Emerald Isle (20 page)

Birdie knew better than to engage Tabby, but the woman loved to push her buttons.

Minutes after Birdie had disconnected with Anastasia, Tallulah called, trying to goad the Geraghty Girl into an argument.

Presently, it was working.

“Birdie, darling, why don’t you just call off this whole silly thing and admit that you only want to believe your granddaughter is the Seeker so that you can redeem yourself and the Geraghty name?”

Tallulah was wearing another one of her stupid hats, and Birdie just itched to rip it off her head and shove it down her throat. This one had a pink bow dangling from it, tilted absurdly on her pointy head, just above her mole. Boys used to find that mole attractive when they were younger. Now that it had a two-inch hair trailing from it, Birdie suspected that was no longer the case.

She sent Tabby a saucy grin. “Afraid of a little competition, my dear?”

Tabby rolled her eyes. “Please, Birdie, you were no match for me, and your granddaughter will be no match for Ethan.”

Birdie snapped on a glove, thinking Ethan was a ridiculous name for a Seeker. “I think you have that backward, Tabby. It was you who could not compete with me, as I recall.”

Tabby’s eyes widened mockingly. “Really? Well, if that is the case, then why am I the Mage and you couldn’t even graduate from the Academy?”

“Because you cheated and I’m the one who was blamed. Which is why I was expelled, which is why I could never accept a nomination, let alone get confirmed,” Birdie shouted.

Fiona gently squeezed her sister’s shoulder.

Tabby examined her nails. “Sour grapes.”

“Is that so?” Birdie planted her hands on her hips. “So you didn’t steal my spell books every year? Just like you didn’t steal Aedon?”

Tabby said, “Oh, please, I hardly stole Aedon. The poor boy was following me around like a lost puppy—what could I do? Besides”—she adjusted her skirt—“that’s all water under the bridge. It was over and done with years ago. There’s a new man in my life.”

Birdie was stunned. She had never known Aedon and Tallulah had parted ways. She assumed Ethan was Aedon’s grandson. Behind her, Fiona squealed softly.

“Kudos for you, Tabby. Now, if there is nothing else…” Birdie reached to click off the television screen, as a door opened in Tallulah’s room.

“Just a minute, Birdie. I’d like you to meet my fellow.”

After a pause, Oscar’s head popped into view. “Hey, Birdie,” he said.

Birdie heard Lolly gasp and topple off the bed.

The true Mage of the four corners looked at her ex-husband. She didn’t even blink. All she said was, “Oscar, you stupid, stupid little man.”

Scrawled in the fog of the mirror were six words.

Return the locket or die tonight.

I flung open the bathroom door and stormed the suite. “Who’s here?” I whirled around, Thor keeping pace behind me. “Show your face.” Checked the closet, behind the curtain, under the bed. Nothing.

“Did you see anyone?” I asked Thor.

He yodeled what sounded like a negative response.

I grabbed only the essentials from my suitcase—jeans, a V-neck top, and my athame—dressed quickly, and ran from the room barefoot and commando, smacking straight into a guy eating a scone.

I slammed my left forearm into his chest and forced him to the wall. Pointed the athame at his throat with my right hand.

“What are you doing out here?” I demanded.

His hands were raised. “Stacy Justice, I presume?”

I pressed the knife to his skin. “How do you know my name?”

“They said you were a nutter.”

“Who said?” I narrowed my eyes at him, my head throbbing from knocking it against the marble moments ago. “Who are you?”

“Ethan O’Conor. I’m supposed to challenge you to duel, or something equally absurd.”

O’Conor? As in the high king for whom the castle was constructed?

I eased up on the blade, and he took a bite out of his pastry.

He raised one eyebrow at me. He looked a lot like Colin Farrell.

I heard Thor panting behind me, waiting to see if I needed backup.

This guy wasn’t sending me any shaky vibes. I didn’t have that nauseous feeling I usually experienced when someone wanted to harm me.

Then again, I didn’t have it in the shower either.

I kept my arm pressed to him. “Why are you lurking outside my door?”

He flicked his eyes to the left. “I wasn’t lurking, Princess Paranoid. My room is just down the hall. You can check if you like. There’s a map in my pocket. My name is next to the room number.”

