Emerald Isle (A Stacy Justice Mystery)

by Annino, Barbra

  Danu rushed at me, grabbed my shoulders, and stared hard into my eyes. “It has everything to do with you, Stacy Justice, because you are going to find the cauldron.”

  She said it so convincingly, I almost believed her.

  Chapter 11

  Birdie hurried upstairs to answer the call from her mirror. She hadn’t expected to see the face staring back at her so soon.

  “Aedon, what an inconvenient surprise.”

  “I know you didn’t expect to hear from me so quickly, but the natives are restless, so to speak, and they are calling for swift action. I’ve arranged for a private charter to pick you up at the regional airport. You’ll fly in to the west, to a private landing strip, where a driver will be waiting to transport your party to the castle.”

  “When?”

  “They’ll be expecting you on the plane by nine o’clock in the morning, your time.”

  Birdie was flabbergasted. “Aedon, you cannot be serious. That isn’t enough time to pack and plan, let alone rest.”

  “This is quite serious, Birdie, and I put my tail on the line promising the council that you and your Seeker could complete the task. Do not make a fool of me. Should you fail, I cannot guarantee to keep my promise.”

  Birdie stiffened. What was she going to do? Anastasia was missing, her daughter was imprisoned, and there was a cauldron to find.

  Her old fetching spell had to work. It just had to.

  “I assure you, Aedon, we will not fail.”

  Aedon gave Birdie the rest of the transportation details. She jotted them down and cut the connection.

  She exited her room feeling nauseous, nervous, and incredibly frightened for the first time in many years. The matriarch of the Geraghtys knelt before the huge painting that hung ceremoniously on the wall of her home, said a silent prayer to Danu, and fluttered down the back stairwell to prepare for the most important spell she would ever cast in her life.

  Birdie bumped into Chance and Derek on her way through the kitchen. They carried the lumpy rug that concealed the chief of police.

  “Jesus, Mrs. Geraghty, what you got in here, a body?” Derek asked.

  Fiona bit her lip. “Don’t be silly.” She looked at Birdie. “Just having the rug cleaned. Careful, now.”

  Birdie watched in horror as Chance banged his end of the rug into the refrigerator. She was pretty sure that was where the chief’s head was tucked.

  “Just set it right by the back stoop.” Fiona held the door open. “That’s it. Nice and easy. It’s one of a kind.”

  Derek tripped over the rug.

  “Watch your step,” Fiona said. “Now, everyone sit down and we’ll bring out the soup. Stacy shouldn’t be but a moment.”

  Birdie went back inside and grabbed a tray with five soup cups. She brought it to the stove as Fiona sashayed through the screen door.

  “Would you like to tell me what that was about?” Birdie asked.

  “It isn’t my fault.” Fiona patted Birdie’s pocket. “Check the spell. We need nine loved ones present for the retrieval. I thought it best not to take any chances.”

  “You have no idea.” Birdie filled Fiona in on the call from Aedon.

  Fiona said, “Then there’s no time to waste. You should know that Lolly is perfectly lucid.”

  Birdie reached for spoons as Fiona picked up the tray with the soup cups. The younger sister stopped, a cloud of concern crossing her face.

  “Birdie, what is it?” Fiona asked.

  Birdie took a deep breath, paused a moment. Then she shook her head slowly. “Something is wrong. I can’t feel her.”

  Fiona’s eyes widened. “She’s gone deeper into the web.”

  Birdie said, “There’s no time to waste.”

  The two women stood there, staring at me expectantly. I finally spotted Thor, snoozing softly near the fireplace, one ear trained on me.

  Birdie never covered this in my lessons. There was no chapter in the Blessed Book on dealing with powerful hallucinogenics that conjured up visions of ancient talking goddesses who were unimpressed by your witchiness.

  Of course, there was the possibility that they were the real deal. That I had indeed been sucked into another dimension just like that damn rhyming ghost warned me about.

  Yet, knowing all the enemies my family had collected over the years, the chance that these two weren’t goddesses, but simply powerful sorceresses who wanted to thwart my plan to bring my mother home, seemed far more likely.

