A Witch's Destiny

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  A vibrant, healthy young girl, who was my childhood friend suffered a brain anomaly at the age of eight that left her facing many difficulties and challenges for the remainder of her life.

  One of the most loved teachers in our school and his young fiancé, were killed in a tragic car crash not long before they were to be wed.

  My own family was devastated when my little brother, Grant, at age eleven, fell through the ice on a dugout and drowned in our little village.

  It would be unrealistic to think life comes without sorrow no matter where someone lives or how sheltered we perceive ourselves to be.

  Although growing up in our treasured little village wasn’t perfect, I choose to believe it was as close to perfect as life can get and the joyful, happy memories far outweigh the difficult ones. I will always be very grateful to my parents for deciding to settle in the small village near my grandparent’s farm, and that I had the good fortune to live so many wonderful years in Medora.

  If I have mentioned anything that seems incorrect to others, please know I am simply drawing this from the memories I retain from a good many years ago, and as with anything memories are definitely subjective.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The Irish Witch Series

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly, I would like to thank the fantastic team at Tule Publishing for all the many ways they have helped me in seeing my Irish Witch Series published. To Meghan Farrell who has been there from the very beginning, I want to thank you so very much for everything you have done, from helping with contractual details, to answering my numerous questions, creating great ideas for promotions, ordering copies of my books, and so much more. I appreciate you being there for every phase of publishing each book.

  I want to sincerely thank Michelle Morris as well. I am really appreciative of your amazing input with cover designs, always quickly and patiently responding to emails and questions, and constantly being so positive and supportive.

  I am very proud and grateful to be an author with Tule Publishing and look forward to continuing to work together with the terrific team in future series.

  To my content editor, Sinclair, thanks so much. I am really pleased to have had you editing my manuscripts in this series. You always discover significant points of the storyline that are improved greatly by your experienced suggestions.

  To Monti, my copy editor, you would perhaps think after several novels there would be less errors and fewer edits necessary, but I am very grateful you pick up on the areas where I need the most assistance…so thank you.

  To Ravven, the talented cover designer for my series, I have loved each and every cover you have created because you have made my concepts come alive. I can’t find the words to thank you enough. I truly hope we will continue to work together in the future in my sequel series.

  To my wonderful supportive family…it has been quite a ride the last couple of years getting The Irish Witch Series to where it is now. I thank all of you for your encouragement, your love, patience and assistance.

  To my friends. It may seem as though I have said it all before, but your confidence in my writing and your continued helpfulness means so much to me.

  To the readers of the Irish Witch Series I am very grateful to you for becoming engrossed in my series and my characters’ lives. I am happy there have been a lot of readers who have reached out to me to tell me you’re enjoying the series, and eager to read more. I appreciate you recommending the series and rating or reviewing it on goodreads.com, Amazon or other online bookstores. That helps so much with promoting my series and I am very pleased so many of you have taken the time to do so.

  Although this portion of the series in Ireland is done for the time being, I want to let you know you are going to love Arianna and Ainsley and their worlds and times as well. They are both very interesting magical characters (well they are descendants of Alainn). Oh and in case you might be as terribly sad in reading the last few sentences with Alainn and Killian as I was in writing them…never fear, we haven’t seen the last of them yet!!!

  Chapter One

  1537

  The Irish Sea

  As she stared down at the churning water beneath the ship, Alainn O’Brien’s stomach began to grow steadily queasier and her head became overwhelmingly dizzy. She slowly lowered herself to a sitting position and searched for the herbal potion within the pocket of her frock. Placing it to her lips, she drank a hearty quantity and prayed it would prove even minimally beneficial. She was ever thankful her husband, Killian, was occupied with speaking to the ship’s captain at the moment. He would be filled with concern if he suspected she was in such a dire squeamish state.

  She glanced over to where he stood and her heart soared with her complete love and adoration for him. She distracted her weak stomach by reveling in watching him, his grand size and height as well as his great appeal. She noted his high cheek bones, his strong chin and straight nose, and his shoulder length chestnut-brown hair that fell about his face in such an appealing manner. But, when he turned to look at her from across the expanse of the ship, it was his enticing and intense deep-green eyes that warmed her heart and touched her soul. Killian grinned back at her and he realized her thoughts had been of him. Stifling her ever-protesting stomach, she managed to smile at him—she hoped convincingly—and then she inhaled a deep breath and hesitantly rose to a standing position again.

