If it wasn’t he who’d written on my bathroom mirror, then who?
“May I be excused, or would you like my assistance toweling off?” Ethan asked. “My grandmother is expecting me, and she hates when I’m late, although I’m willing to risk the wrath if you’d like to continue this conversation.”
I waved the blade. “Go.”
Ethan gave a slight bow. “Thank you.” He turned and whistled. “Gretchen.”
I shook my head. What a jerk. Couldn’t wait to see the kind of woman who came running when a man whistled.
Gretchen rushed around the corner and beelined directly to Ethan’s side. Her big brown eyes regarded him lovingly, eagerly, awaiting his next command. Her curly locks shone in the morning light from the window at the end of the hall, and I couldn’t help but admire her grace.
Thor admired it too, and said so by sitting up a bit straighter, his huge snout inspecting the air to catch the scent of her.
“Until we meet again.” Ethan turned to saunter down the hall, Gretchen by his side. The sway of her hips thumped, as if to the beat of a drum.
She gave a shy glance back, and I could feel Thor vibrate with anticipation.
“Don’t get any ideas, pal. She’s one of them.”
He whined miserably and sulked back to the room, poking his head out for one last look at the cream-colored Irish wolfhound.
Back in the room, I tossed a towel over the broken glass in the bathroom and dried my hair in the sitting room. Then I put some clean clothes on, undergarments included, slipped into my running shoes, and held up the locket.
I dangled it in front of the light for a moment, inspecting it as the chain draped over my wrist, trying to catch a vision from the intricate piece of jewelry.
“What is so important about you?” I asked.
Suddenly, the five-bladed star I had packed spun out of my suitcase. It whipped through the room, linked with the locket, and punctured the wall.
Thor charged the wall, growling and barking.
I sensed something—a masculine presence. Heavy, sinister air swirled around me. I snatched the locket, held it tight, and pocketed the star.
I called to whatever or whoever had left me that message on the mirror. “This was a gift. I didn’t steal it. I don’t even know who gave it to me.” I wrapped the chain around my head and tucked the pendant under my shirt. Then I grabbed my sword. “If you want it so badly, why don’t you show yourself, you coward!”
The room chilled so drastically that my breath came out in frosty bursts. I gripped the sword, shifted my stance, Thor at the ready next to me. One raspy word zapped my brain. Mine.
And as quickly as they came, the presence and the cold broke and retreated into the walls.
I looked at Thor. “Let’s get out of here.”
Fiona looked at Birdie, concern clouding her eyes. “Tallulah must have put him under a love spell.”
“Probably one of mine,” Birdie spat.
She was so furious with Oscar, she couldn’t sit still. Why had he insisted on coming along if he was just going to be a burden? Now she would have to weave a remedy spell, and she simply had no time for this nonsense. She had a meeting to attend, a cauldron to find, and a council to appease so she could spring her daughter from the depths of this castle—wherever she was. Aedon hadn’t mentioned if Birdie could visit her child, and she thought it best not to press the issue. She had to stay focused, and that meant keeping everyone around her sharp and on task, including her sisters, Anastasia, and—Hecate help her—that idiot she used to be married to.
She wanted to scream, she wanted to shed her poise for one freeing moment, but she didn’t dare. Not here, at least, not within the confines of these all-seeing walls. The castle was a fortress, to be sure, but it was also a place of highly concentrated energy. As if the walls themselves could breathe, the windows could see, and the floor could feel her footsteps.
As if, at its own discretion, the castle could weave its entrails around her and swallow her whole.
There was a knock at the door then, and Birdie sensed her granddaughter. In fact, ever since the fetching spell had unsnarled the girl from the web, Birdie felt a bit more attuned to her. She liked the sensation.
Anastasia did not wait for anyone to open the door; she burst through it like a flamethrower, vexed about something, and hauling the bag of magical tricks she had brought.
Her familiar seemed to be spirited as well.
