by Casey Morgan
As I moved down the street, the commotion got further and further away. Every time I thought I would find the source of the noise around the next corner, the street beyond that corner would be empty. Then I would hear the noise coming from further down the cobblestone road. It was like an odd game of cat and mouse. I kept rounding corners sure I would find the three strong elves locked in a fighting embrace over me, but each new street held nothing.
Guess the only drunk person on that street was me, because when I turned back to walk to Hennessy House, I realized I had walked the wrong way. The streets in Luck’s Hollow weren’t on a grid system. They were twisty and winding, so turning a few degrees and not paying attention could really get you lost. And now I was; drunk and lost.
With my GPS on my phone, I knew there was no danger of really going missing. But I could only imagine what it was like to walk streets like this in the 1900’s, like my witch ancestors. Hell, the 1800’s must’ve been even worse. People had gas lamps if they were lucky or the light of the fireplace and if you were outside at night, you’d be lucky to have a candle or a glow spell. Must’ve been pitch black back then. Guess that’s why people stayed in at night in those days.
I found myself in the middle of a row of shops lining a small park wondering which shop in town belonged to Seth. There was a long pole in the middle of the park and a place for people to stand. I had read that people with political views would stand in the town square and speak, but there was no one around now.
It occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t be roaming the streets of a small town in Ireland, slightly tipsy, all alone in a mini-dress and heels. But I was drunk, and the emptiness of the town seemed neat. It was like a sneak peek into the lives of the inhabitants.
Just as I was about to take out my phone and look up directions to get back to the bed and breakfast, I heard singing in front of me. I glanced ahead, trying to focus my eyes. There was a bit of a town square just a few blocks in front of me. I stumbled forward, curious to know what the singing was all about.
Several Irish boys were dancing drunkenly in the square. There were close to five of them. One, oddly enough, wasn’t wearing pants. It was a strange sight, and I wasn’t thinking clearly in my drunken state, so I let myself wander closer.
“What’cha doing here, lass?” a voice asked right beside my ear.
I jumped a few feet and turned to regard the old warlock beside me. He had snuck up on me without me even knowing he was there. For an old man he was very quiet on his feet.
Black, oily hair clung to his forehead. His clothes were tattered and threadbare. He grinned at me with yellow teeth. One of his gnarled, old hands held a long white cane.
Some sober part of my brain warned me to back off or turn back, but that part was quickly hushed by the rest of my brain, which was partying.
“There was singing,” I slurred to the old witch. “I saw them dancing and wanted to join. Why are they dancing?”
The old man grinned again, but this time there was malice in it. “My sister is getting married,” he said in a sing-song voice. “My beautiful, baby sister who I had protected all her life is taking vows today.”
What a remarkable coincidence, I thought. That his sister and my grandfather would get married on the same day. Two weddings in Luck’s Hollow at the same time. How wonderful!
“My grandfather is getting married today!” I boasted. “Getting married to the love of his life. Reunited after years and years. You see her family is horrible and kept her away from my granddad…” I caught myself rambling.
The men who were dancing in the square had stopped. They had heard what I said and were gathering closer to the old man and me. I noticed that they all kind of looked like the old warlock. They all wore tattered clothing, had the same black oily hair and similar faces.
“What’da ye say about her family?” the old man hissed.
“The McDonnells,” I rambled more; the words just falling out of my drunken mouth. “They’re bad witches. Kept Honora away from my grandfather.”
The men advanced on me. I moved back until the backs of my legs hit a park bench and I was trapped. The anxiety of the situation was starting to clean my head some. Oh crap. Who am I talking to?
“We’re the Mc Donnelles, lass.” One of the tall Irish boys leaned towards me. His grubby hands caught and clung to my white faux fur wrap. He pulled me forward, away from the safety of the park bench. “I suggest ye stop black-mouthing our good name.”
