Page 74 of Shadow Spell

“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...radiantI 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.

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