Mystic Luck (Mystic Tides Book 2)

by Kate Allenton

  Tabby closed her eyes. “My worst nightmare.”

  Rionach chuckled and fluffed her own locks. “The hue complements the skin.”

  “It does,” Max said, and she blessed him with a dazzling smile.

  “I return to me realm,” the little queen said. “I will return in six days. Not before, not after.”

  “But I—”

  “Nay, Tabitha Whitlock. There be no buts about this. ’Tis what it is. Service or love. Nothing lies between for the gifts. ’Tis service or love. Remember and choose wisely. If the choice be not true, if the love be not real, the choice evaporates into nothing and the chosen one slumbers.”

  She kissed Tabby’s cheek, touched her amulet, and vanished.

  Max stared into the empty closet. “Well I’ll be damned. I just met a female leprechaun.”

  “Your second female leprechaun,” Tabby muttered.

  “Not yet.” Max stroked a finger across her cheek.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It sounds like there’s a definite choice here.”

  “My skin is turning green, Max. Where’s the choice in that? I have six more days. Six days until I’m a little green queen waddling around in a gown that looks like it came off an American Girl doll. With hair so red it could combust and eyes so dark the pupils can’t even be seen.”

  “I have to admit the eyes are a bit freaky. But there’s a choice.” He took her shoulders and gave them a little shake. “When there’s a choice, there’s hope. Service is an admirable goal, but love trumps service, Tabby, and love can overcome everything.”

  Tabby flicked her ear. “Even this?”

  “Even that.” Max pulled her up and pressed his lips against hers.

  The kiss was every kiss she’d ever dreamed of, sweet and innocent, lusty and full of fire. She melted against his tall, lean body and forgot about pointy ears, green skin, and the ugliest hair she’d ever seen. This man could make her forget everything and forgive anything. Even the threat of her last six days as a regular human girl.

  When he pulled away, he gave her a smile filled with promise.

  “I think I know where we can find some answers.”

  Chapter 6

  Friday Morning, March 10

  When Sydney Spencer came into the school office and went to her mailbox, Max pounced. Sydney was the only woman he knew who might have answers for them.

  “Hey, Max, checking on the seedlings already?” Sydney tucked her mail and notices into her Gucci tote.

  “No, I had some questions for you. We have some questions for you.”

  He gestured for Tabby, who pushed herself up from her desk and came around the counter. She yanked her turtleneck up higher, her gaze darting as she looked for prying eyes.

  “Sure.” Sydney shouldered her tote, and her smile fell. “Something’s wrong.” When Max nodded, Sydney said, “There are lots of strange things happening in town right now. What’s going on?”

  If Tabby had folded up on herself any further, she would have turned inside out. Max took Tabby’s hand and tugged her closer.

  “Do we need somewhere private?” Sydney asked.

  “That might be good,” Tabby said.

  Sydney went and spoke to the other office aide—Felicia—who’d been giving Tabby and Max strange looks for the past twenty minutes, but then Felicia nodded and headed down the hall, presumably to monitor Sydney’s classroom for a few minutes. Sydney led them into a small conference room, where they all took seats. Sydney carefully lowered herself down into a chair, holding her stomach. Tabby just perched on the edge of hers.

  “Is something wrong?” Sydney asked cautiously, her brown eyes full of concern.

  “Nothing too dire.” Tabby cast a glance toward Max, who nodded. “Unless you count this.” She pulled down the neck of her shirt, and Sydney’s eyes widened.

  “Nothing dire?” Sydney squeaked. “You’re turning green, Tabby.”

  “And it’s gotten a bit darker since last night,” Max said.

  “That can’t be good.” She leaned closer. “How far has it spread?”

  Tabby ran a finger halfway down her chest then up and over her shoulder.

  “When did it start?”

  “Just last night…along with this.” Tabby tucked her hair behind her pointy ears.

  Sydney fell back in her chair and pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead. Max could relate. He had a slight headache too.

  “I think we can rule out medical emergency,” Sydney murmured, “though you could stop by the healing clinic to be sure. How are you feeling?”

