Page 13 of Whiskey & Witches

“I can’t seem to sustain it long enough. It could be the pain ruins my concentration.”

Bridget snorted and rose to pace. “So let me get this straight. You pretend to be Meg, the woman this entire town despises, all in an effortnotto terrorize Aeden because Carrick is a dumbass and thinks it’s best?”

“I didn’t mention Carrick,” Roisin denied hotly.

“You didn’t need to, Ro. This harebrained idea has that eejit’s name written all over it.”

CHAPTER4

After Bridget left, Roisin thought about what she’d said. Maybe continuing on this unproductive course to protect Aeden was foolish. Perhaps part of why their son hadn’t recovered was because he believed his mother to be the one who’d not woken up. Maybe if he saw her, saw she wasn’t a monster, he could learn to come to grips with the reality of her scars and still understand she loved him with her entire heart.

She rested her unmarked cheek on her folded arms and sighed. Bridget’s parting words were on repeat in her mind and refused to stop.

“You’re doing everyone involved a mighty disservice, Ro. Aeden needs his mam, and Carrick is a sad sack, unsure how to help your boy.”

Tomorrow she would confront her husband and work this out for the benefit of everyone involved. If her face truly gave Aeden nightmares after they revealed the truth to him, then she’d go away once she discovered the engineer of her accident. No point in torturing her sweet son any more than he already had been. Maybe she’d be able to find someone with enough magic to heal her. The Thornes were rumored to have extraordinary abilities. Perhaps she could talk to Piper and see if she had a solution to the problem.

She’d just locked the door and turned out the lights for the night when the smell of smoke drifted to her. As an earth elemental, she was great at growing herbs and creating potions, not so much at controlling flames or the water to extinguish them. And with her unreliable magic, her abilities were questionable at best.

As swiftly as she could, Roisin checked the oven and, not finding the problem, looked out the side window to see if the smoke was from an external source. A crackle overhead urged her head up, and she saw the first lick of fire dance across the ceiling.

Shoving away the instinctive panic, she closed her eyes and concentrated all her energy on the roof. The wooden rafters still contained trace elements of the earth, and she should be able to manipulate them with a major push of magic. It would deplete her, but she had to try.

Lifting her hands, she went to work.

“Anu, hear my plea and assist me in this time of need…”

The beams curled up on themselves and created a large wooden ball, similar to the Hol-ee Roller dog toy. Galvanized nails scraped her skin and pinged where they hit the tiled floor, but Roisin didn’t let the raining metal break her concentration. It required all she had to levitate the ceiling and alter the shape of the shingles to provide a protective outer shell that would contain the fire inside for the few precious minutes she needed. With one last push of her power, she shoved the entire ball away from the house and into the open field beyond.

Through the window, she witnessed it bounce and burst open to reveal the raging inferno within, and Roisin worried it could burn its way back to her home. She didn’t have time to stress it, and she turned her attention to maintaining the integrity of the walls. A quick magical probe revealed the threat of fire to the remaining structure had passed.

Now, on to the tea rag responsible!

Shoving her fear deep down, she unlocked the door and stepped outside, her hands raised and ready for battle. The glow from the blazing pasture revealed a shadowy figure running away, down the lane. Her fury gave her the boost her fear hadn’t for her next blast of power. Palms face down, she called to the tree roots cradled lovingly within the earth’s rich layers of dirt, then flipped her hands upward, urging the strongest to the surface and into the path of her vandal.

She smiled her satisfaction when he toppled with a strangled scream. The fecker would feelthatin the morning! And perhaps they’d still be sporting the bruises for the length of time it took her to discover who it was.

“And don’t come back or I’ll bury you, you scaldy bastard!” She released a high-pitched, wicked cackle, hoping to make whoever it was soil their pants. If it took instilling terror in others to protect herself, that’s what she’d do. Served the gobshites right.

She watched until the shadows swallowed her arsonist, then faced her poor abused home.

“Dear Goddess, for once, don’t let it rain tonight.” Roisin would do well to cover her valuables with an oilcloth tarp if she could dig one up. This was once her grandda’s cottage, and the man had never parted ways with a single thing he’d acquired. He was known as a hoarder, so those old protective coverings had to be here somewhere; he sure as shite never repaired anything if he could take the lazy way out and cover it. Thank the Goddess, Carrick was handy with a hammer and nails or she’d be living in a true hovel.

Grandda had been a lot of things, with a drunken lout being the top of the list. Meg had voiced her complaints too many times to count both beforeandafter he’d passed. She’d once created a bonfire in the pasture to get rid of what she didn’t want, and Roisin had to stop her from torching the cottage with it. Right now, Roisin prayed rain gear and tarps weren’t one of the casualties of Meg’s previous mood swings. Sure, Roisin could try and conjure what she needed, but she was dangerously close to the last of her energy.

A small squeak sounded behind her, and she spun around, ready to strike. Pain, like a hot poker, burned through her muscles and left her gasping. What air remained in her lungs whooshed out in a single breath when the moonlight and fire’s glow showed Aeden huddled by a nearby bush.

She had no more power to glamour and hide her scars, but she flung up a hand to hide the worst of them. “Aeden?Mo stór, what are you doing here, so far from home?”

He stared at her, transfixed, and Roisin feared her face had terrorized him. Slowly, with great care, he inched forward, only stopping when he was a foot away. His mouth worked to form soundless words.

She knelt in the dirt with her arms to her sides. Her goal was to appear as nonthreatening as possible. It seemed to work, and he shifted closer.

“Why did you come to see the Witch in the Woods, darlin’ boy?” she practically whispered the question, fearing she’d lost what was left of her mind, and her son wasn’t standing an arm’s length away.

He touched the unmarked side of her face in wonder, then her curls. He worked the strands through his fingers like he’d done when he was awean. He’d always been fascinated with the golden shine and would stare up at her in wide-eyed wonder as he consumed her breastmilk.

“Anu,” he croaked.

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