Crescent Prophecy

by Nicole R. Taylor

  “Who? Alex? No!” I immediately fired back. “It never got to that point! He dumped me, remember?”

  “Seems like he thinks he’s made a mistake. What about Boone?”

  “He’s stormed off someplace,” I said, beginning to feel exhausted by all the drama. “I want him, Maggie. Only him, but something isn’t right. It’s not Alex… It’s something else.”

  “Then you need to talk to him about it.”

  “It’s like beating my head against a brick wall… Speaking of.” I turned to face the wall, braced my hands against the whitewashed walls and reared my head back.

  “Don’t do that,” Maggie said, tugging me away. “You’ll give yourself a blindin’ headache.”

  “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Go home to bed,” she said kindly. “Let those fools sulk for the night, and tomorrow, go find Boone and talk to him.” There was a crash inside, and she groaned. “That’ll be Sean ‘helping’ right the tables.” She air quoted and rolled her eyes. “I better go back inside, or he’ll make the mess worse.”

  “I thought Alex…” I frowned.

  “Aye, he mopped the floor.” She shooed me away. “Off with you. I’ll call you tomorrow, and, Skye? Don’t worry about anythin’. Boone’s sulkin’ now, but I see the way he looks at you, and I see the way you look at him. You’ll work it out.”

  Watching her disappear into the pub and begin shrieking at Sean, I hoped she was right.

  I didn’t know what I would do without Boone.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning dawned, and like the weather knew my heart was melancholy, a thick fog clung to the landscape.

  Summer was well and truly over now. The days were shorter, and a chill was beginning to seep into the country air, signaling autumn had well and truly taken hold. Leaves were turning bright shades of yellow, orange, and red, falling from branches and littering the ground. School kids kicked piles of them into the air as they ran for the bus at the end of the main road, vexing Mrs. Boyle no end. Considering her broom had morphed into a rake, they should have been in fear for their lives, but were faster on their feet than the old woman was.

  It was a short walk from my cottage to Irish Moon, but I still didn’t chance it without a jacket. Today, it didn’t help to keep the cold away, and I shivered as I made the trek to work.

  Rounding the corner onto the main road, I skidded to a halt when I almost smacked into Sean McKinnon. He was standing just around the corner, and when he glared like I’d kicked his kitten, I knew he’d been waiting to see me. I was about to cop an earful…and to think I’d used my power to calm his aching heart that night I found him drunk in the gutter outside Molly McCreedy’s! Even if I weren’t aware I’d been doing it, I would never do it again.

  I looked over his messy hair, flannel shirt, and dirty-at-the-knees jeans and scowled.

  “Have at it then,” I drawled. “Give me a piece of your addled mind.”

  “Boone’s miserable, and it’s all your fault,” he declared. “He was perfectly happy before you came along. You ruined him.”

  I gasped dramatically. “Take that back!”

  “No! I cannae! You’re the witch who led him on and broke his heart!” Sean thumped his chest. “I know a man in pain when I see one. Is gan í bheith.”

  “What does that mean?” I demanded, feeling my face turn red in annoyance.

  “Forlorn,” Sean stated, puffing out his chest.

  Forlorn… My heart twisted as the word conjured up an image of the craglorn. The ravaged and the lonely.

  “You leave him alone, Skye Williams,” he went on. “Or else.”

  “Or else what?” I pouted and stared him down, not afraid of Sean McKinnon, the town drunk. He was a drunk because he hadn’t managed to get over the death of his wife, Juliette, so it was mean of me to insult him like that, but I was angry. No one had any idea what Boone and I shared. No one.

  “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously, then ambled off like he hadn’t just threatened me with a pox on my house.

  My mouth fell open, and I bristled with rage as he wandered down the footpath and climbed into his little red Toyota—the car Boone and I had borrowed for our journey to Croagh Patrick months ago—and revved the engine like a hooligan.

  There were footsteps behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Lucy had arrived just in time to catch the last of Sean’s spectacular one-sided argument.