  “A little like Kermit the Frog,” Tabby said. “Otherwise, okay.”

  “Make any new enemies lately? Could be a curse of some kind.”

  “We actually think we know the what,” Max said. “We just don’t know the why or how to fix it. That’s where you come in.”

  Between them, Tabby and Max laid out everything that had happened in the last several days. Rionach. Oryn. The amulet. The proclamation. The transformation. Sydney never interrupted. She sat in stunned silence, taking it all in, every now and then examining Tabby’s ears or focusing on her skin or lifting a lock of hair. When they’d finished the tale of Rionach and the gift of the green princess, Sydney smiled.

  “A female leprechaun. That is truly amazing.”

  “Make that plural,” Tabby said. “I’m apparently turning into one right before your eyes.”

  “She’s not as dark as Rionach, not yet anyway,” Max said. “The queen is as dark as a perfect emerald, a true shamrock color. And her hair is the color of a blazing sunset.”

  “I’m turning into an Irish cliché.” Tabby clutched Sydney’s hand. “Please, Syd, I can’t live my life like this, and I certainly have no intention of becoming a leprechaun queen. You have to figure this out for me.”

  “For us,” Max said. When Tabby cast a dubious glance his way, he said, “I mean that. For us.”

  “You don’t have to be part of this, Max.” She shook her head. “This is a lot more than you bargained for when you said yes to pizza and beer.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I can handle anything that comes our way.”

  Sydney flicked her hand, and a pen and pad flew from a shelf onto the table. She began to write some notes. “Max, you are an endless series of surprises.” She smiled as she continued to scribble. “I can check a few books in my collection at Mystic Tides, if Grey didn’t burn the place down when she worked last night.”

  Sydney gave a fake shudder. Grey Sinclair, Mystic Tides’ resident fire witch extraordinare, had caused a bit of chaos over the years.

  “If I can’t find anything, my dad has a collection of Celtic lore. Very little is known about leprechauns. They’re rare, and though there are some stories and legends, no one knows what’s true and what’s false. They tell tall tales, they fib, they twist facts, they downright lie at times. The leprechauns are a notoriously tricky race of beings.”

  “They’re not thrown-away fairies?” Tabby asked.

  “Oh no,” Sydney said. “That’s a story they perpetuate themselves to keep their secrets. They positively hate fairies. They’ll say anything to make the fairies look bad. Jealousy I imagine.”

  “Not sure if I feel better or worse,” Max said.

  “How long do we have?” Sydney asked.

  “Six days,” Tabby said miserably. “She comes back in six days. But I don’t know how much longer I can go out in public.”

  “I think I can handle that,” Sydney said. “I can do a little glamour spell. You’ll still see yourself as you are, and your family—those close to you—will as well, but others should see the real Tabby, the one underneath this…curse or whatever it is.”

  Max nodded, glad for a slight reprieve. Tabby looked so miserable. He missed her smile.

  “Give me this weekend. I’ll do a little digging and I’ll come up with a kick-ass spell. We can meet back here before school on Monday. Will that work?”

&nb
sp; “Yes,” Max said.

  Sydney glanced between them, her gaze measured. “I could have sworn you two didn’t know one another before this week.”

  “We didn’t,” Tabby said.

  “You seem…” Sydney pursed her lips as she thought. “You seem quite close already. I’m getting a vibe between you, and, Max, you’re positively a chatterbox compared to your usual self.”

  Max ducked his head and blushed. “She brings out something in me.”

  “She does indeed.” Sydney pushed away from the table. “Monday morning. I’ll have as many answers as I can. Try not to worry.” She tickled the end of Tabby’s ear. “In the meantime, there are some hats in lost and found if you need one.”

  * * * *

  Friday Evening, March 10

  He planned to pick Tabby up and take her to the broom races down at the park, where her friend Bannon was participating. Anything to get her mind off her troubles while they waited for answers, and the darkness of the festival might help with that.

  His phone dinged.

  Sybil: Hey, Max.

  Might as well just answer. It was easier than explaining why he hadn’t.

  Max: Hi, Syb.

