Conway stepped over to shake his hand.

  Cillian gave him a nod.

  Lassi said, “Thank you, doctor.”

  After he was out of earshot, she hissed, “So what the bloody hell did you say happened to me? All systems were failing when I passed out.”

  Conway crossed his arms loosely over his chest. He leaned against the bedroom wall. “Oh, we were right worried, girl, to be certain. You looked to be knocking at death’s door.”

  Cillian came out of his coma behavior and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “But Conway, here, told the staff you fainted from exhaustion and low blood sugar.”

  Lassi snorted. “With all the crazy symptoms I was having? Even I wouldn’t believe that. What a bunch of bollocks.”

  “You’re not the only one who can make up absolute shite alibis,” Conway retorted, adding a chuckle.

  “Good to know,” she said.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to that,” Cillian said.

  “What? Almost dying? No to that idea.” She picked at the bedding, finding a few cat hairs. Does Crusty sleep with me? She shook her head. Nah.

  “You’ll have to master the art of magic. You manifested more power than you knew what to do with. It got the job done, but almost took you from us.”

  Utter heartbreak flashed across his face in jagged lines. He gripped her hand between both of his.

  “Well, I’ll add that to my ‘to-do’ list,” she said, not wanting to linger on the topic of her demise.

  “You’d best,” Conway said, from his post in the doorway. “From what my mother told me, once the cat’s been let out of the bag, there’s no putting her back.”

  “I was exhausted my own self,” Cillian said. “I dove to the bottom of the sea as fast as I could and gathered ocean stones. Once I reached the surface, I hurled them atop the grave and headed back down for more. It took everything out of me to have to do it so fast. I could have dealt with Penny, had I not been hanging onto my reserves.” His mouth bunched up. “I made all kinds of mistakes. I let emotion rule my actions.”

  “Cillian, don’t beat yourself up,” Lassi said. “We’re all alive and the bad guys are...” She shuddered, picturing Galbraith’s head, hanging onto his neck by mere threads of tissue, rolling back and forth in the ocean surge. She swallowed. “They’re dead. Although we’ll never know Galbraith’s part in the crime and whether he was a good guy, caught in the middle, or a bad guy, intent on evil.”

  Cillian seemed to sink into himself partway, hovering between being present and slipping back into his mystery world.

  She didn’t want him to disappear. “So, while I was in here napping, you both were cavorting around town, am I right?”

  She smiled and laid back against the pillows.

  “I sat right there. All night.” Cillian pointed at the empty chair.

  Her heart lurched. “You did?”

  He nodded.

  “And I just got back from Dungarvan.” Conway swiped his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Galbraith and Penny’s bodies were taken to the morgue there. Inspector Brown is back at the station.” He shifted side to side, looking at his feet.

  “Are you all right?” Lassi asked

  “I... I’ve never had to kill anyone. Shooting Penny in the chest isn’t sitting well with me. But Cillian, here, has found a way to help ease my conscience.”

  “How so?” She glanced at Cillian’s beautiful sea-green gaze, kind of glad it was normal, and not in Leviathan mode. That Levia-eye-freak maneuver would take some getting used to.

  He gave her a nod, but stayed silent, his face revealing nothing.

  “I’m going to resign in Dungarvan and take Galbraith’s old position here in Ballynagaul. I got Brown to agree, given the awful murders and the fact she’s right pissed with me. But, at least she isn’t angry about me letting you two go. She thinks Penny and Galbraith were lovers gone mad.” He snorted.

  Lassi’s eyebrows lifted. “She thinks they were in cahoots?”

  “Yes,” Conway said. “I might have suggested as much.”

  She laughed. “You and your shite alibis.”

  He smirked. “Apparently, that’s how it’s done here in Ballynagaul.”

  “Ooh, snap,” she said, playfully. Then, she gave him a sympathetic gaze. “You shouldn’t feel you have to move to Ballyna-nowhere to atone for anything, Inspector.”