  “What happened?” she asked, watching Sean spin his tires and roar down the road toward Roy’s farm.

  “Boone got into a fist fight with Alex at the pub last night. Sean is all bent over it.”

  “Seriously?” Her eyes widened. “Two hot men were fighting over you?”

  “It’s not as cool as it sounds,” I said, turning to unlock the shop. “At this point, I’m about ready to hand them over to someone else. You can have them if you want.”

  “Why is Sean gettin’ involved?”

  “Sean and Boone are best mates,” I explained. “They couldn’t be any more different, but for some reason only they know, they’re buddies.”

  Opening the door, I held it ajar for Lucy, and she stepped inside.

  “They say opposites attract,” she offered.

  “I’ll say.”

  “Things are still shaky with you two?”

  I nodded and thought about the Three of Swords, my heart stinging with matching phantom stab wounds.

  “It’ll work out,” Lucy offered kindly. “Life always goes in ebbs and flows. Maybe you can draw another tarot card?”

  “Maybe,” I replied, turning on the lights.

  As we settled into our routine for the day, Lucy following the list Mairead had written in her employee handbook, I sat behind the counter and shuffled my tarot cards. Drawing a card from the top, I narrowed my eyes when I saw my old buddy the Three of Swords rear its ugly head. Shuffling again, I drew from the middle of the deck just to confuse the universe, but it was too smart for a newbie like me. The Three of Swords appeared again.

  Just like that, I knew this was no momentary bump in the road of life. It was a chasm so dark and deep there was no bottom in sight. Three swords would pierce my heart before this was over. Three, painful, sharp swords. In one side, and out the other.

  I didn’t see Boone all day, and he didn’t come over that night, either. He didn’t even show his face as Buddy, the tabby cat.

  As I watched a frozen meal rotate in the microwave, I pushed away a pang of loneliness. This place wasn’t the same without him.

  The next day, I didn’t open Irish Moon. It was a Sunday, and I didn’t fancy working seven days a week, not when I felt so rotten.

  The ancient hawthorn towered over me, her limbs sheltering me from the world. Sitting in a hollow at the base of the trunk, I ran my fingers along the bark, tracing the lines of her snarled roots.

  Everything was so messed up. I’d thought things were supposed to get better now I was beginning to understand this whole witch business, but it only seemed to be growing worse. Boone was the only person I could confide in, and he’d pushed me away.

  Fiddling with the crystal hanging around my neck, I felt out the edges of my magic. Closing my eyes, I imagined a golden ball of light inside my chest. Boone said this was how I chose to manifest my power, that this was my own personal way of connecting so I could bring it forth into the world. I supposed it meant it was different for every witch, but I wouldn’t know. I didn’t know any other witches.

  At the thought of Boone, I swallowed the lump in my throat. Without him…

  I needed help. I wasn’t too proud to admit it, especially when I had the fate of magic breathing down the back of my neck. There was no way I was choking. One day, I would be able to use my magic freely and without fear, but it was up to me.

  Fisting my hands into my hair, I sucked in a sharp breath. What had I ever achieved other than third place in an egg and spoon race at Primary School? Maybe a gold star on my English homework
, but that was about it. Now I was meant to be some sort of messiah. Lucky Ireland.

  The sound of footsteps crunching on leaf litter and the rustling of ferns brushing against shins drew my attention, and I glanced up.

  I stood, severing the contact I’d made with my magic, and my heart leaped as I saw Boone emerge out of the forest.

  His face bore no marks from the fight with Alex on Friday night, but I knew he would come out of it without a scratch. Especially when his shapeshifter genes contributed to accelerated healing.

  “Boone! Where have you been?” I asked, hoping this was the moment we would work everything out.

  “Workin’,” he said.

  An uneasy silence fell, the sound of the forest the only thing that passed between us.

  “Skye, listen…”

  No speech beginning with ‘Skye, listen’ ended well. Not a single one.

