“Would be?” he asked, but Catherine wasn’t listening.
She came to a sliding stop on the slick floor. They stared for a second. There was a medium glass display case holding pieces of an ancient Viking ship. Catherine admired the carvings for a moment, before frantically looking around to figure out what the museum might have done in her absence.
“You don’t actually know where it is?” he said, searching her eyes like a hawk.
“It was one of two places, Bowen. How can I be positive?”
Bowen tried to help, and looked around again. “I guess I would just like to be told, for next time,” he flashed a smile.
“Next time?” she mumbled.
Bowen took Catherine’s hand and led her in a different direction. Before them was another cluster of glass displays, but this time they held different kinds of ancient Greek pottery. She breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank God!”
“We’re not done yet . . .” he looked around, finally pointing at the skyphos, a glass case away. “Hurry and get it so we can get out of here,” he said.
“Right,” she reached in her pocket and pulled out a small pouch with a drawstring.
“What is that?” Bowen asked curiously.
“It’s a bag,” she said.
“Oh . . .” Bowen was doubtful.
She pulled the drawstring loose and unraveled it to reveal a large carrying bag. She held it out for Bowen to see, and looked up at him.
“Very inventive,” he raised his eyebrows. “Now hurry.”
Catherine calmly opened the glass casing with one of her keys. She carefully took the two-handled wine cup in her hands. Even in the dim lighting, she could make out some of the different animals she now knew symbolized the night sky. A bull, hare, lion and snake. Then she placed the chalice inside the large bag. The bag was too big, so she wrapped it around the fragile cup several times for extra protection. She quickly re-closed the case and left it unlocked. Holding the wrapped skyphos close to her chest she covered some of it with her jacket as she did so.
“Okay!” she said, and they were off.
“What time is it?” Bowen asked as they ran.
“Two twenty six,” she said glancing at her wrist.
Bowen stopped abruptly in front of her. He turned to face her just in time to keep the delicate skyphos in one piece. She let out a loud breath, relieved she didn’t drop the ancient cup.
“What the—” she stopped when Bowen shook his head sharply in one quick motion, his eyes telling her to hush. A distant noise could be heard in the direction they were headed, the only direct way out to the car.
Two men walked down a hall with wire and tools hanging from their work belts. They were walking casually through, one with his eyes focused on his phone, and the other taking in the artifacts.
“Oi, I should bring my kids here next week, they really like this sort of thing,” the shorter of the two men said in a gruff voice.
The other peered up from his phone to look around, “‘This sort of thing’? You don’t much care for it though, yea?”
The short man nodded, “I’ll enjoy it with them though,” he replied.
Catherine could hear the smile in his voice. The two men finally passed where they hid behind a replica Viking boat that took up quite a bit of room. Their voices trailed off and faded as they continued. Bowen peeked around the other end of the boat to look for their exit where he saw many more men were passing by. He carefully crept back next to Catherine who was closely clutching the skyphos, resting her cheek on it.
“We need to find a different way out,” he whispered close to her ear.
“I’m thinking,” she said, holding her head with her free hand. She leaned down, crouching further over the skyphos to keep it secure and covered her eyes to block out the dim light. Her head throbbed from the stress. Bowen wondered if she was having a panic attack, as he craned his neck to see which way was clear.
Suddenly they heard yelling from the hallway.
“Either they’ve found Kenneth, or he’s awake,” Bowen said.
“Damn it!” Catherine said.
“We don’t have time to think of a plan,” he said, his voice hoarse from whispering.
“I know . . .” she said to herself.
Bowen looked up over the ship and saw the remainder of workers and security speed in the direction of the commotion. The way was clear at last.
“Now!” he said and pulling Catherine up on her feet they darted off in the other direction.
As they passed countless artifacts, it felt like they were running blindly through a labyrinth of glass and pottery. The layout of the museum was definitely not built for easy getaways. Whoever made the plans certainly did a great job, Catherine thought. She watched her every move so as not to cause an accident and draw attention to their location. She had to grip with her toes to keep a hold on her slippery flats. They were becoming more uncomfortable with each stride.
“Do you know where we’re going?!” she panted.
“To the nearest exit of course!”
“How do you know?” She didn’t know where one was herself based on memory. Everything looked different.
“I’m guessing!” he said and grabbed her hand to help her as she struggled with the skyphos.
Suddenly, Catherine stifled a yelp as she nearly fell, but regained her balance on Bowen’s steady arm. “Take those off,” he gestured to her feet.
Catherine stopped to bend down but found she couldn’t manage to reach her flats. Bowen stooped down and roughly removed them, while Catherine hopped on one foot at a time. He stuffed the shoes in the waist of his pants against his back, and the two continued. No longer afraid of slipping, she felt her feet grip the smooth granite floor, and they picked up the pace.
As they moved from hallway to hallway, Catherine began to get her bearings. She knew where another non-fire-alarmed exit was.
“No, this way!” She tugged at Bowen’s arm when they stopped abruptly at an intersection.
