The Connelly Boys (Celtic Witches Book 1)

by Lily Velez

  “Connor, give me your phone,” he said. He turned on its flashlight and aimed the beacon into the cavity, leaning down to inspect its depths. He reached in a second time, pushing his arm through up to his shoulder, and then pushing harder. When he stilled, disbelief flooding his eyes, it was all I could do to remember to inhale and exhale.

  Jack pulled his arm back out, and this time his fingers were gripping a rolled-up, leather-bound journal. It had to be hundreds of years old.

  “Bloody hell,” Lucas breathed.

  We crowded around Jack as he, with trembling hands, unfurled the journal, untied its strap, and opened the book. I couldn’t make anything of its contents, of course. All that stared up at me were various censuses and inventories of some kind. But the brothers had stilled to the point where they dared not even breathe, their eyes pinned on the pages as Jack turned them. I didn’t know if the journal was what we were looking for. I’d expected something vastly different—a hefty, hardcover tome with hundreds of pages, for instance. But there was no denying the energy surrounding us in the air like the static before a lightning strike. Whatever the journal was, it was armed to the teeth with magic.

  “This is it,” Jack finally whispered, his face a portrait of awe. The words seemed to be more so for him than the rest of us, as if he needed to assure himself of the authenticity of what he held and assuage any remaining doubts. I couldn’t blame him. As much as I’d wanted to find The Book of Fates, I’d had my doubts now and then about whether we would. I was sure we all had. I glanced to the now empty cavity, wondering how the journal had found its way there to begin with. Then I remembered it’d been powerful enough to undo the latches and locks on its display case. Burrowing itself into the heart of a mosaic was nothing compared to that.

  “Is the spell to bind the Reaper in there?” I asked. My legs were fast becoming jelly. I didn’t know if it was because of the magic coming off the book or simply the adrenaline of the moment, but my pulse was hammering against the inside of my wrist in a high-octane beat.

  Jack continued turning the pages, his eyes quickly scanning over the text. He stopped three-quarters of the way through. “I recognize these sigils. This has to be what our mother was referring to.” He shook his head, running his fingertips across the page. “The language is extremely dated, though. Much of it’s written in Old Irish. Some words I’m not familiar with. I’ll need a few texts from the library at Crowmarsh to help me translate most of the passages.”

  “If we leave now, we can make it there by sunrise,” Connor said.

  We gathered our things in a rush, the excitement going off in us like firecrackers, and charged for the catacombs, stopping just short of the library’s boundary. Here, Jack extended the book to Zoe, the only one among us who could safely carry The Book of Fates out. On previous days, whenever Jack or the others had asked Zoe to carry out a grimoire for them, she’d always pass the threshold first. It was a safety measure to prevent confusing the boundary spell.

  Zoe drew closer to the boundary. Despite the backpack of weapons she carried, I noted the hesitation in the set of her shoulders. Connor apparently noticed it too.

  “You’ve carried out a Sacred Grimoire before, haven’t you?” he asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  He started. “What? Are you even sure you can do it then? We should call in someone who’s done it before. You know these hold more power than a typical grimoire.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” She took a step forward.

  Connor grabbed the crook of her arm and pulled her back slightly. “Have you gone mad?”

  She shrugged out of his hold and looked to Jack. “I’ll pass over first,” she said. “Wait a few seconds before following after.”

  “Zoe!” Connor called out, but she hurried forward before he could stop her again.

  We watched breathlessly as she stepped toward the boundary, not a sound leaving our mouths. I braced myself for the worst, almost turning my eyes away. Zoe was a level of brave I could only hope to one day achieve. My chest was tight with every step she took, my muscles coiled up in anticipation of some fatal, magical blow from above.

  Three more steps, two more steps, one…

  I tensed, praying her Guardian status would shield her from the boundary spell’s rules like it was supposed to.

  She cleared the threshold.

  I let go of the breath I’d been holding. Connor raked his fingers through his hair, muttering a curse. The tightness left Jack’s body in a rush; Lucas’s and Rory’s too.

