Ivy said, “I am. But we have exams today, and the headmistress refuses to grant me passage until tomorrow.”
Next to Birdie, Anastasia tensed, wild-eyed.
“Very well,” Aedon said. “The mission begins tomorrow at the break of dawn.”
Anastasia squeezed Birdie’s hand so tight, she felt knuckles crack. Then, after Aedon turned back to face the audience, Ivy flashed a cell phone and held up a thumb.
Anastasia sighed in relief.
Aedon pointed his head toward Anastasia. “I presume you are prepared, Miss Justice?”
The girl nodded.
Aedon looked at Ethan. “And you, son?”
“Aye,” Ethan said, slouched on the bench.
Birdie couldn’t help but notice the young man looked bored.
“Good. Directly after the session, you will meet your first challenge.”
Ethan didn’t look too thrilled about that. Stacy squeezed Birdie’s hand again.
“Challenge?” Birdie questioned.
Aedon looked up from his notes. “With two Seekers vying for the role, we need to assign a leader and a qualifier.”
Anastasia was so tense, she was practically vibrating. The girl was ready to burst, and Birdie feared what would happen if she did.
“I’ll be the qualifier,” Ethan said.
Tallulah shot him a death stare. “Always the joker, Ethan.” She turned to Aedon. “Splendid idea. The usual challenges? Archery? Falconry? Jousting?”
“Jousting?” Anastasia quietly hissed. “Birdie, do something, for gods’ sake.”
“Absolutely,” Aedon answered Tallulah. He jotted down a few notes.
Birdie whispered, “It’ll be fine.”
Anastasia whispered back, “There’s no time for this crap. I’m not staying another night in this house of horrors. Remember, return the locket or die tonight?”
Aedon looked up. Smiled. “Miss Justice, would you like to address the council?”
Birdie stood up. “No, she wouldn’t.”
Anastasia stood too. “You bet your ass I would.”
Aedon chuckled. “I admire your verve. Proceed.”
Birdie tugged on Anastasia’s arm, but the girl shrugged her off.
“Well, Your, er…Highness…it has recently been brought to my attention that there is another Mage in our midst. As a potential Seeker with multiple nominations under her belt”—Ethan scoffed at this—“I feel it is my duty to present her to the court.”
Aedon looked at Tallulah, whose face had darkened into a scowl.
He turned back to Stacy. “Another Mage? Who is it?”
Birdie yanked Anastasia’s shirt so hard, the girl coughed, but it didn’t do any good. “Brighid Geraghty, my grandmother.”
Birdie couldn’t decide if she should gag the girl or kick her feet out from under her.
Tallulah shot up, fuming. “This is outrageous. Brighid was expelled from the Academy years ago. My father signed the papers himself. And only graduates are qualified to become Mage.”
Aedon said, “That is true.” He cocked his head, tapped his pen. “But your father’s passed over now. Despite the fact that you were confirmed as Mage, Birdie has the right to contest her expulsion and, ultimately, the withdrawal of her Mage nomination. The rules have changed since he was in power.”
Anastasia grinned.
Aedon looked at Birdie’s granddaughter. “She’ll need a nomination.”
Birdie said, “That won’t be necessary.”
“I nominate her,” Anastasia said, hand raised.
“I second it,” said John.
Aedon asked if there was a third, and Ethan said, “Aye.”
Both Birdie and Anastasia turned to him, astonished. He shrugged. Birdie couldn’t help but smile. Tallulah had her hands full with that one.
“Well, then,” Aedon said, “looks as if there will be multiple challenges today.” He slid his eyes to Tallulah. “Are you up for that?”
Tallulah sat and crossed, then uncrossed, her legs. “Of course.”
Birdie cringed. She hadn’t participated in a contest since she was a girl. What if she made a fool of herself? What if—and this thought terrified her—she lost to Tallulah? She would be humiliated, mortified. The one thing she had held on to all these years—the notion she clung to in her darkest hours—was the idea that she knew she was better, that Tabby’s deception didn’t mean anything in the end, because Birdie had her truth.
