Page 60 of Whiskey & Witches

With a hand beneath Ronan’s wide shoulder, he said, “Light as a feather, stiff as a board. Rise in the name of the Goddess.”

The air crackled around them as Ronan’s big body stiffened, with his arms folded across his chest. The wind picked up around them and lifted him parallel to the ground, essentially causing him to float with only the support of the Aether’s hand beneath him.

“You can do this, too,” Damian assured him with a half-smile. “Put your hands beneath his back and say the words.”

As instructed, Carrick placed his hands palm up under Ronan’s airborne body and said, “Light as a feather, stiff as a board. Rise in the name of the Goddess.”

He was gobsmacked when the Aether nodded at him like he was a clever pupil and stepped back, leaving Ronan’s body in the air.

“Well done, Mr. O’Malley. Now, think about my garden at the bottom of the terrace. Close your eyes and visualize an open area where you might land safely. It’s important before you teleport, that you send a magical feeler when you picture the spot in your mind’s eye. That will be for your safety and the safety of those around you.”

“I’ll never understand how teleportation is possible.”

“It’s a matter of manipulating time and space. When we have downtime, I’ll explain, but for now, you need to get Ronan back to my home while I finish here.” Without another word, Damian strolled off toward the inferno within the circle, leaving Carrick to his own devices.

“What do I do with him when I get there?” Carrick hollered after his retreating back.

“Make him comfortable. I’ll be there when I can.”

Placing his arms more firmly under Ronan, Carrick closed his eyes and visualized the garden as he remembered it. He focused on the empty expanse of lawn close to the bottom of the stone steps and envisioned himself standing there. Through this process, his cells began to warm, just as they did earlier when Sabrina sent him to this location. At the moment of intense burning, he felt the shift in the wind, and as quickly as his body heated, it began to cool.

He opened his eyes and gaped at the building in front of him, unable to wrap his mind around the fact he’d teleported on his own. “I can’t fecking believe it,” he said aloud. “I did it.”

Ronan stirred, and his pain-filled gaze met Carrick’s. “It’s unimaginably freeing, isn’t it? If anyone deserved to have their abilities return, O’Malley, it’s you.”

“I understand better why you wanted to keep them.” Carrick couldn’t prevent his underlying anger spilling out at how the man had gone about it. “But you had to know it was wrong, all the same, and especially when it hurt innocents.”

“Someday, I’ll tell you the story of my father, and maybe you’ll understand. I don’t expect you to forgive.” He hissed in a breath. “Look, I can manage the stairs if you’ve a mind to give me a shoulder to lean on.”

Ronan’s skin was flushed, and whether it was from the embarrassment of being held like a child or the resulting fever from poisoning, Carrick didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t help getting a little of his own back. “Shhh, just you rest. No one will think you more of alagúthan you are.”

Scarlet color surged up Ronan’s neck and into his cheeks, telling Carrick the other flushing had been illness-related. He felt a twinge of guilt when Ronan rolled and dumped himself on the ground with a grunt and a few choice swear words.

“Jaysus, man. I was havin’ the craic. No need to injure yourself over a spot of fun.”

“Feck off, O’Malley.”

But Ronan didn’t refuse the offer of a hand up or the support when Carrick wedged his shoulder under the guy’s arm to add support as they ascended the stairs.

The double doors opened as they reached the midway point, and Roisin limped out to position herself under Ronan’s other arm. Together, they managed to get him inside and settled on the sofa.

“Damian said he’d be back soon, and I don’t know what else to do for him,” Carrick told her as Ronan’s eyes rolled back in his head and unconsciousness claimed him.

The man had been sweating like a sinner in church, and his skin coloring fluctuated between grey and flushed.

“I’m worried about him, Ro.”

“I’ll clean the wound, but I’ll need you to make an antiseptic paste for me.” She turned her attention to Vivian, who was entering with a tea tray. “Do you have herbs for healing in your garden, Mrs. Dethridge?”

“Call me Vivian. And yes. Damian also keeps a store in the pantry. Tell me what you need.”

“Marshmallow and gotu kola to make an ointment, but I’ll start with slippery elm bark as a poultice after the first cleaning.” With a glance at her hands, Roisin grimaced. “Of course, I’ll need to clean up again, and if you have iodopovidone, that would be grand.”

“I’ve got just the thing. Come with me.”

Carrick watched the women leave and couldn’t help notice the differences between the two.

Vivian looked like what he’d imagined a high-end porcelain doll would. Her cool blond hair was nearly white, as one would envision an angel’s to be if they existed. Her elegant clothing consisted of a long-sleeved maternity blouse buttoned to the collar and slacks, with wide legs that floated around her ankles when she walked. She wore flirty high heels, even in her own home, leaving him to wonder if either of the Dethridges ever dressed down or relaxed. When Ro was pregnant, she’d always complained about her feet hurting, so it was hard to believe Vivian Dethridge preferred heels at this point of her pregnancy.

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