Blood Moon

by KB Anne

  Amorin picks at his fingernails as if they’re the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “A new flame was lit seventeen years ago in the town center to stand as a symbol of Brigit’s lasting impression on this world.”

  I push up from the ground. “I think I’ll go lie down now. I didn’t sleep much last night.” I return the tapestry to Clarissa’s lap. “Thank you both for sharing with me about our past.”

  I rush away before they can say anything. Even a whisper of reincarnation and I develop the irresistible urge to flee.

  22

  Fairy Mound Visitors

  The splattering of raindrops against the window encourages me to stay in bed, daydreaming about Alaric—his eyes, his smile, his lips. Occasional pangs of guilt rake through me for not thinking of Dad or Scott or Gram or Lizzie or Ryan, but still, selfishly, my thoughts return to him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. It’s scary as shit but amazing all the same.

  A gentle knock comes to my door. “Gigi, I’m heading over to the Cathedral. Would you like to come with me?”

  The thought of spending another day among ancient volumes is exceedingly unappealing. “Maybe I’ll meet you there later. Is that okay?”

  “Perfectly fine, dear. I’ll see you back here for dinner.”

  The front door closes behind him.

  As the rain begins to wane, I sigh. I suppose I should go help him. After all, he’s trying to figure out a way to save me. I probably should pretend to be interested. Maybe today will be the day he finds whatever it is he’s searching for.

  On my way over to the Cathedral, a compelling desire to visit the mound comes over me. There’s nothing special about it. Nothing unique. But still it soothes me. I follow the same path I do every day, finding comfort in routine. But today, like most days of my recent life, has proven anything but usual. The light shimmers in a patch of grass so much so that I know it must be something of consequence. I bend down and pick up a smooth shiny blue stone engraved with the triskele on it. The never-ending spiral symbol I had inked on my shoulder without ever having come across it my entire life. And now, it’s everywhere, including on a stone on a path I’ve walked dozens of times since my arrival.

  Tracing my fingers along the pattern on the stone, an idea comes to me. I circle the mound once, then twice. I begin to circle a third time when a voice interrupts me.

  “I knew you were a siofra! Is this your fairy mound?” Alaric calls out to me.

  I freeze. I can’t complete my third rotation with his presence.

  He saunters over to me. Even his walk is confident and sexy. “You really need to stop following me around,” he says. “People will begin to talk.”

  The flesh and blood of the boy I’ve been thinking about all day is standing before me, waiting for me to say something.

  He reaches for my hand, his touch sending tingles up my arm. “I’ve left you speechless again, haven’t I? I have that effect on women.”

  “You wish. And I believe you are following me. I was here first.”

  “True. Maybe I am following you, or you’ve studied my routine long enough to know that I come here to think. That boulder over there is actually my thinking rock,” he says, leading me over to the very rock I’ve spent my afternoons thinking on. “But you haven’t answered my question. Is this your fairy mound?”

  I climb up on the rock, and he follows behind me. “Is that what this place is? I’ve been wondering.”

  “There are mounds similar to this one scattered all over Ireland. They’re believed to be gateways to the Otherworld, but I haven’t managed to find the entrance yet.”

  Curious to find out what he knows about it, I ask, “Otherworld? What’s that?”

  “Many Irish believe in the Otherworld. Gods and magical creatures of Celtic mythology reside there. A place of great splendor and wonder. You should know. You’re from there, aren’t you?”

  Momentarily stunned, I’m left speechless, which seems to be my typical reaction to Alaric because he’s always surprising me. “What . . . what do you mean?”

  “You’re a siofra. Fairies are from the Otherworld.”

  “Sorry, I’m from Vernal Falls.”

  “Sounds like a magical place.”

  “Vernal Falls? Hardly. There’s no magic there.” Suddenly, I miss my little corner of my once-stable universe.

  “Well, of course not. You’re here, aren’t you? Now, what are you doing out here all by yourself?”

