Bronwyn, along with Alannah, Sinead, Niamh and Mags followed Maeve across the bailey to the sea wall. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. They were going to do some magic.
Wield some magic?
Cast some magic?
Make some magic?
She was spending a lot of brainpower finding the right verb. Mainly to keep the nerves at bay. All her life, she had been able to do stuff, inexplicable stuff that she had to keep hidden. Coming to Baile and meeting the Cray cousins had been a revelation. There were other people in the world like her and her family.
“So, how does this work?” Sinead had been firing a steady stream of questions since they’d left the kitchen.
What Maeve was talking about, and suggesting they get involved in, was on a whole new level. Maeve wasn’t talking about being able to touch somebody and sort of absorb their pain or hurt. Nope, Maeve called her a healer and said she could heal. Like Lazarus kind of healing. Well, not quite waking the dead, and she was really glad that wasn’t possible because…zombies—but taking someone’s disease into herself and passing it into the earth.
Her gift would enable her—again she had only Maeve’s word to go on here—to locate injuries and disease in a body and fix it, like some kind of metaphysical mechanic.
She was so deep in thought she almost tripped over one of Niamh’s badgers, who had come along for the party.
The badger glared at her.
“Sorry,” she said.
Mags fell into step with her. “You’re not going back to America.”
“Eh?”
“America.” Mags gave her a serene smile. “You’re not going back there. You’re staying here.”
Bronwyn narrowly avoided another badger tripping. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“I know.” Mags didn’t seem at all bothered by Bronwyn’s opposition. “But you will.”
According to Maeve, a seer like Mags should have the ability to see past, present and future. All the time. Mags was odd enough without adding that to the mix.
“Is it difficult sometimes?” People always thought they’d like to know their future, but sometimes it was better not knowing. If she’d known she would lose Deidre so soon, it might have messed with the time they’d had together. “There must be stuff you wished you’d never seen.”
Mags winced. “There is, but I don’t tell people about the bad stuff.” She looked sad. “They’d only try to change things, and that never works out well.”
“Of course they do.” If she’d known, she might have warned Deidre not to get into her car that day, and she might have Deidre with her now. Deidre might have lived to see Baile and meet the other witches.
“But time doesn’t work that way,” Mags said. “You can’t change one thing and expect it not to change everything else around it. Everything is interconnected.”
Bronwyn still would have tried to save Deidre. But then she might not have come here with her inheritance.
“Say I told you there would be an accident and a baby would die.” Mags said, chattier than normal today. “You’d want to save the baby, right?”
Bronwyn sensed a trap. “Uh-huh.”
“But what if that baby grew up to be Hitler, would you still want to save the baby?”
“Obviously not.”
“So you see.” Mags shrugged. “Everything is so woven together that for as long as we’re tethered to this physical realm we’re in, we can only see time as linear and how the events along that line affect us.”
“And when you see the future, what do you see?” Bronwyn accepted Mags’s point, but she knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from trying to prevent Deidre’s death.
Mags sighed. “It’s mostly frustrating and comes to me in flashes that aren’t very clear. It leaves far too much to interpretation.”
“Maeve says you can fix that by bonding with Goddess.” A concern raised its head. “I really hope this bonding thing isn’t going to involve blood. I can’t condone anybody cutting themselves on purpose.”
Maeve opened the sea door and led the way down the stairs to the caverns. The stairs were steep, and Bronwyn was glad she’d first climbed them in the dark. She might not have used them if she had seen clearly how high they rose and how far the drop off the side was.
Wind tugged at their hair and clothing. Like a sail, Mags’s caftan snapped against her legs.
Crossing the threshold into the caverns, Bronwyn shivered. She felt…something, a watchful presence. Not in a creepy way, but there nonetheless.
“These sigils represent witches who journeyed to the sacred isles.” Maeve ran her fingertips over the elaborate embedded patterns on the cavern walls. “As a spirit walker, it is my task to put the sigils upon the wall, and my gift is the ability to access the dead through them and walk amongst them.”
Bronwyn shivered, more intensely this time. The idea of walking amongst the dead made her uncomfortable.
As if sensing her reaction, Maeve turned to her and smiled. “As a healer, what I do often works contrary to your blessing.” She glanced at the sigils, a reverent expression on her upturned face. This was Maeve’s place. She was more present here than any other place Bronwyn had seen her thus far. The patterns on the walls had real meaning and significance to Maeve.
When she’d first ended up in the caverns, Bronwyn had had no idea how extensive the network of caves really was. She got it now as she and the others followed Maeve from one cavern to another. Arched doorways and corridors connected the caverns, many of them also covered in patterns—sigils. They were not decorative but represented the women of her bloodline. Cré-witches past, who had come before her and known what she was about to learn.
Maeve led them into a cavern that was larger than the rest. It also had more sigils on the walls, even up and over the ceiling. In the center of the cavern was a pool, glowing gentle luminous silver.