At the end of the corridor was the door to their escape. Catherine could see it just ahead, though the way was long. She never imagined she would look upon a door with such joy. Bowen flashed another smile at her as they shared mutual relief in a quick glance. Both of them were drained of energy, if not from the endurance of the run, then by the mere pressure of the situation. They were close now, only a few strides away. The shirt she wore under her jacket was pasted to her body with sweat. A cramp in her gut reminded her of a reoccurring New Year’s resolution she made to exercise regularly. She now bitterly regretted never sticking to it.
A man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and wearing a bright red baseball cap suddenly stepped into their path. He gripped a rolled up magazine in his left hand that he had been swinging a moment before. He stared at their sudden approach in surprise.
At first Catherine was terrified that he might recognize her, until she realized he wasn’t dressed professionally like any of the museum staff. They came to a halt and she used her elbow to press firmly against her cramp for relief as she stood.
All three of them seemed to be at a stalemate. Catherine knew they had to be the first to move or it was game over. Not yet! Not when they were so close to the finish line, when all of Ireland’s future was at stake. Sweat trickled down her spine in apprehension. She was suddenly very aware of her jeans sticking to her legs. She wanted to get out of her clothes, and into a freezing cold shower. Catherine longed for relief from the heat, the sweat, for the end of this entirely. The exit door loomed not far from where they stood, and her eyes rolled back to the stunned man in view. She longed for the Irish cold breeze and mist outside, for that fresh air to touch her face and neck. Remembering the feel of cold water trickling down her spine instead of the hot sticky sweat that was residing in the small of her back now, she was even more determined to get through that door. This man was the last obstacle.
Catherine thought of speaking to him, of reasoning with him, but she thought bet
ter of it and said nothing. Her throat was parched from all the heavy breathing, and she knew she needed the cold water waiting for her somewhere on the other side of that magnificent door ahead.
Finally, Catherine made a decision. Clutching the wrapped skyphos in her arm, she lunged for him and used her forearm to shove his chest. Then pushing her arm up in a flash she knocked his chin. He stumbled backwards into the narrow hallway from which he had come.
Bowen was startled to see such a reaction from Catherine, but they made it to the exit, and out the door they went. Disoriented, they frantically tried to figure out where the car might be.
“It’s this way!” Catherine was looking to her left and took Bowen’s hand again, but he resisted.
“No, Catherine, I moved the car when you left with Kenneth,” he said quickly.
“Why?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in search of the car.
“I thought it best to do if I was right about him,” he said.
“Oh, good idea, where then?”
“Come with me,” he said, and they went through some tall shrubbery. Bella’s car was ahead, in all its yellow glory, parked behind the museum on a tiny unused road that would be better described as a slightly oversized paved bicycle trail.
He pulled the car key out and gave it to Catherine who was eager to put great distance between them and the museum. She kept looking in her mirrors for any sign of pursuit. When they passed the city limits, her grip eased on the wheel. Bowen could see the relief pass across her face.
“I wonder what happened when they found Kenneth?” she said with a knit brow, pulling off her hat.
“I don’t know. The commotion may have been something to do with the security system,” he said with a thoughtful tone.
Catherine looked for her sunglasses, then quickly remembered she wore them inside the museum. They must have fallen off somewhere along the way. She shrugged, then glanced at Bowen with a smile. “We made it,” she stated.
“Yes, we did,” he smiled back.
“Thank you for coming in after me.”
“I’m thankful I found you in time,” Bowen said.
Catherine kept her eyes on the road but she nodded in agreement.
Bowen held the bundled skyphos in his lap securely with one arm, “We escaped this disaster. Now we have to avoid the next one.” He looked down reluctantly.
“When do I get to find out how the skyphos is going to help us do that?” she asked.
“Soon,” was all he said, and looked down. It was almost as if he was afraid to unwrap and admire the ancient piece of art.
After a while Catherine began to fear the idea of casting a curse of any kind. She tried to think of other things. She thought of their narrow escape at the museum, the encounter with the innocent bystander, and Kenneth lying there on the floor unconscious. A shiver went up her back when she recalled the devilish glare he gave her. She wasn’t worried about leaving him, not only because he was an awful person, but because if he was terribly injured his relatives would be called. Her eyes widened when she thought of Mary; and here they were driving back to her now. What if she blamed them?
“Should we go back to Mary’s house? She could have been in on the whole thing with Kenneth,” Catherine asked cautiously.
“Yes, we have to. At least to the druid ruins, if not to Mary’s house,” Bowen answered. “I don’t think she was involved, though it’s certainly possible,” he paused. “But thinking back, Kenneth made sure nothing was discussed around her. He was obviously trying to hide our plans,” he said.
Catherine nodded when she remembered Kenneth abruptly hushing them when Mary approached. At the time she thought it was merely Kenneth trying to be considerate and not bother his grandmother with worry.
“You’re right,” she said slowly as it became clearer in her mind, “but if you suspected from the start, why did you have us go along with it?” she looked curiously at Bowen.
Bowen leaned back in his seat and turned to face her. “I didn’t know for sure, and we needed the skyphos,” he answered.
“Why didn’t you tell me at least?”
“I didn’t have a moment alone with you after that, not long enough to discuss it without fear of being overheard. I couldn’t take the risk,” he took a deep breath, “I made sure I could be there to protect you, as I promised I always would,” he shrugged.
