The bookcase rattled again. Sally stared at the shelving.
“If they want to,” Niall rested his mug on the table and reached for Clare’s talisman. “They’re shapeshifters, you know.”
Clare’s bedroom door bucked on its hinges. Sally held her warm mug close to her chest and sat up straight. “Is it just me, or is all this stuff happening whenever someone mentions faeries?” she said in a loud voice.
The unused tea bags and sugar packets swept off the coffee table and landed in a heap on the floor.
Niall stood up, clutching the talisman. “Would you mind if I took you up on your offer to relocate this conversation to another venue?”
Sally put down her mug. Clare would be plenty irate when she returned and found them gone, and Sally felt guilty at the thrill of pleasure that gave her. “I’ll just write my roommate a note.”
As Sally got up from the sofa, a tiny light flitted past her head. She turned to follow its progress, but the light zoomed out of view and disappeared behind the bookcase. She looked over her shoulder and found Niall staring at the same spot.
“You saw that, too!”
Niall shook his head. “Saw what? I was just looking for Clare’s poltergeist.”
Sally rested her hands on her hips and faced him. “We don’t have a poltergeist and you darn well know it.” She glanced around the room, daring the banging and flying books to start up again. “It’s only when we mention them by name.”
“I think it’s a bit more than that,” Niall sighed in resignation. “Which is precisely why I’d like to continue our discussion elsewhere.” He slipped Clare’s talisman into the pocket of his corduroy trousers.
“Fireflies?” Niall leaned back in his chair. “You know we don’t have those in Ireland.”
“Well, you do now.” Sally gestured toward the ceiling of the Insomnia Coffee shop, where a half-dozen tiny lights danced and sparked. Given that none of the other café patrons so much as glanced upward at the light show, Sally guessed she and Niall were the only ones who could see the pesky creatures.
Sitting at a small wooden table in the front window, Niall and Sally drank from generous mugs of hot chocolate. Niall studied the dancing lights a moment longer, then gazed through the rain-spattered window at St. Stephen’s Green across the street.
“If I had to guess, I’d say they were sentinels of The Morrigan.”
Sally was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear any more, but she opened her mouth anyway. “And that would mean what, exactly?”
“The Morrigan,” Niall sighed with a weary smile. “The three dark sisters of Ireland. They’d sometimes send out these sparks—fireflies, as you call them—to spy on enemies, gather information, sound the alarm when a sacred boundary was crossed.” Niall lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m surprised to see them. But they’re harmless, now. The fireflies, I mean.”
Sally narrowed her eyes. “Why is that?”
“The Morrigan is sleeping.”
Sally looked up at the golden lights circling in a lazy pattern over her head. One of them sparked as it dipped low toward the table and then shot back up again. “If you say so.”
Niall put his mug down. He propped his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers. “The Morrigan is a war goddess, a shapeshifter. She can appear as a crow, sometimes an eel or a wolf. She is a harbinger of death.”
“Charming.”
“But also of rebirth,” Niall continued.
Sally leaned back in her chair and gestured toward him with her hot chocolate. “I thought you said there were three of them.”
“Yeah, they’re often referred to collectively. The Morrigan.”
“Okay.” Sally took a drink from her mug. “So who are they, and why would their sentinels be interested in us?”
“Well, there’s . . .” Niall grabbed an unused paper napkin. “May I borrow a pen?”
Sally handed him a ballpoint from her backpack. Niall uncapped it and wrote on the napkin.
“These are the three sisters.” He pushed the napkin across to Sally. She looked down at the names he’d written in capital letters: MACHA. BADBH. NEMAIN.
“Mach—”
“No,” Niall interrupted before she could finish. “These are not names you want to be saying out loud. Such words can have great impact when spoken aloud by someone with power.”
Sally felt her shoulders tense, as though she were pinned to her chair. She hid behind her mug and took another long drink of chocolate.
