She picked up and searched through a book on the Druids, looking for a decoding of any ancient prophecies and passed-down customs, for anything she could find on the Greenman. She glanced over every page. Flip flip flip. She halted the pages when she came to a passage. As she read, she became breathless, her heart pounding.
With this gift of prophecy, those who come to completion of the thirty-third sixth Lustre, being the thirty-third sixth Druidic Cycle, must make a choice after completion of one’s thirteenth year in the new. Choice to have been made come the Celtic day of luck, or will at the time of Alban Eilir, in which the day of balance arrives, when equal day and night meet, will themselves become a tree of knowledge. A wise life force, a spirit, an enlightened healer. One whose sacrifice will further root and deepen the bonds of man and nature. To become an elemental spirit that will proudly stand watch over all lifeforms. To protect, respect, and trust, in so being.
There is choice, but ‘tis only given to the ones who know love, those who pine for truth, the purest of heart’s love, as love creates the strongest bond of all. As ‘tis with love, in which all was created, ‘tis also in love in which all great things do grow. With this choice, one can live a natural lifetime as an earth-bound man, and do so to the fullest, if lived in love. This can be only if the love is reciprocated and occurs by the third month on the day of Celtic luck, for ones who love have the luck of the living. At the end of this natural life, a transformation of said spirit may occur, and if he still wills it, that spirit may become the spirit of the mighty oak to watch over a place of his choosing. And, through the force and strength of love, he may be joined by the spirit of his beloved, when her earthly time comes to an end.
If no action to secure such love is taken by this day of Celtic luck, after what all others know to be one thousand and four years, then comes the day of balance. The willow will take form, as it had already begun to root in life. If such true love was known, and forsaken, the willow will be left to weep come the Alban Eilir.
Jenn took a deep breath. This is it. This is his spell. His prophecy. She searched through the volume for verification of her understanding of the Druid text. A Lustre is, in the Druid Cycle, the equivalent of five years. She jotted down as she worked out the math. She spoke to herself as she tapped her pencil on her note. “So, in the first mention, with all considered, it would be nine hundred and ninety years. Then after completing thirteen years into the new…brings him to the end of 1003 years. He was given 1004, so…this is the year.” Her heart ached, and her stomach felt in knots. The last year. The last chance is on the day of Celtic luck. That’s today.
Her mouth dropped. And it comes down to love. He’s missing love. She remembered her notes on the coin. So, Earth, Air, Water...all the elements are depicted, except one. No Fire. She jumped out of her seat. “That’s it. The coin is telling him that he needs to find true passion. True love.” With it, he can live out this life fully, and then, he may choose to give himself to the Earth.
She placed everything aside, got up, and walked to the shelves. She scanned the extensive collection to find the volumes that held ancient love potions. She pulled out a book. Flip flip, the pages went slowly by. She held her palm out and halted one. She took a deep breath. “Cinnamon, jasmine, rose, vervain.” She paused and raised her brows. There must be one more; I’m sure of it. It then occurred to her. If anyone would know the one to use, it would be the town’s very own Earth witch, Bethany Burke. She took a deep breath, her stomach fluttering as she put the book back on its shelf. After returning the other books to their shelves, she pulled out her phone. She prepared to text Sydney to thank her and to let her know that she would be leaving since, with the protective wards in place, it would show a slight disturbance when she exited. She turned on her phone and saw that she had a new message. It was from Chief Kal Burke. She took a deep breath.
Subject comes from a long line, and I do mean long line, of astrologers and scholars. And is quite well to do in his home country, or anywhere for that matter. His family was one of high influence and high regard. K.
Her eyes widened. I wasn’t expecting that.
* * * *
Blansett Bulbs and Flowers. This is the place. I wish Sky had accompanied me. Nevlin glanced around. The nursery was bustling. Tour buses parked along the gravel and cars along the side. He waved at two young women, sporting short, raven-black hair. He knew they were staff by the T-shirts and aprons they wore. They giggled as he walked by. Another member of the staff, a young man with bright red hair, wearing a name badge that read Joey, was unloading one of the carts.