Birdie looked at her questioningly, as her two sisters stood.
“The castle is trying to kill me,” Anastasia said. She didn’t wait for a response, just went about stuffing crystals and herbs into the pockets of her hoodie. Then she lifted the hood over her head and tightened the strings.
Birdie stared at the girl. “What on earth are you talking about?” She noticed the sword hanging at the girl’s side, and the chain from the locket hugging her neck.
Birdie still couldn’t fathom how she had gotten hold of it.
Anastasia ripped into some outlandish story about showerheads firing up on their own, doors slamming shut, and her own tool going rogue on her.
Then she filtered through her gemstone pouch. “Is it onyx that severs a tie?” she asked.
Lolly said it was, and Anastasia pulled out a polished black stone, examined it.
It wasn’t a moment ago that Birdie had been thinking that this place was enlivened, but she didn’t actually believe it had a pulse. It was just that the grounds, the structure, was thousands of years old, and she could feel the history, the battles, the defeat and victories of warriors who’d protected it with their lives flowing through each crack and crevice. There was residual energy here, to be sure, of spirits passed and some who refused to pass over.
But the place didn’t actually have a soul, or a brain.
“Anastasia, listen to me.” She crossed to the girl, grasped her shoulders. “You become emotional when your car doesn’t start. It’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with you before the meeting. You must ground yourself at all times here, and everywhere on the island. Emotions make you vulnerable, and vulnerability leads to carelessness. I can only imagine the twists and turns your heart has taken being in this place, being close to your mother.”
At this, the girl perked up. “Have you seen her? She is here, isn’t she? I could have sworn I saw her out the window.”
Birdie shook her head. “I don’t know, but I will tell you it is highly unlikely you saw her. They would never let her wander about unsupervised under these circumstances.”
Anastasia’s face deflated. “So then I imagined her?”
“It’s possible, or you may have conjured up an image of her. An impression from her energy. Your mother was tethered to you from the moment you were born until her arrest. She could have been in the garden, but if you were both thinking of each other at the same time, you could have also spawned a connection.”
Doubt flashed over the girl’s face.
Birdie continued. “I think, too, perhaps that’s what happened in your suite. A powerful necromancer like you can electrify a space with this much history. The spirits, while harmless, can be sent into a tailspin.”
Anastasia shook her head. “No. I’m telling you, Birdie, this was real, deliberate. And far from harmless.” Then she added, “By the way, I hope you didn’t give them a deposit for the room, because you can kiss that good-bye.”
“The dead can’t hurt you, child. I’ve told you time and again.”
Anastasia stuck out her chin and planted her hands on her hips, looking so much like her mother that Birdie’s heart lurched. “Oh, really? Do you see this?” She lifted her strawberry-blonde hair, pointed to a cut on her head. “Does this look harmless to you? I’m telling you, Birdie, if it isn’t the castle, then it’s a really pissed-off ghost with a chip on his shoulder.”
Fiona asked, “Well, what could you possibly have done to provoke him, dear?”
Anastasia tapped her foot a moment, cl
early contemplating her response. Finally she said, “I think it might have something to do with this.” She reached into her blouse and pulled out the locket. She explained that while one spirit guide had warned her to keep it safe, there was also a threat to return it, from another, malevolent presence.
“The problem is, I don’t know where I got it, what it does, or even who I would return it to,” she said.
“Birdie said, “What do you mean you don’t know where you got it?”
Anastasia furrowed her brow. “Gramps said it was a family heirloom. He said my father talked to him about it, asked him to keep it in his vault until my thirtieth year.”
Birdie couldn’t believe her ears. Oscar, just wait until I get my hands on you, she thought. Then she wondered, Who gave it to Stacy Senior?
The girl was studying Birdie’s face. “I take it you have no idea where it came from either.”
Birdie looked at Fiona and Lolly.