“Next time, if it’s safe to, please do tell me,” she said, and quickly added, “Though I hope there is no next time!”
“I will. Agreed.” He shifted the skyphos in his lap.
When the pair arrived at Mary’s house, they were greeted with unexpected congratulations by the small old woman. They glanced at each other, both startled, as Mary neglected to ask about her grandson’s whereabouts.
“You did it! I knew you would,” Mary playfully elbowed Catherine in her side.
“You knew?” Catherine asked.
“Aye, and don’t concern yourself with my foolish grandson. He’s been trying to steal artifacts and information from me for years,” Mary explained.
“Why didn’t you warn us?”
Mary looked over at Bowen. “I knew you would be fine,” she answered Catherine, and turned back with a motherly smile.
Bowen chuckled as Catherine shook her head in disbelief.
Mary suddenly became very serious, and took Catherine’s hands in hers, “It was the least of the problems that lay ahead for you, Caty,” she gave her a warning look.
Catherine’s heart grew heavy when she heard Mary’s frightening tone. It reminded her much of Uncle Mickey’s warning voice, which now rang in the back of her mind. “Is there something you haven’t told me?” she asked.
“You’re the one to cast the curse, you know that, dear.”
“Yes, well with help . . .” Catherine looked at Bowen questioningly. Bowen folded his arms, his face stern. “Right?” Catherine looked back down at Mary.
After a quick exchange of glances with Bowen, Mary lifted her hands and placed them on Catherine’s face, pulling her down to her height. “It is you alone who has to do this.”
“But how can I? I thought we were going to use magic, and recite something together?” Catherine realized she may have gotten that idea from a book or movie.
“No . . .” Bowen sighed.
Catherine waited.
“Caty, you were the one chosen to break the curse, not just by Bowen, or Arlana, but by the great oak tree.”
“What do you mean?”
Mary sighed and released her.
Bowen walked over and took Catherine’s hand. “The oak tree where Conall’s wife died, the one which the priesthood and all my people held sacred,” he explained.
Catherine twisted her face in confusion, “I thought the ancient druids held all oak trees sacred, not just one.”
“Yes, we did. However, this oak tree was believed to select and give power to whomever it chose. When Arlana made the curse, she chose you with evil intention. But the oak is good, and meant it for good. The oak granted you ability because it knew who you were going to be,” Bowen said.
“It knew all that was meant to be,” Mary added.
Catherine felt the swelling ball of anger quake inside her, “My sister was not meant to be killed,” she spoke coldly.
Mary was taken aback, “No, of course not, dear girl,” she said quickly.
Bowen said nothing, for he knew the subject needed to be dropped to stop Catherine from breaking down. The ball inside her calmed to a steady steam again, and she pulled her thoughts back to him.
“I don’t understand this ability you say I was given. I’ve never seen any sign of it in my life. How am I supposed to cast this curse?”
“The oak’s power lay dormant until you freed those under the curse. That moment set your destiny, Caty. If you never had come to Ireland, Bowen would never have seen you, and your power would have remained unknown for the rest of your life.”
Catherine shook her head, “But that do
esn’t explain why I haven’t noticed anything since,” she said frustrated.
“You probably have stronger emotions? Everything feels elevated to extremes?” Mary suggested gently.
Catherine thought about it. She was always pretty emotional, but perhaps it had been worse lately. She must not have noticed given the traumatic events following Conall’s release.
Mary saw the realization cross Catherine’s face, and nodded. “I think you need to accept what’s happened in your life now, and use it to stop the evil that will spread over this country if you don’t,” she said firmly.
Bowen watched Catherine carefully. She was a strong woman, but he feared madness would creep in on her as it did for Conall.
Catherine nodded, then thought of something. “Does that means I’m able to cast other curses, like Arlana?”
“Arlana was a very powerful priestess. She had to be to cast the curse,” Mary remarked.
Bowen shifted his footing, “She could cast many curses.” he answered.
“You too have potential to be just as powerful, if not more. Your will is strong,” Mary added.
“Without the right training, how can I reach the level I need to be to do this? Who can teach me?”
Mary touched her cheek in thought. “Come with me, Caty.”
Catherine cringed inside at the nickname again, and scolded herself for not having the courage to tell Mary not to use it anymore. She let her crossed arms fall in defeat and followed Mary.
Mary led Catherine back to the room filled with scattered books and documents. Upon entry, Mary immediately set to searching for something through the mess on the table, and among the books stacked everywhere. Catherine waited by a wobbly wooden chair that looked at least a hundred years old, deciding not to risk sitting. She noticed Mary’s briefly combed hair was rather wild again, though it was still pulled back in a barrette decorated with pearls and other tiny gems. Pearls must be her favorite, Catherine randomly thought, remembering her blue blouse. The strands around Mary’s face, however, were quite loose. Mary pushed them back in a huff.
“Aha!” she said after a few minutes of shuffling. “I found it,” she announced, as she stepped from a windowsill where stacks of aged books were piled on top of each other. The pile almost covered the window entirely.
Oak & Mistletoe Page 17