  We started forward to join Zoe. I was ready to throw my arms around the girl in a hug. But we hadn’t taken more than two steps before the library’s drop gate suddenly came crashing down in a loud clamor, barring our exit.

  A soft, unfamiliar, and strangely sad smile crept over Zoe’s lips as she slowly turned toward us. “I’m really sorry about this, lads,” she said.

  And then her features shimmered like ripples in a pool as she shapeshifted into someone else.

  Seamus.

  37

  Jack was the first to speak. “Uncle Seamus? What are you…?”

  Silence consumed us, swallowed us whole as the pieces slowly shifted into place. All we could do was stare at Seamus, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. Upon the Connellys’ faces sat a variety of expressions, confusion and surprise among them. But they all ultimately reached a unanimous reaction to their uncle’s sudden presence: dawning realization, and then dread.

  My stomach dropped as if I were free-falling. There was a tingling sensation from my shoulders to my fingertips as the adrenaline sent a staggering jolt through me. Zoe’s words came back to me about the boundary spell only noting a witch’s body but not what was on the inside. Meaning witches who could possess other witches weren’t the only danger. Shapeshifters were too.

  “No,” Jack said, shaking his head, as if doing so would erase the image before him.

  “I really wish you lads had stayed at Crowmarsh,” Seamus said, heaving a sigh. He looked down at The Book of Fates, running a thumb across its worn, leather face. “But I suppose something useful came out of this adventure.”

  He couldn’t use the book himself, of course, as he didn’t have Connelly blood in his veins. But he could stop it from being used.

  Against him.

  “You’re the Reaper,” I said, my voice just above a whisper.

  “I’m afraid so.” Surprisingly, he genuinely sounded apologetic, as if he hadn’t chosen the role for himself, as if he’d been burdened with it.

  “No,” Jack said again.

  Seamus offered a sad smile. “You always did think the best of people, Jack. It’s perhaps your greatest strength and greatest weakness all at once.” The flames from the wall sconces spasmed, painting Seamus with sharp angles that gave a cruel edge to his features, making him look a little less human.

  “No,” Jack repeated. I could see the way his denial wrestled with the reality right in front of him. He didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t. “Someone’s forcing your hand. Who?”

  “I suppose you could say love is forcing me.”

  “Love? That’s rich.” Connor gripped the bars of the drop gate, fuming. “What did you do with Zoe? I swear to the gods, if you’ve—”

  “Relax, Connor. Zoe is perfectly fine, fast asleep in the abbey above. I’ve been watching you lot for days, trying to determine the best way to intercede. Zoe’s patrols provided an ideal opportunity. I couldn’t have imagined you’d end up finding The Book of Fates today of all days, though. It must be a sure sign I’ve taken the right path.”

  “What path? Seamus, this isn’t who you are,” Jack said. “You would never turn against your own kind. The clans admire you. They look up to you. We all do. I can’t accept that you would become a Reaper. What’s really going on? Tell us so we can help you.”

  Seamus sighed. “When Neala and Bree were taken from me, Jack, it shattered me. Utterly shattered me. I’d never felt so
lost in my life. As you well know, I became a ghost of myself, a recluse. I no longer saw a point to life, and I’m not sure what I might’ve done had your grandfather not intervened and suggest I oversee Crowmarsh. He was rarely there, preferring to stay in Rosalyn Bay to be close to you and your brothers now that you were all at St. Andrew’s. The estate’s upkeep kept me busy, but it was nothing more than a routine, my body simply going through the motions in a vain attempt to distract me from my grief. I needed something more.”

  “That’s why you went to study with The Council of Elders,” Jack said.

  “Indeed. I studied every grimoire I could get my hands on. Unlike the books here, those Elsewhere aren’t bound by blood spells. Knowledge is freely shared between the clans. And though the Forbidden Spells are kept under lock and key after what happened with Celeste, I curried favor with the Elders, eventually earning their trust. I was allowed to study not only those spells but other texts most witches don’t even know exist, including summoning sigils for some of the most powerful demons alive.”

  A chill crept down my spine, spread to my arms and neck. It was as if the library had suddenly turned into an ice chest.