“I have an idea what it is. But I don’t know what it does, or how your father received it,” she said.
“So what is it?”
“It’s the Seeker’s locket. Passed from one Seeker to the successor every hundred years or so.”
Anastasia looked down, fingered the piece. “Who was the last Seeker?”
Birdie shrugged. “Only the council knows. And only the Seeker knows its powers. When you are confirmed, its powers will be released. Its will bound to you.”
“So what do we do? Someone’s obviously after it. Someone’s willing to kill for it.”
Everyone thought for a moment.
After a while, Lolly said, “I have an idea.”
She was looking at Thor.
PART THREE
The Tempest
On this journey, you begin to see how the sides of your heart that seemed awkward, contradictory, and uneven are the places where the treasure lies hidden. You begin to become true to yourself.
—John O’Donohue
Chapter 24
As we made our way downstairs to the meeting, the spicy aroma of oatmeal-raisin cookies wafted through the hallway. They were my favorite treat growing up, and my mother often made a batch on chilly weekends.
I flicked my eyes to Birdie. Could she smell the cinnamon? If she did, she didn’t seem to notice. She was preoccupied with the meeting, I guessed. We hadn’t had a lot of time to prepare, since my near-death experiences had become the focus of our powwow, but I had been given a very strict warning.
“Let me do the talking,” Birdie had said.
Thor strutted alongside me, proudly displaying the decadent vest Lolly had fashioned for him from one of her ball gowns. The locket was sewn into the lining. I wasn’t certain about this strategy, but Birdie had convinced me that it was too dangerous to keep it on my person, that I shouldn’t even be in possession of it, and if anyone found out—friend or foe—we would all be on trial come Samhain. I was hesitant to agree. Thor could certainly hold his own when up against most other animals and humans. It was the ghost with the bug up his ass that concerned me.
We were ten minutes early, so I found a door to let Thor out to do his business quickly before the meeting was scheduled to begin. There was a breakfast spread just outside the room, so the aunts and Birdie helped themselves to coffee and muffins, while I loaded up a heaping plate of bacon, eggs, and potatoes for Thor. I grabbed a yogurt and an apple for myself. We all ate in silence, and someone came to clear our plates just as a clock chimed in the common area.
Gary appeared at the doorway. He ushered us all to our seats and offered to take my sword.
“No, thanks.”
He shuffled nervously. “You’ll get it back as soon as the session is over. It’s protocol.”
I looked at him. “I appreciate your position, but no one touches my sword.”
It was still infused with Badb’s force, and I really didn’t want anyone else’s imprint on it.
Someone kicked me. “Ouch!” I grabbed my shin as Birdie glared at me.
I shook my head vigorously.
The guy mumbled, “Oh, for the love of Pete.” He whipped his sports coat off and laid it on the bench next to me. “Keep it covered.” He walked off, shaking his head, and resumed his post by the door, clasping his hands in front of him.
The O’Conor courtroom, or whatever the heck it was called, was large enough to play a full-court basketball game in. It was dripping with richly paneled walls and indulgent trim. The floor was laid in a crisscross pattern of smooth hardwood, the ceiling elaborately painted with ancient battle scenes, gods, and goddesses. Wooden benches filled much of the space, all of which faced a long, rectangular platform, elevated a foot off the ground. Above that were photographs of council members past and present. I noticed that many of them were O’Conors.
I covered my sword with the guy’s coat and sat down next to Birdie. “What should I expect?”
“I would imagine they’ll ask for the plan on locating the cauldron.”
“Will you tell them everything? I mean about the Web of Wyrd.”
She shot me a horrified look. “Of course not. They’d crucify us. Remember what happened to Jesus? Would you believe everything you’ve told me about meeting the goddesses?”
“Hey, I was there, and I still don’t believe it.”
Birdie spoke softly out of the corner of her mouth. “We’ll just tell them we found the instructions in the Blessed Book. That the ancestors left clues for us to find the cauldron based on what happened the last time it was stolen, and the steps taken to recover it.”
