It flustered him, and showed him just where Iona got her kind and open heart.
“Ah. His lust for her, woman and witch, became obsession. He would turn her, take what she had, and he believes no spell, no magicks can stop him, can touch him. Her power could cause him harm, threaten his existence, and her rejection burned his pride.”
“Then there were three,” Branna calculated. “And with the three the power, and the threat, increases. We can end him.”
“In that moment, in the cave, when he took in the demon, and the black of it, he believed nothing could or ever would. But what’s in him knows better. It lies to him, as his mother warned him. It lies.”
“We can hurt him, bloody him, burn him to ash, but . . .” Connor shrugged. “Unless we destroy the amulet as well, unless we can destroy the demon joined with him, he’ll heal, he’ll come back.”
“It’s good to know.” Iona spread some cheese on a cracker. “So how do we destroy the stone, the demon?”
“Blood magick against blood magick,” Branna decided. “White against dark. As we have been, but perhaps with a different focus. We have to find the right time, and be sure of it. I’m thinking it must be Sorcha’s cabin, as before, to draw what she had into it, but we need to find a way to trap him, to keep him from escaping again so it can be finished. And if we can do that, it would be Fin who needs to destroy the stone, the source.”
“I felt the pull, of the demon, of the witch. And the far stronger one when they united. I felt the . . . appeal, the lust for what they’d give me.”
“And feeling that, risked yourself to shield me. It’s for you to do when the time comes,” Branna said briskly. “We’ve only to figure out the hows and the whens. Mary Kate, are you certain you have to go back to America, for it’s a joy to me to have someone else fixing a meal around here.”
Understanding the need to shift the conversation, Mary Kate smiled. “I do, I’m afraid, but I’ll be back for Iona’s wedding, and before it enough to help with some of the doings. And it might be, I’m thinking, I’ll stay.”
“Stay?” Iona reached around the table, grabbed her hands. “Nan, do you mean you’d stay in Ireland?”
“I’m doing some thinking about it. I stayed in America after your grandda died for your mother, then for you. And I love my house there, my gardens, the views out my window. I have good friends there. But . . . I can have a house here, and gardens, and pretty views out my windows. I have good friends here. And I have you. I have all of you, and more family besides.”
“You could live with us. I showed you where we’re putting on the room for you to have when you visit. You could just live there, with us.” Iona looked at Boyle.
“Of course, and we’d love that.”
“You’ve a sweet heart,” Mary Kate said to Iona, “and you’ve a generous one, Boyle. But if I come to stay, to live, I’ll take my own place. Close by, be sure of that. In the village most like, where I can walk to the shops and see my good friends, and visit with you in your fine new home as often as you please.”
“I’ve a cottage and no tenant,” Fin commented, and had Mary Kate lifting her eyebrows.
“I’ve heard as much, but it’s some months till April.”
“It’s easy to rent it to tourists for short spells who want something in the village, something self-catering. You might have a look at it before you go back to America.”
“I’ll do just that, and should confess I’ve already had a peek in the windows.” She grinned. “It’s cozy as a kitten, and so nicely updated.”
“I’ll see you get a key, and you can go in, look around whenever you like.”
“I’ll do that. I should go. Margaret will start worrying if I’m much later.”
“I’ll drive you in.” Boyle started to rise.
“I’ll do it.” Fin stood instead. “I’ll give you the key, and drop you round your friend’s. I need to be home myself.”
“I’ll get my coat. No, the lot of you stay where you are,” Mary Kate insisted. “I don’t mind being escorted from the house by a handsome young man.”
When they’d left, Iona got to her feet. “I’m going to draw you