  Surprisingly, today she’d not been wary as she’d boarded the ship despite her clear recollections of the last time they’d been at sea. They had nearly met their end when they had encountered a powerful sea squall during that voyage. If not for magical intervention by the gods and the mer-people, Danhoul, Killian, herself, and many others would have drowned in the turbulent waters. She supposed she had little time to be fretful of suffering another storm for, lamentably, she had other more pressing matters upon her mind this day.

  In truth, in all the time she and Killian had been together they’d scarcely ever been free of turmoil and peril. She dwelled on all they’d been through, all the hardships and trepidation she and Killian had endured.

  They had fallen in love when it was completely forbidden for it was believed they were of different stations. She had lived her life as a commoner, a farrier’s daughter and healer to a chieftain and his clan at Castle O’Brien. Killian was of noble blood, the chieftain’s nephew and promised to another. But she and Killian had fought endlessly for their deep love, and they’d been married when they’d once believed it was nothing but a fanciful dream.

  The sailors around Alainn busily went about thei
r duties. The wind noisily whipped at the sails and powerfully pushed the ship through the waves. The movements worsened her queasiness and, closing her eyes, she soon returned to her musings of Killian and their past.

  He had stood by her when he’d learned it was Alainn’s own mother, Mara the glade witch, who had placed the horrid curse on the O’Brien line that had devastated Killian’s family for nearly two decades. Together they had finally managed to break the powerful curse. He hadn’t left her bedside when she’d been struck by a poisoned dart and it was unlikely she would survive. Killian had waited for her without question when on their very wedding day she’d been whisked away to the realm of the gods by the Celtic goddess, her great-grandmother Aine.

  When they’d first journeyed to Killian’s castle to begin their married life together, they’d known a brief time of happiness, but soon after been devastated for although because of her reoccurring premonitory visions, she’d managed to save Killian from certain death, in doing so they’d lost their newborn son. The months following wee Cian’s death had been agonizingly dark and lonely. For a time, she truly believed they would never overcome the grievous blow and that their marriage would not survive the heart-wrenching loss. But eventually they’d come to realize they would never be whole or find any measure of happiness without the other. They’d finally met their grief together along with all the emotions that come with losing a child. Although they would surely mourn the tragic loss forever, now they shared the pain and it had become bearable.

  Alainn’s hand went to her heart without intent, for even now the memories still brought a distinct pain to her chest and sorrowful tears to her eyes. Regrettably, even that great tragedy had certainly not been end of their suffering, for they’d encountered further mishaps and misfortune.

  Alainn placed her hands beside her as she sat with her back against the ship’s bulkhead. She ran her fingers along the planks, and purposely became aware of the grain of the rough wood, the smell of the salty sea air and the wind in her face. It righted her dizziness to a degree and she sent healing waves to her unsettled stomach and weary mind. Her thoughts returned to the further calamity she and her stalwart husband had encountered.

  They’d persevered through the long trying times in England. They’d both been held prisoner by the damnable King Henry VIII and lived many a day believing Killian might meet his end on the block and she tied to a stake and lit a fire. But they had eventually fled the king and his wrathful madness. Killian had been outraged and heartsick when she’d nearly died after she’d been stabbed by a cursed blade at the hands of a man controlled by a demon. Although it had been sorely difficult for him, Killian had trusted her when she insisted she must be removed from the ship and placed in a smaller boat in order to ensure the evil from the blade did not cause her to do harm to anyone. They had both survived the deadly storm at sea on the return journey to Ireland. They had also avoided contracting the recent sickness that had ravaged nearly every corner of Ireland and taken so many lives of friends and loved ones.

  Killian had aided and protected her through every vexation they had encountered and often she’d pondered and once voiced the notion, his life would be simpler and undeniably less perilous if their paths had not crossed so many years ago. She had even contemplated going back in time to ensure they truly had never met. But her loyal, valiant husband would not hear her words when she dared to speak on those thoughts. He vowed to love her always and claimed this life with her, no matter the dangers and uncertainties was better by far than him living without her love.

  And so, they’d managed to remain together, united in confronting all the perplexing unpredictability that came with her magic. Killian had always accepted her unusual supernatural abilities, the fact she could see and converse with spirits, fairies, Celtic gods and any number of mystical and supernatural beings. He had seemingly grown accustomed to her often unmanageable, inconsistent and ever-changing powers including her ability to control the weather, move objects with her mind, summon visions, hear other’s thoughts, sense evil and sometimes still or move through time. Although he’d been in disbelief and unsettled to recently learn on occasion she was able to take flight, he had evidently accepted it as all her other abilities.

  They had battled forces filled with pure malevolence, evil darkness that most people wouldn’t dare to believe actually existed. Even now, Alainn was being pursued by a relentless demon, the many lost souls he always managed to lure and manipulate, as well as a coven of witches under his wicked control.

