fall of snow. Cabhan rode the storm until the stones of the castle shook.”
“Are you harmed? Any of you?”
“He could not get past us, and will not. But another maid is missing, and a kinswoman, and I fear the worst for her. Something changed.”
Yes, Brannaugh thought, something changed. But first there were questions. “What do you know of demons?”
Sorcha’s Brannaugh glanced down as Branna’s Kathel went to hers, and the hounds sniffed each other.
“They walk, they feed, they thirst for the blood of mortals. They can take many forms, but all but one is a lie.”
“And they search out, do they not,” Branna added, “those willing to feed them, to quench that thirst? The red stone, we’ve seen its creation, and we’ve seen the demon Cabhan bargained with pass through it and into him. They are one. Sorcha couldn’t end Cabhan because the demon lived, and healed him. They healed, I think, each other.”
“How did you see?”
“We went in a dream spell, myself and Finbar Burke.”
“The one of Cabhan’s blood. You went with him, to Cabhan’s time, to his lair. How can there be such trust?”
“How can there not? Here is trust,” she said, gesturing to the dogs who’d gone to wrestling on the floor. “I know Fin’s heart, and would not know all we do now without him.”
“You’ve been with him.”
“I have.” And though she felt her cousin’s concern, even disapproval, she wouldn’t regret it. “The storm came to you. I heard it when I joined with Fin, and I thought fate clashed at the choice we made. But you say it was Cabhan who rode the storm, and you felt it was his power, or rage, that shook the stones. It may be the joining angered him—this speaks true to me. What angers him only pleases me.”
“I know what it is to love. Have a care, cousin, on how that love binds you to one who carries the mark.”
“I’ve had a care since the mark came on him. I won’t shirk my duty. My oath on it. I believe Fin may be the true change, the weapon always needed. With him, as no three has before, we will end this. Cabhan, and what made him what he is now. It must be both, we believe that, or it will never end. So, what do you know of demons?”
Brannaugh shook her head. “Little, but I will learn more. You will call him by his name. This I have heard. You must use his name in the spell.”
“Then we’ll find his name. How long since last we talked in your time?”
“Today is La nag Cearpairi.”
Day of the Buttered Bread, Branna realized. New Year’s Day. “As it is here. We are on the same day, another change. This will be our year, cousin, the year of the three. The year of the Dark Witch.”
“I will pray for it. I must go, the baby’s waking.”
“Wait.” Branna closed her eyes again, brought the image into her mind from the box in her attic. Then held out a small stuffed dog. “For the baby. A gift from his cousins.”
“A little dog.” As she petted it, Sorcha’s Brannaugh smiled. “So soft it is, and clever.”
“It was mine, and well loved. Bright blessings to you and yours this day.”
“And to you and yours. I will see you again. We will be with you when it’s needed, in that I will have faith, and trust.” She laid her hand on her dog’s head, and they faded away.
Branna lowered her hand to her own dog’s head, stroked. “Once I thought to give the little dog to my own baby. But since that’s not to be, it seemed a fine gift for my cousin’s.” Kathel leaned his great body against her in comfort. “Ah, well, we’ve work to do, don’t we? But first I think you’ve earned a biscuit for being so welcoming to our cousin’s hound.”
She got one for him, smiled when he sat so politely. “How lucky am I to have so many loves in my life.” She leaned down, pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then offered the biscuit.
Content in the quiet, she made her tea, and she sat with her spell books, looking for whatever she might find on demons.
She had the whole of the afternoon to herself, a precious thing, so mixed work and reading with some baking to please herself. She put a chicken on the boil, thinking chicken soup with chunky vegetables and thick egg noodles would go well.