Another boy, slightly shorter than the first, fidgeted with his plaid cap and blinked at me with milky eyes. “Me ma won’t like ye calling us bad witches.” He rubbed his runny nose. “Ye need to shut up.”
“I didn’t…I mean…” I stuttered.
The tallest brute, who has the hold on my wrap, pulled me into the middle of the square. All ten of the boys and the old man surrounded me.
The one without pants looked me up and down. “Looks like another one of those American sluts. Probably fucking the elves just like the last two.”
“Stinkin’ elves,” another boy muttered under his breath.
“I’m about sick of these sluts coming to town and ruining the McDonnell legacy.” The tallest of the boys crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Aye Terry,” agreed the brute next to him. “We need to do something. We need to let that whole town know that the McDonnells are not the laughing stock that they think we are.”
The old man shuffled closer to me. He ginned and leaned into my face. “Let’s make a statement with this here lass, eh lads?” His breath was sour in my face.
“Right, Pa,” the tallest agreed. “The town thinks we are bad witches. Let’s show them how bad we can be.”
I looked around, trying to find a way to get out of their circle. Being on the inside of a witch’s circle was never good. Being inside of a bad witch’s circle could end up deadly. There was one small gap between the dumb looking McDonnell and the one who wasn’t wearing pants. I shifted out of my heels and ran for the gap. The one without pants caught me easily and threw me back into the middle.
“Keep truing to run, lass,” the old man sneered. “We like trying to catch prey.” He took a hex bottle out of his coat pocket and rubbed his fingers on the glass.
My mind was very sober now; adrenaline had cleared my senses. This had gone too far. True, I had acted dumb earlier, but I had no intention of being a victim of a hex or a curse.
“Look, fellas,” I held out my arms placatingly. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was just drunk and repeating what I had heard.”
The tall one tutted. “Too late for that, lass. We need to make a statement here and yer goin’a help.”
I felt the magic in the air around me and started to pull it into my hands. The McDonnells may have been bad witches, but I was no slouch at magic; my parents had taught me to defend myself from an attacker. I formed a quick blast spell into my palm.
“She’s gotta spell, pa,” the slow one stuttered.
The old man shot a glance to my hands. I pulled them behind my back. The movement only made the witch smile.
“Good boy, Donnie. That’s a good eye, lad.” He reached into the other pocket of his threadbare coat and pulled out a clear orb. It was a spell dampener. He held the glass ball in front of my eyes. “Got this here trinket off the local vicar. Made a few modifications meself.”
He reached out with a gnarled hand and took hold of my jaw. His fingers were like sticks of ice. I dropped my blast spell and tried to knock his hands away.
The old man grunted. “Hold her lads. Terry. Peter,” he instructed.
The two tallest boys walked over and grabbed my arms. Their grip was like iron. I tried to weave my fingers into a burn spell, but they grabbed my hands and held my fingers open.
The old warlock resumed his efforts. His frosty fingers gripped my jaw and pulled open my mouth. He pushed the glass ball onto my tongue. Luckily it didn’t taste bad, but as soon as it touched me, I felt all t
he magic around my body dissipate and I couldn’t gather any more from the air around me.
The old man closed my mouth over the spell dampener and stood back. One of the other boys put a hand over my mouth so I couldn’t spit it out. The old man hobbled away a bit, laughing. He turned back to me when he met the edge of the circle. Gleefully, he waved his left hand in the air, twisting his middle and index finger in a dance. A hold spell clamped down on my mouth, holding the orb inside.
“That will keep the magic from ye,” he giggled. “While we do what we like.”
He brought up his other hand and twisted his third and fourth fingers on both hands and then passed one in front of the other. Invisible restraints clamped around my body and my feet locked into the ground. I was trapped. My heart hammered in my chest.
The two brutes who were holding me backed into the circle. The six McDonell men faced me and raised their hands. They started to dance their fingers in the same pattern; every single one of them moved perfectly in sync.
