Blood Magick

by Roberts, Nora

  “Three drops of blood from each who gives power. Three only. But first, we cast a circle, we light the fire to ring it. It’s your home, Fin. You begin.”

  “Here and now the circle cast protecting all within, so inside its ring the ritual begin. Flames arise but not to burn, through the light our powers turn. Close the door and seal the locks. Turn away whatever knocks.”

  Fire flashed to ring them, cool and white.

  “We are connected,” Branna began. “Are now, have been, will be. If not by blood and bone, but heart and spirit. We seal that connection here with a gift, given and taken willingly.

  “So say we all?” Branna asked.

  “So say we all,” the others answered.

  So she began.

  “Wine and honey, sweet and dark.” She poured both into a bowl. “To help the light within you spark. Oil of herbs and joy-shed tears stirred within to ease your fears. From my heart a drop of blood times three.” She pricked her wrist at the pulse, added the three drops to the cup. “Sister, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”

  She passed the bowl to Fin. “From heart, from spirit I shed for thee, a drop of blood times three. Sister, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”

  When he finished, he handed the bowl to Connor. “And now on a new journey you embark, I give three drops from my heart. Lover, brother, unto me, I share my light with both of thee.”

  And to Iona.

  “You are my heart, you are my light, so that holds fast upon this night. From the beat of my heart, for sister, for love, one, two, and three. I share my light with both of thee.”

  “Sealed with fire, pure and white, the gift we give upon this night.” Branna took the bowl, held it high as white fire flashed within. “Bless this gift and those who take what’s given, know by right all here are driven. From bowl to cup for one, for two, pour forth this consecrated brew.”

  The liquid in the bowl fountained up, split into two with each arch spilling into a waiting cup.

  Branna gestured to Connor, to Iona. “Those closest should make the final offering.”

  “Okay.” Iona picked up a cup, turned to Boyle. She touched his cheek, then held out the cup. “In this place and in this hour, we offer you this taste of power. If your choice to take is free, say these words back to me. ‘This I take into my body, into my heart, into my spirit willingly. As we will, so mote it be.’”

  He repeated the words, hesitated briefly, then looked into her eyes. And drank.

  Connor turned to Meara, gave her his words, her own.

  She grinned at him, couldn’t quite help it, and drank.

  “Is that it?” she asked. “Did it work? I don’t feel any different.” She looked at Boyle.

  “No, no different.”

  “How do we know it worked?” Meara demanded.

  The circling fire flashed up in spears to the ceiling. The air quivered with light and heat. A shining beam of it showered over Boyle, over Meara like a welcome.

  “That,” Connor concluded, “would be an indicator.”

  “What can we do? What should we do?”

  “We give thanks, close the circle.” Branna smiled at her lifelong friend. “Then we’ll see.”

  20

  THEY PROVED NIMBLE STUDENTS AND WITHIN A WEEK could both spark a candlewick. Branna moved them on from that most basic skill to test them with other elements.

  It didn’t surprise her that Meara showed more aptitude with air and Boyle with fire. That connection again, she concluded. Meara to Connor, Boyle to Iona.

  They put in a great deal of time training, discovering, and the progress pleased Branna. Meara could create tough little cyclones and found her affinity with horses enhanced. When goaded, Boyle conjured golf-ball-sized fireballs.

  Frustrated, he slumped into a chair at Fin’s. “What good does it all do? When he comes around, I’m bound by our agreement not to show our hand and left to give him nothing stronger than a hard look. And if I could give a taste of what I have now, he could smack it away like a tennis player returning a lob.”

  “The player’s more likely to end up getting beaned,” Connor pointed out, “if the lob comes from an unexpected direction. You’ve done considerable, you and Meara, with the little you were given, and done considerable in a short time.”

  “Time’s the trouble, isn’t it?” Boyle pointed out.

  “It is, and that’s a hard fact.” Fin contemplated his beer. “We thought as he wouldn’t know we were looking, we’d find a way into the demon’s name. Now I wonder if Cabhan’s forgotten it, as the demon’s been part of him for so long.”

