Page 47 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

“The Goddess said the Siren will always be your moose. Papa is to make you a special necklace.”

“Sure, and don’t ya mean muse?” Eoin asked her with a wide grin.

The girl cocked her head and frowned, deep in thought. “Maybe.” With a careless shrug, she skipped away.

“I can’t say I’ve been anyone’s moose before,” Brenna quipped.

“You can always be my moose, love. Day or night.”

Right then, the sun appeared behind Eoin, creating a golden halo around him, and the rightness of the moment cheered her. She laughed, happier than she was when all this drama started. “I’d love to be your moose, Eoin O’Malley. Day or night.”

Using their telepathic link, he said,“I want to hold ya so badly my bones ache.”

“Ditto.”

“Ditto? I pour my heart out to ya, and that’s all I get in return? You’re an ungrateful wretch, Brenna Sullivan.”He ended his tirade with a grin, and Brenna responded in kind.

Keeping eye contact with Eoin, she shifted her head to the left to address the Aether. “About that necklace…”

Damian moved to stand next to her. “That’s going to take a little time, I’m afraid. And I’m going to need a small amount of blood from you.”

“My blood…” A long-forgotten memory popped into Brenna’s mind. One of Gran telling her not to give blood voluntarily. Not to family, not to strangers, not for a blood drive…never. “I don’t think I can, Mr. Dethridge. Is there another way?”

“I’m afraid not. Or not one I’m familiar with.” He faced the room and called out to Spring. “Are you familiar with any spell that might help our lovebirds?”

“We’re not, uh, we…”

“Oh, Brenna, me darlin’, give over,” Eoin said on a laugh. “Sure, and we’d be lovers if we had the chance.”

Heat infused her body and was likely reflected in her tell-tale complexion, but she lifted her chin, standing her ground. “We aren’t lovebirds…yet.”

“My apologies, Ms. Sullivan.” With a slight incline of his head and a twinkle in his obsidian eyes, Damian turned back to Spring. “Are you familiar with any spell to help Ms. Sullivan and Mr. O’Malley get rid of their curse?”

“I’ve thought about it all night. They can wait it out, and perhaps the witch who conjured the enchantment will drop dead—of natural causes, of course”—and here her tone was drier than dirt—“or we can scry into the past to see if we can figure out who cast the spell to begin with, and have a conversation with them about the error of their ways.”

“Or I can call my aunt and ask if she’s the one responsible.” Brenna was certain to her core Odessa was.

“The less contact you have with Odessa, the better, child,” Alastair said as he perused the selection on the tea tray that had mysteriously appeared when Brenna’s back was turned. He selected a small square sandwich and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied grunt.

“How can you eat at a time like this?” she asked him.

Aurora laughed. “Alastair doesn’t miss a meal, dear, regardless of the circumstances.”

“It’s true.” He glanced up from examining the interior of another sandwich. “Being held hostage and starved lends to a deep appreciation of food, and I accept it whenever it’s offered, I’m afraid.” His wry smile couldn’t quite hide the haunted quality his words brought to his worldly eyes.

The Siren hummed a tune, and Brenna picked up the plaintive refrain and joined in harmony before she could stop herself. She’d never have believed she could produce both sounds at once, but the overall effect was a melodious duet.

They all went motionless, but not like when she’d locked Eoin and the Mod Squad earlier. The group around her had paused to listen to the music she produced, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house by the time she was done.

“Extraordinary!” Spring’s awe was obvious from her tear-bright eyes to her voice. “How did you compose something so exquisite on the spot?”

Not at all sure where her newfound talent came from, Brenna shrugged. “It’s as if I felt Alastair’s—” She’d intended to say deep-rooted pain, but his uneasy look stopped her. “I, uh, felt Alastair’s desire for entertainment and needed to quench it.”

She didn’t miss the grateful glance he shot her.

“Actually, that makes sense,” Damian said, attracting everyone’s attention. “Your grandmother once said something similar. She told me her Siren can detect the hidden emotions and desires of those around her with little effort.”

“You knew Gran?” Heart hammering and breath laboring in her lungs, Brenna suddenly had an overwhelming urge to latch on to the one last connection to her grandmother.

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