  He gave a slight smile. “A man’s conscience is a tricky, fickle thing, Lassi. This feels like what I need to do.” He straightened, standing taller. “In any case, it’s going to be a sticky few months ahead as the investigation wraps up. There might be reporters, and there will certainly be more questioning. I’m going to be here to help everyone get and keep their stories straight. Besides, now there are five people—Mary, Conway, Cillian, Siobhan, and yourself—who know the story of the Dearg-Due and Cillian, and that’s four more than for what makes a safe secret. I need to be here to do damage control.”

  Lassi’s eyes widened. “Siobhan knows, too?”

  “She does.”

  As if on cue, Siobhan entered, carrying Paul. “I do. Conway told me everything when I questioned him. I was trying to put everything together and I told the Inspector I’d make his life hell if he didn’t help me understand.” She looked absolutely wrung out and exhausted. “It’s good to see you’re alive,” she said.

  “Last time we spoke, I wasn’t your favorite,” Lassi replied. She fiddled with the crisp bed sheets.

  “Heartache will do that to a person.” She shifted Paul to her other hip. “Turns out my happy marriage was all a mirage. Oh, I think Dylan loved me and all. And, he adored Paul, here. But he had a roving eye, that man. I’ve got some sorting to do. I’m sorry I was so harsh. To the both of you.” She acknowledged both Cillian and her.

  Cillian nodded but still stayed mute.

  Lassi wanted to shake him. There he goes again, getting all moody and broody and still as a statue. She turned her attention back to Siobhan. “I’ve seen more grief than I care to remember. I know how sorrow can fuck you up.”

  Siobhan managed a wan smile. “What will you do with the cottage?”

  Paul began to fuss.

  She bobbed him up and down in her arms.

  “I’ll have to take another week off from Dublin. I need to clean out stuff I should have cleaned. I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  A loud whistle filled the air.

  Lassi blinked.

  “There’s your tea kettle. I don’t like to use those electric things. I found Roberta’s old kettle buried in the cupboard.”

  Lassi groaned. “Do you mean I could’ve simply lit the flame and had tea when the power was out?”

  “You didn’t?” Siobhan asked.

  “No! I’m an idiot.”

  “Well, let’s set that to rights.” She spun and hurried from the room.

  Lassi glanced at Cillian.

  He continued sitting stiffly, frowning at her and rubbing his jaw.

  “Tea! This is a good thing, Cillian. I’m going to drink tea. At last! It only took three murders, a showdown with a Dearg-Due, and a Leviathan to finally get my tea.” Her mouth seemed to sputter and shoot words without her consent. “That’s a joke,” she said, her stomach twisting into knots.

  His frown deepened. He stepped toward her, kissed her tenderly on the head like she was a wee child, and said, “Get some rest.”

  “Uh. Okay. What will you do?”

  “I have some things to tend to.” He pivoted, said his farewells to Conway, and strode away.

  “See you, man,” Conway said, lifting his chin.

  Lassi stared at Cillian’s back. “What the fuck?”

  “I’m sure he feels responsible,” Siobhan said, returning with her tea. She handed the baby to Conway. “Here.”

  He stiffened and took the child.

  “You know what? You’re all right, Conway. I think I misjudged you,” Lassi said.

  You do have tiny eyes and a ferret’s face, but, hey. One of my friends in Dublin had a ferret for a pet. Cute little thing. Playful and inquisitive and the like.

  “Yeah,” Conway said, appearing awkward and uncomfortable holding Paul. “You’re all right, too. I didn’t know how much you knew. I had to fool Brown into thinking you were a suspect.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I hated that part.”

  “I know.”

  Siobhan placed the tea cup in Lassi’s hand. “Drink. This tea will set you right.”

  Lassi took the cup. “Thank you.” She listened to Cillian’s retreating steps. Her heart sank. She let out a long sigh. This is not the way I’d wished things would go with him. “Let’s hope. I’ve been missing my tea. I haven’t had a good cuppa since I set foot in this place.” She brought the cup to her lips and took a tentative sip. Swallowing the warm liquid, she sighed. Then, she laughed. “Nothing happened. It’s simply a cup of tea I’m drinking. And, good Christ, does it taste fine.”

  “What do you mean?” Conway asked.

  “Long story.”

  The front door slammed shut.

  Her smile vanished.