  “That’s a troubling thought.” Connor considered it. “If it’s true we can’t end it without the demon’s name, and if there’s no longer a name to find, it may be it’s Cabhan’s name we have to speak as we poison them.”

  “Are such matters ever that simple?” Fin asked.

  “They haven’t proved to be. Still, maybe this will be. Only the name. The rest is complicated enough.”

  “And only days left to us now,” Boyle put in. “Only a few weeks left till our wedding, and Iona isn’t able to think of it the way women do. Not with this between.”

  “You might be grateful for that,” Connor commented. “In my experience, from mates who’ve been through it, some women can go right mad.”

  “It’s outside,” Fin said quietly, and Connor came to attention.

  “I don’t sense him.”

  “He’s shadowed, but I can just feel him out there, trying to watch, trying to get into my thoughts. Biding time, that’s what he’s doing. The taunting and shadowing, but biding all the same. He has, as he’s proved, all the time in all the worlds.”

  “He’s not looking for another fight.” Boyle leaned forward now. “Not that he wouldn’t take us all on, given the opportunity, but he’s waiting us out now. That makes sense to me. Wear down our spirits, wait for the moment when we’re careless. We’ve the wrong strategy, I think, on luring him back to Sorcha’s cabin, for then he’ll know we’re ready for the battle.”

  “We have to get him there,” Connor pointed out. “Everything depends on it.”

  “But he doesn’t have to know we want him to come. What if he thinks we’re hiding the fact that we’re going from him—but he’s so bloody smart and powerful, he got through the shields and sees us?”

  “Why would we be going there if not for battle?” Connor argued.

  “To pay our respects.” Seeing Boyle’s point, Fin nodded. “To honor Sorcha on the day of her death, to hold a ritual of respect—and perhaps try to appeal to her for help. Going under cover of our own fog so he won’t stop us from paying those respects or making that appeal.”

  “And what we’re doing is taking the high ground for the battle,” Boyle finished, eager now that he could see the fight. “And instead of being taken by surprise, we give the surprise.”

  “Oh, I’m liking this idea.” Connor took a long drink. “This is what comes of talking war with men. And if either of you should repeat that to any of the women, I’ll be shocked and amazed at what liars you are.”

  “Since I want them fully behind this, they won’t hear that from me. We set the trap,” Fin said, “by letting him think he’s set it.”

  • • •

  BRANNA LISTENED TO THE NEW PLAN OVER PIZZA IN FIN’S living room. There had been some talk of an evening out, but no one understood priorities more than Branna O’Dwyer.

  “It’s clever, sure it’s clever,” she agreed. “And it annoys me I never thought of it on my own. We don’t have much time to change from the plan we’ve settled on.”

  “And that one has the benefit of being simple,” Meara added. “We transport ourselves there—or you transport the lot of us, along with horses, hawks, and hound, and we call him out. He’d come, as his pride wouldn’t allow otherwise. But . . . this is more devious, and I can’t help but like it.”

  “He’d like that we’re trying to
hide from him,” Iona agreed. “That would appeal to his arrogance. And if he thinks we’re trying to call on Sorcha, he’d have to come—on the slim chance we could reach her, bring her to us, open her to him again.”

  “You’d be giving up your own shadow spell,” Branna said to Fin. “Something he doesn’t know you have. It won’t be as useful to you when he does come.”

  “It will have served. It changes little of what we do once he’s there, only the approach.”

  “We’ll gather flowers, wine, bread, honey.” Thinking it through, Branna made mental notes. “All the things we’d take to a visit of respect for the dead. We’re somber and unsettled, and about to attempt raising the spirit of the witch who cursed one of us. He’d see many advantages to a strike then.”

  “Could we start the ritual for it?” Iona wondered. “But when it’s too late for him, call the first three?”

  Boyle laughed, reached over to kiss her soundly. “Who said women can’t plan wars?”

  Meara angled her head. “Who did?”

  “Rhetorical,” Connor said with a careless wave. “Well then, let’s plan a war.”

