Epilogue
Sorcha
Islay
Ineeded a break, desperately. This morning had been full to bursting with reports of a previously undocumented lake monster wreaking utter havoc in Minnesota and Wisconsin, plus some bizarre demon-lizard that seemed to have popped up in northeast India.
My left eye was flickering and another migraine threatened.
So when Neal dragged me out onto a horse before dinner, I didn’t say a single word of protest.
We rode in the hills for hours, watching the seabirds play against the darkening sky. A contingent of sheep, ranch cats, and one particularly determined hog followed behind—the pig stopping periodically to lounge in the damp grass before trotting to catch up again.
“Sorcha?” Neal asked as we finally turned back toward home.
“What is it?”
“I think we should try for another baby,” Neal said.
And then the crack of a gunshot split the quiet evening air and a blossom of red exploded on his chest. I shot out threads of magic to keep the horses steady as I clambered down from my saddle.
Neal’s horse knelt at my direction, and I pulled him down into my arms. There was blood in his mouth already.
I cursed, wishing not for the first time that I had my father’s healing instead of my mother’s animal powers.
“No,” I whimpered. “You don’t get to say that and then die!”
He spat blood onto the ground and I wiped it off his face with my sleeve.
“I loved you so much,” Neal murmured, more blood slicking his teeth, his own hand shaking as he reached up to touch my cheek.
“You promised me forever,” I said, voice breaking. “You promised.”
“Sorcha, I’ll miss you,” he managed between gasping breaths. “I’m so sorry, love.”
And then he went still.
And I sat there in the grass, blood pouring between my hands, and screamed until Ansel and Cavan came to find me.