Freya gets up. ‘Fine. Come Dylan, Brian. Let’s go home.’ The boys get up, and without a word of goodbye, they leave.
Ever since Cal entered the Garden District, he has this strange feeling. It’s like little insects running around on his back, and as if the hot humid air is so thick, he has to wade through it. Usually, the heat doesn’t affect him, it’s weird. But what’s a little discomfort, anything is better than Lucy’s reaction when you disappoint her. He glances on his phone again to double check the address. Yes, this is it. Wow, witches must be living here. The house lights up with energy. Something must be going on, the energy level is off the charts. The few normals who pass the house glance at it and rush past it. Even they feel it. Cal takes a moment to take it all in. The grand old New Orleans mansion, the flowers in the garden, the overpowering smells of jasmine and lavender. The garden is full of insects and birds; he even spots a little mouse scurrying around. The front door opens. Quickly, he disappears further into the shade of the big tree that hangs over the road. A sour looking woman and two men are coming out. They don’t look happy and are way too preoccupied to notice a stranger. He snaps a picture and texts it to Lucy. She will be glad to know he’s following orders. Ping. ‘Don’t let them see you.’ Great! not even a thank you. Sometimes he wonders why he doesn’t leave. He gets it that his father disappeared, but he could have taken him with him. Bastard. The witches drive off, and Cal decides to stay a bit longer.
Maeve lets out a breath of relief. ‘That was close.’ At which Tara turns to Diane.
‘What were you thinking to interfere? Have you forgotten the consequences?’
‘No but... I couldn’t let our home go up in flames.’
‘Remember Tweetie...’ says Ceri.
As Tara, Ceri, Diane, Luna, and Ron simultaneously remember the event, they manifest a replay. A hazy cloud appears above the table. An image of a young Diane talks to Ceri very sternly.
‘You told me Tweetie would fly away if we didn’t close his cage.’ Says a pensive Ceri.
‘And I did. The next day, he was dead.’ The image changes into Tweetie laying on his back in the bottom of the cage. Little Ceri is in tears, and Diane looks horrified. ‘He died because of the paint fumes, nobody realized that the house was painted that afternoon. Poor Tweetie, he might have flown away, but still lived.’ Abruptly the image disappears.
Diane slumps in her seat. ‘I just couldn’t let it happen. All Dad’s artwork... The memories...’
She starts to cry. Ceri walks over to her and hugs her. ‘Come, we’ll see what happens. Let’s get you home.’ The rest stay eerily silent as they watch them get up and leave. When the door falls shut behind them Maeve sighs ‘It can’t be that bad. Can it?’
‘Generally, something worse happens.’ Says Tara with a morbid frown.
‘What can be worse than our house burning down?’
‘Let’s hope we won’t have to find out.’
All is quiet at the house. Bridget wanders through the garden with Moon. It’s been an exhausting day with all her family, she’s not one bit closer to what happened or the truth. Tara couldn’t frustrate her more. Why didn’t she mention the Tarot Deck? And Bridget is confident there is a lot more to the story of her and Lucy. That she doesn’t know anything has bullshit written all over it. Maybe she should head back to Boston and do some real police work. But what if she finds Lucy? Lucy is apparently so much stronger; how would she fight her? Gosh, she can’t ignore it any longer, she needs to brush up on her magic. But who can she ask? Moon gives a sharp bark. Bridget snaps out of her reverie and sees a car pulling up in the driveway. All the dogs jump out and happily bark at her. Wes gets out looking a little too happy. He dashes over to her and swoops her up. Definitely delighted.
‘What have you been drinking?’ He smothers any further comments with kisses that taste of raspberry and elderflower. Definitely he had sampled one of the Under the Witches Hat’s famous cocktails. The dogs jump up to her and mill around their legs.
‘I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.’
‘How many cocktails did you have?’
‘Everybody has been so friendly. They’re downright fascinating.’
This must be Luna’s work for sure. Bridget tries to hide angry feelings that are bubbling up inside. Wes can’t help it. She gives him her best smile. ‘Come let’s go inside, I’m tired.’
He suggestively rubs her back and pulls her back in a hug.
