Page 17 of Highballs & Hexes

“I’m looking for Fi. Uh, Fionola Bohannon. She’s my… she…” He ran a hand through his already tussled hair and sighed. “Fi works for me, and she didn’t show for her shift tonight.”

“Aye. I’m not surprised. She was with my Da, and they’ve not returned from Dublin.” Bridget gestured for him to join them. “Close the doors.”

Once he was seated with his back to a wall, the man sent each of them an assessing glance, summing them up in an instant. She was curious what opinion he’d formed, but she wouldn’t ask.

“Are ya planning on introducing yourself anytime soon?” Eoin asked.

“I’m Noah Riley. I own The Jaded Nomad down Wexford way.”

“I’ve visited your place,” Cian replied as he leaned back and hooked an arm over the top of his chair. “Seems a long way to come in search of a missing server.”

Noah’s mouth tightened. “Fi’s more than that.”

“Does she know it?” her brother asked with a disbelieving laugh. “She was mighty friendly with our Da.”

“She knows.”

But his expression said he wasn’t as sure as he pretended.

CHAPTER 8

Fionola curled into the warm body next to her and sighed as she fought wakefulness. She hadn’t forgotten where she was, but Patrick’s large frame and protective arms made her feel safe throughout the long hours of the night when she woke disoriented and afraid.

Over the last thirty-six hours, the hooded figure had ignored their attempts to get his or her attention. Food appeared whenever they weren’t paying attention or while they were sleeping, frustrating Fi to no end. If only they could catch the person in the act, they might get answers.

Patrick had acclimated quickly, as if being in a cage didn’t bother him in the least. Yet there were times when his lips would thin and a white line of tension appeared around his mouth. Sweat would bead his brow, and he seemed to appreciate when she’d soothe him with a simple touch.

“Tell me this is all a dream,” she murmured as she snuggled into him. “Tell me we’re not trapped in a cage for Goddess knows how long until someone realizes we’re missing.”

“I wish I could, love.” His voice was raspy and strained, causing her to shift and study his expression. Fatigue lined his face, and worry tugged at his brow. In his eyes, she couldsee pain, but she didn’t know if it was physical or emotional, considering his history with incarceration.

“Are you all right, Patrick? Truly?”

“Aye.”

She sensed the lie, but if he didn’t want to discuss it, what was she to do? Rolling to a sitting position, she stretched her arms over her head and moved her neck from side to side. The gestures were more out of habit than any need for bodily relief. The bed was oddly comfortable for a prison cell, but she didn’t want to question it.

“Why haven’t they begun to drain our magic?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Isn’t that what was done to you and Tadhg when you were last here?”

Patrick shifted to lie flat on his back and stare up at the ceiling. He remained quiet for such an inordinate amount of time that she assumed he wouldn’t answer. There were instances over the last day and a half when he’d ignored her endless questions, and she figured this might be one of them.

With a heavy sigh, he turned his head and met her curious gaze. “Aye. It’s what they did. These cells were designed to drain witches a bit at a time. But Loman O'Connor grew bolder, and whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves a guest of his was eventually bled dry of their magic. Sometimes their life force, too.”

Hatred, burning and fierce, blazed in his expressive eyes. Before yesterday, she’d have said Patrick kept his cards close to his chest. Yet little by little, since they’d found themselves the unwilling guests of a maniac, he opened up, allowing her to see below his crusty exterior to the soft center. Whenever their food arrived, he allowed her to have the choice bits and to eat her fill, before consuming what was left. He’d also constructed a screen for the toilet area from a sheet, and he was courteous when sheneeded privacy, turning his back and humming so she wasn’t embarrassed by the forced intimacy.

“Your stay here had to be horrendous for you,” she said softly.

“Aye. But it was worse for those who didn’t survive.”

He rolled to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck, before he hung his head for a long minute. Unable to ignore his internal pain, she stroked his back and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“None of it was your fault, love. ’Tis sorry I am you were dragged into my mess this time around.”

“You’re not to blame for any of this, Patrick. You were trying to help me find Tadhg.”

He avoided her gaze as he rose and crossed to their breakfast tray. “If not me, who?”

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