“Your blood saw to that. He’s wounded, but who can say if it’s mortal. I could have finished him.”
“If you’d left the clearing, you’d have been lost,” Connor said. “You’re with us, Fin. Your place, your time is here. We didn’t finish him. I felt him as well before Branna broke the spell. But not here, not now. And this time, we’ve some bumps and bruises and nothing more—if we’re not counting your fist in my face—and he’s battered and bleeding and torn, half blind as well—I got that much. He may not survive the night.”
“I can ease the pain.”
Fin only stared at Branna. “I’ll keep it all the same.”
“Fin.” Iona stepped forward, rose to her toes to cup his face in her hands. “Mo dearthair. We need you with us.”
After a moment’s struggle, Fin lowered his forehead to hers, sighed. “Ah well.”
“We should go back.” Meara handed Bugs to Fin, where the dog wiggled in his arms and lapped at his face. “We may not have finished it, but we did good work tonight. And for myself, I sang my throat dry as the moon.”
“It’s not finished.” Branna crossed over to Sorcha’s gravestone, traced a finger over the words carved there. “Not yet finished, but it will be. I swear it will be.”
They mounted, filthy, weary. Connor hung back, just a bit, looking over his shoulder at the clearing before they went through the vines. “I saw them—I need to tell the others.”
“Saw who?”
“The three. Sorcha’s three—the shadows of them. Eamon with a sword, Brannaugh with a bow, Teagan with a wand. Some part of them was there, came through and into the dreaming. They tried to get through to us.”
“We could have used them—more than their shadows.”
“That’s the truth all around.” He turned Aine toward home. “I thought, for a moment and more, I thought we’d done it.”
“So did I. You wanted to go with Fin. Wanted to go with him and finish it, whatever the cost.”
“I did, but I couldn’t.”
“Because it wasn’t meant.”
“More than that. I couldn’t leave you.” He stopped Aine so he could turn to her, touch her face. “I couldn’t and wouldn’t leave you, Meara, not even for that.
“I’ve something for you.”
He dug in his pocket, pulled out the silver box, opened it so the ruby pulled at the moonlight.
“Oh, but, Connor—”
“It’s a fine ring, and I’ll see that it fits—as you fit me, and I fit you. It’s come down through the family. Branna passed it to me so I could give it to you.”
“You’re proposing to me on horseback when we both smell of brimstone?”
“It strikes me as romantic and memorable. Look here.” He slid it onto her finger, gave it a little tap. “See, it fits, as I said. You’ll have to marry me now.”
She looked at the ring, back at him. “I suppose I will then.”
He caught her in a kiss as sweet as it was awkward.
“Hold on now,” he told her.
And they flew.
* * *
SEEKING ITS LAIR, IT CRAWLED OVER THE GROUND, MORE shadow than wolf, more wolf than man. Its black blood scorched the earth behind it.
It knew only pain and hate and a terrible thirst.