And froze.
A woman stood on the threshold, soaked from the sea mist, midnight hair windblown, eyes bright with disbelief.
“Elise?”
“Jenna?”
Her niece let out a disbelieving laugh. “My God, when Rose contacted me I only half believed it. I thought maybe she’d taken a whack on the head or something. But you’re here. You’re really here!”
Elise let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, wasn’t quite a sob, and pulled her niece into a fierce hug. Jenna’s arms wrapped around her instantly, holding her tight.
They clung to each other, the kind of fierce, bone-deep embrace that belonged to family who knew too well that life could rip them apart at any moment. Rose and Catriona hurried over.
“Whack on the head indeed!” Rose harrumphed.
She ushered them all inside and in no time at all Jenna had been divested of her cloak and had a cup of Rose’s tea pressed into hand.
“How did you get here so quickly?” Rose asked her.
“By driving our ships as hard as we could,” Jenna replied. “Once Arran and I heard what had happened…well, we had to come. And as quickly as possible.” Her bright eyes fixed on Elise. “I still can’t believe you’re here. It’s so good to have us all together again!”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Elise said, reaching out to squeeze Jenna’s hand. “We’ve needed you.”
“Of course you have,” Jenna said, breaking into a grin. “You two are a walking disaster without me.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “I’ll ignore that. But it’s true we’ve been searching everywhere for information about War Weavers and found absolutely nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing but children’s tales. We’re at a complete dead end.”
Elise felt her frustration spike again, the pressure building behind her ribs. “We don’t even know why it matters. Or what it means. Only that something about it feels…right. Lir sent mehere for a reason. What if this is it? What if I’m meant to be a War Weaver, only we can’t figure out that entails?”
Jenna set down her cup with a small, triumphant clink. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word, “I might have found something.”
“What?” Elise demanded. “Where?”
Jenna reached into a leather satchel at her feet, rummaging past bundles of herbs, a small knife, and three mismatched stones she’d probably collected for some purpose known only to her. Finally, she pulled out a thick, weathered book.
Elise’s breath caught. The thing looked ancient—its cover cracked, its spine reinforced with stitched leather cords that had long since frayed. “Where did you get that?”
“An old man on Mull,” Jenna answered, turning the book so the worn crest on the cover caught the firelight. “He kept it hidden behind a false drawer in his cottage so that nobody from the church found it. Said it had been passed down through his mother’s line for generations. His grandmother was accused of being a witch so you can understand his caution.”
Elise stared at the crest. Two crossed spirals beneath a stylized moon. Something about it called out to her, set her senses tingling. She reached out a hand as if to caress the cover. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep,” Jenna said, opening to the first page. “This is a book of war magic. Stretching right back to the start of the MacFinnan line.”
“So the old man on Islay was right…” Elise breathed. “War Weavers were real.”
“Oh yes, they were real all right,” Jenna said, eyes glittering. “They were the ones who made the great binding spells, the magic that originally protected the Kingdom of the Isles. It says their power is very great. But wild and erratic. Difficult to control. Sound familiar?”
“It does,” Elise breathed.
Catriona looked between the three of them. “So yearea War Weaver then, Aunt Elise?”
“I…I…don’t know.”
“But we’re going to find out,” Jenna said. “We’re going to learn exactly what War Weavers can do.” She grinned at her family. “Starting right now.”
