by CK Dawn
“Very.”
“And how are your aches and pains? Better, I presume?”
I nodded. “Thank you for the clothes.”
“You’re welcome. I got them from the lads down on the farm. Roy and Sean. I had to guess your size.” She raised her eyebrow when I didn’t reply. “Now if anyone asks, you’re the son of a dear friend of mine, and you’re staying with me. What we are is a secret, you see, and it must remain so. The human world mustn’t know about our abilities. It’s not that I like keeping the truth from them, but it’s a perilous world we live in. To think a crazy woman with a shop full of crystals could cause mass hysteria is bonkers, but light a candle with your mind in front of the wrong person, and the world could implode. Next thing you know, they’ll have me on an operating table trying to figure out what makes me tick. And you…” She shook her head and snorted.
“I understand.”
“Do you?” She looked at me sternly, and my hackles rose.
“Perfectly.” The last thing I wanted was to be chopped up and studied, not after my entrance into the world.
I glanced at the deck of oversized cards in Aileen’s hands as she began shuffling them. They were all black with golden drawings, the metallic sheen flashing as they moved back and forth.
“Nice, aren’t they?” she said, holding up the deck. “Tarot cards, they are. I got this set on Etsy.”
I had no idea what an Etsy was, so I shrugged, my attention turning to the tubs of polished crystals on the shelf below the counter. Each had a label printed with the type of stone and what elements its power reigned over. Things like creativity, strength, and protection. I could feel the aura of the minerals through the entire shop, but I wasn’t sure they worked that way.
“Come and sit,” Aileen said, patting the empty chair beside her. “Would you like to draw a card?”
“What are they for?”
“Lots of things,” she replied with a smile, shuffling the cards again. “Divination, advice, guidance. Sometimes, we’re on a set path into our future and need a little reassurance…or a warning.”
“You can see the future?” I asked, watching the cards.
“No one can see the future, at least, not any that’s set in stone.” Setting the cards on the countertop, she placed her palm on the top and swept it to the side, the cards fanning out in a long line. “Pick one.”
I glanced at the cards, then at her.
“They aren’t going to bite, you know,” the witch said with a huff. “Pick one, and we’ll see what it says. Perhaps it may give us a clue.”
Standing opposite her with the counter between us, I reached out and allowed my fingers to brush over the cards. I assumed I could pick any I liked, and it wouldn’t matter which if what she said was true. The card would pick me in the end and deliver a lesson I needed.
Drawing a single card, I turned it over and placed it face up on the counter.
There was a picture of a man lying facedown with swords stabbed into his back, and at the top was the Roman numeral for ten. All I could see was pain and loss, the thought of so many wounds on the man’s back bringing to mind the torn flesh that had been on mine only the night before.
“Ten of Swords,” she said, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
“What does it mean?”
“Every new beginning must come from an end, and with each defeat, a new future is born.” She shook her head and peered at the card. “Curious.”
I resisted the urge to scowl. Obviously, her assessment could be applied to a shapeshifter with a memory spanning less than twelve hours.
She ignored me and continued, “The Ten of Swords usually means a sudden and unexpected failure, and is usually wielded by a power beyond your control. A power that has no mercy or feeling. In effect, something that completely blindsides you.”
I grunted. It didn’t mean much without knowing where I’d come from or who was hunting me.
“It can also indicate that you’ve been betrayed by someone you thought you could trust,” Aileen went on, explaining the various interpretations. “But it’s not a negative card, you know. There’s hope after this challenge, and the sun will rise again. It’s the darkest before the dawn and all that. The Ten of Swords is about letting go, accepting your current circumstances, and learning from defeat.”
“How can I learn from something I don’t remember?” I asked sullenly.
Before Aileen could reply, the shop door burst open, and a girl strode in. Earphones were stuck in her ears, the cord trailing down her chest and disappearing into her coat pocket. Her face was hidden behind a long stream of blue-black hair, and the big black boots on her feet thudded across the hardwood floors. The little bell above the door rang furiously in her wake, and she didn’t once look up.
“Mairead, this is Boone.”
The moment the girl’s gaze met mine, her pale cheeks flushed red. She couldn’t be a day over seventeen under all the makeup on her face. Her eyes were heavy with black coloring, and her lips matched.
“Mairead’s a gothic,” Aileen explained.
The girl rolled her eyes and pulled out her earphones. “Goth, Aileen,” she declared in a heavy Irish accent. “Goth.”
Aileen smiled, and ignoring the correction from Mairead, she turned to me. “Boone is staying with me for a little while. His mother is a dear old friend of mine. Isn’t that right?”
“Sure,” I said hesitantly.
“I’m going to take him out into the village for lunch. You’ll be fine here on your own, Mairead?”
Glancing at the girl, I blinked as her cheeks flushed deeper, and she turned away to avoid my gaze.
“Yeah,” she replied. “I’ll be fine.”
The witch scooped up her tarot cards and placed them under the counter. Then she ushered me toward the door. “I shan’t be long. Don’t forget to dust!” she called over her shoulder.
Outside, Aileen started to laugh. “It’s not fair of me to find it so amusing, but that girl pretends she hates everything, and one look at you and she’s in love.”