Nevlin shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked past numerous garden carts and displays. He made his way over to a mulch path. He knew this would lead to the less developed, less commercial area. To have a place like this, and in a small town, should be a dream for townsfolk. I hope they appreciate it. He veered off slightly, knowing that, beyond the path still, was where the real magic would await. He continued through the overgrown area. Here, the wildlife was ample. He suspected, in a place like this, there would be numerous pixies, elves, fairies, even leprechauns. He was certain that the young man who he’d passed earlier was one of the green folk. He moved forward to a wild area, completely unmanicured, where plants and groundcover grew naturally. Who wouldn’t love to congregate here?
Nevlin looked high and low, from tree to tree. He’d came to feel the spirits of the trees, of all that surrounded him. And he did. They were oxygen, life. As he placed his hands along their bark, he found them to be peaceful, healthy, calm, and happy. He smiled, glad to know they were beyond content. They were in a good place.
He turned when he heard a familiar voice. He walked in the direction and peeked his head around. He saw something even more beautiful standing at the most magnificent Victorian greenhouse he’d ever seen; it was Jenn. He raised his brows, and his heart pounded against his chest.
She was speaking with another beautiful woman. She, too, was petite, and had flowing red hair. She is clearly an Earth witch. The woman handed Jenn a vial, which she slipped into her pocket. The two shared an embrace. They had a look of concern. He noticed Jenn appeared antsy, unable to hold still for long. He overheard them as they were parting ways.
Jenn gave a weary smile. “Primrose? So that was the fifth and missing ingredient? I should’ve known.”
“That was it. Luck be with you.”
“Thanks, Beth. We’ll know soon enough.”
When Jenn started to leave, she turned and blew the woman a kiss. The woman pretended to catch it. Maybe she did.
He ducked behind the foliage, only he had not tucked in deep enough. He heard a gasp, as Jenn stood directly in front of him. Her mouth gaped, and tears filed her eyes.
“Nevlin? What the… are you trying on foliage? Looking for a place to live? I don’t believe it.” She walked past him. “You’re such an ass.”
He reached out and pulled her toward him. “You did not know me before yesterday. You do not know of my obligation.”
“You mean your stupid agreement. I know you’re giving up your life, a full life ahead of you, for some…” She shook her head. “Ridiculous, old-fashioned, outdated prophecy. I can’t believe you’re going through with it. I told you I can help you. But no, you’re …” She shrugged his hand off her arm. “And don’t touch me.” She brushed past him.
She moved with such speed it was as if she was plowing through bushes, trees, the entire garden. He called out, “I have so much more to tell you.” She was out of his sight. He lowered his head. A tone rang, and as he ran his hand through his hair, he reached into his pocket for his phone. He looked at the incoming text.
You got it. Mayor made it happen. Top floor of Sibyls Point is now yours. Gifted to Jenn. She only needs to sign off. Papers sent. Congrats! Drake.
He felt a smile form on his lips, though his heart ached. He walked until he came to a large oak tree. He took a seat at the base and leaned his head against the bark. He hoped to feel its strengt
h, its calm. And he did. He lifted slightly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a coin, the coin, the one he knew held clues; he was sure of it. He turned it between his thumb and forefinger. As he flipped it over, he gazed at an inscription. He mumbled, “Ghlacadh fréimhe.” Take root. Settle down. He ran his finger past the markings of the unicorn then of the harp engraved in the metal. As he studied the five distinct sections, he shook his head. It all has to mean something. He placed it back in his pocket. He lifted his chain over his head and held his talisman of jade, his five-leaf clover. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Show me the future if I make no change. If I do nothing more than to except and honor my prophecy.”
He watched while, in his mind’s eye, a flurry of images passed before him. Water poured from a cloud and fell on the soil. Sprouts of green rose. A large circle, spiraling with movement, opened before him. A figure sprang from the depths, from beneath the soil, and past the sandy surface. The legs remained beneath the soil, penetrating deeper, anchoring, and rapidly expanding. They spread in diameter and rooted in five directions as they took hold in the ground, all the while circling and twisting. The figure’s trunk thickened as it created a cover of bark. Rising to an enormous height, it shot up like a rocket, arms morphing into pendulous branches, all the while multiplying. Long, narrow leaves wispily draped to the ground. The crown opened with a force, like an automatic umbrella. It expanded, creating a full canopy of foliage, with long, narrow leaves. It was rich and green.
