“Cut it off,” Connor shouted. “Drive it back.” But his heart stopped when both Boyle and Meara ran clear of the circle to join Fin.
It darted right, turned and, desperate, began to charge. Meara’s sword flamed. The tip of it scorched fur before the wolf checked, turned again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Connor caught movement. He glanced over, saw three figures by the cabin. A wavering vision, as their voices struggled to reach through the Veil.
Then he knew only his sister, Iona, only the three and the hot rush of power.
She suspended the vial in front of them, and with hands linked, minds linked, powers linked, they hurtled it toward the wolf.
The light exploded, a thousand suns. It charged into him, through him.
“By the power of three you are ended. With our light your dark is rended. With our light this web is spun, with our blood you are undone. No life, no spirit, no magicks left for thee. As we will so mote it be.”
The light flashed again, brighter still. It bloomed in his eyes, simmered in his blood. And through it, again, he saw three figures. One held out a hand to him, reaching. Reaching.
Then they were gone, and so was the light. The dark fell, lifted only by moonglow and the circle of candles. Breaking his link with the three, Connor rushed to Meara.
“Are you hurt? Anywhere?”
“No, not a bit.”
“You weren’t to stop singing, you weren’t to step out of the circle.”
“My throat got dry.” She smiled, her face smeared with soot, and threw her arms around him. “Did we end it? Did we end him?”
“Give me a moment.” Ash and blood littered the ground, tiny splotches of black still burned. “By the gods what’s left of him should be here. Give me a moment.”
“He’s not. I can feel him.” Fin swiped blood from his face. “I can feel him, I can smell him. I can find him. I can finish him.”
“You can’t leave the clearing.” Branna grabbed his arm. “You can’t or you may not get back.”
Face fierce, Fin wrenched his arm free. “What difference does it make if I end him, end this?”
“This isn’t your place.”
“And it isn’t your choice.”
“Nor can it be yours,” she said, and flung him back into the circle. “Connor.”
“Bloody hell.”
With considerable regret, he rushed Fin, pinned him, and got a fist in his face for the trouble before Boyle joined in.
“Quickly.” Branna laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder, took Meara’s hand, nodded to Iona as the men grappled on the ground.
She closed her eyes, broke the spell.
Through the dark and light again, through the colors and mists to the clearing with the ruins of a cabin and the call of an owl.
“It wasn’t for you to stop me.”
“Not only her,” Connor said, rubbing his jaw as he eyed Fin. “It was for all of us. We can’t do without you.”
“Can you be sure?” Meara demanded. “Can you be sure we didn’t finish him?”
Saying nothing, Fin stripped off his coat, yanked the sweater under it over his head. The mark on his shoulder showed raw and red, beating like a heart.
“What is this?” Branna demanded. “You feel his pain?”