Page 74 of Whiskey & Witches
Moira flipped open another trunk lid and swore when she didn’t find what she was looking for. Ronan had concealed the damned Sword of Goibhniu too bloody well. She’d searched every potential hiding spot in this hideous pile of stones, and still, it eluded her. If she could find it, she’d stop the final part of the O’Malley prophecy without having to encounter the Aether again.
It had been two days since she’d tried to take her revenge on Roisin O’Malley, and Ronan hadn’t returned yet. She could only hope the black magic attached to the blade she’d used on him had done what it was supposed to. If not, there would be nowhere she could hide that he wouldn’t find her and extract retribution. There was a slim chance he survived because he had Damian Dethridge on his side. The possibility lent urgency to her search.
She sat back on her heels and stared into the trunk. “Think, Moira!” she scolded herself.
“You have to ask yourself, girl, if you were Ronan, where would you hide it?”
Gasping her shock, she spun around and stared in stunned disbelief at the newcomer. “Uncle Loman!”
His cold gunmetal-grey eyes narrowed on her, and he summed up her alarm in an instant, as indicated by the satisfied smile on his handsome visage. His was a face at odds with the personality it disguised. The man looked like an angel but had the soul of a demon.
“Ronan said you were locked up.”
Wrong thing to say.
His expression darkened, and he straightened away from the doorjamb to his full six-foot-four height. Moira froze in fear, like a mouse in a hawk’s sights.
“I’ll deal with my wayward son in due time, girl. Never you worry. And as for you, you’ll tell me now, where is my family?”
She could lie, give him false locations, and teleport at her earliest opportunity to some godforsaken island where he’d never find her. Except he would—eventually. Loman O’Connor liked to keep his family under his thumb to use as pawns in whatever ridiculous chess game he happened to be playing at the moment. They’d all been given a reprieve when the Witches’ Council had locked him away, but now, the time was at hand. She’d need to pay the piper for betraying him, just as Ronan would if he managed to survive her poisoned blade.
“Seamus is dead. Ronan was on his way to being, last I saw him.”
His dark-blond brows shot up. “You’re the lone survivor?”
“Aye.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
She hated the sound. It was evil, pure and simple.
“No, girl. Ronan wouldn’t have made it that easy for you.”
“How did you—” She clamped her lips shut, damning herself for a fool. Sure, and she’d just given herself away. She’d be lucky if he didn’t slit her throat.
“Where did you leave his body?”
She didn’t dare prevaricate. “On the property bordering the Aether’s land.”
“Then Dethridge has found and helped him.” Loman pinned her with a hard stare. “Lucky for you.”
Tucking her trembling hands under her thighs, she asked, “What do you intend to do?”
“What you and my son should’ve done to begin with—kill the O’Malleys.”
“I’ve tried. It’s harder than it seems,” she said sullenly.
He crossed the room and held out a hand to help her up. Easily a foot and a half taller, her uncle terrified the feck out of her. Where Ronan held an edge of ruthlessness, he maintained a code that didn’t allow him to target those he believed weaker than himself. His father’s moral compass was the polar opposite; he didn’t care who he hurt to gain what he wanted. Loman’s cruelty was legendary.
Before he released her, he tightened his hand over hers to the point of discomfort. She did her damnedest not to show it hurt.
“I’ll not be losing my magic to the O’Malleys.” His cold-eyed stare was that of a sociopath and set the warning bells to clanking in her brain. “I’ll kill anyone who stands in the way of my goals.”
Moira jerked her hand away and hid it behind her back. “Then you’ll be putting your son at the top of your hit list. He’s gone soft. Sure, and he betrayed the entire O’Connor line by protecting Roisin O’Malley and her little demon spawn.”
Loman looked thoughtful for a moment, then his shark-like smile emerged. “I won’t kill him, but he’ll be reforming when I get him. It’s time the boy remembers what loyalty to family means.”
Moira almost felt sorry for Ronan. She might’ve if he hadn’t locked her in the tower room for a month or foiled her plans to kill the brat at every turn. He’d probably prefer death by her poisoned blade to whatever Loman had in mind for him.