But what if she was wrong?
Anastasia leaned in, whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
Birdie winced. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t like the sound of that.
Chapter 25
Aedon pounded the gavel, concluding the meeting, and one by one, the council members filed out through the curtain from whence they had come.
Tallulah snarled at me right before she left.
That’s right, sister. Geraghty Girls play hardball.
I picked up the coat covering my sword and jogged it back to its owner, thanking him.
Birdie was on me the minute I turned around.
“Have you lost your mind?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Actually, I had no idea what I’d done, but I figured if I had to play Wipeout, my best shot at winning would be with Birdie on my team. She knew all about this stuff, she had been to the Academy, and she relished every minute of it, I was certain. The little girl I met in the Web of Wyrd took pride in her studies, in her heritage, in herself. She could kick Tallulah’s ass with one wand tied behind her back.
“What are you so upset about? You finally have the chance to prove that Tallulah has been lying all these years. After the way she treated you, I thought you’d be happy to put her in her place.”
Birdie gave me a confused look. “How do you know that? I never told you anything about Tabby.”
Uh-oh. That’s right, she hadn’t. I knew because I was there.
Before Birdie’s wheels could spin any faster, Fiona stepped in. “She’s right, Birdie. This is your chance to redeem the Geraghty name, to put an end to any lingering doubts anyone might have about what really happened at the Academy.”
“What do you mean? What happened?” I asked.
“Another time.” Birdie looked torn; she tilted her chin to the ceiling. “I haven’t practiced any of it in ages.”
I grabbed her hand. “We’ll get through it together.”
She wrinkled her brow. “You do realize that the challenges of a Mage and those of a Seeker are completely different.”
The thought had never crossed my mind. “So we won’t be teammates?”
Birdie said, “Honestly, I’m not quite sure how the games will be structured.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I lowered my voice, scanned the space. We were alone. “Look, I’m not waiting until tomorrow to go after the cauldron. We can signal Ivy in through her cell phone—the magic will still happen. I’ve seen it done through a training class, Witch in the Modern World, I think it was called.”
“Tallulah will never agree to that. She wouldn’t disobey Aedon,” Birdie said.
I said, “Then we ditch her.”
Birdie pondered that option. “Agreed.”
Just then, Lolly jumped up on the bench and pulled her dress over her head, indicating it was time for more tequila.
I told Birdie I’d be up to her room shortly and to get used to it, because I wasn’t stepping foot back in mine. She said she’d call housekeeping to send someone for my things.
They left, and I grabbed my sword. Thor wasn’t where he’d been a moment ago. I called to him, but he didn’t come trotting over to me as expected.
I searched the expansive room and finally spotted him in a far corner, nuzzling Gretchen.
“Thor! Bad dog. Get over here,” I said sternly.
“Ah, give him a break. He’s just having a bit o’ fun,” Ethan said behind me, in a thick Irish brogue. He was holding two cu
ps of coffee, and offered me one.
“No, thanks.”
“Not a drop of poison in the cup. I swear on my grandmother.”
Thor completely ignored me. There was a bit of spittle glistening in the corner of his long jowl, and I could have sworn the dog was flexing his bicep.
“That’s not saying a whole lot.” I tilted my gaze toward Ethan. “You don’t seem to like her very much.” I took the cup, sniffed it. Smelled like Cafe Vienna.
“What makes you say that?”
“Nominating my grandmother as Mage, for starters.”
Ethan guffawed. “Come on, now, I was just having a lark.” He sipped his coffee. “All this rubbish about Mages and Seekers and cauldrons. She takes it so seriously, she deserves to be put on now and again.”
I adjusted my sword, moving it off to the side, out of view.
Ethan stared at me for an uncomfortably long moment.
“Oh, blimey. You too!” He pointed at me, laughed. “You actually believe these loons and all their hocus-pocus.” He stepped closer, slung an arm around me, and said conspiratorially, “You know, with our combined powers and my family heritage, we could storm this castle. Claim it as our own and live happily ever after. Bespell the entire monstrosity with a lusty potion. What say you?”