“I noticed you the first day of class.” Niall stared across the table at her. “What are you?”
Sally swallowed hard. She put down her mug and reached into her bag for her laptop. “So, the fireflies, then? They belong to these Morrigan sisters?”
She connected to the coffee shop’s wifi network and started a web search. She batted a couple of sparks away from her face as they buzzed past.
“More nuisance than hazard, I’d warrant,” Niall said. “They’re probably attracted by your own magick.”
Sally resisted the temptation to look up from the computer screen, even though she could feel Niall studying her face. Instead, she tucked her hair behind her ear, bookmarked a handful of websites about The Morrigan that looked promising, and skimmed an online pronunciation guide. She practiced saying each sister’s name in her head.
“They’re battle furies, facets of a single war goddess. This one,” Niall said, pointing at the first name with the tip of the pen, “is the red-haired sister of speed and fire, and she has the gift of prophecy. The next one chooses the slain but also has the power of resurrection.”
“Chooses the slain?” Sally asked with a frown.
“Who will die in battle,” Niall replied.
“That’s a hell of a job.” Sally’s email program beeped at her. She switched applications and read the incoming message from Frigga.
Niall moved his pen down to the last name on the list. “And this one, she can take the lives of a hundred warriors with a single—”
“I don’t freaking believe this.” Sally blinked at the screen.
“Trouble at home?” Niall asked.
“More like trouble from home.” Sally re-read Frigga’s short message, then closed the lid of her computer. “And landing in Dublin first thing in the morning.”
She dug both hands into her hair and stared down into her mug.
“No matter where I go, there will always be some new, unimaginable craziness cropping up,” she grumbled at her cocoa.
The Norse Moon Witch couldn’t enjoy a simple year abroad. Sally wrapped her hands around her mug and pulled it closer. If she’d stayed in Portland for college, would she have had a normal roommate instead of sharing a flat with the Wanna-Be Witch from Texas and swatting at faerie fireflies that no one else could see? She glanced out the window and watched a gaggle of tourists in bright orange-and-green “I Love Ireland” plastic slickers hurry across the street and into the park despite the driving rain.
Sally guessed that even if she had gone to school in China, no doubt some ancient, evil djinn would suddenly rise up from the earth to start rattling apart the Great Wall. Yes, she was mixing mythologies, but Thor and Heimdall and the rest would always come charging in—to rescue Sally or to recruit her help because they’d started the trouble to begin with. Whatever it was this time, she had a terrible feeling that things were about to get a lot weirder.
“So,” Niall broke the silence and cut into her anxious thinking. “I suppose you’ve figured out that I’m from a family of land healers.”
“It just got weirder,” Sally sighed. She looked up at Niall. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Land healers deal with problems relating to the Gentle Folk.”
If the Norse gods could be real flesh-and-blood beings working regular jobs in the Pacific Northwest, Sally supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that there might be real-life faerie hunters, too. Or whatever a land healer was supposed to
be.
“My gran is the last of the traditionalists in my line. To manage troublesome elements, she uses drums and herbs and charms and old songs and incantations.”
“And Connemara marble skulls,” Sally muttered into her mug.
“Right. My Da, he’s got the gift, too, but he uses it in the guise of working as an architectural surveyor. If there’s any trouble on a property, if they’re putting up a new building or making an addition on a house or doing renovation work, sometimes the Gentle Folk aren’t too keen on having their own homes and recreational areas disturbed. So, my Da goes in with his surveying equipment—and some special tools of his own—and he takes care of things.”
Niall paused. He watched Sally. She sipped again from her mug and grimaced at the dregs of unsweetened chocolate lining the bottom.
“But I’m guessing you’re not too keen to go into the family business yourself.”
Niall chuckled and shook his head. “Not too keen. That’s a good way of phrasing it.”
“That’s why you were nervous in our apartment.” Sally put down her mug and rested her hands on the laptop.
