Crescent Legacy

by Nicole R. Taylor

  When I stepped around the rear of St. Brigid’s, I saw him immediately. Even if my eyes were closed, I would’ve found Boone. Now his Legacy had been revealed, it was almost as familiar to me as mine. He was part of the Crescent Coven, after all. Man, my boyfriend was a thousand years old, give or take. He really was a silver fox!

  He was sitting on the end of Aileen’s empty grave, overlooking two fresh mounds. His brothers. A shovel was propped up against a neighboring headstone, and I knew Boone had been out here all night.

  He’d changed into his usual getup at some stage—a checkered red and black shirt, jeans, and boots. His coat was folded in a heap on the ground next to him, and his curled hair was wild and sticking up all over the place. It looked good, though. His hair. Always did.

  I crossed the cemetery and stood beside him, waiting to be invited. When he shuffled over, I sat. Our legs pressed together, and it was warm and familiar. Just as it should be.

  “Sean came by and helped for a while,” he murmured after a moment.

  “That was good of him.”

  “Aye…”

  “I just returned your aunt to the hawthorn,” I said.

  He grunted, scuffing his boot against the ground.

  “I’m sorry about your brothers…”

  He shrugged, looking exhausted. “They were corrupted a long time ago. This endin’ seemed…inevitable.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I added, “I’m sorry about your dad, too.”

  “I was too young to remember him,” he replied. “Mother always said he was murdered to start a war between the witches and the fae, but Dother told me it had been a rogue Unseelie that took his life. The wrong place, and the wrong time. An accident of circumstance. It’s hard to know who to believe.”

  It had certainly begun in a gray area. Carman lusted for power even before Finn had died, and her heartbreak gave her the excuse to take advantage. Boone knew it, and so did I. We didn’t need to dwell on such things. Not anymore.

  “When you came to Derrydun…” I began.

  “I’d broken free,” he replied. “She cursed me, but when I was able to get into Ireland, she altered the spell. Probably hoped that one day I would help her break the curse keepin’ her out. I guess she didn’t count on me fallin’ for the last Crescent.”

  “Help? More like use,” I muttered.

  “She was me mother, but that never meant she had me loyalty,” he said. “She locked away me memories before I could escape but couldn’t spell me into obedience.”

  “You did escape,” I murmured, threading my fingers through his. “You came here.”

  “I almost didn’t make it.”

  I picked up his hand and threaded my fingers through his.

  “There,” I said. “Proof you’re here, and we’re together.”

  I felt him tense, his magic rippling through our joined hands, then he untangled himself and glanced away. Awkward.

  “Are we related?” I asked, trying not to be so butthurt about it. “Is that…”

  Boone lowered his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Good. Because getting married would’ve been illegal.”

  “I suppose we are distantly related.”

  “Aileen said the coven was large back then,” I explained. “There wasn’t one pure bloodline. The Crescent Legacy was passed through spirit, not blood. The hawthorns are what binds it all together.”

  “You have her sister’s blood, Skye.”

  “Not like you think. I was the last, so Siobhan’s spirit came to me because her power was needed. That’s all. Those weird purple monkey, alligator, typewriter dreams were her spirit trying to meld with mine. It sent my powers into overdrive.” I smiled and looked out over Derrydun. “So our kids aren’t going to have two heads.”

  “Our kids?”

  “There’s nothing in my oven, so don’t get too excited. I don’t even know if I want to pop out any mini-humans. Thinking about pushing something that big out of my vagina isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

  “What about the coven? You and Aileen are the last…”

  “Boone, the time of the Crescent Witches is over. We’ve righted the wrongs, made peace with the fae, expelled all the evil in Ireland… It’s time for the forgotten to reclaim the world. The lost fae will be able to go home, the witches can come out of hiding, and everyone will be able to let go of their fear and live the lives they’ve always wanted. I have to stand back and allow them to take back their own Legacy.”

  “So we can take a break?”

  “Yeah. Our work here is done.” I laughed and nodded, liking the sound of that. “Hopefully, one day, the witches will see what happened here and not hate the Crescents so much. We’ll invite them to come to Derrydun to see if we can restore their power, and go from there.” Maybe the Nightshade Witches would be able to earn their magic back, too. That was a comforting thought in light of everything that had happened.

  “What about us?” he asked uncertainly. “I mean… The last time we spoke, it wasn’t very nice.”

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that, but I meant what I said yesterday. I love you, Boone. I always will. Nothing will ever change that.”

  He twisted to face me, his eyes wide with hope. “You still want to marry me?”

  I held up my hand and showed him the ring. “I never took it off.”

  He let out a whoosh of air, grasped my face, and kissed me. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I held him close, pouring all the love I felt for him into our embrace.

  “We’re still on for spring, you know,” I murmured against his lips. “Mary didn’t cancel.”

  “Well…I better find a suit.”

  “Don’t borrow clothes from Sean McKinnon ever again, by the way. Go to Sligo where there are proper shops.”

  Boone grinned and glanced up at the sky where the web protecting the village—the one Aileen and I had created—and the natural glow of the hawthorns lay dormant.

