Shadow Spell

11

THE MINUTE HE COULD GET AWAY, CONNOR DROVE around to the stables. Too many people about to talk, he decided immediately, but with Meara chatting with a group she’d just guided back, at least he knew just where she was and what she was doing.
He tracked Boyle down in the stalls, giving Caesar a rubdown.
“Busy days,” Boyle said. “This wedding’s brought in as much business as we can handle.”
“And the same for us. We’ve our last two hawk walks of the day going now.”
“We’ve two out ourselves, though Meara should be back anytime.”
“She’s just back.” Absently, Connor stroked the big gelding as Boyle brushed him out. “Can you set her loose, or do you need her longer today?”
“We’ve the evening feedings yet, and Iona’s at the big stables on a lesson.”
“You’ll keep her close then? I’ll run back and settle my own business for the evening. Is Fin with Iona?”
“He’s home if that’s what you’re meaning, and set to take her to your place when they’re both done.” Connor’s tone had Boyle setting the currycomb aside. “There’s a worry. What is it?”
“Cabhan. He was out today, stalking Meara on her guided. And myself a bit. Nothing came of it,” Connor said when Boyle cursed. “And he wasn’t quite there—not fully physically.”
“Was he there or wasn’t he?” Boyle demanded.
“He was, but more a shadow. It’s a new thing, and something to discuss tonight when we’re all together. But I’d feel easier if I knew you were with her until I’m done.”
“I’ll keep her with me.” Boyle pulled out his phone. “And be sure Fin does the same with Iona. And Branna?”
“Roibeard’s keeping a watch on all, and Merlin’s with him. But I’ll be happier altogether when the six of us are together at home.”
* * *
IT TOOK NEAR AN HOUR TO SETTLE THE BIRDS FOR THE night, and clear up some paperwork Kyra left meaningfully on his desk. He took more time to add yet another layer of protection around the school. Cabhan had gotten into the stables once. He might try for the hawks.
By the time he’d done all that needed doing, locked up tight, the brightness had gone out of the day. Just shorter days, he thought as he stood a moment, opened himself. He felt no threat, no watchful presence. He let himself reach out to Roibeard, join with the hawk—and saw clearly the stables, the woods, the cottage, peaceful below, through his hawk’s eyes.
There was Mick, squat as a spark plug, climbing into his lorry, giving a wave out the window to Patti as the girl swung onto her bike.
And there, spread below him, Fin’s grand stone house, and the fields and paddocks. Iona soaring over a jump with Alastar.
A short glide, soaring on the wind and, below, Branna picking herbs in her kitchen garden. She straightened, looked up, looked, it seemed, right into his eyes.
And she smiled, lifted a hand before taking her herbs inside with her.
All’s well, Connor told himself, and though there was always just a hint of regret, came fully back to earth. Satisfied, he climbed into the lorry.
He drove around to the stables—and felt a warm hum in his blood as he watched Meara come out with Boyle. She was a beauty for certain, he thought, an earthy one in a rough jacket and work pants, and boots that had likely seen hundreds of kilometers, on the ground and on horseback.
Later, he’d have the pleasure of removing those worn boots, those riding pants. And unwinding that thick braid so he could surround himself with waves of brown hair.
“Boyle, are you wanting a lift?” he called through the open window.
“Thanks, but no. I’ll follow you over.”
So he leaned left, shoved the door open for Meara.
She jumped in, smelling of horses and grain and saddle soap. “Christ Jesus, this was a day and a half shoved into one. The McKinnon party is leaving no stone unturned. We’ve got groups of them coming tomorrow up through two o’clock, with the wedding, I’m told, at five.”
“The same for us.”
Since she made no move, he put a hand on the back of her head, drew her over for a kiss. “Good evening to you.”
“And to you.” Her lips curved. “I wondered if you’d feel a little off center after thinking it over for a day.”
“Not much time to think, but I’m balanced well and good.”
He turned the lorry, headed away from the stables with Boyle falling in behind.
“Did you see the wolf?” he asked her.
“I did, yes. Boyle couldn’t say much as we had the crew about nearly till you came, but he said you did as well. But as with me, it was more a shadow.”
She shifted to face him, frowned. “Still, not only a shadow, as he bared his fangs, and I saw them clear, and the red stone. Did you send Roibeard?”
“I didn’t have to; he went to you on his own. But I knew from him the wolf only kept pace with you for a minute or two.”
“Enough for the horses to sense it. My biggest worry, to tell the truth, was that the horses would spook. Which they might have done, but I had a group of experienced riders. And they themselves? They saw and sensed nothing.”
