Page 12 of Beer & Broomsticks

Because he had to know, he asked, “Why are you allowin’ me to stay if you believe I’m out to hurt you?”

Pausing, she remained with her back to him and her hand on the doorknob. “‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’ If you’re truly my enemy, I’ll know soon enough, won’t I?”

“Aye. I suppose you will.”

CHAPTER5

After Bridget left the room, Ruairí fought off the last of his irritation and unzipped his bag to stare down at the weapon contained within. What would the O’Malleys do if they knew the Sword of Goibhniu was under their roof and within their grasp? He smiled grimly. Nothing good would come of their learning about it. They’d hang him from his bollocks and take turns beating him with a stick—if Bridget didn’t kill him first.

About a year ago, Ronan came to him and entrusted him with the weapon. Ruairí had spent every spare moment since painstakingly studying the O’Malley riddle and running it through his mind from every angle. The conclusion? He had to find a way to get Bridget to “welcome” him, whom he believed to be her Enemy at the Gate, before he handed it over. If she wanted to gain her powers, she had to willingly accept him. He had hoped by getting her to allow him to stay at the inn, it might’ve been enough to fulfill the prophecy.

Apparently not.

But he had a backup plan, and Bridget only need follow the script to restore the last of the O’Malley magic. With an unrepentant grin, he conjured an eight-by-ten inch map, adding vague notations to three different locations. With a quick check of the room, he spotted a live plant by the far window and scooped out half a handful of dirt. Taking the map into the bathroom, he sprinkled the dirt onto the page and used his fingers to rub it in and create smudges. Then he folded the paper this way and that, opening it to refold ten more times, effectively aging the parchment. Satisfied it looked like it had been torn from a book and worn enough to have survived a good number of years, he set it aside and cleaned the bathroom until no evidence of dirt could be found.

Finally, he washed his hands, careful to check under his fingernails for telltale dirt that hadn’t been there before. It wouldn’t do to raise Bridget’s suspicions too soon. With a gleeful laugh, he grabbed the map and went back to the bedroom to conjure the remaining items he needed for a scavenger hunt. He was certain, if he could get her alone, he could remind her of what they once shared. He only need help heal her heart and deliver on a promise of the moon and stars to win her. But if in the time it took to figure out all the clues, she still hadn’t fallen back in love with him, he’d hand her the sword and be done.

“Anu, if you are listenin’ at all and if you’re of the mind, please help me to secure Bridget’s affections,” he whispered. “She’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Goosebumps lifted along his forearms seconds before the sensation of fingers caressing the back of his neck struck. He jumped and looked around, searching for the source—and finding none.

“If that’s you, Anu, I don’t mean to give offense, but scaring the devil out of a man is not the way to his heart. It’s more like to shrivel his bollocks, it is.”

He could’ve sworn he heard feminine laughter and smelled the bracing scent of the ocean on a rainy day, and from the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of yellow. When he looked down at the sword, snug in the duffel bag, resting atop it was a perfect yellow primrose.

“Sure, and I’ll be takin’ that as a good sign.”

* * *

Bridget easedthe door closed to her room, leaned back against it, and inhaled deeply.

Ruairí O’Conner.

In her home.

Across the hall.

She snorted, shook her head, and pushed off the door. Well, her life had never been short on irony and bad luck. But Ruairí had revealed Loman O’Connor—reported to be the worst of their line—was on the loose. Her family needed to be told.

Crossing to the window, she stared out over the landscape, not looking or seeing much of anything as she formulated a plan. First, she needed to call the twins in New York, perhaps get them to come home. Eoin and Dubheasa were stubborn enough to ignore a warning to seek safety, but if she could somehow convince them they were needed here, it might work. Either way, they should be caught up to speed on what had happened to date and alerted to the danger of Loman, whether they chose to act or not. Next, she’d gather her remaining family and give them the news. Her final course of action would be to solve the last line of that bleedin’ prophecy.

When the Enemy at the Gate is welcomed by the Keeper of the Sword, all that is lost shall be restored.

Technically, Ruairí could be considered the Enemy at the Gate. Sure, and hadn’t she allowed him into her home? Would that satisfy the god responsible for their curse?

She lifted her arms to stare in disgust at her palms. She’d not felt so much as a tingle since the first sign of their family’s ancient magic had made itself known to Cian. And when Carrick began lobbing blue energy balls around, she worried she’d never have any true power of her own. But if she did, what might that gift be? She’d attended enough of GiGi Thorne-Gillespie’s coven meetings to know that, while witches could sometimes channel all the elements if they were strong enough, most were usually granted one particular element all their own. For GiGi, her gift had been air magic. Piper’s was the same. But for Bridget, nothing. Not one spark.

But would that change if she found the Sword of Goibhniu? Would she become the true Keeper of the Sword, and would her reluctant kindness to her enemy be enough to restore what was lost?

She didn’t know for certain, but she was willing to try, if only to take from Loman what he could use to hurt her family. If they were all on a level field, they might prevent that wanker from destroying anyone else.

She hadn’t forgotten the horror stories Ruairí had told her. And as annoying as he was, he wasn’t one to exaggerate. Or at least she hadn’t thought he was at the time. Once she’d believed he’d always tell the truth, but now? Aye, his words and eyes held a sincerity that had been hard to dismiss. However, it could all be an act. He’d conned her before, and she couldn’t let herself forget it.

Firming her resolve, she turned from the window.

She intended to seek out the O’Malley grimoire with the hope that it might provide clues to the whereabouts of the sword. And if she had to seduce the information out of Ruairí, she would. It was well past time that she stop being passive and allowing the Fates to control her life. She’d seen how taking charge had helped Piper and Roisin in their quests. She intended to do no less to protect her family.

Removing her phone from her pocket, she dialed her youngest brother, not surprised when his voice mail recording answered for him due to the early hour.

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