  “I will,” he said with a laugh. “I’m free to go wherever I choose now, after all.”

  “Well, don’t go too far. We’ve got a party to go to!”

  Chapter 22

  A Little Bit More…

  I felt the last of Carman’s stolen magic emerge from the painting and flow through my body. The unfamiliar magic skipped along my skin and dove into the woman whose hand I held.

  “There,” I said. “Do you feel any better?”

  She’d given her name as Amanda, a witch from Blarney in County Cork. Twenty years old, worked in the woolen mills near the castle and had been caught unawares one evening after a night out with friends. Carman had taken her Legacy, and with it, her trust for anything living.

  “Yes,” she said, staring at me in wonder. “I can feel me magic again.”

  Seeing her Legacy flow back into her body made me feel proud to be able to use the gifts the Crescents had given me to restore her belief in the world.

  “Take a break,” Aileen said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Go enjoy the festival.”

  “That was the last one,” I said, glancing up at the hawthorn as Amanda rejoined her family. They embraced and chattered happily as she tested out her magic. “There’s no more Legacy left.”

  “Then let me do this last part,” she replied. “You’ve done so much, Skye. Besides, you have to take it easy.”

  “Thanks, Mum.” I rubbed my eyes and rose to my feet, my back aching and a strange craving for tomato sauce sandwiches tickling my tastebuds.

  Making my way back to the village, I thought over everything that had happened in the last six months. After the battle with Carman, fae crossed into Ireland and assisted those too wild or too frail to return on their own. Craglorn passed through the portal where healers were on standby, ready to help them recover. It was a confronting sight for the villagers, but they’d seen weirder things. Sean McKinnon and Maggie Ashlyn starting a romance was one of them.

>   Humans also returned from across the realms. They were the descendants of those that had been left behind, but after so long living among the fae, many decided to go back.

  When we began spreading the word about the possibility of returning lost Legacies, witches had started appearing. One or two, to begin with, then whole covens rolled up when they’d heard my efforts had been successful. They came from as far as County Donegal in the north, to Kerry and Cork in the south. Their covens were large and small, their talents as varied as the colors of their Legacies. I heard their stories, and they heard mine, and it seemed the Crescents were back in the good books.

  And Boone with magic that wasn’t shapeshifter related was weird. It explained his magical tongue and silver animal shapes, at least.

  The riotous sound of a traditional Irish folk song echoed through the edges of the forest as I emerged. Turning down the main street, I smiled and breathed in the scent of candied apples, fish and chips from a witch-driven van that had traveled all the way up from Dingle, and popcorn from a stall selling fairground snacks.

  Derrydun had put on a Lughnasadh celebration to welcome visitors from all over Ireland and beyond. It was a Gaelic festival that marked the beginning of the harvest season on the last Sunday of July, so the village had been decorated with garlands of hawthorn leaves, Virginia creeper, and twists of rushes and corn stalks. It was also called Garland Sunday, and people climbed to the summit of Croagh Patrick on a pilgrimage to honor Saint Patrick who, in the year four hundred and forty-one, spent forty days fasting on the mountain. Or so Boone told me.

  All the stores were open, and tables laden with local produce and crafts were set up all along the main street. Molly McCreedy’s was in full swing, as was Mary’s Teahouse. Seeing the handprinted sign out the front of Mrs. Boyle’s spruiking it as a bed-and-breakfast, I had to have a little chuckle.

  Even Fergus had set up at his usual spot beside Mary’s Teahouse. Donkey and Jack posed for photos as he weaved his crosses of St. Brigid for the visiting witches. His tipping pot was overflowing with gold coins, and he looked pleased as punch with all the attention.

  A makeshift stage sat in the car park where the Tralee Witches were performing a lively rendition of Whiskey in the Jar. They were more like a traveling band than a coven, with two fiddlers, a guitarist, a tin whistler, and a drummer. Though when they played, I was sure I felt a little magic among the notes. Talk about supercharged craic!

  Wandering among the stalls, I smiled and greeted people as I went. Witches, fae, and humans alike.

  Phee yapped excitedly as Roy dangled a sausage in front of her nose, but she didn’t clamp her jaws around the tasty morsel until he’d given the command. Sean and Maggie walked hand in hand, and he teased her with a stick wound with bright pink fairy floss. Mrs. Boyle was handing out flowers to a group of little girls instead of chasing them with her broom. Cheese Wheel Aoife was rushed off her feet in her shop, and next door in Irish Moon, Natalie—the overexcited witch we’d hired to help us out over the summer—was zapping crystals left, right, and center with the trusty laser scanner.

  Stopping by a display of landscape paintings, I shook my head. Mairead had been busy since the battle, whipping up canvases small and large. Everyone who’d come to reclaim their Legacy had wanted to see the painting that held Carman and meet its artist. The result was a mob around her Garland Sunday stall, a tangle of selfie sticks, an overflowing cash box, and commissions to last her the next ten years at least. Everyone wanted something painted by the artist whose work now held the most dangerous witch in history. Talk about an epic career change.

  All was well in Derrydun…and all over Ireland.

  “Are you Skye?”