  “If you are who you say you are, then why can’t you find the cauldron yourself? Why do you need me?” I asked.

  The one who called herself Danu looked at me like she was the Great Oz and I was the scarecrow searching for a brain.

  She stepped back, her eyes angry. “Have you not been listening? I told you it was gifted to your people and the fertile land that was once the home of the Tuatha. It no longer belongs to me.” She stepped toward the bubble and tapped it. “It belongs to the island.”

  A gorgeous view of a lush green hillside came into focus. Then, with a flick of Danu’s finger, the bubble spun and the scene changed to a waterfall cascading down a mountain. Another wave of her hand sparked the image of a vast forest, filled with towering pines. A slideshow followed then, and I saw a huge lake, dotted with islands and tiny fishing boats, then ocean waves gently lapping a sandy beach, giant cliffs perched along the edge of the sky, winding roads that passed castles and cottages alike, until finally, the bubble stopped spinning, coming to rest on an image of a huge stone protruding from a grassy knoll.

  “The Stone of Destiny, planted thousands of years ago. It still stands at the Hill of Tara,” Danu said. “Have you heard of it?”

  “Yes. Legend says that it roared when touched by the high king.”

  Badb stepped forward to gaze at the picture. “Tara was once a place where heroes gathered. I aided many a soldier in the valley that is called Boyne.”

  “Felled many too.” A mischievous smile passed Danu’s lips.

  I swung my head to Badb. “Really?”

  “Yes, but they were all bad.”

  That wasn’t much comfort.

  Danu said, “If you know about the stone, then you must know about the other gifts.”

  Were they testing me? Were the council members considering my worthiness as a Seeker? I couldn’t get a read on either of the women, emotionally or mentally. Normally, my intuition would tell me something about the intentions of a person. My body would send a signal—or a warning—but here, there was nothing, just numbness. I hadn’t even felt the presence of a single spirit since I woke up here.

  I felt naked without my intuition, helpless as a baby bird.

  There was no point in dodging their questions until I figured out what they were up to. I rattled off what Birdie had taught me about the treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann. “The Stone of Fal, or Destiny, which knows the heart of man. The Spear of Lugh, or Victory—it never misses its mark. The Sword of Nuada, or Light—none can escape its will, and the Cauldron of Dagda, or endless bounty and resurrection. The sacred gifts also represent the elements—earth, air, fire, and water, respectively.”

  “Most excellent,” Danu said, and clapped her hands in a manner that reminded me of Lolly.

  I suddenly missed my aunt terribly. I missed everyone terribly. I hadn’t even kissed Chance yet, and it was my freaking birthday. People were waiting for me. There was cake to be eaten, dammit.

  “Okay, ladies, why don’t you tell me what I can do to help?” I figured the faster I appeased them, the faster I could get out of there.

  Badb disappeared behind a curtain as Danu spoke. “A treaty was signed between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the first Druids to protect the four treasures. Throughout the ages, four people, or, as we refer to them, the four corners, have been appointed by the humans in charge to guard the hallows at all costs. We learn their identities only when they have completed a quest.”

  She snapped her fingers, and an image popped into the bub
ble.

  “The Warrior.”

  It was a copper-haired woman on a ship in the heat of battle. She was fighting off six men with two swords—and winning. From her dress, the setting, and the way she fought, it could only be Grace O’Malley, Pirate Queen. She ruled the western banks of Ireland for forty years and protected her people and her land from foreign invasion, including the powerful British forces. She was known for expert navigational skills and her vengeful temper. Many a man was slaughtered in retaliation for crimes committed against Granuaile (her Gaelic name) and those she loved.

  She was, as they say, a total badass.

  Danu continued. “The Guardian.”

  There, on the screen, was Oscar Wilde lecturing before a classroom.

  “The Seeker.”

  Joan of Arc.

  Danu snapped her fingers again and said, “And the Mage.”

  Katharine Hepburn.

