fog mixed with an image of olive skin and dark eyes that seemed to watch me with a visceral awareness. “His name is Lord Stroud. I met him three weeks ago in London.”
She relaxed once the itch was settled. “He wants your heart for his own.”
I nodded. “So he’s told me.” Over and over again.
“Does he have a claim to you then?”
“In a way,” I admitted. “He’s also descended from Brigid, and it’s tradition for my kind to marry within our bloodline. Under different circumstances, I might have loved him, but my heart already belongs to another.” Fully and irrevocably.
“Is that why you’re in such a hurry to get to Wexford? To wed your true love?”
If only that were the truth. “I’m going to Wexford to save my dearest friend from Deri and perhaps to kill a witch.” Supposing the witch was real. I still held out the smallest hope that Cate and Tom had been mistaken about the little wretch’s true lineage.
Ailish’s face fell slightly. “Wished it were something different. Deri be trouble for anyone who gets in her way, but I guess you’ve no choice, seeing she stole your friend. I just hope you don’t get killed afore you can marry Henry.”
Me, too. A lump formed in my throat, and I hurriedly changed the subject. “What are you going to do when we get there?” At the latest, we would arrive by tomorrow evening, and I imagined Ailish just as eager as I was to part ways.
She patted the burlap sack in her lap. “I’ve enough coins in me bag to get to England.”