“Good. What if they ask me a direct question?”
“Don’t say a word. I’ll answer all their questions.”
John stepped through the door then, wearing a turtleneck and jeans, a satchel slung over his hip. He nodded at me as the driver-turned-bailiff escorted him into the room. I nodded back.
John was directed to a row behind us. I could smell the mint gum he liked to chew as he swaggered past.
Ethan came in next, Gretchen at his hip. He winked at me and I looked beyond him, shaking my head. He was led to the row opposite us. Thor drooled as his new love interest batted her impossibly long lashes at him. He sat erect, sticking his chest out to show off his new duds.
I nudged him with my foot. “Stop that. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
He grouched at me and aimed his perfectly regal profile at the Irish wolfhound.
A moment later, a door opened behind a huge platform and one by one, people filed into the room, each taking a seat at the table perched on the platform.
To my utter shock, that flappy-faced Tallulah was one of them.
I pinched Birdie’s arm and whispered, “You didn’t tell me she was on the council.”
She wrestled her arm away. “I thought she told you when you spoke that day in my bedroom.”
I shook my head. Birdie snapped her eyes forward as Aedon called the meeting to order.
A sickening feeling fell over me. If that catty woman was on the council, there was no telling what kind of power she held.
Or what she could do with it.
As I sat in that room, surrounded by friend and foe, the words of the rhyming spirit filtered through my mind.
The council awaits your arrival, in the castle you shall stay; but beware of the wrath of a rival, and the one who will betray.
I had a pretty good idea who the rival was. But who would betray?
Birdie Geraghty was not an envious woman, but as she stared at the nine council members, she couldn’t help but feel cheated as Tallulah took her seat.
That should be my chair. And if it were, none of this would be happening. She knew in her heart of hearts that her daughter had been well within her rights to defend her family. It had been a preemptive strike, pure and simple, despite the fact that the man hadn’t actually come in contact with Anastasia. He had obviously found the girl’s mother, and she had thwarted whatever attack he had planned. If Birdie had been on the council, she would
have appealed to their reason. She would have pointed out that saving a would-be Seeker was an act of heroism, not a crime worthy of punishment.
Not knowing was the worst. Not knowing what the man had been after or why. Birdie hoped that when this entire nightmare concluded, she would have her answers.
Aedon shuffled some paperwork and read through the preliminary meeting notes. He explained about the missing cauldron and the duties of the watchers sworn to protect it. He then explained that the Warrior, Ivy, would be joining the session virtually. Birdie watched as Tallulah’s son Pearce punched in some buttons on a remote control.
The screen behind the platform sizzled to life, and the bubbly teenager with cherry-red hair appeared.
Aedon asked if Ivy could hear him, and she said she could. When he turned his back, she waved to Anastasia. To her credit, Birdie’s granddaughter smiled back at the girl without drawing attention to herself.
Finally, Aedon addressed the court. “John, as the only watcher of the treasures who has been officially confirmed, would you like to explain your strategy?”
Birdie tensed, but quickly relaxed as John launched into the plan about the four corners heading to Fourknocks Mound, or, as the goddess referred to it, the Hill of Summoning.
Tallulah looked frightened at the prospect of being sent on a mission.
As well you should be, Birdie thought.
Aedon sat back in his chair, the wheels squeaking across the stage. “Interesting.” His beard twitched as he thought for a moment. “I don’t recall a Mage ever being appointed as a watcher, let alone participating in a quest. Where are you drawing your information from?”
Birdie held her breath.
John said, in a fluid voice like a saxophone, “From the Blessed Book of my clanspeople.”
Aedon asked if he could view the passage, but John explained he had felt it too risky to bring the book. That it was locked away in a vault, but he had taken notes.
Aedon turned to Ivy. “Young lady? Are you prepared to assist in the mission?”
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