She kept only enough, just enough, then let herself slide to the floor when it was done. She was the Dark Witch no more.
“You are the Dark Witch, one by three. This is my gift, and my curse. Each of you is strong, and stronger together. One day you’ll return. Go now, and quickly. Day comes. Know my heart goes with you.”
But Teagan clung to her, kicked, cried when Eamon pulled her away.
“Take her outside, onto Alastar,” Brannaugh said quietly.
But first Eamon knelt to his mother. “I will avenge my father, and you, my mother. I will protect my sisters with my life. I swear this.”
“I am proud of my son. I will see you again. My baby,” she said to Teagan. “You will return. I promise you.”
Brannaugh turned to her sister, passed a hand over her head. And Teagan nodded to sleep.
“Take her, Eamon, and the packs you can carry. I’ll bring the rest.”
“I’ll help you. I’m strong enough,” Sorcha insisted. And she didn’t intend to allow Cabhan into her house.
As they loaded the horse, Brannaugh looked into her mother’s eyes. “I understand.”
“I know.”
“I’ll let no harm come to them. If you cannot destroy Cabhan, your blood will. If it takes a thousand years, your blood will.”
“Night’s fleeting, go quickly. Alastar will carry the three of you far enough into day.” Sorcha’s lips trembled before she found the will to firm them. “She is tender of heart, our baby.”
“I will always care for her. I promise you.”
“Then that’s enough. Go, go, or all is for naught.”
Brannaugh pulled herself up behind her brother and her spell-struck sister. “If I am your strength, Mother, you are mine. All that come from us will know of Sorcha. All will honor the Dark Witch.”
Through the blur of tears, she looked ahead, and kicked the horse into a gallop.
Sorcha watched them, kept them in her mind’s eye as they rode through the dark of the woods, away from her. Toward life.
And as day broke, she took the potion from her pocket, drank. Waited for the dark one to come.
He brought the fog, but came as a man, drawn to her scent, to the shimmer of her skin. To her power, false now, but potent.
“My man is dead,” she said flatly.
“Your man stands before you.”
“But you are not a man like other men.”
“More than others. You called me, Sorcha the Dark.”
“I am not a woman like other women, but more. Needs must be met. Power calls to power. Will you make me a goddess, Cabhan?”
Greed and lust darkened his eyes and, Sorcha thought, blinded him.
“I will show you more than you can imagine. Together we will have all, be all. You have only to join with me.”
“What of my children?”
“What of them?” His gaze shifted to the house. “Where are they?” he demanded, and would have pushed by her.
“They sleep. I am their mother, and I would have your word on their safety. You cannot enter until it’s given. I cannot join with you until you swear your oath.”