Page 29 of Shadow Spell

“I’ll fetch the pub fiddle.” Connor rose, brushed a hand over his sister’s hair as he left the table. And, saying nothing, gave her the comfort she needed.

Meara stayed longer than she’d intended, well past a reasonable time to think of doing wash or making market lists. Though she tried to brush him off, Connor insisted on walking her home.

“It’s silly, you know. It’s not a five-minute walk.”

“Then it’s not taking much of my time. It was good of you to stay because Branna needed it.”

“She’d do the same for me. And it lifted my mood as well, though it didn’t get the wash done.”

They walked the quiet street, climbing the slope. The pubs would still be lively, but the shops were long snugged closed, and not a single car drove past.

The wind had come up, stirring the air. She caught the scent of heliotrope from a window box, and saw needle pricks of stars through the wisps of clouds.

“Did you ever think of going somewhere else?” she wondered. “Living somewhere else? If you didn’t have to do what needs doing here?”

“I haven’t, no. It’s here for me. It’s what I want and where. Have you?”

“No. I have friends who went off to Dublin, or Galway City, Cork City, even America. I’d think I could do that as well. Send money to my mother and go off somewhere, an adventure. But I never wanted it as much as I wanted to stay.”

“Fighting a centuries-old sorcerer powered by evil would be an adventure for most.”

“But it’s no Grafton Street, is it now?” She laughed with him, turned the corner toward her flat. “Some part of me never thought it would happen. The sort of thing that happened in that clearing on the solstice. Then it did, all so fierce and fast and terrible, and there was no thinking at all.”

“You were magnificent.”

She laughed again, shook her head. “I can’t quite remember what I did. Light and fire and wind. Your hair flying. All the light. Around you, in you. I’d never seen you like that. With your magick like the sun, all but blinding.”

“It was all of us. We wouldn’t have beaten him back without all of us.”

“I know that. I felt that.” For a moment, she just looked out at the night, at the village that had been hers all of her life. “And still he lives.”

“He won’t win.” He walked her up the open stairs to her door.

“You can’t know, Connor.”

“I have to believe it. If we let the dark win, what are we? What’s the purpose of it all if we let the dark win? So we won’t.”

She stood for a moment beside a basket from which purple and red petunias spilled. “I wish you’d let Fin drive you home.”

“I have to walk off the fish and chips—and the pints.”

“You have a care, Connor. We can’t win without you. And besides all that, I’m used to you.”

“Then I’ll have a care.” He reached up, seemed to hesitate, then gave her braid a familiar tug. “You have one as well. Good night to you, Meara.”

“Good night.”

He waited until she went in, until the door closed and locked.

He’d nearly kissed her, he realized, and wasn’t entirely sure the kiss would’ve been... brotherly. Should’ve skipped the whiskey in his tea, he decided, if it so clouded his judgment.

She was his friend, as good a friend as he had. He’d do nothing to risk tipping the balance of that.

But now he felt edgy and unsatisfied. Perhaps he should’ve given Alice a whirl after all.

With so much happening, so much at stake, he couldn’t be easy leaving Branna alone at night—even if Iona stayed at the cottage. And he couldn’t quite feel easy bringing a woman home with him, especially given the circumstances.

All in all, he thought as he left the village behind and took that winding road on foot, it was inconvenient. And just one more reason to send Cabhan screaming into hell.

---