“Goddess Pool.” Maeve stopped beside it. “And also the cardinal point for the water element.” She gave Bronwyn a loaded glance as if it being the cardinal water point would somehow mean something to her. “It’s also the nearest point at which we can communicate with Goddess from Baile.”
Niamh tiptoed to the edge and peered into the water. “This pool is full of magic?”
“Not in and of itself.” Maeve joined her. “It’s a portal, a door that needs to be opened to access the magical powers of the water element.” She nodded at Bronwyn. “Your element.”
“I’m fire,” Niamh said and then grimaced. “At least I think I am. Where’s the cardinal point for fire?”
Maeve shrugged. “I really don’t know, and I’m also fire. Before, when I lived here all four cardinal points were active. None of us knew where they were because we didn’t need to know.”
“There must be something in the library,” Mags said. She shook her head. “I’ve been spending more and more time in there. You wouldn’t believe how much information is sitting on those shelves, and we had no idea.”
Crouching by the pool, Maeve stared into its depths. After a while, she sighed and glanced at them. “She’s there. I can sense her, but she’s too faint for much more than the vague sense of her being there.”
“Should I try?” Bronwyn really didn’t know how any of this worked, but she’d like to try something.
“You could.” Maeve frowned at the water.
Bronwyn crouched beside her. “What should I do?”
“Umm.” Maeve frowned. “Spell casting was not my blessing. I only ever watched other witches cast in their blessings. Reach your awareness into the water.”
“Okay.” Bronwyn stared at the water.
From this close, it was more a very pale blue than silver. The surface was as flat and clear as a mirror. Her face stared back at her. “I’m not sure what I’m doing,” she said. “I don’t feel anything.”
Maeve pursed her lips.
“What about how you stopped the water in the kitchen?” Alannah joined them at the edge. “Do what you did then.”
“I’m not sure what I did.” Bronwyn tugged that memory to the forefront. “The water was running and I just—”
“Look!” Alannah nudged her.
A small ripple broke the pool’s surface.
“Do it again,” Maeve said.
Bronwyn reached within, the scent of honey and sage rose around her. Another ripple broke the water’s surface, the same as the one before.
“Well,” Maeve said. “Now we know for certain you’re a water witch.”
“Alexander knew that too.” Bronwyn had almost forgotten her first conversation with him. “How could he have known I was a water witch?”
“I don’t know.” Maeve looked worried. Then her face cleared into a smile. “But I do know who can get Goddess to speak with us.” She beamed at them. “Roderick. She always talks to Roderick.”
Maeve didn’t know where Roderick had spent his time the last few days, or what he was doing. He was always there, within her. Through the bond, she knew he was aware of her and he was well. Now that she was more accustomed to it, it was a state she could exist in indefinitely. He didn’t bother her or irk her; he was just a constant presence—comforting and safe.
She reached down the bond to him.
His question pulsed back at her, and she opened her senses so he could see where she was. She formed the desire for him to join them and combined that with the sense that she needed something from him.
Immediately he set out toward her. Her sense of him strengthened as he drew closer to the caverns.
“Ah!” Mags turned to the entrance. “Roderick is here.”
Three heartbeats later, he came through the entranceway to the central cavern.
If Mags could use this much of her blessing without access to her element, it augured well for her power when they could connect her to her element.
“Blessed.” Roderick inclined his head to the gathered witches. “You have need of me?”
“Yes.” Maeve stood so he could see her. “Goddess is so dim—”
“What are you wearing?” Roderick gaped at her. His gaze raked her from top to toe, and his lip curled. “You look ridiculous. You need to cover yourself, not flaunt your body for all to see.”
“Oy!” Sinead got in front of him. “You have no right to speak to her like that, you absolute prat.”
He didn’t, and Maeve stood like a puppet and absorbed the blow of his words. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shout at him that she didn’t look ridiculous. She wanted to run and hide.
His remorse surged through the bond, but her hurt ran deep and fresh.
“I’m with her.” Alannah squared up to him beside Sinead. “You need to make this right, and do it now.”
“Maeve?” He tried to sidestep Alannah, but she got in his path.
“You go near her without an apology, and I’ll rip your balls off and shove them down your throat.”
Up until that point, Maeve would have sworn Sinead was the more aggressive twin, but it appeared as if riling Alannah had dire consequences.
“You take that back and beg for her forgiveness. Make it good, or I’ll make you sorry you were born.”
“Dickhead.” Niamh glared at him. She put her arm about Maeve. “The only magic in this cave today is your arse in those jeans. Trust me on this.”
Roderick stared at her. Regret was written on his face, but she didn’t need to see it to know he felt it. Their bond overflowed with his emotion. Regret, chagrin, and…something else. Something animal and potent, undeniably sensual.
“What is that?” She didn’t realize she had voiced the question until he responded.