I fought the invisible restrains, but the orb in my mouth kept me helpless. I turned my head from side to side, desperate to catch a glance of a villager or a shopkeeper or something. The whole town seemed empty. Everyone was invited to the wedding. They were all at Hennessey House.
The movements of the McDonnell witches continued. Their fat fingers danced as one, forming a curse I had never seen before. The old man started to cackle. His face overflowed with a maniacal grin. The faces of the others were stoic and calm. Their milky eyes looking without really seeing.
A green fog started to surround the square. It dipped and started to move around me. I sucked in a breath and tried to still my lungs. The fog crept closer to my nostrils. I tried my hardest not to breath it in, but it snuck in, burning the lining of my nose and smelling like a rotten lime. It even started creeping into my eyes.
I shook my head, trying my hardest to fight the curse off, but the fog kept coming. It burned down my throat and filled my lungs. My vision started to blur. The witches standing around me distorted into one man. It looked like I was surrounded by the old man who cackled and laughed in my face.
“Yer going to’ wish that ye never heard the McDonnell name, lass.” He pulled his hands to his sides, palms up.
The fog fled from my body and condensed into five balls around me. They danced in circles around my head.
“While this curse stands, no one will be able to speak ill of the McDonnell clan without ye feeling our wrath. Let it burn with ye!” He slapped his hands together and the orbs of fog went speeding away from the square.
I dropped. My knees hit the cobble stones and practically split the skin. I swayed, still trying to focus on the old man who surrounded me in different bodies.
He winked at me with six different eyes. And I blacked out.
****
Later, when I woke, I was draped over one of the park benches. My knees were stinging a bit, but otherwise I appeared to be unharmed. The McDonnells were gone. There was no evidence of them or the curse.
I sat up and almost immediately regretted it. My head throbbed with the worst hangover I had ever felt. I rubbed my face in my hands for a few minutes and then looked around. The street lights hadn’t come on yet. The sun was still in the midst of setting. I had only been gone from the reception for a few minutes.
Had I dreamt the whole thing? The McDonnells? The curse?
I felt my face again and looked over my body. No warts or rashes or pox. I looked normal. Maybe the McDonnells were bad witches but they weren’t accomplished witches? Maybe the curse was a failure?
Okay. Whatever. I still had the second half of a reception to go to and several hot elves to find. I got up from the park bench and stumbled back in the direction of the Hennessey House.
Chapter 4
Connor
What the hell happened to her? Dammit. I can’t work this party and chat up a girl at the same time. She was floating around flirting with Tavish, Ronan, and Seth of all people. The moment my back was turned, she’s gone. Well, I guess being alone is better than getting fired.
“Connor, ye lazy git,” said my boss Brody. “Close the bar and move everything inside the pub. Burt and Honora are off to their honeymoon and this reception is done, I think.”
“Aye, boss,” I agreed.
I started to close up the bar in the courtyard and move the glasses and bottles back to the pub. In a rare show of brotherly love, Seth, Ronan, and Tavish decided to help me. Right in the middle of one of our trips carrying things into the pub, she walks in. The gorgeous American witch. Dammit. I need to be done with work now.
“Where were you three?” she said to Tavish, Ronan, and Seth. “I thought you went outside. I thought you might be fighting over me.”
“Nah, we’re mates. Brothers,” assured Seth. Then he looked her up and down. “Not to say you’re not worth fighting over.”
I had to agree with my older brother. That red dress was hugging some killer curves. Full breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips; everything a woman should be. She was one in a million, worth taking or throwing a few punches for.
“Ye must really like her, Seth,” noted Tavish. “If you’re so eager to get your ass kicked by me.”
“Easy Tavish,” cautioned Seth. “I know it’s proper to open with a joke, but something that funny…”
Dammit. I have to get done with my shift and get over there. They’re both doing the charming Irish lad thing. That’s my thing. She was making eyes at me first and that’s clearly dibbs. Ye shouldn’t have to call dibbs, yer brothers should just know.
