19. Twenty Rowan

A fter the talk with Daigh, Flynn and Blake went to town and the others all went back to the house. I stayed out in the garden, pulling on my gloves and picking up my shears. My head still felt a little woozy from my fall, but nothing cured me faster than being in nature. I cut back some of the herbs that were starting to look a little wild to encourage new growth, saving the nicer cuttings for drying.

Gardening was such an obvious pastime for earth witches, it was practically a cliche. If I'd known that when I'd started nursing seedlings on the edge of the old canal and growing potatoes on the roof of the squat, then I might've taken up crochet instead. But until Corbin, I had no one in my life to tell me what was normal for a witch. All I knew was that I could manipulate trees and plants and heal wounds and mix herbs together to make things happen, and that power terrified the foster families I was placed with. Terrified people tended to lash out with their fists. Or their cocks.

Gardening was a good skill. It meant I'd had something to barter at the squat. When I first came to Briarwood, the guys were living off takeout and microwaved fish fingers. Taking over the kitchen was one way I could start to pay back the kindness Corbin had done me. And I liked it – I liked the precision of gardening and cooking, the control, the easy access to things that could be counted and arranged. You raised the seeds, tended the soil. You added the ingredients in the right amounts, in the correct order, and something delicious emerged.

Rain pattered against my shoulders as I gathered a selection of herbs into my trug. I was low on some of the key ingredients for the poultices that healed magical attacks. I wasn't sure what we could expect in the coming days, but my remedies had saved us before. The more I had on hand, the better the chances I could help anyone who got hurt when the fae attacked.

My stomach twisted at the thought. Seeing Daigh through that mirror, hearing him talk about the destruction of humankind as if it was nothing, was like stepping into a cold shower, it brought home just how precarious our situation truly was, just how little control we actually wielded. We were only seven days away from the full moon, and we still didn't have a solid plan. If Daigh didn't take the deal Maeve offered him, we'd have to fight. Even if we did manage to beat the Slaugh back with our belief magic, we wouldn't escape unscathed. People would die.

You're useless. What's the point of collecting all those herbs? What's cooking going to do to help fight the Slaugh? They're all going to die. Everyone you love is going to die.

My skin itched and crawled, like it was about to slide off my bones. My muscles tightened, desperate to stop what I was doing and fulfil one of my counting rituals to relieve the tension and feel like I was doing something, anything, that might actually help .

No, I told myself, and the voice relented, just a little. Ever since the ritual in the early hours of this morning, I'd been feeling calmer, like I had more control over the rituals and the tics and the voice. I told it to go away and it did, for a few minutes at least.

In the kitchen, I set down the trug and ducked under the sink to pull out my drying racks and paper bags. When I stood back up, I wasn't alone.

"Hey." Corbin leaned against the doorframe. "What are you doing?"

"Replenishing some of my stores," I said, as I set one of my drying racks down on the island and started laying out the herbs. They needed to be dried for a few days in the airing cupboard. I separated out seven sprigs of rosemary, tied them together with string, and looped the string around the top of a small paper bag. I punched five air holes in the bag (always five. It had to be five), and tied it to the rack.

"Good idea. We never know what scrapes Flynn might get into next," Corbin grinned. He stood opposite me at the counter and rested his hands on the countertop. I stared at his fingers, at the mythological tattoos swirling down his forearms. "What's the paper bag for?"

"It speeds up the drying time, and it also catches any seeds that fall, so I can use them, too."

"Clever. But then I'm not surprised. You know exactly what to do with all this stuff." Corbin shuffled on his feet. "Rowan, I want to ask you something."

I picked up seven sprigs of thyme and wrapped the string around them. I couldn't force myself to look up at him. Tension flared between my shoulders, beckoning me to count and dispel the nerves that shot through my body.

He regrets last night. He doesn't want to be with me any more. It was the most amazing night ever but he thinks I'm disgusting ? —

"I noticed that last night you didn't come down to count the window panes. Is everything okay?"

I dropped the sprigs on the floor.

He's right.

I hadn't counted the window panes last night, or the night before, or any of the nights since the one Corbin and Maeve and I spent together in London. In the two years I'd been sober at Briarwood, I hadn't gone a single night without counting the window panes in the Great Hall while drinking my tea. I had to do it, or something horrible would happen to Corbin.

But I hadn't done it last night. I hadn't even wanted to do it after that ritual. It never even occurred to me.