“I’ve been thinking on the whys and hows of that. I want to see what Branna and Fin and Iona have to say. And I want to ask you to stay tonight at the cottage.”
“I don’t have my things,” she began.
“You have things at the cottage, enough to get you through. You can think of it as us taking turns. Stay tonight, Meara. Share my bed.”
“Are you asking because you want me to share your bed, or because you’re worried about me being on my own?”
“It would be both, but if you won’t stay, I’ll be sharing your bed.”
“That’s a fine answer,” she decided. “It works well for me. I’ll stay tonight.”
He took her hand, leaned toward her when he stopped the lorry in front of the cottage. And could already feel the kiss moving through him before their mouths met.
The lorry shook as if from a quake, jolted as the wolf pounced.
It snarled, eyes and stone gleaming red, then with a howl echoing with triumph, leaped off. And was gone.
“Holy Jesus!” Meara managed an instant before Connor shoved out of the lorry. “Wait, wait. It might still be out there.” She yanked at her own door, shoved, but it held firm against her.
“Goddamn it, Connor. Goddamn it, let me out.”
He only flicked her a glance as Roibeard landed light as down on his shoulder.
In that moment, in that glance, it was like looking at a stranger, one sparking with power and rage. Light swirled around him, like a current that would surely shock to the touch.
She’d known him the whole of her life, she thought as her breath backed up in her lungs, but she’d never seen him truly, fully until that moment when the full force and fury of what ran in his blood revealed itself.
Then Branna rushed from the house, with Kathel thundering out with her. Her hair, raven black, flew behind her. She had a short sword in one hand, a ball of hot blue fire forming in the other.
Meara saw their eyes meet, hold. In that exchange she saw a bond she could never share, never really know. Not just of power and magick, but of blood and purpose and knowledge.
There she saw a kinship that ran deeper, wider even than love.
Before she’d caught her breath again, Fin’s fancy car spun up. He and Iona bolted from either side. So the four of them stood, united, forming a circle, one where the light undulated and spread until it stung her eyes.
It died away, and it was only her friends, her lover, standing in front of the pretty cottage with its blaze of flowers.
Now when she pushed at the door, it sprang open—and she sprang out.
She marched straight to Connor, shoved him hard enough to knock him back a step. “Don’t you ever lock me in or out again. I won’t be closed off or tucked away like someone helpless.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clear. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry for it.”
“You’ve no right, no right to close me out of it.”
“Or me,” Boyle said, his face ripe with fury, when he strode up beside her. “Be grateful I don’t break your head for it.”
“It’s grateful I am, and sorry as well.”
Meara saw for the first time Alastar had come—he must have all but flown from the stables. So there was horse, hawk, and hound; the dark witches three; and the blood of Cabhan, with his own hawk standing now with Roibeard on the branch of a nearby tree.
And there was herself and Boyle.
“We’re a circle or we’re not.”
“We are.” Connor took her hands, gripped them only tighter when she started to yank them free. “We are. It was wrong of me. I jumped straight into the fury of it, and that was wrong as well. And foolish. I shut you out of it, both of you, and that showed you no respect. I’ll say again, I’m sorry for it.”
“All right then.” Boyle shoved at his hair. “Bloody hell I could do with a beer.”
“Go on in,” Branna told him, glanced around at the others. “Help yourself to what you want. I need a moment with Meara. A moment with Meara,” she repeated when Connor continued to grip Meara’s hands. “Go, have a beer and open the wine Fin should’ve brought with him.”
“And so I did.”
Fin went to his car, fetched out three bottles. “Come on then, Connor. We could all do with a drink after this day.”
“Yeah.” With some reluctance Connor released Meara’s hands, went inside with his friends.
“I’ve every right to be pissed,” Meara began, and found her hands taken again.
“You do, yes, you do, but not only with Connor. I need to tell you that when I ran outside, I knew at once what he’d done, and I was relieved. I’m sorry for it, but I can’t let him take full blame.”
Stunned, and wounded to the core, Meara stared at Branna. “Do you think because Boyle and I don’t have what you have, aren’t what you are, we can’t fight with you?”
“I think nothing of the kind, nor does Connor. Or Iona, and I imagine she’ll be making this same confession to Boyle.” When Branna let out a breath, the sound of it was regret.
“It was a moment, Meara, and the weakness was on our part, not yours. You fought with us on the solstice, and I don’t want to think what might have happened without you, without Boyle. But for a moment, in the rush of it, I only thought, ah, they’ll be safe. That was my weakness. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m still mad about it.”
“I don’t blame you a bit for that. But come inside, we’ll have some wine and talk about all of it.”