  • • •

  ON THE DAY, BRANNA GATHERED ALL SHE NEEDED. WHITE roses, wine, honey, bread she made herself, the herbs, all the offerings. In another pouch she placed the poisons, each carefully wrapped.

  And separate, to risk no contamination, the bottle of light the three had created.

  She’d bathed and anointed herself, had woven charms in her hair, added them to Kathel’s collar. Made more for Aine’s mane.

  Alone, she lit the candles, cast a circle, and knelt inside it to offer her acceptance to what the fates deemed. There was a certainty to her that tonight would end Cabhan or end the three. A sharper certainty that whatever the fates deemed, her life would not be as it had been.

  But still her life, and still her choices. She was, and would always be a servant and a child of the light. But she was also a woman.

  She rose, certain in purpose. She gathered her things and with her hound, flew to Fin’s.

  She came to him in his workshop as he chose weapons from his case.

  “You’re early.”

  “I wanted time with you before the others, before we start. I’ve given myself to the fates, accept whatever comes. I’ll fight more fiercely for the acceptance.”

  “I can only accept his end.”

  “I hope that’s not true.” She crossed to him. “Will you accept me, Fin?”

  “I do. Of course.”

  My life, she thought again, my choice. Witch and woman.

  “I give myself to you. Will you take me? Will you let me belong to you, and belong to me in turn?”

  He touched her cheek, twined a lock of her hair around his finger. “I could never belong to another.”

  “I never will. Belong to me, and stay with me, for this is home for both of us. I want to live with you here, in this house you built from our young dreams. I want to be married to you, as that’s a promise given and taken as well. I want to make my life with you.”

  As the words squeezed his heart, he laid the sword he’d chosen down. And stepped back from her. “You know we can’t. Until I break the curse—”

  “I don’t know it.” She rushed in now—no more thinking. Only feeling. “I know we let what was put on you by light and dark stop us. No more, Fin. We can make no children who would carry it as you do, and this is a grief for us both. But we’d have each other. We can’t have the life we once dreamed of, planned for, but we can dream and plan another. I gave myself to the powers greater. I may die this night, and I can accept that. But when I gave myself, the powers didn’t say to me—let him go—so I won’t.”

  “Branna.” He cupped her face, kissed her cheeks. “I have to find the way to break the curse. I don’t know where the search will take me. I don’t know, can’t know, how long it might take me, if I ever find the answer.”

  “Then I’ll follow you, wherever you go. I’ll search with you, wherever it takes us. You can’t hide or run from me. I’ll follow you, Finbar, track you like a hound, I swear it on my life. I won’t go back to living without what I love. I love you.”

  Overcome, he rested his brow to hers. “You take my breath away. A dozen years you haven’t said those words to me. Three words that hold all the power of heaven and earth.”

  “I would bind you to me with them. We’re meant, I know that with all I am. If you can’t stay with me, I’ll go with you. We can go or stay, but marry me, Fin. Make that vow to me, take that vow from me. Before we face what we have to face, take my love, promise your own.”

  “Can you live with this, every day?” He rubbed his arm. “Can you live with this, and what we know we can’t have?”

  She’d given herself to the light, she remembered, and the answer had come. So simple, so clear.

  “You do, you live with it every day, and I’m yours. I’ll give my life for duty if my life is needed, but I’ll no longer close off my heart. Not to myself, not to you. Not to love.”

  “To have your love is everything to me. We can take it a day at a time, until—”

  “No. No more just today. I need this from you.” She laid her hands on his chest, on his heart. “I ask this of you. Take my love, and its promise, give yours to me. Whatever comes.”

  “In my life,” he said, his voice quiet as a kiss, “you are all I’ve wanted. Above all else.”

  He kissed her lightly, then released her to go to a shelf, opened a puzzle box, took out a ring that flashed light from the fire.

  “A circle,” he said. “A symbol, a stone of heat and light. I found it in the sea, a warm blue sea where I swam and thought of you. I went to forget you, far away from here, from all. On an island where no one lived, and I swam away from even that, and saw this glint through the water. I knew it for yours, though I never thought to give it to you, never thought you’d take it.”

