Temple of Indra's Witch (Time Traveling Bibliophile Book 4)

by Rachael Stapleton

  “Case and point,” I said shaking my head.

  “That’s not a fair assessment. Cats never obey.”

  “Oh yeah? You try.”

  She sat back down at the counter and popped the last bite of her bagel into her mouth.

  “Humor me,” I encouraged.

  “Fine,” Leslie grumbled and looked up at the cat. “Daphne, come!”

  Daphne, as predicted, jumped down and bounded to Leslie’s feet.

  I raised my eyebrows at her and she grinned.

  “What can I tell you? I have an authoritative voice and food.”

  The bell jingled and we watched as several familiar faces came into the shop. These were more of the local high school girls or rather second level education students as they were called here, but there were also neighborhood residents, university students as well as our fellow bookworms who made it a point to check out the new arrivals every week.

  I was lulled by the thud-flutter-flutter-thud of the books as they were picked up and scanned and then set back down along the shelves.

  Leslie drained her coffee and wordlessly got to her feet. She was giving me the signal that she was back on cash so I could go monitor the kids and in some cases, clean up after them. It was our routine. I perused the floor and handled the customer service side while she handled cash, displays and unpacking inventory.

  "I need a candle, too,” said Hannah Walsh. Lagging behind her, as though she wished she were anywhere but here, was another student from Alana’s school, Somhairlín Ó Longargáin. Both I’d come to recognize as teenage girls on summer break: cut-off jean shorts, topped by tatty cropped T-shirts, cardigans, and worn purses slung over their slim shoulders.

  “Why?” Somhairlín asked.

  “Wise up, ye gack. Witches use candles to amplify their spells,” Hannah replied.

  They were perusing the new section, focusing on books based in dark magic.

  “I don’t know about this,” Somhairlín whined.

  “Ye’re absolutely lame. It’s just a simple confusion spell.”

  “Why would ye be after confusin’ someone? Seems cruel.”

  “Oh, relax, Somhairlín. Where’s Alana, anyway? She’ll know which one to get. Do ye see her?”

  “I don’t. Wait til she hears about Deirdre,” Somhairlín said.

  “Ye don’t think she already knows? I mean, in fairness, she did it,” Hannah replied.

  I had grown accustomed to the cattiness of these girls but this was surprising even to me.

  I swung around. “Girls!”

  Hannah swiveled around to face me. “Mrs. O’Kelley. What's the buzz?”

  I ignored the question, stepping closer to her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We were just, um, shoppin’. Just been to Penney’s finest, ye know. Is Alana ‘round?”

  “No.” I looked the two up and down. “What did you mean Alana did it?”

  Neither one responded.

  I used my most motherly tone, the one that always made Alana squirm. “Deirdre’s on her way to the hospital. This is a very serious matter. How will you feel if something terrible happens to her?”

  Somhairlín sighed unhappily and rolled her eyes, which completely irked me. I had to wonder if kids in general realized just how annoying the eye roll was or whether they were even aware they were doing it for that matter. Maybe it was simply auto-programmed into their rebellious teenager DNA.

  “We didn’t mean anythin’ like that, Mrs. O’Kelley.”

  I always pictured Cullen’s mother when I heard the Mrs. O’Kelley and some part of me felt like I was stealing it from her.

  “Call me Sophia.”

  “All right, Mrs—Sophia. We hardly want Deirdre to die.” Somhairlín and Hannah looked at one another then Somhairlín spoke again, “We just meant karma, ye know ‘cause of what Deirdre did to your one.”

  “What did Deirdre do to Alana?”

  “Ye know.” Hannah looked at her shoes. “Can't say to anyone, now...”

  “Spit it out, please.”

  “Deirdre snogged Alana’s mate,” Somhairlín finally admitted.

  “She's mad for the ride, that one,” Hannah added snapping her gum in a truly annoying fashion.

  “Her mate? You mean that boy she likes with the wavy hair. Blue eyes? He drives a dirtbike.”