Niall lifted his eyebrows. “There were tea bags flying through the air and doors slamming shut on their own. To be frank, I’m not certain why you and Clare weren’t fretting yourselves.”
“Clare thinks it’s marvelous that we have a poltergeist.”
“She plays at being a witch.”
Sally remained silent.
“It’s not uncommon here,” Niall added. “Americans especially, coming to the Emerald Isle with an aim to capture some of the lingering essence of the Tuatha de Danann for themselves.”
“Too-ah day Dan-en,” Sally pronounced the words carefully. “That’s their proper name?”
“One of them,” Niall shrugged. “One of many. Not all sources agree on the magickal history of this place, but the encapsulated version is that the Tuatha de Danann came to Éireann to conquer. They first displaced the Fir Bolg, and then the Fomorians. However, they didn’t wipe out these races. They sort of absorbed them into their own kind.”
“How very Roman,” Sally said.
Niall smiled. “All nature spirits, you know. Creatures of rain and land, sunshine and birds. That sort of thing. The Tuatha de Danann established Ireland as their homeland. And they were quite happy here. For a time.”
“Until the Æsir came from across the sea,” Sally whispered. Now, she understood. Thor’s teasing of Freyr as the great nature god of little tweeting birds. The strange longing in Freya’s eyes whenever Sally spoke of her upcoming year at Trinity College. The way Freya changed the subject every time Sally pressed her to come visit in Dublin. Tuatha de Danann. Vanir.
Niall asked. “Have you heard all this before?”
Sally shook her head. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you.”
“But you’re correct there. Another legendary race invaded from the sea, and they drove the Tuatha de Danann underground.”
Sally thought of the mists that rose up around Clare at Dublin Castle. “Literally underground?”
Niall cocked his head to one side. “That’s one interpretation. Particularly apt when you consider the superstitions around the ringed forts you’ll find all over the countryside.” He smiled at Sally. “Of course, you and I know they’re not so much superstitions, don’t we?”
Sally looked at the café’s main door and wished Clare would come bursting through in one of her folkloric tizzies. No such luck.
“So why would a pooka sell a supposedly fake charm to Clare?” She looked around the coffee shop for any rattling countertops or flying tea glasses, but all remained calm.
“They generally avoid crowded spaces for their brand of mayhem,” Niall leaned back in his chair, pulled the talisman from his pocket, and placed it on the table. “You will tell me, though, won’t you? About yourself?”
Niall looked up at her from beneath lowered eyebrows, and Sally found herself pierced by his emerald green eyes.
Sally shrugged. “Later.”
He picked up the talisman and held it up to what little light filtered in through the window. His focused on the small pouch tied to its center. He poked at it, then stiffened and dropped the talisman on the table as though it had shocked him.
“I know, right?”
Niall pointed at the object. “That’s not what I expected.”
“So what is it? What does it do?” Sally shifted in her chair and looked over her shoulder at the beverage menu on the wall behind her. “And do you want more hot chocolate? Or maybe a biscuit?”
Niall waved her off. “I’m set for the moment. Cheers.”
Sally got up and ordered another hot chocolate with cream and a plain scone.
The smiling barista handed her a tall mug that was full to the brim. Sally turned back to the table and tried not to spill her chocolate on the way, but she stopped short and splashed frothy milk onto her shoe when she saw Clare blustering about Niall and pulling up a chair from another table.
“You managed to find us.” Sally laid her items on the table and then slipped her laptop into her backpack.
Clare shrugged off her coat and sat down. “Yeah. It was so not cool that you ditched me,” she pouted.
“If we’d actually ditched you, we wouldn’t have left a note telling you where we were going.”
Sally sipped her hot chocolate and brushed whipped cream off her nose with the back of her hand. She frowned at the sharp increase in her sugar intake since her arrival in Dublin. If she still wanted to fit into her clothes by the twelve-night festival of Jul in December, she’d have to start hitting the student fitness center.