  Aha! That’s where they made their mistake. I knew all too well about the Warrior, the Guardian, and the Seeker, and their roles in serving the secrets of the old soil. Months ago, a young girl showed up on my doorstep claiming to be my sister. Her mother was missing, and the clues the woman had left behind led the girl to me. She thought it was because we were related. As it turned out, we were connected in another way, a deeper way. Her name was Ivy Delaney, and she was a Warrior. Around that same time, the Guardian also showed up in Amethyst to help protect a sacred text from thieves. His name was John Mahoney, a police officer from Chicago, and we were all three descendents of the scribes who wrote that text.

  But there was no Mage. It was a three-member team.

  “Okay, ladies, I’ve seen quite enough,” I said, stepping forward.

  Badb emerged from behind the curtain, holding a golden chalice. Danu gave a slight shake of her head to Badb, then turned to me.

  “So then you’ll gather the corners and find the cauldron?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. You see,” I quoted from the Geraghtys’ Blessed Book, “there are three only whose calling is a benefit to their people: the Warrior on the field of battle, the Guardian of sacred truth, and the Seeker of Justice, wherever she may be.”

  Danu rolled her eyes. “Who told you that? That is not true.”

  Badb said, “Danu is right. This”—she held up the cup—“is truth.”

  Danu said, “I’m not sure that is necessary, Badb. She will believe in her destiny if I have to shove it down her throat.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Badb smiled wickedly, moving upon me so fast, I was forced into a chair. She held the cup to my lips and gave a questioning look to Danu.

  Danu thought about it for a moment. She said, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She walked over to me. “Stacy Justice, since you know so much about the treasures—and just because you haven’t secured a Mage in your time doesn’t mean that corner doesn’t exist—then you must know about us.” She tossed a look to Badb. “Tell me what Badb represents.”

  Geez, would this nightmare never end?

  I took a deep breath. “Battle. Sacrifice. Transformation…um…”

  “Truth,” Badb prompted.

  “Thank you. Truth.”

  Danu snatched the chalice from Badb, offering it to me. “Either drink from the chalice of truth or we will find other ways to enlighten you.”

  I slapped it from her hand, spilling the liquid across the floor, and stood. “I want to go home. Now. I want to see my family.”

  Thor rose to his feet at the sound of the cup clanging against the wall.

  Badb leaned into me, her hot breath melting my eyeliner. “You want to see your family? That can be arranged.”

  I heard Danu yell, “No!” just as Badb picked me up and threw me into the bubble.

  Chapter 12

  I could still feel the handprints on my arms where that bitch dug her talons into me, but I seemed to be unharmed. I found myself standing in front of a school, wearing a tea-length, belted dress, navy pumps, and a pillbox hat. My brain was scrambled again, which was beginning to worry me. What if I came out of this with permanent damage? I silently counted to ten, sang the alphabet song in my head, and tried to remember the name of my favorite sports team. I came up with the Chicago Cubs. Could that be right?

  A gaggle of girls and a handful of boys rushed out the doors and lined up in front of me. They were at the tween age, perhaps twelve or thirteen, and smelled of porridge and hope. There were a dozen or so of them, and they stared at me with the inquisitive caution children exhibit when faced with a stranger.

  “Maggie O’Brien,” the first girl said.

  “Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

  “Likewise.” She stood there, waiting for something. After a moment she crooked her finger at me, signaling she had a secret to tell. I bent to lend her my ear and she whispered, in a thick Irish brogue, “You’re supposed to mark present next to our names.”

  That’s when I felt the clipboard in my hand.

  “Right. Sorry, Maggie.” I unclipped the pen from the metal fastener and scribbled present next to her name just as a bus pulled up.

  The door made a hissing sound as the driver pushed it open, and Maggie hopped on, a purple satchel over her shoulder.

  The next girl was Katie Byrne, and I did the same for her name, plus six more, until I heard a commotion near the end of the line.

  I looked up and saw a tall, thin girl shove another.

  “Hey! Stop that, right now.” I said.

  The tall girl sneered at me defiantly, then pointed at the girl she shoved and whispered something to the shy kid standing next to her. The neighbor laughed at whatever the bully said, although she seemed uneasy about it.

  The blond boy in front of me rolled his eyes and said, “She’s always like that.”

  “Yeah? Well, not on my watch.”

