“Probably a little.”
“That might explain it.” Morag rose and paced around the table. “Somehow, your blood gave him a bit of humanity. Allowed him to control his urges.”
My cheeks grew warm.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, girl! I mean his predatory urges. What makes a bird catch a fish, and so on.” She resumed her pacing, her bad foot dragging behind her. “He’s been freed from the instinct to kill. I’m certain he would thank you for such a gift, but he’s probably just as ignorant about what happened as you are.”
I cradled my hand against my chest. “You’re saying a drop of my blood allowed him to choose whether or not to drown me? That it’s still allowing him to choose?”
“Aye. All it took was a touch. The mingling of your blood.” Her eyes shone. “That’s magic, a kind few ever possess.”
“Nonsense.”
“Not nonsense. Magic.” Morag continued to circle the table, making my head spin.
“But …” My stomach twisted as I considered a terrible possibility. “Does that mean Fynn’s feelings for me are some sort of magic, too?”
“Of course not. Matters of the heart can’t be affected by enchantments.” With a sigh, Morag finally resumed her seat. “Young people. The only magic they know is the sort they find in each other’s eyes.”
There was a definite note of bitterness in her tone, but I’d pried into her life enough for one day.
I pictured Fynn’s cobalt eyes, always narrowed when we walked through town, but bright and inquisitive when we were alone. No matter what he was, my fingers ached to touch him again, to memorize every ripple of muscle, every bump and imperfection.
“Drink your tea now.” Morag motioned to my untouched cup. “And rest assured, the boy won’t hurt you. You’ve tamed the beast. But there are plenty of other sinister creatures in the water, as we both know.”
I pushed my chair in and folded my arms over my chest, making it clear I didn’t intend to linger over tea today. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay. I’ve got to find Fynn before the fossegrim does.”
Lifting my cup, I took a huge gulp and coughed. I’d never tried whiskey before, and Mam would’ve had a fit if she knew, but it was surprisingly good. The liquor burned through my blood in a dizzying, heady way that felt like courage.
As I took a step toward the door, Morag muttered, “Wait.” She tapped her fingers against her cheek and fell silent. I was about to take another step when she said, “To put out the serpent’s eye, I used the tip of a spear. Steel. Perhaps if someone could get close enough to pierce the fossegrim’s heart with steel, it would finish him, or at least wound him.”
“And to kill the serpent, if it should rear its ugly head?”
“I don’t think that monster has a heart.” She laid a hand against her chest. “It’d have to be poison. The question is, which one would do the trick?”
“Why don’t you try, then? It attacked you. If it’s near the Isle, assuming it’s still alive after it tangled with Fynn, it’s a threat to our fishermen.”
“Fishermen? Blazes, girl, it can swallow boats whole when it’s hungry. But I can’t be the one to poison it.” Morag shook her head violently. “It’s still here, mark my words. Slithering around the Isle, waiting for me.” The lines in her face looked deeper, etched in shadow, like she’d somehow aged twenty years since I’d seen her last. “It’s come back here to take my life as payment for its eye, and it won’t leave until it gets what it wants.” She raised her chin a fraction. “I don’t intend to let it finish the job.”
“Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find Fynn before the fossegrim takes another victim.” As I strode to the door, my gaze fell on a tangle of string and bone. I stopped and brushed my fingers over the pile. “You’ve made more Bollan Crosses.”
“Some. I have enough twine, but I’ve only a handful of wrasse bones. I need more.” Morag’s eyes dimmed for a moment, like a wisp of cloud passing over the sun. “Take those and give them to your mam and sisters.”
I stuffed the crosses in my skirt pockets, ten in all. I paused, then pulled one out and slipped it over my head. I didn’t feel any different with it on, but Morag was so insistent that they worked, it couldn’t hurt.
She leaned across the table to grab my almost-full mug. Liquid sloshed over the sides as she drew it toward her mouth. “And I’ll make a poison for the serpent in case there’s a soul alive who’s brave enough to kill it. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you or your mam.” She eyed the fishbone charm now dangling from my neck with approval. “Be careful, and watch the water always. I don’t want to lose my best apprentice.”
Despite the leaden feeling in my stomach, I nodded. “I’m your only apprentice.”