  “Just thinking.”

  “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.” He smoothes out the wrinkles on my forehead, his touch sending shivers through me. “Tell me.”

  I take a deep breath before replying, “I’ve got a lot of wounds that aren’t yet healed.”

  He cradles my face, catching my eyes with his intense gaze. “Wounds don’t heal unless you let them. Let me help you heal,” he whispers, casting his spell. “It can’t be so bad, can it?”

  Entranced, I blurt out my problems without another thought. “My two best friends just died of rabid dog attacks, my eighty-two-year-old grandmother died suddenly from heart failure, my brother is in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, and my father, who came with me to Ireland, has been missing for almost two days. It’s pretty bad.”

  He moves behind me. “Fairies aren’t meant to carry such heavy burdens. No wonder you look like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he says as he begins to knead them. I bite my lip, trying not to moan. Between the setting and the masseuse, I’m pretty sure I’ve found the gateway to the Otherworld as every knot and worry is sated.

  “Your smell is absolutely intoxicating to me,” he whispers, leaning closer. My body screams for more of his touch.

  Slowly, surely, his hands move from my shoulders to my neck sending shivers up and down my spine. “Is there anything else you need, Gigi?” he murmurs, his lips caressing my ear.

  Shifting to face him, my eyes fall to his lips. They dance lightly across mine, leaving me waiting. Wanting. When I can’t take it anymore, I press my mouth to his. His lips clamp tightly over mine with a fervor rivaling my own as his tongue greedily searches for mine.

  His hands tangle into my hair as he pulls me closer to him. The ribbon of air that once existed between us disappears as our bodies intertwine with one another. Driven by pure desire, our touches become more intimate. There is no hesitation. No wavering.

  It is as it should be.

  A gentle rain begins to fall, but our thirst has not been quenched. We’re unable to get enough of each other. My shirt falls open as he pulls the buttons apart. An earsplitting clap of thunder shatters the quiet afternoon. We pull back from one another in surprise as the skies open up, and a deluge cascades down from the heavens followed by another deafening boom.

  “Tomorrow,” Alaric promises meaningfully.

  “Tomorrow,” I reply.

  Tomorrow.

  23

  Midnight Visitors, Again

  After dinner I daydream by the fire, glowing with happiness as I consider my perfect afternoon with Alaric. I can’t help but sigh in contentment at the thought of him.

  “I’m pleased to see you so happy, Gigi,” Amorin says.

  I half smile, staring at the flames.

  “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

  “No,” I sigh. “I just had a very relaxing afternoon.”

  The flames crackle and hiss as Amorin adds another log to it.

  “Clarissa believes Mark will find his way home in a few days. All we can do is wait and continue searching for ways to protect you on Samhain.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmur, not really listening to him.

  “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, dear.” His hand brushes across my head as he laughs to himself, but I’m too absorbed in my own thoughts to ask him what’s funny.

  The flames dance before my eyes. The faces of my parents flicker before me. Absentmindedly, I reach into my back pocket and pull out a crumpled piece
of paper. Smoothing it out on my lap, I realize it’s the map I swiped from the Cathedral my first night in Ireland. With everything that’s happened since, I’d forgotten all about it.

  Many of the locations on the map are now familiar to me: the Cathedral, the castle ruins, Brigit’s Tree, the fairy mound. But there are three more sites I haven’t been to yet. There’s the round tower on the northeastern border of the map, and in the southeast corner, beyond the castle, the giant bonfire with people dressed in furs dancing all around it. Past that is a square building and several smaller ones clustered around it. I glance out the window. With the moon almost full, I’ll have plenty of light to guide me.

  I swipe my hoodie off the rack on my way out the door, thinking only about finding my dad. Amorin’s sweater brushes my knuckles and falls to the floor. The crumpled pile of wool gives me pause. I’ve never given much thought about how my actions impact others. I never thought anyone aside from Gram and maybe Dad cared much what I did, but Amorin’s panic this morning made me realize that sometimes—most of the time—I can be a real asshole. I hang his sweater back up then scribble a note in case he wakes up and discovers me missing again. I shake my head in disbelief. Ireland is going to destroy my badass reputation.