  I winked at him, made a note next to his name, Aedon O’Neil, and the next student’s, and the next, wondering what this little jaunt was supposed to teach me. Junior high sucks? Mean girls exist on every plane?

  Hell, I knew that.

  The doe-eyed girl standing in front of me now was the one who had been shoved, but she didn’t seem fazed. She seemed downright regal. I admired her moxie.

  “Hi! Are you the new chaperone?” she asked, a bounce in her step.

  Uh-oh. That must have meant there was a field trip in my future. “Well, I suppose I am. What’s your name?”

  “Brighid. Brighid Geraghty.”

  The clipboard clattered to the sidewalk as my hand let go, and I froze.

  The girl smiled and said, “I’ll get it.” She scooped the clipboard up and held it out for me.

  “Birdie?” I whispered. My head was spinning. All at once it hit me like a kaleidoscope. The clothes, the surroundings, the accents. I looked at the clipboard.

  The Academy of Sorcery

  Hill of Tara Field Trip Roster

  “I prefer Brighid,” my young grandmother said to me. “She was a powerful goddess, the daughter of Dagda, of the Tuatha Dé Danann.” Her voice burst with enthusiasm. “Do you know who they are?”

  I nodded, having learned that at the private school of Geraghty Girls. She continued, satisfied she didn’t have to explain that whole gnarled mess of a family tree. “Brighid was so revered that the Christians made her a saint. There’s a lot of stuff dedicated to her in Kildare. A sacred well, a statue, even a cathedral. It’s where my people are from.” She radiated pride.

  Then the little shit behind her said, “She thinks she’s so cool because of her name. Doesn’t even sound good with your stupid American accent, Brigit.”

  The troublemaker pretended to accidentally bump into Birdie, and she stumbled forward, into me, dropping her notebook. It took all I had not to grab that kid by the ear and introduce her to an American swirly.

  But Birdie handled it with aplomb. Her smile wavered just a bit, and then that ferocious resolve, which I both admired and feared, rose above the snide remark.

  Sh
e turned to face her attacker, hands on hips. “Tallulah, just because your daddy is a member of the council doesn’t mean you have what it takes to be a good witch. I suggest you spend more time on your studies and less time picking on me if you want to graduate.”

  I wanted to applaud, but decided against it.

  Tallulah’s face reddened so fast, I thought steam might shoot from her ears.

  “Okay, girls, why don’t you both get on the bus?” I said.

  Behind me, a man’s voice said, “Oh, wonderful! The agency sent someone to fill in for Miss Murphy. Thank you so much for filling in on such short notice.”

  I turned to face a wiry, middle-aged man who was losing the battle of the bulge. He looked as flustered as I felt. “Mrs. Doherty is right behind me. Everyone accounted for?”

  I checked the clipboard. “Looks that way.”

  “Very good, very good.”

  He took a minute to speak with the bus driver and the students, then he hopped off, wished me luck in a tone that indicated I was going to need it, and disappeared back inside the building.

  I looked at the bus, and my stomach suddenly felt like I had swallowed wet cement. I had absolutely no experience chaperoning children, let alone a dozen of them, let alone my own grandmother. Oh, and let’s not forget they were witches and wizards in training.

  Yep, I was in way over my head thanks to my big, stupid mouth.

  Someone tapped my shoulder and said, “They can’t leave without you, lass. Up you go.”

  I shifted my feet to face her. “Mrs. Doherty?”

  The woman wore cat’s-eyes glasses and a drab pantsuit, and was pushing the other side of forty. “At your service. Come on, now, Tara is waiting.”

  Birdie was sitting in the second seat on the right, so I took the seat across from her and Mrs. Doherty took the first seat on the left.

  Doherty settled her things onto the bench and stood up, the scent of violets trailing her. “Listen up, class. Now, you are all here because you are a descendent of either a high king or an important scribe. I expect you to behave with the propriety and class of those noble men and women. The council will be expecting a full report, and believe me, you do not want your name in it.” She gave a brief warning that spellcasting would absolutely not be tolerated, and suggested everyone sit back and enjoy the scenery.