“I must be twice her age,” I complained, looking up and down the street. A car whooshed by, fluttering her hair, and she smiled.
“I wonder how old you are,” she mused. “I would say about twenty-five to thirty, but it’s just a guess.”
“Can you use magic to find out?”
“No, it doesn’t work like that, and I shall not be using any of that nonsense away from the hawthorn in the forest.”
“How does it work?”
“You and your questions,” she said with a huff. “I can’t tell you out here. You aren’t the only creature that’s hunted in these parts.”
Frowning, I turned and looked at the village, thoroughly frustrated with the lack of answers the day had so far produced. There wasn’t much to see, but Aileen proceeded to tell me all about it nonetheless.
“Welcome to Derrydun,” she proclaimed. “Or Doire Dún in Irish. We have an assortment of curious folk here as well as their misshapen little establishments. Over there, we have Molly McCreedy’s, the local pub.”
I followed her pointing finger and studied the little limestone building with a thatched roof just like Aileen’s cottage. It was almost overtaken by more of the Virginia creeper that seemed to be a fixture as much as the townsfolk were.
“There’s a Centra supermarket and service station up yonder, just past the single set of traffic lights that no one ever pays attention to. See the building there with the lavender outside? That’s Mary’s Teahouse. She’s a sweet little lady, who no one can ever understand—she speaks in Irish mostly and has a very thick accent—but she serves the best scones with clotted cream you’ll ever have in your life. Derrydun is a popular stop on the tourist trail, so that’s why you see all these gift stores.”
“Tourist trail?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We get busloads of tourists—travelers—who stop almost every day from March to October every year. It’s how little pla
ces like this survive in the modern world. We sell our local legends, flavor, crafts, and produce to people from faraway places who’ve come to see Ireland.”
We walked down the street side by side while I studied everything we passed. With every step, a growing need to solve the mystery of my past began to rise, like I knew it would. Shouldn’t I know my identity? If I didn’t know who I was, then how could I read the message from the tarot card? If this was a new beginning, then why did I have to lose my memory to get it?
There was something strange about Derrydun. The more I saw, the more I understood this was where I’d been running. I stared into the windows of shops, inhaled the scent of barley and hops from Molly McCreedy’s, and when I saw the hawthorn in the middle of the road, I paused.
“Is that supposed to be there?” I asked, pointing to the tree imprisoned by a sea of asphalt.
“A hawthorn is always precisely where it’s supposed to be,” Aileen declared. “They’re sacred in Ireland. Nobody will harm them, so as you can see, they built the road around it.”
“This is the hawthorn that protects Derrydun?”
“The one and the same.”
“Are we safe here?” I glanced at her nervously. “You say you’re hunted, and you’ve been terribly kind…”
“I would not have invited you into my home if I thought you were a threat, Boone,” she replied, weaving her arm through mine. “If something wants you, it’s not a stretch to think it’s the same something that wants to suck up all my magic.”
“What—”
“I think that’s enough of that,” she interrupted. “We’ll talk more at the cottage once the sun has set. For now, I think you should sample some of Mary Donnelley’s scones and sandwiches.”
I didn’t have a choice in the matter as she hauled me across the street and into the teahouse. Of all the places I could’ve landed, it seemed Derrydun and its ancient hawthorn may have been my intended target after all. There was a witch who knew what I was and how my abilities worked and a deep magic that appeared to protect the whole area.
If there was any chance of recovering my memories and learning why I’d been pursued, then Aileen and this place may be the only lead I had. Maybe staying here would be a good idea.
Like I had a choice.
Four
The entire population of Derrydun seemed to be enthralled by my arrival. Lunch at the Teahouse was a spectacle with face after face looking in to see who the ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ stranger was.
Thrust into yet another unknown world, I retreated to Aileen’s cottage and lingered in the garden, listening to the sounds of the village and the forest beyond. Staring up at the ruined tower house, I committed the rise and fall of the ruin to memory. I had no others to think on, so making new ones seem like a good idea. There was no use dwelling on a past that may as well have never been.
Nature seemed familiar and comforting as if my affinity with the animals I’d changed into had brought me closer to it. It was nice to feel a sense of belonging, so I sat in the garden, just…existing.
Aileen returned from her shop after the sun had dipped low in the sky, the first hints of twilight twinkling above.
“I promised you answers,” she said, crooking her finger at me. “But I’m not sitting in the dirt. No way.”
Standing, I brushed off my trousers and followed her inside. At first, she busied herself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and filling a pot with water in which she placed meat and the squares of carrots, leeks, and potatoes she’d carved. Then the tangy scent of herbs filled the little room as she twisted various stalks and leaves in her hands before adding them to the pot as well.
I watched from my place on one of the kitchen chairs, itching to ask her a million and one questions.
“As you can see, stew is my specialty,” she declared. “The secret is in the herbs. The fresher, the better. Can’t get more Irish than that!”
“What—”
“After dinner,” she interrupted. She was already feeling like a surrogate mother, and I grimaced. “There’ll be plenty of time to ask me what you would like to know. We can’t ruin a good meal with talk of darkness, hunting, and the death of magic. It just isn’t proper.”
