36. Cormac
Cormac
“ R ory, wait!” I called out, my heart pounding as I sprinted into the great hall, hoping to stop her. She crossed the room in front of me, not even glancing my way. I clenched my teeth as I contemplated what explanation I could give her. What words would excuse what I had done, the way I had treated her? I found none that would suffice before she led her friend into the stairwell.
My shoulders slumped as I walked back into the solarium, utterly defeated.
“I don’t know what to do, brother,” I muttered to Conall, who, without a word, made his way to the drink cart. The clink of glass echoed in the quiet room as he poured me a whiskey. He handed it to me, and I swallowed it in one burning gulp. The familiar heat hit my throat, but the burn did little to ease the knot tightening in my chest. I had just watched her walk away. Could I ever hold her in my arms again and feel my lips on hers?
“Would you like to tell me what happened in Savannah?” Conall said quietly, refilling my glass without me needing to ask. His voice was steady as he spoke, but our fingers shook as he handed it to me. “Why is Rory wearing both pendants?” He laid his hand on my shoulder.
I hesitated. He knew why, yet he would force me to explain everything that made me fear the woman I loved would never again look me in the eye. After over a century, one of my brothers finally stood at my side.
“It was as she said,” I began, my voice tight. “After Amara cast the spell that revealed I was an O’Cillian, Aiden’s men attacked. One of them”—I inhaled deeply and stared into my glass—“killed her as she protected Rory.”
The room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick as I forced the words out. Conall’s hand dropped from my shoulder, his expression hardening even though he said nothing. I could still see the blood, the way Amara’s body crumpled in front of me, the helplessness that had rooted me to the ground.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the weight of Aiden’s deeds pressed in on me, suffocating. “I was already weak from the spell. Somehow, they knew when attack. They took me to Charleston.” I took another sip of the whiskey to calm my rising anger. “He knows we’re searching for the Cure. Somehow, he figured it out.”
Conall’s eyes widened. “Does he know Declan’s involved?”
I shook my head. “No, it was thanks to Declan that I’m here. Aiden confirmed the body at the warehouse was a message for me, a threat that I could end up that way as well if I refused to join him.”
Conall’s jaw tightened as he considered my words. His voice lowered. “If Aiden knows about the Cure, he won’t stop until he’s found.”
“I know,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to set Aiden off with a new mission to kill and destroy, and I feared I had done just that, now putting an innocent man’s life in danger. Did the man even know the power he held? I took in a sharp breath. “We have to find him first. It is the only way to protect him.”
“I agree.” Rory’s voice cut through the tension, bringing a fleeting smile to my lips. My shoulders relaxed from her presence in the room.
Jade walked close behind her, eyeing my brother and me, judging what we might do next. I couldn’t blame her, as the last time I had been in her presence, death had followed me. But I noticed the command Amara had held had transferred to Rory. She wore the mantle of power easily, and it suited her.
I stepped toward her. Desperation coursed through me, but I didn’t know how to fix this or undo the betrayal she must have felt. “I will do anything to make this right.” My voice was raw with emotion.
She held up her hand, a simple warning to come no closer. Under the icy veneer that shone in her eyes, I could sense the depth of her pain caused by my closeness. Her voice stayed flat. “I need your help.”
I nodded. “Anything.” My heart broke under her gaze and her lack of affection, but I had no one but myself to blame.
She held the grimoire in front of her, open to the page to find the Cure, the Gaelic words unreadable to her. I stood next to her—close enough to help but far enough apart to convey no intimacy between us. Conall hovered over my shoulder behind us, Jade on Rory’s other side. I translated the words, a language almost lost to time. As my eyes skimmed the page, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach, and my fate became clear. Perhaps her hatred was a blessing.
I swallowed hard. “Rory, the spell to find the Cure requires more than we thought.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? Aunt Amara said we needed your essence.”
“That is a very poetic interpretation of the words here.” I pointed at the page. “Croí fuil. What you need isn’t essence. It’s heart blood. The heart blood of an O’Cillian son—coating ash wood.”
Jade reached out to steady Rory as her knees buckled beneath her. Her face paled, her voice trembling. “You mean one of you has to die?”
I nodded. She took a step back, her eyes moving between my brother and me. My voice was low. “That’s the only way to find the Cure. The High Priestess must stake one of us.”
Conall stepped forward, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough to reveal the storm beneath. “Brother, I’ve lived long enough. You have her. Let me do it.” His hands trembled as he spoke, and I saw the fear flash behind his eyes. He might stand there willingly offering his life, but he dreaded the finality of death, as each of us did. He tried to stand tall, but the weight of the centuries and our lives made him look smaller than I’d ever seen.