The last sunrays hit Lucy in her toxic herb garden. She wears gloves and touches some herbs to see if they’re ready for harvesting. It will be a full moon soon, and harvesting by the full moon is a definite plus. It gives the plants an extra boost and will almost double the magical power. She smiles endearingly at the blue flowers of her Wolf’s Bane. They’re doing really well this year. A rush of air and a sudden bang on her wards alerts her to an intruder. Without hesitation, she swings around, and her wand is in her hand. Bridget is on the other side of her fence unable to find a way in. She frantically tries to find a weak point in Lucy’s defense. Lucy laughs. That stupid girl, she should know by now there is none. Lucy slings a spell at her and Bridget manages to dodge it. But there is no cover around the garden and Lucy has another spell ready in an instant, it hurtles through the air and hits Bridget full in her chest. An agonizing cry escapes her.
The image dissolves into a pile of compost. It’s a hot summer day and Mike, Ron’s 10-year-old son, plays with a pair of glasses. They’re Seamus’ old reading glasses. Fascinated, he lets the sunbeams shine through them, they’re focused on a certain point. He’s holding them further, and closer, he tries to find the perfect spot. Once he has that, a little plume of smoke rises from the compost. Mike is excited and tries again. This time the pile actually catches fire and small flames burst to life. A wind blows, and the flames grow in size. Mike is startled, drops the glasses and heads back. He’s frozen in place and doesn’t do anything while the wind feeds the flames, very soon, the pile is a full-blown fire. The flames lick at the fence of the extensive Madigan’s herb garden. Not only the witches’ pride and joy but their livelihood. The center of their craft. It took many years to find and grow all these herbs, some are rare. Tara and Seamus traveled the world for them and even smuggled some back. The fence is on fire, and the first plants catch fire. Mike turns and runs for the house. The wind happily feeds the flames, and within minutes the whole garden is in flames. It’s like a laugh is traveling on the wind, while the plants cry out in pain. The image of the garden in flames morphs into a flame of a candle in the Madigan’s homey kitchen. Candles burn everywhere a pot of tea stands on the table. Tara, or could it be Lucy, sit behind the kitchen table with a pile of drawings from Seamus. She leaves through them and stops when she comes to what looks like a large Tarot Deck. Quickly, she picks it up and takes a closer look. Freya tumbles out of a tower which is struck by lightning. Ceri holds up a wheel of Fortune, and the wheel actually seems to spin. The images are so lively; they almost seem like photographs. Diane sits on a throne in the woods. Two trees flank her like pillars. The image of Diane comes to life. Leans forward, her face now consumes everything. It’s distraught and shouts something.
Diane screams out and jumps up. Hysterically she looks around and screams again in agony. She’s in her living room, all alone, usually a quiet place. Dominated by the fireplace, which is now empty, as the sweltering heat makes a fire unnecessary. Oh my God, what has she done? She crumbles to the floor, too exhausted to get up, and rolls on her side and falls into a deep sleep. That is how Alice finds her when she wakes up during the night and realizes that Diane is not there—rolled up in a fetal position on the floor. Gently, she tries to shake her awake. It must have been a horrible vision if she’s not even stirring. Gently she lifts her head and puts a pillow under it. She gets a blanket from the couch and lowers herself to the ground as well. She lays down and spoons her, protecting her ba
ck. She pulls the sheet over them and pulls Diane close. A slow murmur indicates she’s still there.
The next morning, Bridget knocks on Tara’s bedroom door. She hadn’t come down for breakfast, and Bridget is out of patience. It’s time to get some real answers.
‘Come in.’ Bridget opens the door and sees Tara in front of her bedroom window. She walks over and put an arm around her Grandmother. ‘We need to talk.’
Tara points at Diane, who’s cleaning up the compost heap. ‘She’s been at it since daybreak. It’s no use you know. Something bad is going to happen whatever she does. That’s how the universe works. It doesn’t like to be meddled with.’
‘If it doesn’t like that, why did it give her that gift?’
