Emerald Isle (6 page)

It was still bright outside, although a few clouds had rolled in, threatening rain. Someone was burning leaves the next block over, the smoke billowing around a giant maple whose own branches were nearly bare. Just as I approached the backyard of the Geraghty Girls’ Guesthouse, I spotted Birdie and the aunts making their way out of the woods, each donning an autumn-colored cape.

The patio table was dressed in grapevines, with bowls of apples and pears, nuts, and candles scattered about. There were three wrapped presents in the center surrounding a painted plaque of the Green Man, the god of the forest.

Thor settled himself into a giant pile of leaves I had raked the day before as I watched the three Geraghty Girls approach, the air thickening with each step they took.

Something was wrong. Not one of them was smiling, which was unusual on any pagan holiday. They lived for these celebrations.

I heard Birdie say, “I can’t believe you forgot the Green Man, Fiona.”

Fiona replied, “Why must I think of everything, Birdie?”

“With all that’s on my mind, you could have been more observant.”

“You think you’re the only one troubled? I’m concerned as well.”

Lolly spotted me then and waved. She grabbed each sister by the earlobe, spun them around into a huddle, and bent down to whisper something.

What the heck is this all about?

The three of them swung toward me, each offering a false smile.

Lolly rushed over to kiss both my cheeks, reeking of whiskey—a sign that her mind was running on turbo power. Birdie and Fiona stepped in to hug me next, each of them warm to the touch. An enormous crow screeched overhead and landed on the table just as I broke away.

I took a step back and stared at the Geraghty Girls. “What’s going on?”

Fiona said, “Whatever do you mean, dear?”

“Birdie?”

My grandmother shrugged her shoulders.

I tapped my foot impatiently. “Lolly, what’s happening? I could cut the tension in the air with my sword.”

“Oh, wonderful, you brought it,” Lolly said, and clapped her hands.

They all three stood there grinning at me like I was a virgin they were about to toss into a volcano.

I crossed my arms. “I want to know what has you concerned, and I want to know now.”

Fiona blurted out, “Birdie double-booked a room for next weekend.”

Birdie glowered at Fiona. “We will make do. These things have a way of working themselves out.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Fiona said.

I said, “That’s it? Why can’t you just call the visitor center and book them a room at another inn?”

“Splendid idea. We’ll do that in the morning.” Lolly shot her sisters a look of warning. “Come, Stacy, open your gifts.”

My oldest aunt glided toward the table, reached for the largest package, and motioned for me to join her. “This is from me.”

I tossed one last glance back at Birdie and Fiona and walked over to where Lolly stood. The box was heavy. I shook it gently and smiled at my great-aunt. She stuck a tiara on my head.

“I hope you like it,” she said.

I lifted the lid off the big box and brushed aside soft white tissue paper to reveal a purple brocade bodice, adorned with triquetras and crisscrossed with thin gold rope. I lifted up the garment, and out spilled a green and amethyst floor-length gown with billowing bell sleeves. “Oh, Lolly, it’s gorgeous!”

“I thought you could wear it tonight. I stitched it from remnants of some of the finest ritual wear.” She pointed out that the gold rope tied through the bodice was worn by Birdie one Samhain many years ago, the silk sleeves had attended Fiona’s first hand fasting, and the emerald velvet patches were recycled from Lolly’s own dedication gown.

“I will.” I reached over to hug her. “Thank you.”

Fiona stepped up and handed me her gift. “It belonged to your great-grandmother, but I had it freshly blackened and newly framed.”

Fiona’s gift was an hourglass-shaped scrying mirror, framed with three inches of etched silver.

“It’s perfect. You’ll have to help me hang it in the cottage,” I said.

She smiled, and I thought I saw a tear in her eye.

Birdie was next. She stepped over to me and hugged me tight. Then she held me at arm’s length and said, “I
want you to know I’m very proud of you.” Her eyes were shimmering as she held my gaze, but there was a cloud of concern in them.

