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“I feel the trees, resting before the spring, as the earth rests. And… four doe with three young. Yearlings. They’ll wait until Bollocks is inside to come and drink. There’s a dragon and rider flying east from the Far West. And Lonrach, he’s with your Dilis near the lake. And there’s…”
Her breath caught.
“Nan.” She groped for Marg’s hand. “Odran. Blood. Blood magicks. I can’t see where, only feel it. So deep and dark. Not the waterfall. I can’t see.”
“Does he feel you?”
“I— No.”
“Hold the curtain closed,mo stór.”
“It’s hard. He’s stronger now. I can feel his anger, and it feeds him like the blood feeds him.”
“Step back from him, step back.”
“I need to see.”
“Step back, and look. I’m with you. The curtain is closed to him. Step back, and look.”
She felt Marg’s light strengthen her own, suddenly felt Bollocks by her side. Felt both, saw herself with them as if looking through a glass. Though the urge to step forward came strong, she stepped back. And through the curtain, thin but steady, she saw.
He stood naked in a circle of black candles. He had a small scar on his chest over his heart. Smoke and chanting filled the air, rising and rising, and through it she heard the sound of waves crashing, a raging beat. On an altar of stone, the sacrifice lay, naked like her god, with her skin smeared with blood.
Breen felt no fear from her, but a terrible excitement.
He mounted her, and as the chants grew deeper, darker, took her with a kind of brutality that had Breen’s hand trembling in Marg’s.
“Stay strong,” Marg said in her head. “Stay quiet.”
And she saw through him what seemed to be claws, claws that pierced the faerie’s flesh, drew blood to drip on the stone.
She screamed, not in pain, but in exultation.
When he finished, she lay, her eyes locked with his, and his glowed red.
“I give myself to your glory, Odran the Only. I give my body, my life, my soul.”
“And so I take.”
He sliced a claw over her throat, and while the chants grew deafening, drank.
She felt glee, so much glee, then saw Shana outside the circle, dressed in gold, dripping with jewels, hands clapping.
She saw more there that twisted inside her.
And saw the curtain shake.
“Enough!” Marg snapped it out. “Control it. Come back from it. Enough.”
“It’s gone. It’s gone. I need to sit down.”
“Inside. You’ve gone cold and pale. Lean on me now.” She waved a hand at the workshop door to throw it open, and again to have the fire in the hearth blazing.
“You’ll sit,” she said as she took Breen’s weight. “I’ll get you a potion to warm and soothe you.”
“Did you see? God, did you see? You were there with me. You and Bollocks. I could see us.”
“I saw some, through you, but not all, I think. Here now, here, by the fire. You’re shivering.”