  “Dirtbike Seamus—that’s him, and Deirdre absolutely knew Alana and Seamus had been giving one another the glad eye.”

  It sounded like a venereal disease and part of me wanted to worry but I was pretty sure the term meant they’d been crushing on each other.

  “So what does that have to do with Deirdre’s accident?”

  “Alana hexed Deirdre’s coconut sprinkled cupcake yesterday at the shop and now this happened. It just seems like, ye know, it worked and Alana paid her back.”

  Hannah practically growled at Somhairlín to shush up.

  “What do you mean hexed her cupcake? How could she…” I stopped speaking as my heart began to pitter patter.

  Neither one of them said anything.

  It couldn’t have been my book. She couldn’t have found the new hiding place.

  “I’m not real sure, Mrs. O’Kel—Sophia—maybe she was just makin’ it up to scare Deirdre but she said she comes from a long line of witches,” Somhairlín stuttered.

  “What?” I practically spit my coffee on the girls.

  Hannah elbowed Somhairlín and she let out a howl.

  Where in the hell had Alana heard that? And what was a hex.

  “Thank you girls for telling me, but no matter what Deirdre did with Alana’s boyfriend, she doesn’t deserve to be harmed and Alana, despite what she may have claimed, is not a witch. She had absolutely nothing to do with this freak accident. Please don’t repeat it anymore; I don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

  The girls nodded and walked away, still snapping their gum and speaking in hushed tones.

  I waited until the store emptied out a little, then I turned to Leslie. “Can you believe that?”

  She didn’t respond so I turned to look in the direction of her gaze and there was Sandra Brun browsing one of the shelves.

  “Sandra. You’re back.”

  She must have come in while I was at the back of the store dealing with the gossip girls.

  “Morning. Yes, I can’t resist a good book,” she said holding up the Witches Encyclopedia she’d seen the other day. “Hey, who’s this?” Sandra asked, bending over to pet the cat. Daphne reared up and scratched her on the cheek.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why she did that. She’s normally so gentle.”

  Leslie scooped Daphne up into her arms. “I think that bird has her all riled up. She’s been growling for the last ten minutes. I’ll just put her in the office so she can calm down.”

  “Cats normally love me, especially black cats,” Sandra said with a mock pout. “Oh well, you can’t please everyone, right? I came in to see if you and Cullen want to do dinner.”

  “Sure. How about tomorrow night at our place? I haven’t cooked in a while.”

  “Isn’t that too soon? You seem to have your hands full.”

  “It’s all right. The distraction will be good. Besides, Cullen leaves again for work on Monday so I’m not sure when else we’ll have the chance. Alana’s going to a concert with Leslie, though, so you won’t get to meet her.”

  Leslie returned and brushed a few stray black hairs off her burgundy-and-green paisley blouse.

  “A concert with a sixteen-year-old, aren’t you hip?” Sandra said, turning to Leslie.

  Leslie could actually still pass for sixteen. I recently had to talk her out of dying her hair grey and purple. She looked as youthful as the day I met her and her hipster-driven style only confirmed that. She gave me a look and went back to packing up books.

  “It’s a pretty cool band. Leslie and I both like their music, but unfortunately, I’m persona non-grata. Thankfully, Alana still sees
Leslie as the cool aunt so she gets invited and I can rest easier knowing Alana’s being chaperoned.”

  “Very nice. I’m sure Alana would be bored by Remus and me anyway. Speaking of young wild things—I was here earlier when that poor girl, Deirdre, got beaned and I heard you talking to those girls.”

  “Oh you heard that, did you? The paramedic told Leslie that Deirdre’s probably going to have a concussion but she’ll be all right. It was just an accident.”

  “There are a lot of witchcraft books in the store; do you think your daughter is dabbling?”

  I suddenly felt very protective of Alana, which was ridiculous, considering the fact that I was having those same thoughts.

  “I think the girls were embellishing.”

  “Yes, but what they said about the hex —”

  “Is ridiculous. Come on, a hex?”