  “It’s always been so easy with us,” I blurted, desperate to get in first. “We would joke, flirt, and talk… Ever since we kissed by the spring at Croagh Patrick… Then… Then after the craglorn…” I fought back tears. “It’s been awkward ever since.”

  He cast his gaze away, which didn’t help one bit.

  “What did I do?” I asked desperately. “What’s so wrong with me?”

  “Nothin’…” he muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I will worry about it!” I stepped forward, grasped his stupid red and black checkered shirt, and practically shook him. “What’s going on with you? It’s like… It’s like you regret kissing me.”

  The words stung as I blurted them out, but it was the root of my fear. Alex showing up had just amplified all of our problems like salt in an open wound.

  Boone looked as if I’d stabbed him right through the heart.

  “Boone, I can’t help if you won’t talk to me!” I exclaimed.

  “Alex…” he began.

  “I don’t want him!”

  “You were so concerned Lucy might be a fae, yet you never stopped to think about Alex’s motives for bein’ here, did you?”

  “What does that mean?” I froze, my heart jackhammering wildly in my chest. “You think he’s… No. I would know. He knows things…” I shook my head. “That’s not the point. I’m talking about you and me.”

  He averted his gaze and began prying my fingers away from his shirt.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured. “Maybe we shouldn’t have started somethin’. Not if it’s goin’ to be like this.”

  “What?” I was numb as his words sunk in. Was he breaking up with me? “But… I thought… You said your heart…” I choked on my words as my throat started to burn.

  “Me loyalty is still with the Crescents,” he said, and that was it. He didn’t say any more. He just turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the clearing, too stunned to move let alone shout after him.

  I didn’t think it was possible to long for someone as much as I did now. Boone was there the day I first arrived in Derrydun and hadn’t left my side. He’d taken the shape of Father O’Donegal’s tabby cat so he could sneak into the cottage and watch over me. He’d fought the wolf that had attacked me in his fox shape long before I knew it was him, and he’d risked everything by leaving the boundary of the hawthorns that protected him to help me charge the athame to defeat the craglorn.

  He’d risked his life again and again for me. Hadn’t he? Or was it just because Aileen had saved his life, and he was bound to the Crescents? I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact he might only be sticking around because I was the last of the coven. He’d given me his heart the night we’d fought the craglorn. He’d given it to me.

  “What did I do?” I asked the hawthorn. “I didn’t ask for any of this.” Pressing my palms against the trunk, I sobbed. “I don’t want to be alone… I want Boone…”

  The world shifted, and I gasped as images began to flash through my mind. One after the other with no way for me to decipher any of them. Was the hawthorn…intelligent?

  Pulling my hands away, I gasped, my head spinning. Crumpling to my knees, I sank into the hollow, the magic of the hawthorn unsettling my stomach.

  The hawthorn… Was it watching? Did it know?

  Closing my eyes, I tried to fight off a wave of exhaustion. The fight had hardly begun, and I was already so tired…

  “Skye?”

  A hand was shaking my shoulder.

  “Skye?”

  My eyes cracked open, and a face came into view.

  Lucy.

  She was kneeling in front of me, her hair pulled back in a loose plait, the freckles on her cheeks more pronounced than ever. Bright blue feathers hung from her ears, and her floral shirt was topped with a blue denim jacket.

  “Are you all right?” She was frowning at me.

  I wiped my hands at my eyes, then tried to straighten my hair, which was a tangled mess. I probably had a million leaves stuck in it and maybe a bug or two. Smoothing down my top, I clucked my tongue when I saw my side was covered in dirt. I hoped this wasn’t going to become a thing. Me falling asleep in odd places.

  “What are you doin’ out here?” Lucy asked, helping me sit.

  “I fought with Boone,” I muttered. “And I, uh…” I finished off my rambling explanation with a shrug. I couldn’t exactly tell her a magical hawthorn tree showed me a million visions I didn’t have a hope of understanding.