“There was nothing weak about the four of you,” Meara said, but she started inside with Branna. “The power of you together was blinding. And Connor alone, before you came . . . I saw him on the solstice, but that was a blur of fear and action and violence all at once. I’ve never seen him as he was for that moment you speak of. Alone, with the hawk on his shoulder, and so full of what he is . . . radiant I suppose is the word, though it seems too soft and benign for it. I thought if I touched him now it would burn.”
“He’s slow to anger, our Connor, as you know. When he reaches it, it’s fierce—but never brutal.”
Before Branna shut the door she took a long last look at the woods, at the road, at the blaze of flowers along her cottage skirts. She went with Meara back to the kitchen where the wine was open, and the air smelled of the rich, silky sauce she’d spent a good chunk of her day preparing.
“It’s near to ready,” she announced and took the wine Fin poured her. “So the lot of you can make yourself useful getting the table set.”
“It smells amazing,” Iona commented.
“Because it is. We can talk about all of this while we feast. Connor, there’s bread wrapped in the cloth there.”
He got it, set it out, turned to Meara. “Am I to be forgiven?”
“I haven’t gotten there yet. But I’m moving in that general direction.”
“Then I’ll be grateful for that.”
Branna served the beef bourguignon on a long platter showcasing the herbed beef and vegetables in the dark sauce, surrounded by roasted new potatoes and garnished with sprigs of rosemary.
“It really is a feast,” Iona marveled. “It must have taken hours.”
“It did, so no one’s allowed to bolt it down.” Branna ladled it herself into her pretty shallow bowls before she sat. “And so, all of us have had a day or two.” She spread her napkin across her lap before spooning up the first sample. “Meara, you should begin.”
“Well, I suppose we all know where we were before this morning, but we’ve not been together to talk over today. I was guiding a group of four, and in fact, we rode by Connor, who had a group of his own. I took them around the longest route we use, even let them have a bit of a trot here and there, as they were all solid horsemen. It was when we’d circled back, and were coming through the woods, the narrow trail now. I saw the wolf in the trees, watching, keeping pace. But . . .”
She searched for the words. “He was like the shadows that play there, when the sun dapples through the leaves. More formed than that, but not formed. I felt I could almost see through him, though I couldn’t. The horses saw or sensed, I couldn’t say which, but the riders behind me, they didn’t. They kept on talking together, even laughing. It was no more than a minute, and Roibeard flew in. The wolf, it didn’t run away so much as fade away.”
“A projection,” Fin suggested.
“Not in the usual way.” As he ate, Connor shook his head. “As I saw it as well. A shadow’s close. My sense was of something not quite here, not quite there. Not as he was outside here, not a thing with weight and full form, but with power nonetheless.”
“Something new then,” Fin considered. “Balancing between two planes, or shifting between them, as he can shift time at Sorcha’s cabin.”
“It pulls from him though. If you watch the stone, his power source, it ebbs and flows.” Meara glanced at Connor for confirmation.
“That’s true enough, but as with any skill, the power of it grows as you hone it.”
“The McKinnons, the people I guided,” Meara continued, “they saw nothing.”
“To them he was a shadow,” Fin said. “Nothing more.”
“A shadow spell.” Branna considered it. “I’ve seen a thing or two in Sorcha’s book that might be useful.”
“And did you get the way of this from her book?” Fin asked as he ate. “For it’s magick. I’ve had this dish at a tony restaurant in Paris, and it didn’t match yours.”
“It turned out well.”
“It’s brilliant,” Boyle said.
“It is,” Branna said with a laugh. “It takes forever as the sauce is fussy, and not something I’ll do often. But today it gave me time to think in the back of my brain. He’s pushing at Meara now as he did with Iona before. Testing the edge of things, we could say. And it’s Meara, I think, because, in truth, it’s Connor he wants to take a run at.”
“He went for the boy first.” Fin sipped wine as he considered. “A boy, an easy target he might think. But together, Connor and the boy hurt him, drove him away again. And that would be . . . disappointing.”
“So he’s after a bit of revenge,” Boyle continued. “And got a good lick in when he took Connor on. But only a lick come to that. And next he takes aim at Meara.”
“After she and Connor had their hot time in the lorry,” Iona pointed out. “The power of a kiss.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Meara muttered.
“Sure it’s true enough.” Under the table, Connor danced his fingers up Meara’s thigh and down again. “And when things progress as things do, he comes again. With a shadow spell.”
“Could he do harm in that form that’s not a form?” Meara wondered.
