Page 47 of Highballs & Hexes

“Ach. That’s a right powerful image.” Patrick’s stomach growled, and he pressed his flattened palm to his abdomen to stave off the sudden hunger.

“One of you that I’ve held close to me heart since your last insult,” Ronan quipped.

Patrick was surprised he could laugh, but the man was amusing when he wanted to be. “How long was I out?”

“Two days and nights. This morning started the third.”

Nodding, he glanced toward the window, his attention caught by movement in the garden. From the back, the person strolling toward the hedge looked like Fionola.

Fi.

Of a certainty, she wouldn’t be waiting for him.

A visitor of the Black Cat, then. The surprising thing was that the grounds weren’t busting at the seams with pitchfork-wielding victims and their families, all calling for his blood.

Shutting his eyes, he rubbed the heels of his hands against them.

“What happens next?” he asked.

Ronan didn’t pretend ignorance. “A member of the Witches’ Council arrived today. She said they’ll hold an inquest when you’re able to attend.”

“Sure, and you mean a mock trial so they can hand down a sentence on Frankenstein’s monster.”

Ronan didn’t respond to Patrick’s dark joke.

Fi would’ve.

She’d have replied with a cutting quip or piled on the gallows humor.

Jaysus, he already missed her. He’d only been awake minutes, yet his arms craved the feel of her body within their embrace, and his eyes burned for want of seeing her sunny smile. To say nothing of his lifeless heart.

Pretending the woman in the distance was her, Patrick continued to observe her. He sucked in a sharp breath when she turned toward the house.

Fi.

“What the hell is she doing here?” he croaked.

Ronan frowned and followed his line of sight. “She refuses to leave until she speaks to you.”

Panicked, he shook his head. What did she want? What was left to say? Did she intend to lay into him or twist the Noah-knife further by letting Patrick know she’d gone back to the ever-vigilant pub owner? No one could convince him the guy hadn’t been waiting to swoop in at the first opportunity. A wise man didn’t let a woman like Fi walk away if he could help it.

“Tell her to go home,” Patrick demanded.

“Bridg tried, but the woman wasn’t having it. She’s stubborn to a fault, and everyone is taking bets on who’ll win between the two of them. Bridget’s favored, but my money’s onher.” During his speech, Ronan rose and strolled to the window, and now, he nodded toward the garden. “She has a right powerful anger inside her.”

“At me,” Patrick replied dully.

“At everyone, I think.” Ronan shrugged before turning toward the door. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake. Should I conjure a cuppa for you?”

“I can conjure my own food. Thanks.” Patrick stopped in the act of running his hands through his hair. “Ican, yeah? It wasn’t taken away?”

“Nah. Anu had a reason for returning to you what you possess.”

He was referring to the O’Malley magic and the added abilities Anu had given him when she encouraged him to help Loman’s previous victims. It was doubtful what he’d done was what she had in mind when gifting him the additional power.

Pausing in his exit, silvery gaze full of sincerity, Ronan gave him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re back with the living, Paddy. Remember something, will ya?”

“What’s that?”

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