Page 58 of Whiskey & Witches

“He does,” Ronan said, fatigue heavy in his voice. “I felt my own draining, and Seamus couldn’t break your magic.”

“The prophecy!” She looked down at Aeden. “Sabrinawas the One?”

He nodded, a secretive smile on his beloved face.

“Why didn’t you tell me… never you mind. I suppose I can reason that out on my own. If you had, I’d never have let you out of my sight, and none of this would’ve come to pass.”

His smile widened, but there was still the hint of worry in his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,mo stór,” she whispered, crushing him to her again.

“I know, Mam.”

She nodded, although he couldn’t see. “Hold tight.”

After Roisinand Aeden teleported for Damian’s home, Ronan released a relieved sigh and sat back on his arse, hanging his head and dangling his hands between his upraised knees. “I think I adore that woman.”

Damian chuckled. “She’s magnificent.”

“Wouldn’t it have been grand to have a mother like her?”

Neither of them had been blessed in the parent department, and Ronan was always amazed how they’d turned out to be vastly different men. Granted, Damian had a better start for the first five years of his life with a mother and father who adored him until the Evil had taken hold of them. Three years into his hell, at eight years old, Damian had been rescued by Nathanial Thorne and adopted into his mother’s side of the family.

Ronan, on the other hand, had dealt with an uncaring mother and a monster for a father until his mother eventually died, and Ronan found a way to have his father incarcerated.

“You’ve turned out just fine, my friend.” Damian turned from him and kicked Seamus’s lifeless leg. “Your parents were worse than his, and you wouldn’t dream of attacking a child. In fact, you saved Aeden—twice.”

Ronan nodded. “But how much of this was my doing?” His throat felt thick, and his gut churned. “I fed into their insanity—his and Moira’s. They initially did my bidding, and I’ve created Frankenstein’s monster.”

“Circumstances created those monsters, O’Connor. Not you.” Damian held up a hand when he would’ve argued. “Granted, you were the puppeteer in the early days, but it seems to me you’ve been trying to keep them in check since you woke up to what was right and wrong.”

“Yeah.” Still, he felt regret when he looked at Seamus’s ghastly wound and pale face frozen in horror. “If one of them could’ve been swayed back from the dark side, I thought it would be him,” Ronan said quietly.

“The Fates have a design, and there is no altering its course without penalty.”

“Aye.” Making a study of his stained hands and flexing his stiff fingers, he asked the question heavy on his mind. “I’m weak now. The bulk of my abilities are gone. Who will fight Moira when she returns?”

“I can’t see that far ahead.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m knackered, man. My life has been one fecking struggle after another.” Meeting Damian’s impenetrable stare, he asked, “How do you do it? I feel ancient at forty-two, and you’ve lived two centuries longer than me.”

Damian stared off into the distance, his thoughtful gaze seemingly focused on the garden gate next to them. “I had a job to do.” He shrugged one shoulder and sighed. “I still do. My main goal was always to keep the Darkness at bay and to keep the balance for our kind.” His smile held a bittersweet quality. “Then, I met Vivian. Of course, I don’t have time to grow bored now that Beastie has come along and we’ve another on the way.”

“Sure, and you’ve a full-time job protecting that one.” Ronan snorted. “She’ll lead you on a merry chase. Goddess help ya if you have another just like her.”

“Sabrina’s already led me on that merry chase. And yes, it’s a full-time job. One I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.”

The fierce love for his daughter shone brightly in Damian’s eyes.

“You’re a changed man since she came along. More tolerant in some ways, less in others,” Ronan said.

“Yes. I’ve needed to be. She’s helped to breathe life in these old bones of mine, but it can be trying, too.” He grinned. “But enough about all that. Let’s get you healed and burn this body.”

“Burn it?” A shudder ran through Ronan. Roisin’s words came back to him.“And when you’re gone, no one will mourn your loss. And after everyone breathes a sigh of relief, they will forget you ever existed.”Would he end up the same as Seamus? Dead by someone’s hand, left to rot or be burned and never mourned?

“Ronan.”

He jerked his head up. The understanding in Damian’s face caused his heart to spasm. Shuttering his deeper emotions, he said, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

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