Page 34 of Wine & Warlocks

“It was a group dedicated to eradicating witches, Thorne witches specifically,” Alastair replied, and his tone was decidedly grim.

Ronan hadn’t made the connection earlier when Reggie contacted them, but now that Quentin had mentioned the name of the disbanded organization, it somehow seemed to fit. “My da told me the tale of working with them. I’m not certain it was voluntarily, but it might’ve been, all the same. Never a day passed when he didn’t curse the name of their leaders. He had a powerful fierce hatred for them all.”

Alastair and Damian shared a worried look, but it was Castor who spoke. “If it’s the island the three of us believe it is, the place is a fortress. No one comes or goes without being seen.”

“The cells are a primary concern,” Alastair added. “They were designed to rip away a witch’s gifts and power a central magical grid to feed into another source. Usually someone without abilities.”

“If Loman has working knowledge of that prison, we’re fucked.” Castor scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands. “Christ, what a mess!” Addressing Ronan directly, he said, “If your cousin is there, the chances of him getting out alive are slim to none.”

Though they’d never been close, Ronan’s chest tightened at the thought of Reggie meeting such a fate at Loman’s hands. Dubheasa clasped Ronan’s fingers and squeezed, and the gesture eased the constriction and allowed him a steadying breath.

“We have to at least try.”

Castor addressed Alastair, his expression bordering on worried. “Are you up to revisiting the place, Al?”

“I thought I’d seen the last of it, but I don’t see where we have a choice, do we? Still, we need a location before we attempt any heroic acts.”

CHAPTER16

“Ibelieve I’ve narrowed it down.” Dubheasa opened her laptop and gave everyone gathered a cursory glance. “I’ve taken the list Alastair gave me, and I’ve worked out a pattern based on dates and locations where the known witches went missing.”

“And does the path of abducted witches lead to Scotland,cher?” Draven asked as he pulled a flask from beneath his leather duster.

“Aye, it does. In a roundabout way.” She turned the laptop to face their group. “I’ve placed pins along the route. But there’s a discrepancy a few weeks back, in America and again in Ireland, close to the Sullivan estate.”

“No. Those timelines actually match,” Eoin replied. He glanced at Brenna. “That should be about the time Loman thought to take on your Aunt Odessa, yeah?”

She leaned closer to see the first of the two pins. “Yes. That’s close to Odessa’s house. She said Moira and Loman paid her a visit. I imagine those dates would match.” Looking reluctant, she offered to call her aunt.

“No need,” Damian told her. “It’s too much of a coincidence for it to be anything else.”

“Would any of those poor bastards on the island still be alive?” Trevor asked. “Weeks of having their magic drained in any fashion would weaken them to the extreme.”

Alastair’s expression was so grim it turned Dubheasa’s stomach. She could already guess what he intended to say. When he spoke, he confirmed her thoughts. “Some will have perished in the process. It’s torturous.”

“Is that what happened to you, then? Was your magic drained?” Not quite certain where she found the courage to ask Alastair Thorne so personal a question, Dubheasa waited nervously for his answer. If he had come through such an experience, there could be hope for others.

“Not quite. The men who ran the place had other plans for me. I was moved frequently, so no one could get a bead on my location and form a rescue. The idea was to make everyone assume I’d died.” When he continued, the bleakness in his eyes chilled Dubheasa. “I was held for a number of years, but only six months of my incarceration were spent on the island. A huge portion of my time as a prisoner was at a monastery in the Himalayas.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mr. Thorne.” Her heart ached for him. Though his eyes were frosty in the retelling, the brief look of desolation that crossed his face spoke of his helplessness.

“Thank you, child. But it was a long time ago. The biggest concern is rescuing anyone still alive.”

Tapping the last pin on the onscreen map, Dubheasa cleared her throat and got back to the point she wanted to make. “And this is our best clue as to the location of the island. That person was reported missing two days ago. Do any of you notice the pattern here?”

“Aye. It forms a wide arch around the coastline. Starting there and ending here.” Ronan pointed. “Sure, and if I had to guess, the island is close to the middle of the C.”

Beaming at him for his clever mind, she nodded. “It’s as if he tried to avoid abducting anyone too close by, not wanting to give himself away, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ronan’s smile was savage. “But he didn’t count on your skills, love.”

“We haven’t found the place yet, but look.” She typed in a code, and the weather patterns for the last few months overlaid the map. “Notice the fog? It’s not typical for Scotland during that season. Yet every time it rolls in, it’s within hours of an abduction, and only in the area of the coast.”

Castor laughed. “To hide his comings and goings. Looks like my brother isn’t as brilliant as he’d like to think. Is he?”

“Oh, I don’t know. To my knowledge, Loman O’Connor doesn’t make fatal mistakes,” Damian said slowly as he narrowed his eyes and studied the screen. “Will you do me a favor, Ms. O’Malley? Reveal the weather patterns for this area on the opposite coastline, between Ireland and Scotland. I’d like to see if they match what you’ve come up with.”

“What are you thinking, Dethridge?” Alastair asked.

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