Page 97 of Vampire's Breath

“Are you planning to stay?” I asked.

Cormac smiled. “It’s one of our homes now.”

“Almost.” I laughed. “And I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

As we stepped outside, I saw Declan building a fire, and Isla sitting on the stone wall, assisting him. A man I didn’t recognize sat beside it, staring into the flames. I tilted my head and looked back at Cormac. “Um… care to explain?”

Cormac glanced at Lorcan. “This is our distant cousin Sean.”

Lorcan’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

Cormac nodded. “Sean O’Cillian.”

“Yet somehow you couldn’t find him,” Lorcan said with a short laugh.

We all settled into seats around the fire.

“Sean, this is our brother Lorcan—and his mate, Briar.”

The man at the firepit waved.

Rory sat up in her chair. “I finally figured out how the Cure was protected, after some conversations with my mother and aunt.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry, but aren’t they both—”

Rory nodded. “Dead? Yes. One of the perks of being a witch. I can contact them anytime I want.”

“Oh,” I said, eyes wide. “I guess I should’ve expected that. Could I?” It seemed silly to ask.

“We’ll see what we can do about finding your mum if you want.”

I swallowed. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

Rory smiled. “Anyway… They did some digging on the other side, talking to our ancestors. That’s when they found someone they thought had been lost.”

Lorcan leaned back in his chair. “Lost? How?”

Rory turned to him. “It seems that in 1855, when the coven lost its memory, one witch retained hers, but she disappeared. The coven thought she had been killed. She stayed in hiding because she remembered and protected the Cure from us all.”

Sean spoke for the first time, his voice heavy with a Scottish accent. “It was my great-great-great-great-grandparents’ wedding night. Love protects… yet again.”

Rory smiled. “Exactly…”

Sean held up his hand to show a silver band set with a black stone. “And I still wear his ring to this day. It’s been passed down from seventh son to seventh son. My father always told me never to take it off—that if I did, I’d be vulnerable.”

I bit my lip. Generations of O’Cillians bound by a curse, a magic even older than memory itself. Did this man know the significance?

He continued. “But something started happening to it a month or so ago. First, the ruby turned black. A few weeks later, the O’Cillian knot melted right off.”

“So… in other words…” Lorcan’s gaze shifted to Rory. “When you broke the spell.”

She nodded. “And when the four of you combined your blood to find him. Then it took a while for him to trust me.”

“So Sean,” Lorcan said, leaning forward. “What exactly do you know?”

Cormac smiled faintly. “You’re going to love this.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “There’s a poem. It’s been passed down with the ring. I was told never to write it down—and only to speak it to the High Priestess.”