“I know that, Birdie.”

When she let go, a shiver danced down my spine, and another crow—or was it the same one?—swooshed over the table, squawked, and flew to the eave beneath Birdie’s bedroom window. I watched it land and saw a bright light flash from the pane.

“What was that?” I asked.

“It’s an old house. Old lighting,” Birdie said, flicking her eyes nervously upward as thunder slapped the sky. “Open your gift.”

Birdie’s present was a broom.

“It took her ages to fashion,” Lolly said.

Fiona nodded and said, “We all three charged it.”

Birdie said, “It has the same branches from my mother’s broom and her mother’s and two generations before them.”

It sizzled in my hand like kindling.

I hugged my grandmother and said, “I’ll use it wisely.”

She whispered in my ear, “Just remember, between destiny and duty lies faith. Keep your faith, and you won’t go wrong.”

I didn’t have time to decipher that cryptic message, because a car door slammed, and another after that. The dinner guests had arrived.

Fiona said, “Stacy, why don’t you go change into your new dress and stash your gifts while we greet the guests?”

I wasn’t planning to put the dress on until after dinner, but Lolly looked hopeful, so I agreed.

I slipped in through the back door and made my way up the far stairs to Birdie’s bedroom. Someone was in the kitchen below, gathering dishes, as I shut the door behind me. I laid the gifts on top of my grandmother’s bed, set the sword next to them, and disrobed.

The gown was stunning, like something you might see in a Shakespearean play. Even though I wouldn’t get much use out of the gown unless I auditioned for one, I figured if someone offered you the opportunity to dress like a princess for a night, you might as well give it a whirl.

I climbed into the dress, tied the bodice, and fluffed out the skirt, wishing I had some glass slippers to go with it, but the boots would have to do. There was a full-length mirror across the hall, so I went to check out the whole effect. The dress made a whooshing sound as I walked, and it gave off the tiniest vibration, fortified, I suspected,
with Lolly’s energy. As I adjusted the waistline, I noticed there was a sturdy leather loop that hung on each hip and there was even a slot for my cell phone. Curious, I shuffled back into Birdie’s room, grabbed the sword, and slipped it through one of the loops.

It weighed me down a bit, but the strap held. I waved my cape over my shoulders, tucked the phone in the pocket, shut the light off, and went to take one last look before dinner.

All I needed was an eye patch and a parrot and I would have made a badass-looking pirate. I shot a sideways look to the painting of Danu and asked, “What do you think?”

A blinding light flashed off the silver of the mirror. I whipped around.

Birdie’s door was still open and the lights were off, but something chimed within the room.

Had I imagined the flash? Was it simply the front bell I heard ring?

I walked into the room, clicked on the light switch, and looked around. The curtains were drawn, so I went to the window for a peek. Chance stood in the yard, a huge bouquet of roses in his strong hands, talking to Fiona. Then that stupid crow flew into view and tapped his beak on the glass three times. I yelped and jumped back.

That’s when I noticed the smoke seeping from Birdie’s scrying mirror. I rushed over to it, fearing some sort of electrical fire. Perhaps it was positioned over an old outlet. I lifted the mirror gently but saw only wall space.

Until I let go. Then I saw a face.

If Big Bird had a mother, this was what she would look like. The woman staring at me through Birdie’s scrying
mirror had some sort of yellow-feathered hat on her head that bobbed up and down all on its own.

Unless it was an actual bird—I couldn’t be sure.

I looked at my own scrying mirror, wondering if it too was equipped with Skype.

The woman snapped, “I need to speak with Birdie.”

“She’s not available right now. May I take a message?”

The woman leaned forward, studied me for a moment. Then her eyes pierced through mine and a chilling grin swam across her face.

I could not believe I was talking to a mirror while wearing a dress pieced together by recycled bits of other garments. I felt like Snow White meets Cinderella. And I had the sneaking suspicion that this woman was some kind of wicked.