  As I step outside, I take a deep breath. The night air fills me with possibility. I nod at the moon, thanking it for its light, and take off at a sprint. I know—I can’t believe I’m running either. I almost veer off in the direction of the fairy mound. I can feel it beckoning me to visit and maybe relive the memory of my perfect afternoon with Alaric. He’s like my new drug of choice. I can’t get enough of him. He makes me want to believe in “happily ever afters” and “the one,” at least for the time being. Ireland is really making me soft-hearted. The kids back home would devour this new Gigi in one bite. Kensey would have a field day. I wonder if she’s back in school or if she’s still off gallivanting with Breas. Not that I give a rat’s ass about him anyway. Especially with Alaric around. Breas doesn’t hold a candle to Alaric. He’s everything to me.

  In the distance, I can just make out the dark outline of the Cathedral. Instead of taking the familiar path that leads toward it, I head southeast toward the square building and the bonfire. Who knows, maybe they’ll have s’mores.

  I race across the countryside, unafraid of what might be hiding in the shadows. And what shadows there are, disappear with the growing light of the bonfire. As I approach the fire, I recognize the familiar shrouded figure sitting in front of it.

  I step into the circle. “Carman.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you, dear,” she says, her lips moving long after she finished speaking.

  “You knew I was coming?”

  Gram and I communicated telepathically, Scott a bit, and Lizzie too, but I’ve never experienced it with anyone else. Someone I don’t know.

  “Of course. I gave you the book with the copy of the map because I wanted to reveal to you the power of Maleficium, a magic incredibly powerful to combat opposing forces. As a follower of Brigit, you should know these things.”

  “I’m sorry I took it.”

  “Dear, it was meant for you since the beginning. It’s always been yours.”

  “You drew the map then?”

  “Many years ago.” She pauses, finally breaking her gaze from the fire. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me, dear?”

  “My father . . . he went missing yesterday. Can you help me find him?”

  “It won’t be easy. There are certain herbs I need in order to clearly see. They’re best collected in the early hours of the day. Come back tomorrow morning and we’ll find your dad together. For now, go home and rest. Our journey will require a tremendous amount of energy.”

  “Thank you for your help, Carman. I am forever in your debt.”

  “Dear, it’s the least I can do for a dedicated follower of Brigit,” she says without expression before turning back to the flames.

  * * *

  Filled with anticipation of participating in Carmen’s magic, but exhausted from my excursion across the countryside, I fall asleep immediately. Not surprisingly, my dreams shift to Alaric and our afternoon rendezvous.

  Suddenly, my eyes flash open. The night moon filters into the room, and I make out a shadow looming near my bed.

  “Alaric? Is that you?” I whisper, fully believing I’m asleep.

  “Gi, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers in the darkness.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know . . . I just found myself by your side when you spoke.” There’s a quiver to his voice I’ve never heard before. “I don’t feel right,” he says as he wraps his arms around himself to calm his trembling body.

  I shift over to make room for him. “Sit down.”

  “No!” He shrieks, backing into the far corner.

  “Alaric, what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I need to get out of here.” Without another word he leaps through the open window into the night.

  In confusion, I scramble to the window and stare out into the darkness. The cold, moist night air cools my face before an earthy hot breeze pushes me back into the room, stinging my eyes. And suddenly I realize, maybe I wasn’t dreaming.

  24

  Spell Work and Kisses

  Confused by Alaric’s visit, my dreams are haunted by uninvited guests. Finally, after hours of frustration, I kick off my covers and get dressed. Careful not to wake Amorin, I sneak out the front door. It’s time to work some magic.