“Which pocket?”

He smiled mischievously. “The front pocket.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get it.”

He produced the map.
Ethan O’Conor
was scribbled next to a room down the hall. Tallulah’s grandson. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

“So you weren’t in my room just now?”

“No, but I’d like to be.” His voice was low, sexy.

I was suddenly very aware that my shirt was wet and the outermost points of my body were saluting like soldiers. I
lowered the athame. I hugged my arms close to my chest. “Why should I believe you?”

“Press up against me again, and I’ll show you.” He glanced down.

“Ew!” I jumped back, disgusted. “That’s not what I meant.”

If it wasn’t he who’d written on my bathroom mirror, then who?

“May I be excused, or would you like my assistance toweling off?” Ethan asked. “My grandmother is expecting me, and she hates when I’m late, although I’m willing to risk the wrath if you’d like to continue this conversation.”

I waved the blade. “Go.”

Ethan gave a slight bow. “Thank you.” He turned and whistled. “Gretchen.”

I shook my head. What a jerk. Couldn’t wait to see the kind of woman who came running when a man whistled.

Gretchen rushed around the corner and beelined directly to Ethan’s side. Her big brown eyes regarded him lovingly, eagerly, awaiting his next command. Her curly locks shone in the morning light from the window at the end of the hall, and I couldn’t help but admire her grace.

Thor admired it too, and said so by sitting up a bit straighter, his huge snout inspecting the air to catch the scent of her.

“Until we meet again.” Ethan turned to saunter down the hall, Gretchen by his side. The sway of her hips thumped, as if to the beat of a drum.

She gave a shy glance back, and I could feel Thor vibrate with anticipation.

“Don’t get any ideas, pal. She’s one of them.”

He whined miserably and sulked back to the room, poking his head out for one last look at the cream-colored Irish wolfhound.

Back in the room, I tossed a towel over the broken glass in the bathroom and dried my hair in the sitting room. Then I put some clean clothes on, undergarments included, slipped into my running shoes, and held up the locket.

I dangled it in front of the light for a moment, inspecting it as the chain draped over my wrist, trying to catch a vision from the intricate piece of jewelry.

“What is so important about you?” I asked.

Suddenly, the five-bladed star I had packed spun out of my suitcase. It whipped through the room, linked with the locket, and punctured the wall.

Thor charged the wall, growling and barking.

I sensed something—a masculine presence. Heavy, sinister air swirled around me. I snatched the locket, held it tight, and pocketed the star.

I called to whatever or whoever had left me that message on the mirror. “This was a gift. I didn’t steal it. I don’t even know who gave it to me.” I wrapped the chain around my head and tucked the pendant under my shirt. Then I grabbed my sword. “If you want it so badly, why don’t you show yourself, you coward!”

The room chilled so drastically that my breath came out in frosty bursts. I gripped the sword, shifted my stance, Thor at the ready next to me. One raspy word zapped my brain.
Mine.

And as quickly as they came, the presence and the cold broke and retreated into the walls.

I looked at Thor. “Let’s get out of here.”

Fiona looked at Birdie, concern clouding her eyes. “Tallulah must have put him under a love spell.”

“Probably one of mine,” Birdie spat.

She was so furious with Oscar, she couldn’t sit still. Why had he insisted on coming along if he was just going to be a burden? Now she would have to weave a remedy spell, and she simply had no time for this nonsense. She had a meeting to attend, a cauldron to find, and a council to appease so she could spring her daughter from the depths of this castle—wherever she was. Aedon hadn’t mentioned if Birdie could visit her child, and she thought it best not to press the issue. She had to stay focused, and that meant keeping everyone around her sharp and on task, including her sisters, Anastasia, and—Hecate help her—that idiot she used to be married to.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to shed her poise for one freeing moment, but she didn’t dare. Not here, at least, not within the confines of these all-seeing walls. The castle was a fortress, to be sure, but it was also a place of highly concentrated energy. As if the walls themselves could breathe, the windows could see, and the floor could feel her footsteps.

As if, at its own discretion, the castle could weave its entrails around her and swallow her whole.

