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When Rye had taken two steps back, Doyle answered his question. “The spell takes everything a person is, all abilities and strengths, and transfers it to another. In this instance, Cassidy’s powers will transfer to me.”
Rye’s heart was pounding so hard Doyle had to be able to hear it. Everyone had to be able to hear. He had to stall; he had to find a way to stop Doyle before it was too late. “Maisy had a knife. A special knife. I took it. It’s in my room above the pub.”
“Blood has to be spilled,” Doyle admitted, “but I don’t need any special knife. Maisy just liked that one. I think it belonged to her father. Or a sister.” He shrugged, as if Maisy and her knife were of no consequence. As if the words he spoke were just ordinary words.
“Blood,” Rye repeated in a lowered voice.
“Yes, blood,” Doyle said carelessly. “That doesn’t mean Cassidy has to die. I don’t have to take it all.”
Cassidy’s lips moved, but she made no sound. Liar.
“That’s good to hear,” Rye said, trying to hide his panic at Cassidy’s silent, single word. “The stones... Does the spell have to take place there?”
“It’s preferred,” Doyle admitted. “Not necessary, but there is a better chance of success. It’s more likely that all abilities will transfer if the words are spoken there.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I won’t ki
ll her here and now if you give me any trouble. Wait, let me have the powers I need and when it’s all done you can have her back. I can’t say she’ll be unharmed, but she will be alive.”
Liar.
He had to stall, had to find a way to move Doyle away from Cassidy. With that knife at her throat, a sudden, impulsive attack was possible. Doyle might prefer to kill her in the stone circle, but he’d kill her here and now if he felt he had no choice.
Rye had never felt so helpless, had never wished so hard for the powers he’d taken for granted.
Doyle wanted power. He wanted it badly enough to kill his own brother, as well as an innocent child. He craved what the darker side of Rye had wanted.
Everything.
Rye asked as calmly as he could, “Why her? Why not me?”
Doyle smiled. “Nice try, boss. Let’s face it, you have a lot of abilities and I wouldn’t mind having them.” The expression on his face said, Maybe one day I will. No, he didn’t realize that Rye had lost his powers; he still had not seen that truth. “She’s more powerful than you are. More powerful than anyone, I expect.”
Rye had always understood that Cassidy’s abilities would put her in danger, would make her attractive to those who wanted what she had. Power beyond imagining. He’d always thought he could keep her safe at least until adulthood. No child should be threatened like this, and Cassidy...she was a sweet girl, untainted, generous. Filled with love. He loved her. He would die for her if he had to.
“That’s true, she is more powerful than I am,” Rye said. “But the kind of power that flows through Cassidy’s veins doesn’t come without a price. There’s the issue of control, the very real possibility that the magic will rule you instead of the other way around.” He knew that too well, since it had almost happened to him.
“That’s a problem I can handle,” Doyle said, but Rye saw his doubts.
Now was the time. A shift in the conversation, a suggestion... “If you take my abilities you can keep her, control her and have it all. You can have everything.”
“You’re offering?” Doyle snapped.
Yes. Hell, yes. He’d do anything, so in the midst of lies and deceit he spoke the truth. “I love my daughter. Promise me you’ll let her live, promise me you won’t hurt her, and you’ll get no fight from me.”
Doyle hesitated. He shifted his feet almost nervously. One swipe of that knife and Cassidy would be gone. Just gone.
Rye snapped, “Have I used my powers to fight you?”
“No.” Again, he saw Doyle’s indecision. “But only because I have a knife to her throat.”
True enough. If the move wouldn’t put Cassidy in danger, he would have wrestled Doyle to the ground already. “Maybe I’m hoping that once you take all I am into yourself you’ll love her as I do. Maybe I hope more of me than my magic will affect you. I want my daughter to live, to be taken care of. She can give you everything if only you care for her.”
The knife at Cassidy’s throat wavered, moving slightly away from her skin. “I’ve never seen much to speak of out of you. How do I know you have abilities I want?”
He’d been afraid this might happen. Doyle wanted a demonstration, and Rye was without magic. “You want the man I used to be. Ask anyone in Cloughban about the man I was a dozen years ago or so. I’ve kept my abilities dampened for a very long time with talismans. You saw them, the wristband and the stone at my throat. They’re gone now.” It was all gone. “Without those safeguards I can do anything Cassidy can, and more. My abilities are fully developed—they are not the gifts of a child. What power do you wish to see? I have them all.”
One eyebrow rose slightly. “We’ll start with something easy. Fire?”
The cold fireplace was instantly filled with flame.
