For the next half hour he took her through the paces, bringing her back to the glove, letting her go again.
The chilly, damp air opened for a thin drizzle of rain, but none of them minded it. Here was freedom for all in a kind of game.
He mapped out the route in his head, thought it would make a fine loop for the package, showing off how the hawks could dance through the trees, and return time and time to the glove without breaking the horse’s easy pace.
Close enough here to hear the river murmur, far enough there to feel as though you rode hawking into another time. And he could smell snow coming. By nightfall, he thought, and it would grace the greens and browns, lie still and quiet for a time.
And come spring, the blackthorn would bloom, and the wildflowers Branna gathered for pleasure and for magicks.
Come spring, he thought—he hoped—he could walk through the woods with her, in peace.
And thinking of her, he changed direction. The hawks and horse could settle down outside her cottage awhile while he worked with her.
When he moved onto a clear path, he let Caesar canter again, then laughed as he saw Bugs running, tongue lolling.
“Now with the hound I’ve all three. We’ll just go by, stop in Branna’s. She might have something for all of you. Then we’ll take a look at Boyle’s new house before going on home.”
Apparently fine with that plan, Bugs raced along beside the horse.
Fin slowed again as they approached the big downed tree, and the thick vines that barred most from the ruins of Sorcha’s cabin.
Bugs let out a low growl.
“Oh aye, he’s coming around now. I feel him as well.”
Fin ordered Sassy to stay in the air, called Merlin to the glove.
Fog snaked through the vines. Fin held out his free hand, levitated the dog up to sit in front of him in the saddle.
He felt the pull, the almost cheerful invitation to come through, to bask in all that could be, all the dark gifts offered.
“If that’s the best you have . . .” With a shrug, Fin started to turn the horse.
The wolf burst out of the vines, gleaming black, red stone pulsing. Caesar shied, reared, but Fin managed to keep his seat, and snatched the dog before Bugs lost his.
To Fin’s surprise, Sassy went into a stoop, swooped over the wolf, then up again where she perched in a tree, staring down at it.
Clever girl, he thought. Fierce and clever girl.
“I’ll say again, if that’s the best you have . . .”
Fin took Caesar into a charge, and shot down a hand to split the earth open under the wolf. As the horse leaped over it, the wolf vanished.
Fin heard the laughter behind him, turned the horse.
Cabhan floated above the open earth on a blanket of fog.
“Far from the best, boy. You’ve yet to taste my best. Spare yourself, for in the end you’ll come to me. I know your blood.”
Fin fought the urge to charge again, but he’d been in business long enough to know a turned back could pack a harder punch.
So he simply turned Caesar, walked away without hurry.
“Spare yourself.” It came as a whisper, not a shout. “And when I’ve finished with you, I will bind the dark witch you lust for to you for eternity.”
The urge to turn and charge grew with fury.
Without looking back, Fin healed the earth, and moved forward and out of the woods.