What does that mean?

"Everything's fine," I whispered. And it was.

That fact was terrifying.

The voice had never been silent for so long before. Usually, if I was even a half hour late for the window-pane counting ritual, the fear would twist in my gut. But I hadn't even noticed .

Panic shot through me, and I had to give in to the urge now. One…two…three… I counted out seven stalks of feverfew. I couldn't look at Corbin.

"When you were talking to Aline, you got so anxious you fainted. You stopped breathing. Your pulse was so weak I could barely feel it. If I hadn't known how to perform mouth-to-mouth, you'd be dead right now."

"I know," I whispered. "It was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked about my parents. I should have counted the window-panes."

"Rowan." Corbin's voice dropped half an octave. It sent a shiver down my spine. "I think you should see a doctor."

"No doctors. I'm fine."

"This isn't going to be like rehab. They'll?—"

"I don't want to." I knew what would happen when I went to a doctor – they'd give me all these horrible tests that would confirm what I already knew – that I was broken, messed up on the inside. They'd put me on drugs that made me not myself, that made me forget about how much I loved Maeve, and Corbin. Or worse – they'd lock me away like Robert Smithers, and I'd never see them again.

Corbin sighed. "It's your decision."

"You're not mad?"

"Disappointed, but not mad."

"After last night…do you still feel…" I couldn't finish the words. I couldn't bear the idea that he might have changed his mind about me, about us.

‘Come here. I'll show you how I feel." A hand touched me under the chin. I jerked my head up.

Corbin's lips met mine, hot and ferocious.

Herbs scattered around me as he leaned across the counter and pulled me to him.

The kiss seared me inside, waking up parts of me that had laid dormant for so many years. The pressure inside my head fled, replaced by the heat of Corbin's lips.

"Out of the way, lovebirds," Blake yelled from across the garden. "Injured man coming through."

Corbin and I flew apart. Blake stumbled through the kitchen door. Blood trickled down the side of his head from a cut over his hairline. The sleeve of his leather jacket had been torn.

But he wasn't as bad as Flynn, whose body lay limp in Blake's arms. Blood poured from his nose and lips. His t-shirt had been torn in several places, revealing cuts and bruises all over his body. He groaned as he clutched his arm across his torso, like it couldn't move on its own.

I backed away. "I've got yarrow. It will help stop the bleeding."

"We'll need a whole bloody yarrow forest for this eejit." Blake swept my trug and drying racks off the counter and dumped Flynn on top.

"You should have called an ambulance," Corbin scolded. "He needs a hospital, not herbs. He might have internal damage. What's wrong with his arm?"

"I didn't see what happened because I was being stomped on by Gus and his cronies at the time, but I think he might've broken it," Blake shrugged.

Flynn leaned over the side of the counter and coughed. Blood splattered across the kitchen floor. "I'm fine . It's just a flesh wound. Besides, I saw Doctor Lewis while Blake was dragging me out of the pub, and he did nothing. Ain't no one in that village going to help us now, not after they saw…ow, Holy Mother of Mary, that fecking hurts. "

I'd barely touched his arm and he was screaming like a banshee. Definitely broken. I ran through the remedies I had available…yarrow, of course, and comfrey leaves to help knit together the break…and feverfew, to stimulate healing...

Anxiety flared inside me as I laid eyes on the herbs and racks scattered all over the floor, and the blood puddling under Flynn's body. Push through it, Flynn needs you.

"Put the kettle on," I said to Aline, who'd just entered the room. She went to the stove while I ran over to my herb shelves and grabbed several jars. I tipped ingredients into a strainer and added that to a large mug. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I grabbed a handful of yarrow leaves and a dash of water and crushed them up in my mortar and pestle, all while Flynn moaned and writhed.

"Rub that into his worst cuts," I said, thrusting the crushed yarrow leaves into Aline's hands.

The kettle whistled. I took it off the element and filled the mug with hot water, and covered it with a tea towel to keep the vapours in. I covered the top with my hand, pushing my magic through my anxiety to speed up the infusion process and imbue the herbs with my own unique power. A warm hand pressed into my back. I opened one eye and saw Maeve's concerned face staring up at me. A flicker of spirit magic flared against my palm as she leant her own power to the remedy.

"This is ready," I whispered, closing my hands around the cup. Maeve took it from me and went over to Flynn.