“I think yes. A delicate balance from what I know,” Branna added. “And the conjurer of the spell would have to be able to shift—away, or into full form quickly—without losing that delicate balance.”
“If he can do that, why didn’t he come at me today? I had a knife, and I’m not helpless, but it would’ve been his advantage I’d think.”
“He wants to unnerve you more than cause you harm,” Fin told her. “Hurting you gives him some satisfaction, of course, as causing harm feeds him. But you’d be worth more to him in another area.”
“He wants you,” Connor said flatly, and with the bubble of that pure rage she’d seen rippling, “because I do. He thinks to seduce you—spellbind you or shake you enough so you don’t fight, but run or plead—”
Her eyes fired, black suns. “Neither of those will ever happen.”
“We won’t underestimate him,” Connor snapped back. “It’s what he seeks so he can take you. And taking you the way he seeks would harm us all. He understands we’re bound, but sees it as a binding for power—only that. Taking you breaks our circle. Be grateful he doesn’t understand it’s not just a binding for power, but one of love and loyalty. If he understood that, the power of that, he’d hunt you without ceasing.”
“You’ve caught his eye,” Fin added, “as he understands sex very well—though with none of its true pleasures or depth. It’s another kind of power to him, and he has desire enough for the act of it.”
“So the last day or two has been a kind of . . . mating dance?”
“That’s not far from the mark,” Branna said to Meara. “Sorcha writes of the weeks and weeks he tried to seduce her, bribe her, threaten her, wear down her mind and spirit. He wanted her power without question, but he wanted her body as well—and he wanted to make a child with her, I think.”
“I’d slit my own throat before I’d let him rape me.”
“Don’t say that.” The bubble of fury burst as Connor rounded on her. “Don’t ever say such a thing again.”
“Don’t.” Iona spoke quietly before Meara could fling words back. “Connor’s right. Don’t say that. We’ll protect you. We’re a circle, and we protect each other. You’ll protect yourself, but you need to trust us to protect you.”
“I’ll say something here.” Before he did, Boyle helped himself to another ladle of stew. “The four of you can’t and don’t fully understand what it is for Meara and me. We have our fists, our wits, a blade, instincts, strategies. But these are ordinary things. I’m not after poking at a spot still sore, but when a thought from you can lock us away, out of the mix, it comes home we’ve only those ordinary things.”
“Boyle, you have to know—”
Fin stopped Iona, a light brush on her arm. “And I’ll say something back to that—as an outsider. One step back,” he insisted as Iona sent him a sorrowful look. “We’re not the three, but with the three. Another delicate balance we could say. What we bring to the circle is as vital as the other end of that balance. The three might think it different from time to time, and some with the three might think different, but it is what it is, and that’s for us all to remember and respect.”
“You’re eating at my table,” Branna said quietly. “Food I made. I’ve given you respect.”
“You have, and I’m grateful. But it’s come time for you to open the door again, Branna, and let me work with you without me having to pry that door open. It’s Meara we’re speaking of, and the whole of it that hangs in that balance.”
Branna’s fingers tightened on the stem of her wineglass, then relaxed again. “You’re right, and I’m sorry for it. And I see he’s shaken us. That’s a victory for him, and it ends now.”
“We can’t understand what it is not to be what we are. Iona would, I think,” Connor continued, “as what she is, and has, was held back from her for so long. But I think you—and you as well, Fin—don’t understand that for Branna and for me, knowing you’re with us, when for Fin, going back to Paris and his fine restaurant would be an easier choice, for you, Meara, and for you, Boyle, not having power but being with us, is braver by far than going on with this, as Branna and I, and now Iona must do. We must, but you, all three of you choose. We don’t forget that. Don’t think, don’t ever think, we do.”
“We’re not looking for gratitude,” Boyle began.
“Well, you have it, want it or not. And admiration as well, even if there’s been times, and will be again, we don’t show it.”
Rising, Branna got another bottle of wine, poured it all around. “For feck’s sake, do you think I spend hours cooking a meal like this for myself? I do fine with a bacon sandwich. So we’ll all of us stop feeling sorry for ourselves, or sorry to each other, and just be.”
Very deliberately Meara scooped up more stew. “It’s a gorgeous meal, Branna.”
“Bloody right it is, and unless all of you want nothing but that bacon sandwich next time you come, we’ll set all that business aside. Now, why do we think Cabhan jumped on the bonnet of Connor’s lorry?”
“I might be risking that bacon sandwich, though they’re tasty enough,” Fin said, “but answering that, for what I think myself, digs back into the other a bit.”
“Answer.” Branna waved a hand in the air. “I’ll decide whether you eat at all next time.”