  Sybil: Just checking in to see how it went with your little leprechaun.

  Max: Haha.

  She sent him an emoji of a shamrock, followed by a smiley face wearing a green hat.

  Max: You’re a riot. I’m busy. Gotta go.

  Sybil: Wait!

  Max: What?

  Sybil: I’m sorry for all the grief we gave you. You know, the pixie stuff. If she’s a pixie, it’s okay. We’ll get over it.

  Max: She’s not a pixie.

  Sybil: Oh, that’s good I guess.

  Max: If you say so.

  Sybil: I was talking with Phil last night, telling him about your date, that sort of thing.

  Max: Gee, thanks, Syb. Nothing like everyone in the family giving me the business.

  Phil was Sybil’s psychiatrist husband with a flourishing practice in Manhattan. Being an air witch certainly hadn’t hindered his success. Max was sure Phil used his push to get his patients to open up a bit more easily than they would have otherwise. He was also sure Phil had a world to say about pixies. Probably saw dozens in his practice. They tended to have anger-management issues coupled with court-ordered counseling.

  Max: And what did Dr. Phil say?

  He never got tired of saying that. Even in his annoyance, he chuckled as he typed it.

  Sybil: Har har. There was a moment of silence, and then what she wrote shocked the hell out of him. Phil said there might be female leprechauns.

  His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment as he thought of how to respond. She beat him to it.

  Sybil: There are rumors of a queen, princesses, sacrifice.

  Sacrifice? Oh hell no. Tabby was not going to be involved in a sacrifice.

  Max: WTF

  Sybil: No, no, not that kind of sacrifice. Just making sacrifices for others, that sort of thing.

  Max: Why are you telling me this?

  Sybil: I’m just saying she COULD be a leprechaun. And if she is, you might want to prepare to let her go.

  That would happen over his dead body.

  Max: And Phil knows this how?

  Sybil: I really shouldn’t say.

  Max: Then you shouldn’t have brought it up.

  Sybil: I guess it’s okay. There aren’t any details. He had a patient several months ago. Phil thought the guy suffered from multiple personalities.

  Max: And?

  He could almost see where this was heading. He knew all about Oryn.

  Sybil: Until the day some sort of creature shimmered into his office in the man’s place. A leprechaun, Max. Tiny. Green. Red hair. Right there in place of the other man. He sniffed out some money and turned it into gold right in Phil’s office. Phil bought new golf clubs.

  Max: Stay on track.

  Sybil. Sorry. He talked about another realm, other leprechauns, their queen. A real talker that one.

  Max: I never doubted they were real.

  Sybil: Well, I guess I knew they had to EXIST, but they’re supposed to be fairies, not their own species with their own realm. Anyway, the patient wasn’t aware of this other creature. Thought he just had holes in his memories and that he might be stealing in a fugue state. Apparently he’d been adopted and knew nothing of his family history.

  Max: What about the princess?

  Sybil: Oh, yes, he said they were waiting the new princess, that she would sacrifice for them. That means there have to be female leprechauns out there somewhere.

  I know, Max thought, I have one of my very own. And I’m keeping her.

  Chapter 7

  Monday Morning, March 13

  Four more days.

  Tabby was a nervous wreck as they waited for Sydney. She’d had a great weekend with Max. They’d gone to a movie, bike riding on the boardwalk, and miniature golfing. They’d attended a lot of the St. Pat’s activities. So many of them had been chaotic, and no one seemed to understand why everything was suddenly all out of whack after so much preparation. The entire town seemed to be under some sort of magical siege, and as much as she hated the idea of that, she had her own problems to deal with. Namely, she was starting to look like a freaking leprechaun.

  Tabby had worn long-sleeved shirts and jeans, making sure none of her green skin showed. It now shadowed her entire torso and ran down her arms to her elbows and down her legs to her knees. Mercifully, her face remained untouched, and her hair, while changing colors and lengthening, looked as though she’d just given herself some strands of wild red. Her parents had been watching her cautiously, and Tabby noticed her brothers were giving her a wide berth as though she had a disease they could catch, the Princess Flu or something.