“The death of magic?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Oohhhh,” she said ominously.
“It doesn’t sound like something you should make fun of.”
“No, it’s serious business.” The smell of cooking filled the cottage, and my stomach rumbled. “So is attempting to fill a man’s stomach, it seems. I think you’ve eaten an entire sheep since you’ve been here.”
After dinner, Aileen commanded me into the living room where she installed me on a settee upholstered with a flowery fabric.
“You don’t seem very serious about everything,” I said, scowling.
“Believe me, I am. But if you can’t have a laugh every once in a while, then what’s the point? Fighting to live a life that’s as dull as dishwater is not much of a life at all.”
She had a point.
“There is much you ought to know, I suppose, but let’s start with me. I used to like being the center of attention once upon a time, but the times they are a changing. Who I am has much more to do with the state of things than you would realize at first. The witches and this place…and others like it.”
“Were you born here?” I asked.
“Aye, I was born right here in Derrydun,” she said. “The Crescent Witches have called these lands home for longer than any can remember, but I never liked it. Not back then. The world was changing, Ireland was in turmoil, and out there, everything was shiny…and like a magpie, I wanted it all. I was determined to rebel and go against tradition, so when I turned eighteen, I ran off and traveled the world. I was in Australia when I met my husband.” She got a faraway look in her eyes, and a sad smile pulled at her lips. “Jonathan was a good man. He was human and had no idea I was a witch. None at all. It was refreshing being normal, you see. No pomp and tradition to worry about. He adored the ground I walked on, and we were very happy together. We lived by the beach in a little house with a veranda that overlooked the water. All hours of the day and night, we could sit there and watch giant cargo ships sail in and out of the bay. When storms swept over, we could see the clouds billow for miles and miles.”
“Where is he now? Your husband?” I asked, wondering if he’d found out Aileen’s secret and cast her out. Perhaps he didn’t accept what she was.
“Still there, I suppose.”
“Do you think about him?”
“Always.” She glanced away but not before I saw the tears in her eyes. “We even had a daughter together. After I had given birth to her, I knew she would develop the same abilities. She did, and I wasn’t expecting how strong she would be even as small as she was, so to protect her, I bound her powers. I knew it was wrong. I regretted keeping her heritage from her, but I thought it was best. We were away from the coven, Jonathan didn’t know, and we were alone. When she turned two, I received word that…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.
I didn’t have to have a memory to understand the Crescent Witches were set upon, their magic drained, and their lives lost. It was written all over Aileen’s face. She was the last and her daughter…
“I had to come back and leave my little family behind,” she went on. “To keep them safe. There are creatures out there that feed on magic, and they’re getting stronger. Every year, there are less and less witches and magic…Well, there mightn’t be any left before long. That’s why it’s so important to keep ourselves hidden. Those creatures would latch onto her like a parasite, draining every last scrap of life from her little body, and Jonathan…I couldn’t bring that down upon them.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Never you mind,” she replied. “It wasn’t your fault. It is what it is. It’s not much consolation, but at least the Crescents live on, and our magic is still in this world.”
“Your daughter?�
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“Skye,” she murmured. “She’s still alive, none the wiser, believing I’m a terrible mother for abandoning her, but at least she’s safe from all this. There’s that, I suppose. She was twenty-seven this year. Twenty-seven… She must be beautiful.”
“Duty,” I murmured, looking into the fire. It was a familiar word, and the thought of it stirred feelings I couldn’t pinpoint. I wondered if it had anything to do with my past. Thinking on it and attempting to unravel the mystery, a now familiar resistance cropped up, and pushing too far, my mind slammed into it like a psychic brick wall.
I winced and pressed my thumbs against my temples, rubbing slow circles. The motion seemed to help soothe the ache, but my mind was still locked.
“The more you try to remember, the more it’ll hurt,” Aileen said, wagging her finger. “Stop poking at it.”
“I can’t,” I said with a groan. “I have to know. Where did I come from? Why were those animals chasing me? Who am I?”
Aileen hissed and rolled her eyes, looking torn.
“Can you do something?” I asked, prodding at her. “Is there some spell that could take this darkness away?”
“I’m not entirely sure. It depends on how your mind was tampered with. Either way, it’s not a nice thing to go through. Perhaps not remembering is kinder.”
I fisted my hands around the arm of the chair, my fingers aching.
“That’s enough of that!” Aileen cried. “Stop destroying my furniture!”
Pulling my hands away, I gasped as I saw the claws that had grown from my fingertips. My fingers had elongated and curved as my hands formed into the talons of a gyrfalcon. Then I’d dug them into the upholstery of my rescuer’s settee.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t…” I’d begun to change and hadn’t even realized it was happening.
“Oh, dear,” she said, clucking her tongue. “What a rogue you are.”
“Look at what I am,” I declared, holding up my hands and brandishing my talons. “I can’t even control this! This is who I am, and I don’t even know I’m doing it! Were those wolves and ravens… Were they shapeshifters, too? If they come back, how can I fight them? Why do they want to kill me? Why?”