Without invitation, Clare pinched off a corner of Sally’s scone and popped it into her mouth. “You could have waited.”
Niall ignored Clare’s petulance. “We were just discussing this talisman of yours.”
Clare shot Sally a nasty glance. “And now you’re just taking off with my things without asking.” She pinched off another piece of Sally’s scone. She leaned closer to Sally. “And I don’t just mean the faerie charm.”
Clare cocked her head in Niall’s direction, just to make sure Sally caught her meaning.
Sally glanced up again at the fireflies hovering near the ceiling, but she was distracted by the loud shout of a toddler in the far corner as he threw several entire newspapers to the floor while his older sister stomped across the floor in her pink rain boots and lifted the hem of her dress over her head. Sally’s sympathy went out to the children’s young father trying to keep up with them.
One of the sparks dipped low into Sally’s field of vision and hovered over Clare’s head.
“We don’t have time for this, Clare,” Sally said.
“I’ll say.” Clare studied the café menu on the wall. “I’ve got work to do if I’m going to try again at Dublin Castle tonight.” She gestured at the talisman on the table. “I won’t use this stupid fake thing, of course. Sally, could I borrow your new ring instead? A good, local stone should do the trick.”
Niall’s eyes widened. “You were doing magick with the talisman at Dublin Castle?”
Clare brushed her hair back. “It’s what any proper witch would do. Casting spells at the source!”
Niall turned to Sally. “And you were there?”
Sally nodded. “That’s where I first noticed the fireflies. As we were leaving.”
A chill ran down Sally’s spine as she watched the color drain from Niall’s face.
“What day is it?!” he demanded.
“October 28th,” Clare replied. “Just three more days ’til Samhain. Seriously, can I borrow your ring, Sally? Time’s running out.”
Niall rose from the table. “We’ve got to get moving.”
“Can’t we stay a few more minutes?” Clare asked. “It’s crazy out there. I nearly got run over just crossing the street.”
Niall and Sally glanced out the coffee shop window.
“It’s the traffic signals,” Clare s
aid as she reached again for Sally’s scone. Sally quickly moved her plate to the other side of the table. Clare shot her another nasty look.
“Blinking red, then green, then yellow and green together . . .”
There was the sharp squeal of tires on the street just outside, followed by the screaming crunch of metal and the shocked shrieks of onlookers. Niall and Sally pressed their faces against the glass.
Clare reached across the table and snatched up the last of Sally’s scone. “See what I mean?”
Outside the café, seven cars were piled on top of each other in a heap of twisted metal. Several dazed people climbed out of vehicles on the outer perimeter of the accident. Pedestrians rushed forward to assist the injured while three of the drivers screamed at each other and gesticulated wildly.
Two pairs of blood-streaked legs jutted out on the asphalt at the center of the wreckage. One pair of high-heeled pumps, one pair of tiny tennis shoes. They weren’t moving.
The mangled remains of a child’s stroller lay crushed beneath the tires of one of the vehicles.
The intersection’s traffic signals continued to blink random patterns of red, green, and yellow.
“Are your transportation workers on strike or something? I heard the Irish like to go on strike a lot.” Clare swallowed the last of the scone.
Sally’s heart caught in her throat. She thought she was going to be sick. “Are those people dead?”
Niall nodded.
A wild swarm of The Morrigan’s sentinels lifted from the intersection in a funnel and spiraled up into the low ceiling of clouds.
Sally’s stomach sank like a stone. “The faeries?” she whispered.
“Something very bad is happening.” Niall glanced back at the talisman on the table.
6
Sally followed Niall and Clare up to the Dublin Castle gate. At 9:30 p.m., it was already long after dark.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sally asked. “If Clare’s attempted spell last night is what caused all of this, maybe we should stay away from the scene of the crime.”
“We need to right what was made wrong,” Niall said. “As soon as possible. It shouldn’t take long.”
The Black Pool (Valhalla Book 3) Page 7