  “The simple sigils witches are taught in their adolescence accomplish the most basic of tasks, and the ones meant to summon creatures from the Otherworld call forth only the lowliest of demons, demons unable to disturb the balance between life and death. But the demons I learned about Elsewhere…they’re the monsters of our nightmares, their power unfathomable. And they’re able to do far more than a simple demon’s mark allows.”

  I glanced to the brand on Jack’s wrist, remembering the restrictions with which it came.

  “One demon in particular caught my attention,” Seamus went on. “A Soul-Eater. With every soul it’s fed, especially the soul of a practitioner of magic, its power magnifies, equipping it with incredible abilities, not the least of which is the ability to resurrect the dead. And unlike Celeste’s rudimentary spell, the dead return just as they once were in waking life because of the demon’s great power. It was the perfect solution.”

  “You intend on bringing back Neala and Bree,” I said, realizing why the Elders were secretive about such texts. If witches knew they could easily revive family and friends by calling forth mighty demons, the world would be overrun with the beasts. We’d all be consumed.

  “But at what cost?” Jack shook his head. “Seamus, you know Neala would do anything to return to you, but not at a price this high. She wouldn’t want the blood of innocent witches on her hands.”

  “But you went after your own kind anyway,” Connor said, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the bars.

  Seamus let go of another breath. I couldn’t tell if it was from shame or mere exasperation from his nephews’ inquisition. “It was the only way to make the Soul-Eater as strong as I needed it to be. It was easy enough to puppet the sluagh. Each time they brought me a new soul, my demon ties allowed me to grant one of their flock access to the Otherworld, where they were finally freed from their eternal obligations.”

  “And The Wise Ones?” Rory asked, his voice as soft as velvet even as his face was carved with betrayal.

  I couldn’t tell in the shifting shadows, but I was sure Seamus almost grimaced for a moment. “An unfortunate case of collateral damage. They’d been silent for so long, but if there was anyone they’d speak to, it’d be Jack. I couldn’t risk what they might reveal to him and how it might disrupt the plan I had in place, a plan that would help me win the clans to my cause. You see, I knew that if witch-kind believed hunters were behind the sluagh attacks, it would enrage them like nothing else, would transform generations’ worth of hiding into focused and concentrated anger. Anger directed at The Black Hand.”

  Connor scoffed. “And you think anyone would follow you in your cause once they discovered the truth?”

  “Hence the necessity of the Reaping,” Seamus said. “While it was my hope no one would learn about my involvement in waking the Soul-Eater, I couldn’t leave myself at risk. So long as the souls were being sacrificed, I decided it best I Reap their Masteries as well. The increase in power and abilities would be a way to protect myself from any opposition, yes, but also a way to carry on the legacies of those who’d fallen.”

  “Well aren’t you a bloody saint.”

  Seamus’s face instantly became stern. “We can no longer afford to see morality as black and white, Connor. Do you think I relished committing such egregious acts against my own? Gods, no. But I understood I had to sacrifice the few in order to save the many. Don’t you see? The Soul-Eater will be bound to me once I wake it from its slumber. It will devour the souls of those to whom I direct it, making it the perfect weapon against our enemies.”

  The realization struck me like a blow to the stomach. “You’re going to use it against hunters.”

  “Precisely. We’ll at long last be able to overcome them with the Soul-Eater at my beck and call. Witches will no longer have to live in fear, will no longer be hunted down like animals. Is that not worth the sacrifice of a handful of our own if it means the salvation of our entire race? Would not any man in my position do as I’ve done? This is the answer to all our prayers. We’ll finally have our vengeance against hunters everywhere. The Black Hand will at long last be destroyed, along with all those who ever stood back and watched us burn.”

  A painful lump formed in my throat at those last words. “You don’t mean the Sightless, do you?”

  “What have they ever done for us? Their petty superstitions and dogmas have largely contributed to the persecution we’ve suffered over the centuries. No, we’ll create a new society from the ashes, where witches rule like kings and queens, where the Sightless are in the minority and forced to serve their betters. Those who resist…” He shrugged.