There was a knock at the door then, and Birdie sensed her granddaughter. In fact, ever since the fetching spell had unsnarled the girl from the web, Birdie felt a bit more attuned to her. She liked the sensation.

Anastasia did not wait for anyone to open the door; she burst through it like a flamethrower, vexed about something, and hauling the bag of magical tricks she had brought.

Her familiar seemed to be spirited as well.

Birdie looked at her questioningly, as her two sisters stood.

“The castle is trying to kill me,” Anastasia said. She didn’t wait for a response, just went about stuffing crystals and herbs into the pockets of her hoodie. Then she lifted the hood over her head and tightened the strings.

Birdie stared at the girl. “What on earth are you talking about?” She noticed the sword hanging at the girl’s side, and the chain from the locket hugging her neck.

Birdie still couldn’t fathom how she had gotten hold of it.

Anastasia ripped into some outlandish story about showerheads firing up on their own, doors slamming shut, and her own tool going rogue on her.

Then she filtered through her gemstone pouch. “Is it onyx that severs a tie?” she asked.

Lolly said it was, and Anastasia pulled out a polished black stone, examined it.

It wasn’t a moment ago that Birdie had been thinking that this place was enlivened, but she didn’t actually believe it had a pulse. It was just that the grounds, the structure, was thousands of years old, and she could feel the history, the battles, the defeat and victories of warriors who’d protected it with their lives flowing through each crack and crevice. There was residual energy here, to be sure, of spirits passed and some who refused to pass over.

But the place didn’t actually have a soul, or a brain.

“Anastasia, listen to me.” She crossed to the girl, grasped her shoulders. “You become emotional when your car doesn’t start. It’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with you before the meeting. You must ground yourself at all times here, and everywhere on the island. Emotions make you vulnerable, and vulnerability leads to carelessness. I can only imagine the twists and turns your heart has taken being in this place, being close to your mother.”

At this, the girl perked up. “Have you seen her? She is here, isn’t she? I could have sworn I saw her out the window.”

Birdie shook her head. “I don’t know, but I will tell you it is highly unlikely you saw her. They would never let her wander about unsupervised under these circumstances.”

Anastasia’s face deflated. “So then I imagined her?”

“It’s possible, or you may have conjured up an image of her. An impression from her energy. Your mother was tethered to you from the moment you were born until her arrest. She could have been in the garden, but if you were both thinking of each other at the same time, you could have also spawned a connection.”

Doubt flashed over the girl’s face.

Birdie continued. “I think, too, perhaps that’s what happened in your suite. A powerful necromancer like you can electrify a space with this much history. The spirits, while harmless, can be sent into a tailspin.”

Anastasia shook her head. “No. I’m telling you, Birdie, this was real, deliberate. And far from harmless.” Then she added, “By the way, I hope you didn’t give them a deposit for the room, because you can kiss that good-bye.”

“The dead can’t hurt you, child. I’ve told you time and again.”

Anastasia stuck out her chin and planted her hands on her hips, looking so much like her mother that Birdie’s heart lurched. “Oh, really? Do you see this?” She lifted her strawberry-blonde hair, pointed to a cut on her head. “Does this look harmless to you? I’m telling you, Birdie, if it isn’t the castle, then it’s a really pissed-off ghost with a chip on his shoulder.”

Fiona asked, “Well, what could you possibly have done to provoke him, dear?”

Anastasia tapped her foot a moment, clearly contemplating her response. Finally she said, “I think it might have something to do with this.” She reached into her blouse and pulled out the locket. She explained that while one spirit guide had warned her to keep it safe, there was also a threat to return it, from another, malevolent presence.

“The problem is, I don’t know where I got it, what it does, or even who I would return it to,” she said.

“Birdie said, “What do you mean you don’t know where you got it?”

Anastasia furrowed her brow. “Gramps said it was a family heirloom. He said my father talked to him about it, asked him to keep it in his vault until my thirtieth year.”

Birdie couldn’t believe her ears.
Oscar, just wait until I get my hands on you,
she thought. Then she wondered,
Who gave it to Stacy Senior?

The girl was studying Birdie’s face. “I take it you have no idea where it came from either.”

Birdie looked at Fiona and Lolly.