“I was only…” He trailed off, then looked deliberately over her shoulder. “Is this what you wear in public?”
“Yes.” She turned, and just as deliberately invaded his space. “Problem?”
“No. You don’t wear shoes?”
“Not around the house, necessarily.” His eyes were so blue, she thought. So sharp and blue against those thick black lashes. “What do you feel when we’re like this? Alone. Close.”
“Unsettled.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve s
aid to me so far. I mean, do you feel something? In here.” She laid a fist on her belly, kept her eyes locked on his. “A kind of reaching. I’ve never felt it before.”
He felt it, and a kind of burn in and under his heart as well. “You haven’t broken your fast,” he managed, and stepped carefully back. “You must be hungry.”
“Just me then,” she murmured. She turned to open a cupboard. “I don’t know what I’m going to need, so I’m going to take whatever feels right. I’m not traveling light. You and Cian have to deal with that. We should probably leave as soon as possible.”
He’d lifted a hand, was on the point of touching her hair, something he’d wanted to do since he’d first seen her. Now he dropped it. “Leave?”
“You don’t expect to sit around in New York and wait for the army to come to you? The portal’s in Ireland, and we have to assume the battle’s to take place in Ireland, or some mystical facet thereof. We need the portal, or at some point we will. So we need to go to Ireland.”
He simply stared at her as she loaded bottles and vials into a case not dissimiliar from his own. “Aye, you’re right. Of course, you’re right. We need to start back. A voyage will take much of the time we have. Oh, Jesus, I’ll be sick as six dogs sailing home.”
She looked over. “Sailing? We don’t have time for the Queen Mary, sweetie. We’ll fly.”
“You said you couldn’t.”
“I can, if it’s in a plane. We’ll have to figure out how to get you a ticket. You don’t have ID, you don’t have a passport. We can do a charm on the ticket agent, the custom’s agent.” She brushed it away. “I’ll work it out.”
“A plain what?”
She focused on him, then leaned back against the counter and laughed until her sides ached. “I’ll explain later.”
“It’s not my purpose to amuse you.”
“No, it wouldn’t be. But it’s a nice side pocket. Oh hell, I don’t know what to take, what not to take.” She stepped back, rubbed her hands over her face. “It’s my first apocalypse.”
“Herbs, flowers and roots grow in Ireland, and quite well.”
“I like my own.” Which was foolish, and childish. But still…“I’ll just take what I consider absolutely essential in this area, then start on books, clothes and so on. I have to make some calls, too. I’ve got some appointments that I need to cancel.”
With some reluctance, she closed her already loaded case and left it on the counter. She crossed to a large wooden chest in the far corner of the room, and unlocked it with a charm.
Curiosity piqued, Hoyt moved over to study the contents over her shoulder. “What do you keep here?”
“Spell books, recipes, some of my more powerful crystals. Some were handed down to me.”
“Ah, then, you’re a hereditary witch.”
“That’s right. The only one of my generation who practices. My mother gave it up when she married. My father didn’t like it. My grandparents taught me.”
“How could she give up what’s inside her?”
“A question I’ve asked her many times.” She sat back on her heels, touching what she could take, and what she couldn’t. “For love. My father wanted a simple life, she wanted my father. I couldn’t do it. I don’t think I could love enough to give up what I am. I’d need to be loved enough to be accepted for what I am.”
“Strong magic.”
“Yeah.” She took out a velvet sack. “This is my prize.” From it she lifted the ball of crystal he’d seen her with in the vision. “It’s been in my family a long time. Over two hundred and fifty years. Chump change to a man of your years, but a hell of a run to me.”