  I turned to find a trio of girls staring up at me with eyes as big as moons.

  “That’s me,” I replied.

  “Can we take a selfie with you?” the elder of the group asked eagerly.

  I laughed and gestured for them to squeeze in. I made a peace sign as she snapped a few pictures of me and her friends, and when they were done, they scurried off, giggling excitedly as they went.

  “I see you’ve been busy while I’ve been away,” a voice said behind me. “You’ve gone and got yourself a fan club!”

  Spinning on my heel, I jabbed a finger at Robert O’Keefe. “Where have you been?”

  “You never needed me help, Skye,” he said with a chuckle. “Besides, I had a pot of gold to keep warm.”

  “I knew it!” I jumped from foot to foot. “I told Boone you were a leprechaun.”

  “Not so loud.” He hushed me, glancing around nervously.

  “Leave him be, Skye. He’s a rascal but a loveable one.”

  I turned as Aileen appeared, looking a little frazzled around the edges. When I gave her a look, she nodded.

  “It’s done,” she said. “Carman’s Legacy has been stripped, and the painting has been handed over to Aibell and the fae.”

  Man, I was glad we’d changed our minds about taking ownership of Carman’s prison. With a bun in the oven, I had more than enough to worry about without her sticking around.

  “That’s good to hear,” Robert O’Keefe declared. “Many good wishes to you both.” He glanced at my stomach. “Ah…four.”

  “Four?” I screeched.

  “Err… Sorry?”

  I spun on my heel as Boone appeared through the hubbub of the festival, looking sheepish.

  “Twins!” I screeched. Circling my arms around my swollen belly, I scowled at him. “We discussed this!”

  “I think we ought to escape,” Aileen said to Robert. “The honeymoon is about to be over.”

  “We cannae fight nature,” Boone said with a grimace as they moved away. “I can’t help it if I’m potent.”

  Married four months, and knocked up on my wedding night… I couldn’t even think about my growing baby house without breaking out into hives.

  I slapped him on the arm and groaned. “I’m going to have to push two out at the same time now. Thanks a lot!”

  “I’m pretty sure they come out one at a time,” he quipped, earning himself another slap. “It’s a blessin’, Skye. After everythin’ the Crescents have been through, we have a future now.”

  “I know,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s just that I know how much of a handful they’re going to be. I was a bloody terror, and I didn’t have my magic!”

  “We’ll be all right,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. “They’ll have an entire village dotin’ on them.”

  “You’re always right,” I said. “It’s infuriating.”

  He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Skye.”

  “I love you, too.”

  The Crescent Legacy would live on, not only in our children and the hawthorns but in everyone here. Our story would become song, history, legend, and myth. That was how these things worked, after all.

  The hawthorn in the middle of the road was laden with ornaments and envelopes filled with memories of the lost and wishes for the future. But that was not what I was looking at. Underneath its branches stood a young girl with wild curly blonde hair, who had probably turned sixteen by now. She reached up and hung an envelope, then wiped at her eyes.

  “What are you lookin’ at?” Boone asked.

  “I’ll be back,” I murmured, untangling myself from his grasp.

  Waddling across the street, I stood underneath the branches of the hawthorn and ran my fingers over all the memories. So many witches.

  The girl glanced up at me, tensing when she saw who’d come to speak to her.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” I said. “And I’m sorry about taking your Legacy, Christine.”

  The Nightshade Witch’s cheeks turned red, and she glanced at my fattening stomach. “You’re…”

  “A leprechaun told me I’m having twins,” I declared, then made a face when I realized how absurd that sounded. “Are you enjoying the festival?”

  She glanced awa
y while her fingers worried the hem of her T-shirt.

  I waited, knowing she was too afraid to ask.

  “I was hopin’…” she began awkwardly.

  “You came to ask me for your Legacy.”

  Christine nodded, trying to hide behind her hair.

  “What about your mum?”

  “After Lucy died, she said she didn’t want anythin’ to do with magic ever again.” She scuffed her toe on the ground. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “It’s a long way from Galway,” I commented.

  She shrugged. “I suppose.”

  The longer I studied her, the more I got the feeling that she wasn’t quite like the other Nightshade Witches. She was young, eager, and had the courage to come all the way to Derrydun and face the Crescents. She had guts, especially after the ritual. I didn’t blame Lucy for what she did. She was brought up in a household full of prejudice and tainted with her ancestor’s use of dark magic, but Christine was different. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to change her future and break away from the past hurts her coven wrought on mine. Perhaps we could help one another step into this new world. She was part of a new generation of witches, after all.

  “You know what? I have just the thing in mind.” I placed my hand on her shoulder and nodded toward Irish Moon. “How about a summer internship? I could use the extra pair of hands…and I might be able to teach you a few things.”

  The teenager’s eyes lit up.

  “Now, it won’t be easy,” I went on.

  “I know,” she said. “I know you won’t give me back me magic right away, but I’ll try me best. I promise.”

  I smiled, her enthusiasm warming my heart…or that might just be heartburn. Either way, there was a big dollop of hope in there.

  Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I guided her away from the hawthorn and into the midst of Derrydun.