Page 12 of Whiskey & Witches

“My face, my body, or my spirit?” She snorted as her friend winced. “Yes. They all three still pain me.”

“What happened that day, Roisin?”

“You mean you don’t know?” There was a nasty edge to her voice, but Bridget—along with the rest of the town—had treated her like a leper, and Roisin was sick of it all. Sure, and it had been part of her plan to ferret out the orchestrator of her accident, but naught had come of it in all this time, and she was lonely as feck. She needed someone to confide in, and Bridget was the best listener. Roisin had to fight the urge to tell the entire truth.

She drained her glass with a grimace. Perhaps sheshouldleave. Go far away where no one knew her and start over. Try to forget what she was leaving behind. As soon as the thought occurred, she dismissed it. If all she could ever see of her son was a handful of stolen moments, then she’d take them and be grateful. Leaving him permanently would never be a true option. At least not until she was certain he was safe and certain she wouldn’t be able to have these scars removed.

“I will if you tell me,” Bridget said softly. “You must have a powerful good reason to hide.”

“Nowyou believe there must be a reason?” Roisin snorted. Shoving aside her leftover animosity for how the O’Malleys had so recently treated her, she said, “The truth is I’m not entirely sure what happened. Meg and I were in the car, with Aeden in the back. There was some sort of argument. Over Carrick, I think.” She frowned. “But it was like she was purposely taunting me to distract me, now I think back on it. It was her way to dance around the real issue before she would get to it.” Roisin shook her head. “The brakes went out, and the next thing I knew, I was in hospital, waking from surgery.”

She omitted the ominous sight of a man in the road, one she couldn’t see clearly, and she wouldn’t mention the hazy memory of the stranger who saved her and Aeden until she was positive it hadn’t been her imagination. If she hadn’t imagined him, why hadn’t he come forward?

“But you’re a powerful witch in your own right. Why didn’t you stop the accident? Save Meg and prevent all of this?”

Roisin chugged her wine, swallowing self-hatred and regrets. Her sister had died, despising her. Her son was tortured with the memories of the crash and his monstrously disfigured mother.

“Ro?”

“It was gone. My magic, my ability to prevent what happened to us. All gone.” Although she didn’t have the ability to freeze time, she could’ve easily teleported them all to safety had she been able.

Bridget paled. “How is that possible?”

“Meg? Maybe she set me up. I don’t rightly know. You remember she’d developed the sight? Maybe she foresaw what was to happen. Maybe she put a spell on me and bound me in some way so I couldn’t save her.” Roisin toyed with her glass, rolling the last of the liquid around in small circles. “She was depressed toward the end, I think. I’m guessing she saw it as a way out, knowing she’d go mad eventually. And I avoided her, never trying to help her through it.”

Roisin’s guilt was great. Rather than subject herself to her sister’s awful moods, it had been easier to stay away. To tell herself that Meg’s life choices were to blame for her predicament.

“So you still have no magic?”

“It came back the day Meg was buried. Or partially. It’s sporadic.”

Both women shivered as if merely saying Roisin’s younger sister’s name would bring with it evilness.

“We both loved Carrick. She hated that he loved me and not her.”

“Why the pretense? Why make yourself look like her when you’re in town?”

“In a word—Aeden. He was stuck in the car with us for over a half hour before it ignited. Then, in a blink, help arrived.” Meg had already been dead, her eyes sightless and eerie. “I still have nightmares, Bridg, so I can imagine what he’s going through.” Roisin refilled her glass and drained it half as quickly. “I was a sight, I’m sure, with the metal sticking out of my eye socket, torn flesh and blood covering two-thirds of my face. Carrick told me Aeden wakes screaming.”

Bridget nodded. “Aye. He does. And he won’t say a word otherwise.”

“It’s the damage from the smoke. I’m working to fix it.”

They both refilled their glasses, content to drink their dinner.

Her sister-in-law sat frowning down at her wine.

“What?”

“I was told about the fire, but I assumed it happened right away and was put out. How did it ignite so long after?”

“I don’t know the timing of it all. I faded in and out, unable to move.”

“So Aeden is why you pretend to be Meg, but why, Ro?”

“Were you not listenin’? My face terrifies him, Bridg. I can’t force that on him.”

“And what about a glamour?”

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