I stepped back, startled by the malicious vibe emanating from her. My stomach lurched and that old familiar feeling gripped me.

Harmful intent.

She said, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the famous Stacy Justice.”

Why did I get the inkling I was in for more than one surprise on my birthday?

I tried to appear a whole lot braver than I felt. “And who might you be?”

Her voice was coated with venom, as if she had just discovered a hundred Dalmatians and was itching for a new coat. “You don’t know who I am?”

She waited for some recognition, but I had none. “Mrs. Peacock in the library with a wrench. Am I close?”

The woman’s nostrils flared, and I was certain that fire was going to shoot from them. “You just tell your grandmother
that I don’t care what kind of privileges she thinks she has with the council. You will never find that cauldron before my grandson does, and when he does, not only will they know you are not the true Seeker, but your mother’s chance for freedom will be lost forever. She will rot in that castle.”

I had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but I got the sense that if I showed my confusion, she would feed off it like a vulture off a carcass.

“Over my dead body,” I said.

“That can be arranged, my dear.”

I thought about smashing the mirror, but decided to just flip it around to face the wall.

I paced around the room for a bit.

What did she mean, my mother’s chance for freedom would be lost forever?

More importantly, what was all this about a missing cauldron? And what the hell had Birdie promised?

I stuck my head out the window and said, “Oh, Grandmother, may I speak with you a moment?”

And I’ll be damned if that freaking crow didn’t laugh.

Birdie had just set the corn muffins on the table outside. She was about to retrieve her granddaughter, when the child leaned out of Birdie’s bedroom window and called to her. Birdie gave Lolly an odd look, as if to say,
What now?

Lolly shrugged and poured some wine for Anastasia’s suitor, Chance.

Birdie wove her way around the table, her granddaughter’s familiar at her heels. She had just reached the
back door when Fiona bustled through with an herb-and-flower-petal salad.

“I’ve got the door, Fiona,” Birdie said as Thor trotted through.

Fiona’s emerald eyes grew wide, staring past Birdie, into the dark night.

“What?” Birdie asked, and twisted her head to follow her sister’s gaze.

Instantly, she spotted it. A fluorescent-green trail snaked from the woods all the way to the house.

“Fairy fire,” Birdie whispered.

Fiona asked, “Did you bring the Green Man back to the covenstead?”

“I thought you did,” Birdie said.

The salad plate slipped from Fiona’s hands and smashed to the concrete step. Both sisters looked up to the window where Anastasia was changing.

Birdie said, “We have to stop them.”

Thor was already charging up the back steps.

I paced back and forth in the hallway in front of the painting of my so-called goddess, who, for one reason or another, never gave me a break. She was sitting in that chair with the lion’s-head feet, sipping from the jewel-encrusted chalice, looking ever so smug.

“So not only did they all lie to me, but Birdie made some sort of underhanded deal with the stupid council to retrieve a freaking cauldron while my mother is sitting in a castle—Goddess knows where, because there are a
gazillion bloody castles in Ireland—probably going out of her mind waiting for someone to unlock the damn door.”

I couldn’t stop moving. I wanted to punch something. I never wanted this, never wanted to be Seeker. And now, because of it—because of Birdie’s incessant desire for me to be every bit as much a witch as she is—my mother might pay the ultimate price.

Would they really keep her imprisoned?

Could they?

I didn’t know these people, didn’t understand their laws, but I did know they wielded power over this family. Enough power to pull it apart.

“So now I’m a pawn in this stupid organization’s games? I’m just another piece on their chess board?” I faced the portrait of Danu. “Is that about the gist of it? Well, Birdie and the council and whoever the hell else thinks they can play God can forget it. I’m not bargaining with my mother’s life, and I don’t give a flying fairy’s fart who it hurts. Hell, I don’t even know if the Tuatha are my people, do I, Danu?”