  Conway glanced over his shoulder. “At least the killings have stopped.”

  Lassi nodded. “I hope you’re right. But I think my heart will be the next victim.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Two weeks later, dressed in sea-green sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt, her long hair pulled away from her face, Lassi stood in the doorway of her Great-What-the Fuck’s cottage, saying her farewells to Mary.

  She shook out her limbs, fatigued from channeling so many electrical impulses of the last couple of weeks. She’d practiced lighting bits of paper until the whole house smelled like a fireplace. However, it had effectively taken care of some of the remaining clutter. She planned to pile the rest of the paper in the back yard, after Mary left, and letting her magic rip—once I’ve recovered, of course. Cillian’s right. It takes a fair bit of time to get my strength back.

  “Thanks for the intro to magic these last couple of weeks, Mary.”

  “Baby steps, dear. You have to start somewhere.” Mary opened her mouth, then, closed it, hesitating for a second.

  “What?”

  Crusty McKitty slunk around the house. He beelined toward Mary, butting his head on her legs. Then, he eyed Lassi, scrutinized the door, studied Lassi again, and then took his chances, rocketing past her to get inside.

  Lassi wanted to give him an assist with her slipper-clad foot. “Fecking cat. Some familiar.”

  “He’ll come around.”

  “Not much progress so far.” Lassi turned her head to glare at him.

  He’d plunked himself in the foyer and sat grooming his paws.

  “You both need time to adjust.”

  “What did you start to say then swallow back?” Lassi asked, turning around and putting one hand on her hip.

  She eyed the sky. Patches of blue shone through the clouds, making the world around her almost pretty. Sheep with painted dots on their backs grazed on the green hills in the distance. The temperature leaned toward cool, but she didn’t mind. At least it’s not that fecking banshee wind blowing about. The whole scene looked bucolic, like one of those paintings designed to make one think the place was innocent and full of wonder. Lassi knew better.

  Mary pursed her lips. She switched her blue and gold purse to the other hand. “Are you sure you won’t be staying? You could use the help with magic training and...” She shifted on her feet.

  “Cillian?” Lassi sighed. “He’s not interested. He’s come around a couple of times to check on me, but he’s always cordial, at best.”

  “Oh, please, child.” Mary scoffed, waving Lassi’s sentiments away. “I may be old but I’m not daft. The sexual tension between the two of you could power all of Ireland.”

  Lassi’s skin grew hot. “Well...” She scuffed her slipper on the Not-Welcome mat. “He’s made it clear what his intentions are.”

  Mary’s eyebrows stitched together. “Has he? Or, is he waiting for an invitation? He’s been through a lot, poor dear, and, don’t forget—the last time he was sexually active was in the 1700s. Things have come a long way since then,” she said in a no-nonsense practical tone.

  “I suppose,” Lassi said, eager to move off the topic of what to do with her tempestuous lust for Cillian Ward. “I do have to get back to the hospital in Dublin. All those moms and their kids need tending.”

  “Piffle,” Mary said, waving her hand around again. “You’re the one who needs tending. Cillian’s, too. I think he has trust issues.”

  “Trust issues? What about moral issues?” A laugh burst from Lassi’s throat. “He’s supposed to be a priest, for God’s sake. I thought I was defiling God by being with him.” She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “And yet you did it anyway. I think in your heart, you knew something else, far deeper, was at play. He wouldn’t have done that unless there was reason to do it. Cillian Ward is a good, good man.”

  Lassi took a turn at the ‘hand waving moving things along’ gesture. “I do need to get back home.” She wrinkled her nose. “I sure hope my erratic power doesn’t cause amniotic sacs to levitate or babies to freeze mid-cry. Imagine the horrified mothers looking on their newborns, frozen like ice cubes and me the tongue-tied culprit.” She shook her head. “Let’s move on. Pretty wild all the documents I uncovered about the Finn clan, huh?”

  “Yes, it’s a rich history, to be certain.”

  “And, Penny. Rest in peace. Who knew? I always wondered about her lack of interest when it came to Liam.” She rubbed her cheek.

  “I didn’t know her well, but she proved a bit touched to be sure.”