  “Think of who you’re speaking to, my dear. I believe in all sorts of things. Anyway, I hate to tell you this, but it did seem like the vase worked its way down the shelf until it was directly over where that poor girl was restocking.”

  Leslie’s eyes slewed to the side, and with an agitated flick of her hair she picked up a box of books and strode to the back of the store, looking pissed.

  “That’s impossible,” I said and shook my head.

  “It could have been a trick of the light but the more I think about it—it was almost as if it was guided by an invisible hand.”

  “Sandra, a vase can’t move itself.”

  “Well, clearly you have your beliefs and I have mine. Now I’m off to have lunch with Remus. We’ll see you Saturday night. Text me your address. Oh, and one more thing.” She lowered her voice and turned so only I could hear, “Do you still have THE book?”

  Leslie’s head popped out from behind one of the shelves.

  “Yes.”

  “You remember what I told you, don’t you?”

  “Alana has no access to it. It’s hidden.”

  “At home? You should consider giving it to me. You’re in danger.”

  She whirled around, clearly intending to make her dramatic exit, but as she took one step forward, her shin connected with a stool and box that had suddenly appeared in front of her and she went sprawling. The box tipped over, sending a shower of comedic mysteries down with her.

  “Cleanup on aisle two,” One of the kids in the back joked.

  Madam scrambled around in the mess and finally managed to get to her feet. She gave the kid who’d made the joke a dirty look.

  I hurried over. “Are you all right?”

  Madam waved a hand in dismissal. “Perfectly fine, but I’m afraid one of your incompetent workers has left a potentially dangerous box of books in the middle of the floor, which made a mess.”

  “My bad,” Leslie said. “I got interrupted while I was restocking.”

  Madam huffed and then turned back to me. “Think about what I said, dear. No rush. I just want what’s best for your family.” She lowered her voice even further, “I noticed a raven hanging around your door. That’s never good.”

  I nodded, feeling even more flustered as she stalked out the door.

  “Leslie!” I scolded. “You did that on purpose.”

  Leslie smiled. “Can’t stand that woman. Accusing Alana like that.”

  I put my hand over my mouth, torn between propriety and hilarity.

  I grinned. “That did irk me as well. Let me help you clean this up.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” She said. “It’ll make it easier to shelve them.”

  “Well, I guess we’re lucky that it wasn’t someone else who tripped over them.”

  Leslie winked at me and smiled. “Impossible. I had a very good eye on the situation.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. Her stunt with the books had seriously improved my week.

  I glanced down at my cell and noticed it was flashing. “Alana wrote me. We had a big fight; maybe she’s ready to make up. Do you think I should ask her about Deirdre?”

  “It couldn’t hurt and it might just make you feel better,” Leslie said in a soothing tone.

  “I’m going to head over there now if you don’t mind holding down the fort.”

  “Of course not. What else would I have to do? Unless you want to set me up with one of Cullen’s cousins...” Leslie replied sounding back to normal.

  “Oh no. No more family for you.”

  “Come on. What about Ewan?”

  “Please. He’s a baby,” I said with mock amusement.

  “I can handle a younger man.”

  I turned around, ignoring Leslie, and stared up at the vases. “There’s something that doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Oh yeah? What?”

  “Deirdre was hit there, in front of the non-fiction, right?” I pointed four feet away from us, “And the vases sit on the top shelf over there in the travel section, while I don’t understand how it got from there to here, I’m perplexed because I only remember those three vases being clustered up there. Where did this one—the one that broke—come from?”

  Leslie laughed. “Truthfully, I’m stumped as well, but then again I don’t remember every piece of inventory that comes into the store.”

  “Obviously, neither do I. Oh well, I guess I’ll figure it out when I go over the inventory.” I grabbed my jean jacket from the back of the chair.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  "No. Stay home. Spend some time with Alana.”

  I gave Leslie a big hug. "What would I do without you?"

  "Work more,” she said and laughed.