‘Seamus always said the Universe has a wicked sense of humor.’ Tara turns to Seamus’ portrait. Seamus waves enthusiastically at Bridget. They had a special connection, he seemed to understand her. ‘Hi, Grandpa.’ He blows her a kiss. That makes her smile. Tara saunters back to her bed, again it strikes Bridget how old her grandmother had become. She lays down and pats the spot next to her.
‘Why didn’t you tell the others about the Tarot Deck?’
‘I need to know more about it. Let’s not freak everybody out. I’ll be careful.’ Tara and Seamus glance at each other.
‘Careful, like when you used it on me?’ Bridget can’t hide her sarcasm.
‘That was the first time, how could I know?’
‘And that from someone who always lectured me on the careless use of magic.’ Bridget lays on her side facing her Grandma, she puts her arm under her head, so she’s a bit upright. She really looks at Tara and sees the deep lines, the spots on her face which show her age. When did this happen? She hadn’t been gone that long. The silence stretches. Obviously, Tara is not going to volunteer any information. Bridget sighs. ‘Lucy murdered somebody. She bespelled a detective. I need to do something. I need to know where she is.’ Tara stares at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think you told us everything. Did you see Lucy after... you know, her banishing?’
‘I swear I don’t know where she is. I would tell you. You know how it is, a twin bond. It was like I was amputated. For the longest time, I could still feel her. But like with everything, time took even that away from me.’
Bridget moves uncomfortably ‘We’re not identical twins.’ As on cue, Maeve and Wes pass the door, cheerfully chatting. Maeve’s musical voice pierces Bridget’s heart. She had missed her sister a lot, but she’s never been good at expressing her feelings, and she doesn’t plan on starting now. She knows Maeve is angry with her, that’s the price she paid for leaving.
‘I told Maeve she could show Wes Seamus’ atelier. He’s welcome to use it.’
‘We’re not staying.’
‘As you were saying.’
‘I mean it. The police will keep on searching, and they will find clues that lead them to Lucy,’ says Bridget full of confidence.
‘Lucy is not only powerful, but she’s also brilliant. I’m sure she’s aware.’
‘We’ll see, but I can’t leave Tom in an enchanted sleep, and I can’t let them face Lucy on their own.’
‘And what are you going to do? Your magic is rusty at best. She’ll kill you.’ Counters Tara, not sugarcoating it.
‘Gee, Grandma, thanks for rubbing it in.’ Irritated, she gets up and looms over Tara.
‘You need to practice,’ adds Tara, unaffected by the waves of annoyance coming from Bridget. ‘Thanks, as if I hadn’t figured that out yet.’ Of course, she knows she’s outmatched. Tara is infuriating. She’s not giving her anything. ‘I need help with the spell on Tom.’
‘Your mother should go with you, she’s a very gifted spell maker.’
‘Hell, no!’ Bridget loses her temper, and tries to find the right words. But they don’t seem to want to form in her head. Instead she storms out of the room. The door bangs shut behind her. Tara looks at Seamus. ‘She’ll come around.’
Bridget charges into the kitchen, but comes to a grinding halt when she sees Maeve and Wes enjoying each other’s company. Great. Just what she needs, her sister stealing her boyfriend. She doesn’t stand a chance, Maeve is like a siren; men always have preferred her over Bridget. The soft touch, the melodic voice, she’s toast. ‘B!’ Wes gives her a full-on smile. But Bridget is unable to deal with it now, the pressure of Tom, the investigation, her Grandmother, she needs to get some air. Without a word, she turns around, the dogs already by her side. ‘I’m taking the dogs out.’
‘I already did that,’ says Wes. ‘Why don’t you join us?’ Maeve put a hand on his arm.
‘Bridget needs a minute alone.’ Bridget glances over her shoulder while she leaves and zeros in on Maeve’s hand. Maeve snatches it back.
Cal stands in the clearing in the back and stares at the beautifully carved door to the tomb. His wand is casually stuck in his back pocket, and he looks again at his phone with Lucy’s explicit instructions. Yes, this is it. He should look for the fire sign, get in and steal a book. His nausea is back. He felt better in his hotel in the quarter, but now it puts him off, he finds it hard to concentrate. Slowly, he approaches the door. If it’s that important, there must be some sort of protection set up. He freezes, did he hear anything? He scans the trees around him, but there’s nothing. If his Grandma saw him now, he would get a tongue lashing for stalling. He inches forward, some tingling travels up his leg. Here it is. He feels the air, no, it’s not an invisible wall or force field. He sniffs, nothing that seems out of the ordinary, the fragrances are always overpowering in New Orleans. He grabs the wand out of his pocket, points it ahead of him and whispers out loud, ‘Palam animun dulcedine, quam mihi, volo ut videam quid hic.’ Show the spell, show me how. I want to see what’s here.