For the first time in my life, I heard what I had sounded like to Birdie all these years, and I felt ashamed.
Ethan hadn’t seen the things I had. Probably hadn’t experienced the heartache or pain that came with growing up. I suspected, like Tallulah, life was made easy for him.
Then he drew a heart in the air and mimicked it throbbing.
Ugh. I flung his arm away. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six, but I like ripe women.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“You aren’t even old enough to be confirmed, then.”
“That’s right, lass. Being an O’Conor has its advantages.” He stood up a little straighter.
It sure did for his grandmother. And mine suffered for it. I said in a singsong voice, “Ah, yes, the workings of the privileged class. Where Mummy and Daddy see to it that little Junior has everything his heart desires. And then Junior grows up to be a wanker who can’t fend for himself.” I flashed my eyes to his groin. “And probably couldn’t even satisfy a blow-up doll.”
His eyes flooded with anger, and he stepped forward.
“Ethan!” a man called from behind us. “Your grandmother is expecting you.”
Ethan didn’t turn around as he called, “Coming, Father.” Then he hissed, “See you on the battlefield.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
My challenger downed his coffee, crumpled the cup, and tossed it on the floor. Then he whistled for Gretchen and she trotted after him, leaving Thor heartbroken. My Dane howled as his crush slipped out the door.
“You’re better off, Thor. Bitches be crazy.” I ruffled up his ears, and he rested his huge head against my hip, blew out a forlorn sigh.
I picked up the crumpled cup and headed out.
The man Ethan called “father” watched his son leave the room and met me near the door.
“Hello, Stacy, I’m Pearce. I’m an old friend of your mom’s.” He stuck out his hand.
I tossed the coffee cups in a wastebasket. I was hesitant to grasp Pearce’s hand, but in the end, I figured the more information I could collect about these people, the better. His grip was warm and intense, like an electric blanket on a cold day. My brain was firing, trying to capture an image, but it floated to the surface without developing.
I eyed him suspiciously. “She never mentioned anyone named Pearce.”
“We were school chums. A long time ago.”
The Academy, I presumed. “Have you seen my mother?” I was still holding his hand, still trying to read him.
He smiled, sensing my motives, I guessed, but he didn’t break free. I noticed his eyes were warm too. He didn’t seem to fit the O’Conor mold.
“She’s fine. This isn’t like a real prison. She’s treated well, fed well. She gets to listen to her favorite music, reads lots of books. She goes outside. She’s even permitted to practice magic, within reason.”
Relief, like I had never felt before, washed over me in a tidal wave. I was so happy to hear my mother wasn’t caged like an abandoned animal that I didn’t even think to ask why he was telling me this.
An oversight I would soon regret.
A huge bouquet of red roses bobbed in through the foyer, carried by a man much too old to be acting like a jackass.
Her sisters fell to the wayside as Birdie stopped her ex-husband in his tracks. She couldn’t believe, on top of everything else, she had to deal with this absurdity. She wouldn’t give a flying fig if it weren’t for the fact that she had no idea what Tallulah was up to—or what Oscar would reveal to her that might jeopardize the entire mission.
“Oscar, what do you think you’re doing?”
He lowered the bouquet, his eyes two huge puddles of puppy love. He looked pathetic.
“Hello, Birdie. You’re looking lovely today.” He liberated a rose from the cluster and handed it to her.
She accepted, then proceeded to throttle him with it.
“Hey, cut it out.”
Birdie said, “Oscar, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”
He stood there, grinning like an imbecile. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me tag along. I’m having the most wonderful time.” He leaned in, whispered, “I met someone. I think she may be the one.”
She’s the one, all right, Birdie thought.
“Oscar, do you remember why we are here? Do you remember what this is all about, what I told you back at the house?”
“I certainly do. We’re here to rescue our daughter and bring her home,” he recited like a robot. “I may bring someone else home too.” He winked.
