Page 103 of Shadow Spell

“To fight him.”

“’Tis my fondest wish. But he is in your time, and that is a truth that cannot be denied.”

Tall and straight, with the hawk’s eye around his neck, Eamon looked over at his mother’s grave again.

“Teagan came here before me. She saw the one who will come from her. Saw her watching while Teagan faced Cabhan. We are the three, the first, but what we are, what we have, we will pass to you. This is all I can see.”

“We are six,” Connor said. “The three and three more. My lady, my cousin’s man, and a friend, a powerful friend.” And since the boy was now a man, Connor thought, the time had come to speak of it. “Our friend Finbar Burke. He is of Cabhan’s blood.”

“He is marked?” Like Meara, Eamon laid a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Through no act of his own, no wish of his own.”

“The blood of Cabhan—”

“I would trust him with my life, and have. I would trust him with the life of my lady, and I love her beyond reason—though she doesn’t believe it. We are six,” Connor repeated, “and he is one of us. We will fight Cabhan. We will end him. I swear it.”

Connor drew Meara’s sword and, taking it, stepped over to the gravestone. He scored his palm, let the red drip onto the ground. “I swear by my blood we will end him.”

He reached in his pocket, unsurprised to find the bluebell. He used the sword to dig a small hole, and planted it. “A promise given and kept.”

He stirred the air with a finger, pulled the moisture out of it, and let blood and water pour on the ground.

Stepping back, he watched with the others as the flower grew, and the blooms doubled.

“I rode away from her.” Eamon stared at the grave. “There was no choice, and it was her will and her wish. Now I come home a man. Whatever I can do, whatever power is given me, I will do, I will use. A promise kept.” He held out a hand to Connor. “I cannot trust this spawn of Cabhan’s, but I trust you and yours.”

“He is mine.”

Eamon looked at the grave, at the flowers, at the cabin. “Then you are six.” He touched his amulet, the twin of Connor’s, then the stone on the leather binding Connor had given him. “All we are is with you. I hope we’ll see each other again, when this is done.”

“When it’s done,” Connor agreed.

Eamon mounted his horse, then smiled at Meara. “You should believe my cousin, my lady, as what he speaks, he speaks from his heart. Farewell.”

He turned his horse, rode off as quietly as he’d come.

Meara started to speak—and woke with a jolt in Connor’s bed.

He sat beside her, a half smile on his face as he studied his bloodied palm.

“Jesus Christ. You never know where you’ll end up when you lie down beside the likes of you. Mind yourself! You’ll get blood on the sheets.”

“I’ll fix it.” He rubbed palm to palm, stanched the blood, closed the shallow wound.

“What was that about?” she demanded.

“A bit of a visit with family. Some questions, some answers.”

“What answers?”

“I’m after figuring that out. But the flower’s planted, as Teagan asked of me, so that’s enough for now. He looked fine and fit, didn’t he, our Eamon?”

“You’d say so as you’ve a resemblance. Cabhan would know they’d come back.”

“They don’t end him, but neither does he end them. Like the flowers, that’s enough to know for now. It’s for us to end, I know that as well.”

“And how do you know?”

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