Nevlin pressed his eyelids firmly to keep his eyes closed as he continued to watch. There were two ropes, which hung from a branch, with slats of wood across, creating a seat. He heard the laughter of children. He could feel their presence as they hid underneath the sweeping branches. Young hands could be seen climbing the multiple branches, their small feet lodged in the knots of the bark.
A beautiful woman appeared and stood at the trunk of the tree, her face gazing up. Her blue-violet eyes, like that of the periwinkle, gazed upon the magnificent tree. Is that Sky? He tried to call to her, and yet he couldn’t. Tears fell from her eyes as she focused on the height of the tallest branch. Her graceful hands held to the first branch as she tried to climb, though she could not raise herself from the ground. The Tree, with one of its own branches, brushed away its own foliage and gazed further upon the beauty of the woman. He felt the need to let her know he was there. He rustled and lowered a sweeping branch to her. Before she took hold, a male voice called out, “Children time to come in.” Are those her children? No, it could not be. Then she, with the eyes of blue amethyst, looked up once more as soft, sensuous lips blew on the branch, causing it to sway. The woman blew a kiss and turned and walked away. As she made her way through the shamrocks and periwinkle, he tried to call out once more, but he couldn’t. He was not in the tree; he was the tree.
Nevlin opened his eyes. That was Sky. He rubbed the back of his neck. He felt as if his stomach was at war with all he was. He began to perspire. Luck of the Irish, my ass. He wiped his eyes and braced his head in his hands. I love her. He reached in his pocket, and as he pulled out his coin, his eyes fell on the etching of the cloud. He glanced to the unicorn. He pursed his lips. Monoceros. The unicorn constellation? He traced his finger to the harp. Vega? “The harp star. The fifth brightest star.” Was the North Star only several thousand years ago. He shifted his gaze between the cloud and the unicorn. The one horn. Pointing the way. The one…pointing to… His eyes widened. “It all points to Sky. She is the one.” He shook his head and started to chuckle. It soon built into a robust laugh. He tossed his coin in the air and caught it.
Chapter 10
Friday Night, March 17
Jenn set the protective wards on throughout the store as she prepared to leave. The others had already left for the day. And a busy day it had been at Beachcombers. The festivities had been in full till. The parade had marched by, and the recent artifacts obtained had all been sold.
Jenn picked up the manila envelope that had been delivered earlier. She tapped it on her leg. Where has he been? She reached in and looked at its contents again. She shook her head. Did he really think I would accept this? A home?
Her initial anger and disbelief when it had first arrived had long since passed. She had since been informed by Chief Burke that Nevlin truly had no family. He had been donating money for many years and to many causes, as well as buying land and giving it to charities. She understood now, with his prophecy, with his plan, he had no use for money. Why me? He doesn’t even know me. She sat on the stool. Her body felt heavy, and her heart ached. She rubbed her head and started to cry.
Much time had passed, and Jenn looked up at the clock, not realizing she had sat there so long. She got up, locked the envelope in the safe in the back, and then crept up the interior stairs, which led to the efficiency. She listened and did not hear any activity. She posed her knuckles to knock on the door, but her arm fell limp. She knew she had to value his privacy. After all, he had honored her wishes to be left alone.
She went back down the steps, grabbed her coat, and walked out of the store. As she locked the door, she hoped to put this day, and so much more, behind her. Music filled the air, as locals and visitors alike celebrated. Most of this part of Main Street had cleared, as most revelers had ventured farther up toward the bars and cafes. She thought of going to Hooligans, to meet up with Halona and a few of her cousins. She had said she would, though, tonight, once again, she felt the desire to be alone.