  She held out her hand. “Give me the promise, and take mine. If there’s tomorrow, Fin, we’ll take it as ours.”

  “I swear to you, I’ll find a way to give you all your heart wishes.”

  “But don’t you see, you already have. This is love, and love accepts all.”

  When he slipped the ring on her finger, the flames in the hearth roared up. Somewhere in the night behind the windows, lightning flashed.

  “We’ll take it,” she said again, and clung to him, clung to the kiss.

  Whatever comes, she thought, be it blood and death, they had this.

  • • •

  THEY GATHERED, A CIRCLE FORMED FROM HEART AND SPIRIT, loyalty and duty, and sealed by magicks. As night grew deep, they took up weapons.

  “We don’t have the name,” Branna began. “Until we do we must keep Cabhan from escaping, keep him within our borders, prevent him from shifting time.”

  “We build the walls strong, lock the gate,” Connor agreed. “And use all we have to draw the demon out, to draw out the name.”

  “Or thrash it out of him,” Boyle countered.

  “We each know what’s to be done tonight, and how we’ll do it,” Fin continued. “We’re stronger for what’s shared among us, and if right’s meant to triumph, Cabhan ends tonight. There are none I would rather go into battle with than those in this room. No man ever had truer friends.”

  “I say we go burn this bastard, then come back here for a full fry.” Connor hugged Meara to his side.

  “I’m for it.” Meara laid a hand on the hilt of her sword. “And more than ready for the first.”

  “You’ve given me family, given me home. This has been the best year of my life,” Iona continued. “And in this year, I’m going to marry the love of my life, and no demon from hell is going to stop me. So yeah, let’s go burn the bastard.”

  With a laugh, Boyle plucked her off her feet, kissed her. “How can we lose with such as you?”

  “We can’t.” Iona scanned the faces around her. “We won’t.”

  “We have to prepare for
—”

  “Wait.” Iona wiggled away from Boyle, pointed at Branna. “What’s this? What is this?” She grabbed Branna’s hand, gave a tearful laugh. “Oh boy, oh boy!” And launching herself at Branna, squeezed hard. “This is what I’ve been wishing for. Exactly what I’ve been wishing for.”

  “You’d think you’d have said something to the rest of us.” Meara grabbed Branna’s hand in turn as Iona swung around to wrap around Fin. “This shows right’s meant to win. Right here.” She pressed her cheek to Branna’s, swayed. “It shows it.”

  “Far past time.” Boyle gave Fin a light punch in the chest. “But well done.”

  Connor waited until Fin met his eyes. “So, you finally listened to me, and all my wisdom.”

  “I listened to your sister.”

  “As now you’ll have no choice but to do for the rest of your life. And you owe me a hundred.”

  “What? Ah,” Fin said as he remembered the wager. “So I do.”

  Connor gave Fin a full-on hug, then turned to take Branna’s face, to kiss her cheeks. “Now the scales are truly balanced. Love feeds the light.”

  Branna closed her hands around Connor’s wrists, kissed his cheeks in turn. “Well then, let’s go burn the bastard.”

  “Are we ready then?” Fin waited for assents, and for the circle to form.

  “Our place, our time as the hour strikes three,” Branna said and drew a breath. “This dawn brings our destiny.”

  “With fist and light we bring the fight,” Boyle continued.

  “To end demon-witch on this night,” Meara finished.

  “Three by three by three we’ll ride.” Connor took Meara’s hand, looked to Iona.

  “With horse and hawk and hound our guides,” Iona said.

  “And while these mists flow from me, Cabhan sees only what we will him see.”

  Fin spread his arms, circled them, spread them. Branna felt the mists wrap around her—warm and soft. No, she thought, this wasn’t Cabhan’s cold, bitter cloak.

  They went down and out, and into the stables. While Branna braided charms into Aine’s mane, Iona stepped over. “She’s coming into season.”