  “She did.” Lassi pushed away from the door frame, letting her arms fall by her side. “All those jobs gone, though, what with the Laughing Rat being closed. And no place for the locals to drink away their misery.”

  “It’s a tragedy to be sure,” Mary said.

  “How’s your son?”

  “Ryan? Oh, he’ll be all right. He’s adjusting to the new position. Cillian is offering him a lot of support and counsel, as well, for killing Penny.”

  “He is, huh?” Lassi tried to shove away the stormy sensations rocking her insides whenever Cillian came to mind. But, they refused to be tamed. Maybe I should pay him a visit and set things straight finally.

  “I’d best be going, Lassi dear.” Mary lifted her hand in farewell.

  “Yes. I’ve got a few last-minute things to do before I leave. Tomorrow’s the day. Back to Dublin.” She tried for a smile and failed. Her attention drifted to the rectory, clearly visible on this gorgeous day.

  Mary lifted her eyebrows. “Uh huh. Well, keep in touch,” she said, glancing to see where Lassi’s gaze had drifted.

  “To be sure,” Lassi said.

  Mary pivoted and headed up the path toward town.

  Lassi strode into the cottage and closed the door. She scurried down the hallway, scanning each room as she passed.

  The place looked transformed. All of Roberta’s debris and clutter had been sorted, discarded, or given to charity. I’ve worked my ass off this past couple of weeks. Commemorative plates? Gone. Tacky, worn furniture? Gone. Lassi had kept a few of the sturdier antiques, such as the dining table, the bed, and a chair or two. She hadn’t decided on a few odd items she’d found in the pantry—incense, candles, mirrors, and such. Maybe they’ll come in handy for spell casting. She’d need to paint, add some new wallpaper and such, but it was almost ready for a Realtor, whoever that might be, now that Ailis was no longer. She figured she’d hire some trusty local lads to finish the sprucing and be done with it.

  She darted into her bedroom, changed into something low cut and skin-tight to intrigue if not seduce—okay, heavy on the seduce part—and rushed out the door before she changed her mind.

  She scampered along the path toward Cillian’s house, not minding the chilly air blasting the tops of her breasts, revealed by her tight shirt. It was the one she’d bought for Barbados, but never mind. If he strips me, my nipples will be perky rosebuds. The breeze kept pushing her loose skirt up, in a manner she hoped Cillian would do, only without making her legs so cold. When she got closer, she slowed her roll to a hip swaying stroll, in case he was watching. She didn’t want to come across as an overeager idiot.

  Once she arrived at the rectory, she found Cillian, outside, crouched in the dirt, engrossed in some task. The chink, chink, chink of a hammer against something solid met her ears.

  “Cillian,” she called.

  His shoulders tensed and the hammer clattered to the ground.

  “Lassi,” he said. He rose to standing, and slid something into his pocket before brushing gray concrete and light-golden stone dust from his casual black work pants. The soft fabric clung to his muscular legs. A hint of an outline of other parts was visible, as well.

  She licked her lips and lifted her eyes to his. “What are you doing?”

  A rosy flush colored his cheeks and neck. His attention lowered to her breasts. He clenched and unclenched his fingers.

  He pried his gaze away from her cleavage and focused on her lips. It looked like it took effort to haul his attention to her eyes. “Oh, this waterfall structure needed some work.”

  Lassi glanced over his shoulder. The ring no longer sat embedded in the stone. Chunks of concrete and stone lay scattered on the ground. A thrill shot through her spine before she could stop it. Will he ask me to marry him? Then, she frowned. Don’t be daft.

  “The ring, huh?”

  “Uh, right. I forgot you saw it. Yes. That thing.”

  “So, it’s a thing now, not a treasured piece set in concrete to be commemorated.” She spoke flatly, then pressed her lips together in disapproval.

  “No, I...it needs a bit of polishing. What can I do for you?” Once again, his gaze fell to her breasts. “Leaving tomorrow, are you?”

  She thrust them out as surreptitiously as she could. “Yes,” she breathed. “Unless someone begs me to stay.”

  Inwardly, she groaned. Did I say that?