Birdie wanted to poke his eyes out. “She hexed you, Oscar. You cannot trust anything Tabby says.”
Oscar reeled back in utter disbelief. “How dare you speak like that of the woman I love.”
Birdie rolled her eyes. “You are not in love, you nitwit. You’re bewitched.”
His eyes hazed over again. “She is bewitching, isn’t she?”
Birdie tossed a glance at Fiona. Fiona, the sister who was an expert at casting love spells, was at a loss for breaking one. She shrugged.
Birdie stepped close to Oscar and pulled a lily from her pocket. The flower was known for reversing love spells if worn by the enchanted person for at least an hour.
She was just about to slip it into Oscar’s lapel, when Tabby flew in out of nowhere. The insufferable woman snatched the lily. It wilted in her hand.
She smirked at Birdie, then turned to Oscar and said, “There you are, darling! I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”
“I just stepped out to get you some flowers.” Oscar presented the bouquet to Tabby.
She batted her false lashes and said, “For me? How incredibly thoughtful.” Then she kissed him, leaving a huge red mark like a tomato splattered on the man’s face. “Let’s put these in water, shall we? Then we can take a stroll, get some privacy.” She tossed Birdie a triumphant look. “It’s rather crowded in here.”
Oscar nodded his head, looking like a dog in heat. He started up the stairs.
Tabby hung back and said, “You’ll have to do much better than that, Birdie.”
“Count on it,” Birdie said, seething.
Tallulah trailed up the stairs, locking arms with the grandfather of one of the most powerful Seekers of all time.
Birdie looked at her sisters. “Can you believe it?”
Lolly had somehow gained access to a sword and was challenging an empty suit of armor to a duel.
Fiona said, “We should go.”
Birdie had just wrestled the sword away from her oldest sister when Elizabeth called to her.
“Birdie? May I have a word with you?”
Fiona said, “Go. I’ll take care of Lolly.
”
Birdie walked over to the diminutive woman. She towered over Elizabeth by at least a foot.
“Aedon has requested to speak with you privately.”
There was a flutter in her heart, but Birdie instantly extinguished it. No time for nonsense, she told herself.
“Of course.” She tried to say it with authority, but her voice rose an octave, sounding giddy.
She mentally slapped herself.
Elizabeth looked at her, perplexed. “Follow me, then.”
Chapter 26
My phone chimed. It was a message from Birdie.
Taking care of something. Will text when you should meet me.
I pocketed the phone and realized that I had taken a wrong turn leaving the Court of O’Conor room. I found myself lost in the matrix of the castle.
The map was folded in the back pocket of my jeans, so I stopped for a minute to read it.
According to the grid, we were just steps away from the library. I thought of the book, folded upside down on the chair in the hallway outside my room last night, and of what Pearce had said about my mother reading a lot.
“Come on, Thor.”
The big dog plopped down on the faded carpet, rolled onto his back, and wailed uncontrollably.
“You’re being ridiculous, you know that?” I said.
He kicked his feet in the air and yelped.
“Fine. Wait here.”
The pocket doors to the library slid open easily. Inside the mahogany-trimmed room were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a cozy fireplace, soft leather chairs, and the distinctive scent of brown-sugar-and-vanilla body spray.
My mother’s scent.
For the first time since I had arrived, I felt her presence all around me like an embrace. If she hadn’t been here moments ago, then it was definitely a place she spent much of her time. I set out to explore the space, touching every inch of the room, drinking in the essence of my mother, absorbing the energy she had impressed on the books. My fingertips danced over leather-bound volumes of Keats, Browning, Twain, and Shakespeare. Books of all shapes and sizes filled row after row of sturdy shelves, some with gold-embossed lettering, some with weakened spines. Some dusty, some brand new. There was an entire section devoted to Irish writers—James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett, Bram Stoker—and one whole wall cluttered with sources for witchery.
Emerald Isle (A Stacy Justice Mystery) Page 16