‘What do you think you’re doing!’ Bridget’s voice rings through the clearing. Without hesitation, he spins around and slings a knockback spell. Bridget goes flying and lands 10 feet further down on her back. The dogs charge at Cal. Cal turns around and runs as fast as he can, but Moon is on him. Bridget scrambles up and heads straight for him. Cal holds the tip of the wand against the chest of Moon who has pinned him to the ground. He starts to mumble a spell. Bridget shouts ‘Moon, here!’ Immediately the dog lets go and moves towards her. Cal gets to his feet. Cal and Bridget look at each other, but Cal sets off again. Bridget follows with the dogs, but Cal’s long legs and fear are spurring him forward, he clears the fence in no time and runs down the street. Bridget and the dogs can only watch him disappear around the corner. Diane seems to materialize next to Bridget. ‘Who’s that?’
‘An intruder.’ Bridget grimly replies.
‘Shit.’
‘Yes, let’s inform the others.’ Bridget looks at Diane, she looks exhausted. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Not really, I’m afraid we’ll all have to live with the consequences of what I have done.’
Bridget has no comfort to offer, she’s full of doubts herself. She has trouble enough facing her own problems. This is all very unsettling.
At the edge of the garden district Cal finally stops running. Damn it. Lucy will be pissed. His phone rings. Lucy. He hesitates, but he knows she won’t give up. He pushes answer. ‘You messed it up didn’t you?!’
‘They saw me.’ A wave of anger comes from the phone, she doesn’t need to say anything, it’s like the phone is dripping with contempt.
‘Come home.’ Click. He looks at the sky. Why, oh why can he never catch a break.
Bridget runs to the house and bursts through the door.
‘Gran! Gran!’ Tara emerges from the kitchen on her heals followed by Maeve.
‘A man was trying to get into the tomb.’
‘What?!’ Tara is shocked, ‘Somebody was on our property?’
‘Yes. He surprised me and used a knockback spell.’ Tara’s critical looks say it all.
‘Yes
, I know.’
‘Let’s check the wards.’ The three of them walk out.
Tara feels the door of the tomb, she closes her eyes and mumbles under her breath. Maeve and Bridget wait in silence. Finally, Tara turns around. ‘I don’t think he got in.’
‘That’s what I said. He didn’t get that far. We should improve the security.’
‘I just had some basic wards set, I never dreamed somebody would try to get in.’
Bridget can’t conceal her irritation. ‘Times are changing, Grandma. we need to do something about it.’
‘Right, but you’re not much help with that. So why don’t you go to the house, Maeve and I will take care of this.’ It is as if she slapped Bridget in the face. Maeve reaches out for her to show some comfort, but Bridget backs away and stalks off.
‘Oh Gran, that was not very subtle.’
‘She said it herself, times are changing and we don’t have time for niceties anymore.’
Maeve sighs ‘Where do we start?’
‘Let’s go in and see what the book can offer.’ The women disappear into the tomb.
Bridget makes her way through the trees, slowly calming down, actually angrier with herself then Tara. Grandma is right, she is of no use. What was she thinking? By ignoring her magic, she’s in deep shit know. Tom is in a coma! She could have prevented that, and that man would never have gotten away. She needs to brush up her skills and fast, but who can she ask? Her family passes before her eyes, nobody seems even remotely workable. Hold on, she flips the images back in her head, and one face remains, Ceri. This makes her smile, definitely not your obvious choice, but... it could work. Her cell phone rings. It’s the Captain.
‘Madigan’ her heart beats faster ‘Is Tom awake?’
‘No, I’m sorry. We have a lead. We did find a fingerprint on the belt of the victim.’
The Dagger Page 10