As she walked aimlessly along, she reached into her pocket and handled the vial. Pour it out, that’s all you can do. It’s over. That was what her mind was telling her. A louder voice came through, firm, yet calm. Offer it.
Jenn looked at an overhead cloud. She remembered seeing a similar one on the coin. She was beginning to see all the signs now. Everything they had experienced had been right in front of them on that coin. What more?
She was startled from her thoughts when the sound of a loud wailing filled the air. The sound of grief, a shrilled screech. She knew the sound, a keening. Banshee.
She gasped as her heart pounded. “Nevlin.”
She ran toward the eerie sound as it became higher and louder. It led her to Sibyls Point. She opened the gate, running through the clover and periwinkle. She could not tell where the sound had originated or where its focus was. As was often the case, the cries carried wherever the wind took them. She noticed ahead, though many yards away, a tree that had not been there yesterday. She walked over to it. It had to be nearly six feet in height. It was encircled by a large design. She squinted, as it was dark and hard to make out. It looked almost like a crop circle. Lines extended outwards, creating the illusion of swirls of motion. It reminded her of the pinwheel galaxy. She took a deep breath, still aware of the cries of the banshee, though they were softening.
She crouched down and brushed the circle with her hand. The impressions were deep, penetrating the soil, the indentation in the center, firm. The tree looked as if it had all been there for ages. Finding it difficult to look away, she felt the more she focused, the more she could see the swirls activate. She was mesmerized. It was almost as if it gazed back at her. Yet she knew this was all an illusion. She gasped and fell to her knees. The new tree had a perfectly shaped root formation of five roots, which had already firmly taken hold. She traced her finger over the five roots and wept.
The night felt still, and all other sound ceased. A sudden soft breeze caught her cheek as a comforting sound met her ears. A familiar voice spoke.
“I hoped you would be here.”
Jenn jolted up. She turned around and threw her arms around Nevlin. She cried as her entire body shook. He cradled her head in his hand as he held her.
“You’re okay. You’re still here. I thought…”
He whispered, “I cannot do it.”
She drew back and looked him in the eyes. “That sound? Your prophecy? This tree?”
“The fairies knew something was preventing it.
I felt it too. The tree is an oak, which I planted for us.” He smiled. “And Acorn.”
She shook her head and then felt a jolt of hope spread through her body. “I found a way to remove the obligation. You can still honor it, if that’s what you want, but can do so after…” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you say for us?” She raised her brows. “Because it’s only love that will prevent…but I’ve looked up the remedy and found this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the vial. “If you take this, you will know love and can remain here, as a man.”
He raised his brow. “Love potion?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”
He tilted his head. “You would do this for me? Have me love you, with no feelings of love of your own? Just to help me? You would do all that, for a man you do not love?”
“But see, that’s just it…”
Nevlin lowered his gaze. “Do we even know that it would work since you do not love me?”
She bit her lip and placed a hand on his face. “We will never know that, because I do love you.”
A smile crept on his lips. “You do?”
She nodded as a tear ran down her cheek. He wiped her tear with his thumb. He then took the vial from her hand. He uncapped it and tipped it over. All the contents poured out. He released the vial from his hand, allowing it to fall to the ground.
Jenn held her hands over her mouth. “What are you doing? That was the only way.” She placed her hands on the crown of her head. “I honestly thought you liked me. Thought you might even…but, no, you would rather live as a tree. Risk someday becoming nothing more than a stump, firewood, than to have to love me?”
He pulled her close. “I do not need a potion to love you. Nor magic of any kind. Sky, I love you now.”
She raised her brows. “You do?” She managed to smile through her tears.
His eyes watered. “Yes. It is all I am wanting. To remain and love you…my Sky. I would rather love you than hold to my prophecy. You are more precious to me than anything I have ever known.” He swept his finger to wipe away another tear from her cheek. “I always felt in my deepest being that there was more for me. Love, that is what I had never known in all my searching. That is until you. I knew the first time I looked in your eyes. Your eyes flicker with the blue flame of the fire within. That which is clear and pure and truth. And hot, very very hot.” He smiled.
Mystic Luck (Mystic Tides Book 2) Page 17