  I thought of Natalie and her family back in Colorado, who were completely oblivious to a world filled with witches and demons. Even so, I knew they would never treat me differently if they ever learned the truth of my heritage. And what about Liam? He’d said himself he didn’t like the way the townspeople of Rosalyn Bay treated the Connellys. Seamus wanted to punish innocent people like this, despite their never harming a single witch?

  “And what happens once all the souls of your enemies have been consumed, the hunters and the Sightless alike?” I asked. “Witches will be the only ones left. What’s to stop the Soul-Eater from turning on you and all those you mean to protect?”

  “The beast will have served its purpose by then, at which point I’ll return it to its slumber. Until then, I’ll use it to witch-kind’s advantage. It’s time we step into the roles we were always meant to assume in this world. It’s a future I’ve seen in my dreams many a time. It’s one I now intend on working toward.”

  A future he’d seen. Something occurred to me suddenly. “Alison implied the Reaper was the same person who’d cast the curse on her.”

  Jack’s head whipped in Seamus’s direction. “You didn’t.”

  Seamus didn’t respond at first, as if weighing his words. “It was for her own safety.”

  Connor’s grip on the drop gate tightened so much I thought he might actually crush the bars to dust. “You son of a b—”

  “Her own safety?” Jack asked, incredulous.

  “I knew she’d awakened from her state, hence my call while you were still at Serenity Falls. I love Alison very much, but once I chose my path, she was able to foresee its end, and I worried its severity would be enough to rouse her from her long-standing grief. I needed to silence her, but I would never harm my sister, so I made it so that she couldn’t relay a message to those on the outside by placing a block on the truth, and I locked her inside her mind, at peace within her happiest memories.”

  “Happiest memories?” I said. “More like nightmares. Her mind’s overrun with Wraiths.” I knew Jack didn’t want his brothers to know about that part, but Seamus needed to realize the hell he’d put Alison in. Nevermind the fact he’d rendered her catatoni
c.

  Seamus frowned at that, knitting his brow. “No, that’s impossible. I cast the spell myself.”

  “Then the dark magic you worked on her mind had an unexpected kickback.”

  “What about Grandda?” Jack asked then.

  Seamus held his eyes for a long, tense moment before heaving a heavy sigh. “He was a great man, Jack, and he did a lot for me after I lost Neala and Bree. But he’d learned of my dealings in dark magic. Bless his soul, he swore to never speak a single word of it to The Council if I but sever my ties with the practice. I couldn’t do that, nor could I let him go to the Elders. They would only take my powers away and force me into exile, thus preventing me from ever being able to save my wife and daughter. So I did what I had to do.”

  The truth hit Jack like a wave. He staggered back, shaking his head, unable to accept it.

  “And when you realized we were looking for The Book of Fates,” Connor said, “the one thing that could stop you, you slaughtered The Council before they could learn about it and try to help.”

  Seamus looked pained. “I assure you it was never my intention to bring harm to The Council. I had hoped to reason with them, to rally them against the hunters. But they have never advocated violence and wished to devise ways to simply protect our people further, to better hide them the way they’ve always done. When I learned you lot had found a way to stop the Reaping, I couldn’t risk their learning of it and getting involved to ensure the success of your plan. They wouldn’t dare lift a finger against The Black Hand, fearing the repercussions, but a wayward witch practicing dark magic? That they have no problem contending with. As such, I needed to remove them from the equation. I know I must look something of a monster to you lads. But is there anything you wouldn’t do to save your own family?”

  “I thought we were your family too,” Jack said, as if from a daze.

  Seamus frowned. “You are, of course. Which is why I wished to keep you out of the fray just as I wished the same for your mother. And so I beg you all to end your journey here. The road ahead is fraught with danger. There will be witches who resist what I’m trying to do, who will come against me, but when I absorb all the Masteries during the Reaping, I’ll become the most powerful witch of us all, more powerful than even Jack. Unstoppable. The others will have no choice but to fall in line as I lead the charge against the hunters and the Sightless. But my hope is they’ll come to understand, that they’ll learn to make peace with what had to be sacrificed to finally know freedom.”