Authors: Barbra Annino
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Series, #Women Sleuths, #Suspense, #Occult, #Paranormal
Emerald Isle
Also by Barbra Annino
Opal Fire: Stacy Justice Book One
Bloodstone: Stacy Justice Book Two
Tiger’s Eye: Stacy Justice Book Three
Gnome Wars: A Short Story
Every Witch Way But Wicked: An Anthology
(includes a Stacy Justice story)
My Guardian Idiot—
fantasy tales to tickle your funny bone
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 Barbra Annino
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer
PO Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781477805848
ISBN-10: 1477805842
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013901627
For Mom
Prologue
Amethyst, Illinois. Twenty-nine years ago.
Birdie Geraghty stood in the vast bedroom of her childhood home, staring at the pile of beautifully wrapped presents with just one thought on her mind.
Today is the day.
She could feel it in her blood, smell it on the wind. Even her sleep had been disrupted all through the night by the excited chatter of a thousand generations of ancestors gone before her, whispering in her dreams,
She’s coming
. Birdie couldn’t recall the last time she had tossed and turned so much in a single evening when the moon wasn’t full. Perhaps before she had divorced Oscar. That man could wake the dead with his snores. Of course, that was no longer a problem now that she slept alone and he was living across town.
She glanced around the room, tucked a crimson lock of hair behind her ear, and wondered if the house was lonely with fewer bodies to fill it.
But the decision about what to do with the Queen Anne home her father had built would have to wait. She had far more pressing matters at hand. Because today was the day she would become a grandmother. And the world would gain a gift.
Birdie finished dressing, careful to wear jewel tones so as to ignite imagination and inspiration in the child. She had to make certain that the infant felt a spark straight from the womb. It was important her granddaughter bond with the family bloodline as soon as possible. The little one would need a mountain of strength to face the challenges before her, and Birdie intended to help her build it. She wanted the child to recognize who she was born to be as soon as her little eyes gazed upon the world. No buttery yellow, sky blue, or bubblegum pink for her granddaughter. Certainly, soft pastels were quite soothing and necessary for other infants, but a witch who would one day be Seeker mustn’t be sheltered from the wonders—or the cruelties—of this world and beyond.
Birdie smiled in spite of herself. She was practically giddy as she arranged the gifts into two large shopping bags. She couldn’t wait for the council to accept the nomination of her granddaughter for Seeker. She knew it was only a matter of time, a mere formality. She knew it as sure as she knew her own name. And it was her task, as the mother of the mother of the only Seeker of Justice born in the New World, to protect the child at all costs.
She had a slew of gifts left in the closet, some for future milestones, some rewards for lessons learned in training. These were not meant to be given until the child was much older, but the one gift Birdie longed to give, the one she
hoped would come in due time, wasn’t hers to present. No, that gift—that precious talisman—would come only in a way Birdie herself didn’t quite comprehend.
One day
, the witch thought,
one day it shall be yours, Anastasia
.
Birdie picked up the quaint little card she had bought for her granddaughter’s arrival and ran her strong hands over the embossed letters.
ANASTASIA
meaning: “resurrection”
It was the name she would call the girl. One more suitable for the woman she would become than the name chosen by her parents.
Birdie signed the card, stuffed it in an envelope, and slipped it inside one of the shopping bags perched on the bed. Just as she was about to rush to her sister’s home, presents in tow, a light flashed and the black mirror in her room chimed, then filled with silvery mist.
Who would be bothering me now?
She hesitated.
Perhaps Lolly or Fiona? Do they need something for the baby’s witchening?
She decided she should check. She set the bags near the door, crossed to the walnut fireplace, and tapped the gold-framed scrying mirror that hung above it.
As soon as that wretched Tallulah’s taut face appeared, Birdie regretted answering the call.
“Birdie, darling. How lovely to see you.” Tallulah’s narrow head was wrapped in a turban with a teardrop diamond dangling from its crest. Every inch of her pale face
was pinched tight and powdered. She looked to have been the victim of a poor plastic surgeon or a spell gone awry.
Either way, Birdie didn’t much care. “Tabby, I don’t have time to talk right now. I’m on my way out. What do you want?” The woman irritated her to no end. The best thing about Tallulah was that she was an ocean away.
Tallulah stuck her bottom lip out in a pretend pout and rolled her eyes, her false lashes giving the illusion of two spiders nesting.
“Well, now, is that any way to speak to someone who is only calling to congratulate you on the arrival of your granddaughter? Honestly, Birdie, you can be so ungracious.”
How does she know already?
“Then you must know I am anxious to get to my daughter’s side, Tabby, so if you don’t mind…”
Birdie stepped forward to end the conversation by tapping the mirror three times.
Tallulah couldn’t hide her irritation at the snub. She waved her hand before the connection was cut, and the mirror grew fuzzy, but retained a hazy image. “Birdie, I want you to know that I am aware of your plans and it will never work. She is not what you think she is. She is not one of them. I plan to file a formal protest of the nomination to the council.”
Birdie didn’t bother to ask Tallulah how she knew of her intentions. Witches were notorious gossips. Birdie stepped closer to the mirror, her unlined face taking on a few crossroads as she narrowed her eyes at the woman who had been like acid on her skin since the day they met all those years ago.
“Do what you must, Tallulah, but I assure you, she will be stronger than you can imagine. I wouldn’t step into affairs you know nothing about, if I were in your shoes. This is for the good of all the clans. This has nothing to do with your petty insecurities.”
“Ha! My insecurities? You are the one, my dearest Birdie, who cannot stand the fact that my son Pearce is twice the wizard your daughter is.”
“You mean warlock,” Birdie said, just to ruffle Tabby’s feathers.
“That’s a lie! Pearce never took the dark path. You withdraw that malicious accusation!”
“Fine, I take it back. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a Seeker to meet. Let’s talk again when you have a grandchild.”
This, Birdie could see before she cleared the mirror, infuriated Tallulah.
Sorry, Tabby. This time, I win.
The Awakening
You want your God to be wild and to call you to where your destiny awaits.
—John O’Donohue
Birthdays are supposed to be a celebration of life, renewal, and endless possibilities. There’s that little spark of hope you get, no matter what age, when you wake up in the morning on the day you came into this world and think,
This year will be different.
The last twelve months don’t matter, because there’s a brand-new slate to fill, a new
you
to find.
