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“Oh, I nearly forgot.” She dug into her purse, pulled out a vial. “Drink this. It’ll help. Drink it,” she repeated when he frowned at the vial. “It’s herbs and some powdered crystals. Nothing harmful. It may help the queasiness.”
The reluctance was clear on his face, but he downed it. “You have a heavy hand with the cloves.”
“You can thank me when you don’t have to use the barf bag.”
She heard the engines hum, felt the vibration beneath her. “Spirits of the night, give us wings to take this flight. Hold us safe within your hand until we touch upon the land.” She slid her eyes to Hoyt. “It never hurts.”
He wasn’t ill, but she could see that her potion and his will were fighting a hard battle to keep his system steady. She made him tea, brought him a blanket, then reclined his seat, brought up the footrest herself.
“Try to sleep a little.”
Too ill to argue, he nodded, closed his eyes. When she was sure he was as comfortable as she could make him, she moved forward to join the others in the cockpit.
There was music playing. Nine Inch Nails, she recognized. In the copilot’s seat, King had kicked back and was snoring along with the beat. Glenna looked through the windscreen and felt her heart do a little dance of its own.
There was nothing but the black.
“I’ve never been in a cockpit before. Awesome view.”
“I can kick that one out of here if you want his seat for a bit.”
“No. I’m fine. Your brother’s trying to sleep. He’s not feeling very well.”
“He used to turn green crossing the Shannon. I imagine he’s sick as a dog by now.”
“No, just queasy. I gave him something at takeoff, and he’s got an iron will to add to it. Do you want anything?”
He glanced back. “Aren’t you the helpful one?”
“I’m too revved up to sleep, too restless to sit. So, coffee, tea, milk?”
“I wouldn’t mind the coffee. Thanks for that.”
She brewed a short pot, brought him a mug of it. Then stood behind him, staring out into the night sky. “What was he like as a boy?”
“As I told you.”
“Did he ever doubt his power? Ever wish he hadn’t been given the gift?”
It was a strange sensation, having a woman question him about another man. Generally if they weren’t talking about themselves they were asking about him, trying to nudge aside what some of them saw as a curtain of mystery.
“Not that he ever told me. And he would have,” Cian said after a moment. “We were close enough in those days.”
“Was there someone—a woman, a girl—for him back there?”
“No. He looked, and he touched, and he had a few. He’s a sorcerer not a priest. But he never told me of one special to him. I never saw him look at any of the girls as he looks at you. To your peril, Glenna, I’d be saying. But mortals are fools when it comes to love.”
“And I’d say if you can’t love when you’re facing death, then death’s not worth fighting. Lili
th had a child with her. Did he tell you that?”
“He didn’t, no. You need to understand there’s no sentiment there, no softness. A child is just easy prey, and a sweet meal.”
Her stomach turned, but she kept her voice even. “Eight or ten years old, I’d say,” she continued. “In the bed with her, in those caves. She’d made him like her. She’d made that child like her.”
“That shocks and angers you, well, that’s fine then. Shock and anger can be strong weapons in the right hand. But remember this. If you see that child, or one like him, put your pity away, because he’ll kill you without thought or mercy unless you kill him first.”
She studied Cian now, that profile that was so like his brother’s, yet so completely his own. She wanted to ask if he’d ever turned a child, or fed on one. But she was afraid the answer might be unforgivable, and she needed him.