  Tabby leapt from her chair when Sydney came through the door and went into the conference room. Max followed. Sydney had a notebook and something wrapped in black cloth.

  “First things first,” Sydney said. “How are you? Or should I say how green are you?”

  Tabby explained all the changes she’d noticed. Max followed up with, “And her eyes are changing a bit. The green is darker, almost black at times, and every so often I see a flare of red.”

  Tabby whirled toward him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but it’s no wonder my brothers are steering clear of me.” She turned to Sydney, excitement coursing through her along with the nerves. “What did you find out?”

  “I wanted to discuss some of this with Helena-Marie, but Grey told me the mayor is dealing with her own issues right now, so I didn’t bother her.” Sydney pulled her notes toward her. “I found a lot and nothing. I found out things about Rionach, but I can’t tell you for sure how to resolve this whole thing. First, Rionach was a Celtic queen of legend. She ruled parts of ancient Ireland in the fifth century, a strong and valiant queen who led her armies into battle many times against oppressors. She made great personal sacrifices to serve her people. She never took a mate, never had children. At some point in her midlife, she disappeared, but she left her people strong and healthy under the rule of a nephew. That strength lasted for several generations.”

  “So she was a heroine, a great woman,” Tabby said.

  “Yes. She sounds very feisty, much like your little queen. The legend says that Rionach took to her bed in the last few weeks of her time with her clan, that…” Sydney slipped on some cotton gloves and opened the cloth, where several ancient-looking volumes lay. She pulled one of the small books toward her. “This is a history of the ancient Celts from my father’s library. It was written five hundred years later, probably based on oral tradition, but you’ll get the idea.”

  Sydney began to read. “‘Her skin at first shown with a strange pallor, and later, a shadow resembling peat moss lay over her skin. At the same time, her hair sparked into fire and her eyes burned like the d
arkest, hottest embers. She refused to take her shawl from her head, and she conversed with someone unseen by others. She seemed to shrivel, her body wasting away to the size of a child.’”

  “She was changing,” Tabby said softly. “She must have felt so alone.” She grabbed Max’s hand.

  “And then there’s this.” Sydney turned several pages and read. “‘Avaric brought a meal to Rionach, and when he entered the cottage later to retrieve the bowl, he found the small room empty. The only thing remaining of his family’s matriarch, his clan’s leader, was the warmth of the blanket on the sleeping pallet and, on that pallet, a golden ring, a ring Rionach had worn throughout her entire adult life, her symbol of power. It had been ten sunrises since Avaric had seen his matriarch in the light of day.’”

  “She made a choice,” Tabby said. “I’m scared, Max.”

  “I’m here, Tabby. I’m always here. We’ll figure it out together.”

  Sydney slid the smaller volume toward her. “This is a collection of Irish legends. One talks about Rionach, the Leprechaun Queen, a tiny green woman who leads all the leprechauns in the realm, said to have ruled for over a thousand years. The story says Rionach had once been a human woman, visited by Mother Alastríona, who was the great defender of humanity, one who kept the lesser fairies from wrecking havoc upon the earth. Alastríona declared that Rionach was a gift to their realm, a princess of the leprechauns, and offered her an impossible choice. Find her true love and stay upon the earth or sacrifice her own human life and take her rightful place in leading a people in need of strong and compassionate guidance.”

  “Why couldn’t Alastríona just continue to lead?” Max asked.

  “It doesn’t say,” Sydney said.

  “Maybe she was just tired of herding cats,” Tabby said. “I met Oryn. When I think about thousands and thousands of Oryns, it gets a bit daunting. It’s rather like the Lost Boys and Wendy.”

  “Kind of sad when you think about it,” Max said.

  Sydney closed the books, wrapped them in the cloth, and slid the package toward Tabby. “I wish I could have found more, but we’re dealing with knowledge and lore rehashed over a thousand years. You can take the books and read through them. They might offer you insight, maybe even some more answers. Shall we get to work on the current problem?” Sydney pulled a hand mirror from her bag and handed it to Tabby. “Ready?”