I rushed putting away the glassware a bit. Let’s just say something may or may not have broken when I pushed the tray of glasses under the bar. Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll probably get shit for it tomorrow, but who cares? I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and made my way over.
“Hey, lass,” I greeted. “Sorry I got distracted. Job and all. Thanks for keeping her company, lads. I’ll take it from here.”
Keira laughed and patted a seat for me to sit in next to her. I put the two glasses in front of us and started pouring shots.
“Hey, where’s our glasses?” asked Seth.
“Sorry, lads,” I smiled. “The bar’s closed.”
Keira laughed, and we clinked glasses. Seth made a face.
“C’mon Keira,” I said scoffing. “You’re not really with any of these three losers are ye?”
“Ooo, he’s taking out the big guns,” said Ronan. He pulled up a chair from another table and slipped it next to Keira.
“That’s a typical move of a guy with a little gun,” joked Seth. He also grabbed a chair. As did Tavish. The five of us gathered around the same small wooden table.
“Seriously, Keira,” I pushed. “Why don’t you leave with me right? It’s getting a bit crowded in here. We can go someplace quiet and talk.”
She looked at each of us, one after the other, then grinned at me. “Okay, but only if Seth, Ronan and Tavish can come,” she teased. She pulled a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair from her pony-tail and wound it around her finger.
“Wait a minute,” I said a bit confused.
“I don’t think the lady’s made up her mind yet, ye wee rude twat,” said Seth. He gave me a quick smack to the back of the head.
“Although I’m interested in what romantic place Connor is taking us,” joked Tavish. “Will there be candlelight and roses?”
“I think we can chat right here,” Keira said taking another sip of whiskey. “Even though the pub’s supposedly closed.”
Ronan smiled at her and moved a strand of her hair away from her face. “I agree. Here seems perfect,” he said.
Tavish reached over to another table, grabbed three small candle holders, and dumped out the candles. He slid one candle holder to Seth, and another to Ronan. Seth grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured them each a shot.
“You’re drinking out of the candleholder,” I noted. “That’s not very sanitary.�
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“The whiskey kills the germs,” assured Seth. “Besides, the bar’s closed.” He gave me a snarky smile.
“Like ye said,” added Tavish.
Great. Now Brody would blame me for something else in the pub that wasn’t clean. I’d have to sneak back here later, wash out the candleholders, wash out the glasses Keira and I were using and probably get rid of that broken glass too. The longer I stay here, the more work these three are making for me.
“How long are ye in Ireland for?” I asked Keira.
“Hmm, as long as I want,” she said. “I can pretty much do my work from anywhere. I’m a writer. Plus, I’m kind of ducking my ex in New York.”
“You had to come all the way to Ireland to duck your ex in a city as big as New York?” asked Ronan.
“It’s kind of a small town when you get right down to it,” she said. “I mean, when you move in certain circles, it’s a lot harder to hide there than you think.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Tavish. “I’ve seen pictures and videos. Seems like a madhouse.”
“Yeah, well, you get used to it,” she assured. “You guys, on the other hand, have all these twisty roads. You ever heard of the grid system? It’s so easy to get lost here.” Her eyes went distant for a second.
“Aye,” I said. I leaned over and refilled her glass. The movement brought her out of her thoughts and she smiled sweetly at me. “They just didn’t hear of that system a thousand years ago when they built the roads.”
“A thousand?!” said Keira, shocked. “No. This village can’t be that old.”
“You’re right,” said Seth. “It’s older than that. That’s just when they built the roads.”
“It’s like that joke from that Scottish comedian who lived in New Bridge,” explained Ronan. “The New Bridge was 500 years old and the old bridge was still there, and it was a thousand.”
“Elf built towns are built to last,” Tavish chimed in.
“It’s crazy to think that a thousand years ago folk were sitting in this exact same spot, probably drinking and talking just like us,” said Keira. “With all the farms and sheep herding going on around here; how much has it really changed?”