  I left the shop behind and pointed my car in the direction of the Colley Estate.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Keeping Mum

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  First thing Sofia saw when she emerged from her room was Elena hunched over crying. Vilhem leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

  “Mother? What was that all about?”

  Slowly, Elena straightened her slender back. “Sofia, go outside and check on the cow. Make sure that horrible woman hasn’t done anything to her.”

  Sofia’s disbelief rose in her throat, nearly choking her. “But, Mother—”

  The log in the fire snapped and Sofia jumped.

  At her mother’s glower, she swallowed her words, grabbed her cloak and shoes and ducked out the door. Daphania, our cat followed. Careful to keep her stride even, she waited until she had rounded the corner of the house before peeking back. The way was clear.

  Hunched over, Sofia tiptoed around the house and crouched below the window. She’d almost determined to chance a peek through the window when Vilhem’s voice halted her.

  “Elena, be reasonable. This illness has overtaken her mother, and when she dies, she’ll point the finger at you.”

  “You knew her mother was sick and yet you said nothing.”

  Mustering every ounce of bravery, Sofia peeked through the corner of the window. Vilhem knelt on the floor before Elena who sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his.

  “I came here to fetch you but then I saw you in that bed.” Vilhem pressed his lips in a tight line. “How could I tell you?”

  Elena tugged her hands away, got to her feet, and began to make ready, taking sprigs of herbs from the dried bunches gathered in baskets; pouring a bit of this powder and a bit of that into the large, cast-iron pot that hung over the fire.

  “I can’t lose you too,” he pleaded as she measured and stirred. “You should leave tonight.”

  Elena’s head came up slowly; she blinked in surprise … and fear.

  “I’ve told you how dangerous Alexandra is.”

  Elena stood rigid and immovable. “I don’t care.”

  Vilhem’s voice flared, “She loves power and she thrives on the town’s unrest. I’ll see you and Sofia somewhere safe and when I can arrange for it, you’ll both return or I’ll come to you.”

  “You may be right, but what kind of healer would I be if I allowe
d an innocent woman to die.” Elena’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. “Besides, Sofia is leaving. I caught her with Costin yesterday. He’s convinced her to run away with him,” she whispered, turning to stroke the back of his neck.

  “That will never work. They’ll go after him, and when they can catch him, they’ll punish her.”

  Her mother turned away, and stared blankly at the wall. “I know. I tried to tell her. I’ve written the high priestess for help but I fear everything will implode before she gets here.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  No Love for the Wiccan

  Dublin, Ireland, 2031

  Forty minutes of crumbling stone fences and green countryside interrupted only by cottages and roving sheep, and I arrived at Móraí’s house—more formally known as the Colley Estate, home to her ancestors. I hadn’t been back here since before Alana was born. It still felt eerie—like being back at the scene of a crime. I half expected yellow caution tape to barricade off the place.

  The Castle ruins were over the hill to the north, but my eyes were drawn to the cemetery. Cullen came here from time to time to visit his mother’s grave but I always avoided it. I missed Lucile and I apologized to her in my head often enough but to me she wasn’t really in the ground. Besides Liam was buried next to her and I wasn’t interested in getting anywhere close to him.

  My eyes moved to the lynch gate, to where the grave of Móraí’s Great-Great-Grandmother, Gabriella Fitzpatrick-Colley, lay.

  I’d had a run-in with Gabriella once or twice in my past life. If only I’d known how much trouble the woman would cause. I wouldn’t have killed her, of course, because that would have meant no Cullen, but I definitely would have socked her one.

  After her lover, Nico, had tumbled to his death in Monaco, she’d fled back home to Ireland, pregnant with Nico’s child and duped Thomas Colley into marrying her. Little Nioclas had been born six months later, beginning the bloodline that would lead to Liam. I thought of the tour Liam had given me once upon a time. The property was lined with underground tunnels leading from the house to the church to the castle ruins on Fairy Hill. I’d been so naive in trusting him.