Roderick looked at her, gaze intent and loaded. “You know what that is. You can feel it.” He turned his attention to Alannah. “I am deeply sorry for what I said to Maeve. She shocked me wearing those clothes. We come from a different time, and while I am accustomed to you wearing things like that, I did not expect it from Maeve. It took me by surprise, and I misspoke myself.”
Alannah folded her arms and glared. “Is that it?”
“She looks…” He pushed a hand through his hair and looked at her. “Can we speak of this alone, Maeve?”
With all she could sense going on inside him, that was probably a good idea. “I think that would be for the best.” She looked at her allies and defenders. “Would you mind leaving us alone?”
“I don’t know.” Sinead poked Roderick in the chest. “I still think we should toss his arse out of here.”
Roderick raised a brow and stared down at her. He used a phrase he’d picked up from Thomas. “You and whose army?”
Maeve kept her gaze on the other witches trailing out of the cavern. With Roderick silently standing in front of her, she was acutely aware of him, and all they didn’t know about each other, and all the things unsaid between them.
Before disappearing into the next-door cavern, Sinead turned and jabbed her fore and middle fingers at her eyes and then at Roderick. “I’m watching you, motherfucker.”
Roderick flinched. “She has a mouth on her.”
The free swearing was taking her time to accept as well. It wasn’t that they hadn’t always used swear words, but not as freely, and Sinead certainly had a colorful way of cobbling her profanities together. Mother and fucker were not two words Maeve would ever have placed together.
“Maeve?” Roderick had moved to within a few inches of her, which forced her to peer up at him, and it made her feel at a disadvantage.
She took a step back.
He reached out and caught her hip with one hand. “Let me say this.”
His hand warmed her skin though her breech—jeans as she waited for him to continue.
“Sinead is right to chastise me for what I said.”
Chastise seemed too mild a word for Sinead’s outburst, or the one by Alannah and finally Niamh. As a spirit walker, she’d always been more isolated from the coven than the other witches. In this time, she had already experienced more support and companionship than the time she’d been born in.
“You look astounding, Maeve.” His cool blue eyes warmed from within. “You robbed me of thought and left me saying the first stupid thing that made its way out my mouth.”
The look in his eyes tugged at something within her. A warm, melty sensation swirled in her belly. “I’m trying to find my feet in these times.”
“I know that.” He grasped her other hip. “And you’re doing it so much better than I.”
“No, Roderick—”
“Yes, Maeve, and that’s why the breeches—”
“Jeans, and men wear them too.”
“Jeans.” A slight smile softened his serious face. “I’m adrift in these times, Maeve. I’ve lived for so long and seen so many different things, but this…” He shook his head. “I could never have predicted all that has occurred, all they’ve built and invented, all their technology.” He said the word slowly and carefully as if it felt strange on his tongue. “Thomas has been helping me bridge the distance, closing the gap.”
“They have created many marvelous things.” She wanted to touch him, and she placed her palms against his chest. Even with their bond, the physical touch brought a warmer connection. “And much has changed. But Roderick, much has not changed. People are still people with all their beauty and foibles. Beneath their new clothes, they are still women and men.”
“Perhaps not.” Roderick grimaced. “Thomas is attempting to explain trans and gender fluid to me.”
“Eh?” It was like he was speaking a foreign tongue.
“Never mind.” Roderick tightened his hands at her hips. “When I came in and saw you looking like one of them, I panicked. I felt like I was losing my last connection to things I knew and understood.”
“Oh, Roderick.” He allowed some of what roiled within him to seep into their bond. “You are always so strong, so resolute. It never occurs to me that you might have your travails.”
“Of the two of us, my witch, you are the stronger.” He shook his head when she tried to deny it. “I can swing a sword, fight, kill. But you are my anchor in this time, all that remains of what we have lost.”
“Coimhdeacht.” Whisper soft and sweet, Goddess’s voice echoed from the pool. “She is your reason for being here, and together, your purpose is mighty.”
“Goddess.” Roderick dropped to his knee.
It took Maeve a moment to react she was so shocked. Then she yelled for the others. “Come quickly!”
They all tumbled around the corner as if they had been hiding behind it listening.
Despite being the smallest, Bronwyn reached her first. “What? What did he do?”
“Goddess.” Maeve pointed to where Roderick still remained on bended knee. “She spoke to him.”
“What?” Niamh blinked at her, took a tottering step toward Roderick and leaped back again. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Blessed.” Goddess’s voice was barely above a gentle breeze, but the effect was instantaneous. As one, they sank to their knees on the cold, hard cavern floor.
The new witches paled and stared at the pool.
Sinead’s mouth worked but produced no words.
“Mother.” Maeve bowed her head.
“Mother,” the others intoned and copied her actions.
“My Blessed,” Goddess’s voice sounded a little stronger. “The dark one spreads her stain across this world. She creeps into all areas of power and influence and her strength grows daily.”
Maeve dared a question. “What would you have us do, Mother?”
“You must act,” Goddess said. “I have called my new four. You must bond your magic to me.”