  I approach the fire ring from the night before. Small tendrils of smoke slowly creep into the air each time the wind blows. Tall dark pine trees encircle the fire ring, casting almost human-like shadows on the ground that look downright sinister. Maybe these were the dancing figures on the map, which I mistook for people.

  The unsettling feeling of being watched comes over me. Cautiously I call out, “Carman?” as I slowly scan the unfamiliar surroundings. In the distance is the back of a small cottage, a few barns of varying sizes, and a couple of greenhouses. I’m sure this is the cluster of buildings from the map. The garden of the cottage, with its eclectic blend of lawn ornaments including looking glasses, wind chimes, and bird baths, reminds me of Gram’s backyard, though it’ll never feel the same without Gram.

  “Carman?” I call out again.

  A loud bang in the nearest barn catches my attention. I head over to the weather-tattered building.

  Nothing could have prepared me for the interior of the barn. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Carman was a serial killer with a penchant for the weird and furry. It reminds me of Gram’s greenhouse because of the hanging bundles of herbs, but that’s where the familiarity stops. Instead of shelves of clay pots, Gram’s pottery, and other happy gardener objects, these shelves are filled with hooves, antlers, and rabbits’ feet. Frogs, mice, spiders, and other creepy-crawlies hang suspended in glass beakers. There are long workbenches, similar to the ones we use for floral arranging, repotting, and cutting, but based on the sharp, grotesquely shaped tools with questionable stains on the tips of them, I’m not so sure I want to know what happens on these tables.

  A soft thump draws my attention to a wooden door at back of the barn.

  “Carman?” I call out again.

  When she doesn’t answer, I reluctantly creep toward the rear door, all the while praying some enormous rat doesn’t jump out and attack me. Just as I reach the door handle, a loud bang sounding an awful lot like a dropped pot, pulls me back in the direction of the cottage. All too eager to get away from the creepy barn, I head up the worn dirt path.

  “Carman, I’m here,” I shout as I open the screen door and come face to face with Alaric.

  He staggers backward in alarm. “Gigi? What are you doing here?”

  “I . . . I . . .” I stutter in astonishment that Alaric is in Carman’s house. “Carman told me to come over this morning. I’m . . . I’m sorry to disturb you. I didn’t know you lived here.”


  Now, with time to glance around, I realize it’s the same kitchen he served me breakfast in yesterday morning. An awkward silence follows, neither one of us willing to make the first move or speak the first fumble. Retreat is my best line of defense. Slowly, I begin backing out of the kitchen, but I trip on a floorboard and crash to the floor.

  Alaric rushes over. “Gi, are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  Tingles run up my arm as he touches it. He gently lifts me to my feet.

  I brush myself off, stepping away from him. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  He drags his hand through his hair. “Gi, about yesterday and last night . . .”

  Oh god, we’re going to have this conversation. He’s going to break my heart, and I’ve had enough of that.

  “Don’t worry about it. No big deal. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  He gathers my hands in his. “Gi, it wasn’t a mistake. Nothing about you is a mistake.”

  “I don’t understand.” Nothing he’s saying makes sense, and it’s impossible to pay attention to him when I’m trying to ignore the burning sensation in my fingertips.

  “You’re so adorable when your forehead scrunches up like that,” he says, smoothing out the lines as casually as he did the day before. “I followed you into the club. I knew you would be at the mound. Nothing about our meeting is a mistake.”

  “I don’t understand . . .” I whisper.

  “Carman is my nan. She wanted us to meet. I told you how she knows things? She knew you’d be in Kildare the other night. I followed you into the club. Into both clubs . . .”

  I step away from him. “Both clubs? I’ve only been to one club since I came to Ireland . . .” I gasp. All the blood rushes out of my head, and I think I’m going to faint. “You . . . It was you at the Metropol . . .” I take a deep inhale and smell the faint trace of cigarette smoke I remember. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. “You, who kept following me around at home, scaring me half to death. You carried me home that night from Radley Pond . . .”