"Where's Rowan?" Flynn's eyes widened as he saw Maeve coming. He knew he was in trouble.

"Rowan's right here. We're all right here. And we want to know what happened. What did the villagers see that made them do this to you?" Maeve demanded, holding the glass at an angle so Flynn could drink.

He coughed as the hot tea poured down his throat. "You should be thanking me, Einstein. I was only defending your honour."

"Some guy at the pub made a comment about you, so our Flynn here punched him out. Then the whole rest of the pub jumped in." Blake wiped blood off his face. "We only got out of there because Nell called the police and everyone scrambled."

"Jesus, Flynn," Maeve growled, splashing hot tea all over Flynn's face.

"I'm fine, Einstein," Flynn coughed. "You should see the other guys. But they know about Aline."

Panic surged through me. If the villagers saw Aline back from the dead, that would frighten them more than the statue. But how could they know about her? She hasn't been outside the castle except to talk to Daigh, and we were well hidden in the trees...

The fox.

Maeve must've had the same idea, because she turned to Arthur. "That rustling you heard in the trees the other day, did you see for sure it was a fox?"

"No, but it was low to the ground, too small to be a person hunched over."

"So it couldn't have been a kid?"

Arthur's face turned stony. "Shit."

"Don't slash yourself up over it, Arnold," Blake said. "We've got enough blood from Flynn."

I gasped. Corbin looked mortified. But Arthur just laughed. "I never thought you'd be the one calling me on that shit, fae." He rubbed his arm. "I'm not doing that anymore."

Just like that. I wondered if it was Aline's ritual affecting him. It sure was affecting me. And Corbin too, judging by the way he'd kissed me last night and what he was willing to do and the fact that he was trying to get me to a doctor again.

And Flynn…had the ritual got under his skin, too? Could it somehow explain his strange desire to pick a fight in the pub?

"In the pub, people were talking about Aline," Blake said. "A kid saw us talking to Daigh through the mirror, and they all put it together after they recognised Aline from old photographs from her coven days."

Maeve paled. "So the village knows about Aline."

"Aye, and now they think we're necromancers as well as witches."

"You're a damn fool," Maeve scolded Flynn, who winced. "You've made everything worse."

"Leave him be for now," I said, taking the mug from Maeve. "You can yell at him later."

I managed to get the rest of the tea down his throat, and Aline and I packed his wounds with yarrow leaves and bandaged him up. Corbin helped me to lift him so I could tie a sling around his arm. Hopefully, the magic tea would knit the break back together in a few days and he wouldn't need to go to a doctor. I slid to the floor, exhausted, as Arthur scooped Flynn off the counter. "Up to bed with you."

"Not bed, the couch. I have a mind to watch some action films and take my mind off my imminent castration at the hands of Einstein." Flynn grinned at Maeve, who folded her arms and glared at him. He probably wasn't wrong about the castration.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. As long as it's not Commando again."

"I'm the one who got marmalised. If I want Commando , I get Commando ."

Arthur and Blake settled Flynn on the couch, placing a blanket over his knees and the TV remote in his hands. I brought him some snacks and set them on the table in front of him. Aline went to the kitchen to make tea. I got up to follow her, but Maeve grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the hall. She beckoned Corbin to join us.

"So…" she gave each of us at stern look. "Blake mentioned that when he came in you two were locked in a rather passionate embrace."

Corbin looked guilty. "It was all me. I'm sorry I?—"

"Don't think that. You're not in trouble. I know you've got this thing going on that's much older than me. I like it. I love it, in fact. Seeing you guys last night made me so happy, you have no idea. I have all of you, so there's no reason why you shouldn't have each other, too. But I'm going to need all the magic I can get if we're going to defeat the fae, so this is a warning – don't fuck it up for the next eight days, got it? Because I need both of you at my side and in fighting and fucking form, and if I can't have all five of you because the two of you are fighting, then it's not going to work."

Corbin slipped his fingers through mine. The smile he flashed me melted my heart. "We're here for you, no matter what."

I nodded, unable to find words.

Maeve grinned, and wrapped her arms around us both. Her sweet, spicy scent hit my nostrils, mingling with Corbin's dusky, heady aroma and bringing me back to the night under the bridge, the night I'd poured out all my secrets and found the love I'd never believed could exist.

"I love you both so much," Maeve whispered. "Now, get out of here. Go do something useful. Trust me, you don't want to be around for the bollocking I'm about to give Flynn."