I shook my head as I gripped my glass, my heart pounding. Everything I had worked for over the past century to reunite my family was gone because of a ridiculous spell. Without them, without Rory, I was nothing, and my duty was to bring them together. If this was how it had to happen, it was my responsibility alone. “No. If death is required to put our family back together, then it will be mine and no one else. Do not speak of it again, Conall.”
Rory’s voice trembled as she whispered, “I don’t know if I can do this... How am I supposed to...?” Her words faltered as she grew pale, looking like she would collapse at any moment.
Her eyes darted between us, and I heard her heart racing as reality struck her. Not only would finding the Cure cost me my life but she would also be the one to take it.
I stepped toward her, my voice soft but steady, though fear twisted my stomach inside me. “Rory, I can’t make up for everything I’ve done. But this I can give to you. My heart’s blood will lead you to the Cure.”
Her eyes became glassy as she struggled to hold in her unshed tears. “There has to be another way,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation.
Silence engulfed the room as she stood frozen. I wanted to fold her in my arms, caress her, and tell her everything would be alright. But I knew it wouldn’t be. I hung my head, refusing to look her in the eye. “This is the only way.”
A fine line of tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over, as she caught my gaze, forcing her words into the open air. “I just lost Amara. How can I lose you, too?”
I looked into her eyes—the green reminding me of the Irish grass on a dewy morning—eyes I would forever miss. A storm raged inside me—fear, love, regret—all battling to be spoken of first. “I’m doing this because I already lost you through not believing in you and not trusting you. The only way I can show you I never lied about finding the Cure and fulfilling my duty to my family is to allow my death.”
Rory’s face crumpled, her hands shaking as her composure shattered. “Mac...” Her voice was a broken whisper, filled with fear and sorrow, trails of wetness spilling onto her cheeks.
I ignored her earlier warning and moved to her, pulling her into my chest as if I could take away her pain by sheer force of will. “Let me do this for you—for us.” The steadiness of my voice betrayed the terror creeping up inside me because no one was ever ready to face death head-on, even a nine-hundred-year-old vampire.
Tears streamed down her face, soaking my shirt to my skin. I felt her beautiful lips part against my chest as she trembled slightly, drawing in a soft breath.
My life was meaningless without her. But as long as I could show her my desire to break the curse wasn’t a lie and that I had fought for it with everything in me, maybe—just maybe—she would find it in her heart to forgive me after I was gone. I inhaled the scent of roses and oranges that drifted from her skin, mixing with the rich fragrance of her blood, the only part of her I had never been offered. The scent haunted my thoughts as I realized this was as close as I would ever get to tasting it.
Rory stepped back from me, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. She walked to Jade, who wrapped an arm around her grieving friend’s shoulder.
Conall stepped closer, his hand hovering near my shoulder before returning to his side. His eyes darkened, sorrow etched into the lines of his face. “Brother, are you sure? If you go through this, you will lose her forever.”
I glanced at Rory, catching how her eyes fell to the ground, her arms tightening around her body as though she were trying to hold herself together. “I’ve already lost her,” I breathed, the truth falling over me like a shroud—suffocating, final.
Rory shifted her stance, her arms crossing even tighter over her chest as she drew a deep breath. Her voice was flat and distant when she finally spoke. “Let’s just get this over with.” She flicked her eyes toward Jade. “Why don’t you come with me? Help me prepare the spell while Conall and Mac—”
“Cormac.” I corrected her. “It’s Cormac. I hate the nickname Mac. I only used it to deceive you.” I gave her a small smile, having no intention of allowing my lies to live on after me.
Rory’s eyes flickered with pain as she whispered, “Cormac.” She stopped for a moment, her eyes never leaving mine. “Is there anywhere, in particular, you want to do the spell?” she asked, her words gentle.
I nodded, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “In the cave.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and I heard her heart stutter, then speed up. It seemed a fitting place to end it all, where the memory of her body on mine could surround me as I took my last breath.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and I feared she would deny this request for a moment until a single tear slipped down her cheek, shimmering in the dim light. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice thick, like she used all her breath to force out the words. “Jade and I will go and prepare.”
Conall shifted beside me; his eyes clouded with an unspoken sorrow. His voice wavered as he spoke. “I guess I’ll go find the ash.” No one in my family had ever truly contemplated death.
I strolled back to my room, my steps echoing off the walls as I walked through the great hall. The wood railing was cold and smooth as I climbed the stairs. Our sitting room, made over with modern furniture, felt empty. Film reels of the past flickered in my mind of my brothers and me sharing tales of our conquests within these walls. At the front of the house, I crept to my room, in the opposite corner of my father’s, the man I had always admired. I pushed the door open, allowing the familiar creak to sink into me. I stood there, staring, watching the memories play. Once I left, I would never step foot in this place again, never get to say goodbye to my parents, Lorcan, or even Aiden.
And when this was done, Rory and I would be parted forever.