“He wanted to see what would happen. He was fully formed.”
“He was,” Meara agreed. “Muscle, bone, and blood.”
“But he was quick about it. A leap without warning—where Connor had no sense of it, nor did I, and we weren’t far off. Then a leap back, wherever he’s biding his time. But in that time, what did he learn?”
“I’m not following you,” Boyle said.
“What did he see Connor do? Get out to face him alone—deliberately alone as he closed you and Meara inside. Protected you. And he saw Branna run out—armed, but again alone—to go to her brother.”
“Then Iona and you,” Meara added.
“He was gone by the time I joined, by the time we made the circle. Watching?” Fin shrugged. “I can’t say for certain, but I had no sense of him.”
“Nor did I,” Connor said when Fin glanced at him.
“So it showed him Connor’s first instinct is to protect. His woman— Oh, don’t be so fragile about it,” Fin said when Meara sputtered a protest. “His woman, his friend. Move the risk away and protect. Branna’s is to go to Connor’s side, as his would be to go to hers. But she protects as well, as she didn’t move to release Meara or Boyle to increase the numbers.”
“It was wrong of me as well, and I’ve apologized to Meara already. Now I apologize to you, Boyle.”
“We’ve covered it all, and it’s forgotten.”
“He won’t forget.” Iona glanced around, understanding. “And he’ll use what he knows, try to use it, work it in somehow.”
“So we find a way to use what he knows, or thinks he knows, against him.” Pleased with the idea, Meara grinned around the table. “How do we use me to trap him?”
“We won’t be doing that.” Connor put a firm cork in that idea bottle. “We tried it, didn’t we, with Iona, and it didn’t work—nearly lost her to him.”
“If at first you don’t succeed.”
“F*ck it and try something else,” Connor finished.
“I choose. Remember your own fine words. I’ll ask you,” she said to Fin. “Is there a way to use me to lure him?”
“I can’t say—and not because I don’t want to tangle with Connor, or Branna come to that. But because we’d all need time to think it through, and carefully. I’m no more willing than Connor to risk as close a call as we had with Iona on the solstice.”
“I’ve no argument with that.”
“We’ll think on it, and all must agree in the end.” He looked at Connor, got a nod. “And we’ll work on it, use what we know, refine what we had, as it was close to the mark.” He looked at Branna.
“It was, as Sorcha’s poison was. But neither finished him. I can’t find what we missed—and yes, we should work together. You’ve a good hand with potions and spells. We have until Samhain.”
“Why Samhain?” Connor asked her.
“The beginning of winter, the eve of the beginning of the year itself for us—the Celts. I thought on this while making this meal. We thought the longest day—light over dark—but I think that was wrong. Maybe this is something we missed. Samhain, for we need some time, but as he’s coming after one of us so blatantly, we can’t take too much of it.”
“On the night the Veil is thin,” Connor considered. “And where it’s said no password is needed to move from realm to realm. That could be it, one of the things we missed. He can pass easy as walking across the room. On that night, it may be we can do the same without struggling first to find where, or when.”
“The night when the dead come to seek the warmth of the Samhain fire,” Fin added, “and the comfort of their blood kin.”
“The dead—ghosts now?” Meara demanded. “Witches aren’t enough for us now.”
“Sorcha,” Branna said simply.
“Ah. You think she could come, add to the power. Sorcha, and the first three as well?”
“It’s what we’ll think on, work on. If we’re all agreed to it.”
“I like it.” Boyle lifted his glass to Branna. “All Hallow’s Eve it is.”
“If we can hold him off that long, and learn enough,” Branna qualified.
“We can. We will,” Connor said decisively. “I’ve always been partial to Samhain—and not just for the treats. I had a fine conversation once with my great-granny on Samhain.”
“Who was dead at the time, I suppose.”
He winked at Meara. “Oh, gone years before I was born. When the Veil thins I’m able to see through it easier than other times. And since we’re all thinking he’s testing me, in particular, it might be I’m the lure we’re after. And you thought of that,” he said to Fin.
“It crossed my mind. We’ll think a great deal more, talk it through, and work carefully. I can give you all the time you need, Branna. At any time.”
“No ramblings coming up?” she asked carelessly.
“Nothing that can’t be postponed or put off. I’m here till this is done.”
“And then?”
He looked at her, said nothing for a long beat. “Then, we’ll see what we see.”
“He’s only made us stronger.” Iona took Boyle’s hand. “Families fight, and they make mistakes. But they can come back stronger for it. We have.”
“To squabbles and f*ckups then.”
Connor raised his glass, the rest lifted theirs, and with a musical clink, sealed the toast.