  “And you fell asleep in the woods?” She raised her eyebrows but thankfully wasn’t patronizing about it. “You’re going to catch a cold bein’ out here like this.”

  What was I doing out here? What was she doing lurking around the hawthorn? Thinking about what Boone said, about being so worried about her magical orientation, my hackles rose. Without thinking, I reached out and grasped her arm, then touched her with my magic.

  Immediately, I was zapped with static electricity. I pulled away sharply, not knowing what it meant—if it meant anything at all.

  “Ow,” Lucy exclaimed, shivering.

  “Sorry…”

  “Good ol’ static electricity,” she said with a wink. “It gets the best of all of us at some point. Do you want some company on the walk home?”

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked, rising to my feet and picking leaves out of my hair.

  “Just walkin’,” she replied. “I wanted to see the tower house. After seeing it, I wandered down here for a bit, then I found you.”

  I narrowed my eyes and nodded. What could I say to that?

  If she were out here to try to take advantage of my fragile state, you know, being a spy for Carman and all, I would have to take drastic measures. That would be a shame because I kind of liked her and her bohemian attitude. I had to deliver a passive-aggressive thinly veiled warning in lieu of the spell I’d been working on—that wouldn’t confuse her if she weren’t at all magically inclined—and it was going to suck.

  “Lucy, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but…” I sighed, knowing she would take it like a cat took a thermometer up the bum. “It’s just… I don’t need another complication right now. Things are messy, I’m still trying to settle, and—”

  Lucy made a face and laughed. “Hey, you’re me boss. I’m the one who has to impress you. Not the other way around.”

  I snorted. “I suppose so.”

  “You want me to walk with you?” she asked again.

  “No, it’s fine. I don’t have far to go.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I nodded. “See ya.”

  In all the chaos, I’d forgotten about the spell I’d been working on to verify her magical affiliation. I suppose protecting the magical people of Ireland was still important even when I was the subject of a love triangle.

  “Hey, Lucy?” I called out. “Can I have a strand of your hair?”

  “Huh?” She turned and waited.

  “I said, watch your step over there.” So lame.

  “Oh.” She smiled and waved. “Thanks.” />
  I watched her walk away, and the moment she’d left the clearing, I took the opposite path and headed home, my mind swimming. The argument with Boone was still tumbling through my head, and it ached after the strange communion I’d shared with the hawthorn. I knew the tree was full of magic but memories, as well? I suppose it was a possibility considering it was the ancestral home of the Crescent Witches. Still, it freaked me out.

  As I walked back toward the village, I felt the presence of the hawthorn subside behind me, and as it did, it took the soothing balm touching its trunk had given me, and loneliness opened up in my heart once more.

  Chapter 7

  Sleep didn’t come easy that night.

  Images flashed through my mind, making it impossible to drift off. My heart ached, my eyes were puffy and full of grit, and the encounter with the hawthorn was really bothering me. I knew I should’ve been trying to focus on the message it was trying to shove into my brain, but I was too focused on the argument with Boone.

  I knew this Crescent Witch thing wasn’t supposed to be easy, but I thought I would have him there to help. Maybe I was being selfish. Or maybe I was expecting too much from him. He didn’t know much about anything when I took his amnesia into account. All he knew was what Aileen had taught him when he landed in Derrydun almost four years ago.

  Rolling over, I glanced at the alarm clock and groaned. The time flicked over to eight a.m. and instantly began to flash as the alarm blared. Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz… Thumping my hand on the top, I silenced the awful racket and rubbed my eyes, trying to remember some of the absurd dreams I’d had.

  It was always the same if I coasted on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. My dreams were crazier than a boyfriend who could morph into a fox. The more I tried to remember, the faster I forgot. Was that the definition of ironic? I didn’t know, but it sure felt like it.

  Dragging myself out of bed and into the shower, I got ready for work in a daze, still feeling miserable after the argument with Boone under the hawthorn. I suspected Lucy, but he suspected Alex. Who was right? Or were we both wrong?