  She and her dauntless husband had come through it together against all odds, though not unscathed, their bond had remarkably strengthened when it was more likely they might have been torn apart. Their love had not faltered, but grown in the many times they’d nearly lost one another.

  Alainn believed she loved Killian more than anyone could possibly love another, perhaps more than one should dare to love another, and his devotion had been unwavering. Yet despite their history and all the adversity they’d braved together, she couldn’t permit him to be a part of the horror she was facing now.

  Alainn swallowed hard, opened her eyes and, in glancing toward Killian, felt the tears welling up and brimming over down her face.

  Although she had once avowed she would never again conceal secrets from him simply to protect him, she wasn’t confident he would be willing or able to accept what she was being made to confront this time. She truly regretted keeping this from him, but she prayed it would be soon rectified and he would never need to know any sordid part of it.

  She brushed the wisps of long golden blonde hair that had pulled free of her plait and purposely stared at the ship’s wooden floor avoiding looking out at the choppy waves of the sea. She sighed and the bitter, regretful tears burned her eyes.

  She caught sight of a seagull flying freely above them, and listening to its familiar cry, she impulsively wished she could be that bird, temporarily free of the chaotic turmoil weighing so heavily upon her. Her mind instantly merged with the bird, and at once, she was high above the earth looking down upon the vast sea and the ship far below. The breeze blew briskly against her and she glided effortlessly without the hindrance of her human woes.

  She momentarily considered what might transpire should she remain in this form. Would the demon still search for her? Would her powers remain within her human body or were they born from within her mind therefore would stay wherever her consciousness should be? Would her body be merely a shell? Would the consternation she was now facing be eliminated if her powers remained within the bird? But, alas, surely her troubles would follow her and multiply if she remained. She flayed herself at being unable to simply take solace in these few unburdened moments.

  Since she could not detect the bird’s thoughts, she came to the disturbing conclusion she might have actually switched minds with the bird and not simply allowed her mind to share the bird’s body. She was repulsed at the absurdity of the bird’s tiny mind within her human body. If by some cruelty she was unable to return her mind to her body how would Killian withstand the encumbrance of an entirely feeble-minded wife, especially with the hellish affliction her body was already experiencing?

  She must make haste and allow her mind to return to her ailing body straightaway for with her magic, ever-changing and unpredictable, it might not be such a far stretch to think one day she might be capable of actually changing her shape to that of a bird, or, with the demon’s own dark powers, perhaps he might ensure she was unable to return to her body. When the detachment finally happened it was sudden. Relieved at being reconnected to her body, she vowed she would not attempt anything so foolish any time soon, despite the insufferable nausea returning. The precise moment she was present within her own body she heard a loud thud. The seagull had dropped to the deck beside her.

  Alainn immediately gathered the bird in her hands to find it limp, its neck clearly broken. This was her doing, surely the seagull had been overcome with her own debilitating dizziness and b
een rendered unable to fly. Her reckless magic had caused this bird’s death. She stared down at the obviously lifeless creature for some time, deeply regretful of her impulsiveness. Without conscious thought or purposely calling upon her magic, she gently stroked it and profoundly wept in knowing her powers were responsible. Her hands began to burn and glow with increasingly potent magic and the limp body suddenly came alive again. It squawked loudly and flapped its wings demanding to be released. It pecked wildly at her arms and in disbelief she raised her hands, freed it, and saw it fly away with no sign of impairment.

  Surely, she’d been mistaken; the bird had only been injured, stunned but not dead. She observed the feathers and light splatter of blood present on the deck beside her, remembered the clearly broken neck. She waved her hand and the blood and the feathers immediately vanished. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and her mind grappled to understand. She could not possess the ability to return life to a creature that had been dead. It was unlikely even the gods would be capable of such a feat without going back in time to prevent the death. Her magic had clearly healed the seagull… but no one possessed the ability to heal death.

  She hurriedly glanced around to see who might have witnessed the occurrence, but was relieved to see Killian was speaking with Danhoul and Conner, and she was grateful no one appeared to be aware of it. She began to tremble in earnest for she knew within her mind and her heart, the bird had been dead. The gods and the demon would be undoubtedly interested if they should discover she possessed the ability to bring something… or someone back to life. She shivered at this revelation as she heard the plaintive cry of the seagull as it called down to her as if to validate her unnatural achievement. She would need to forget this, to never think upon it again, lest the gods or the demon learn of it. She must force her mind to wander elsewhere.

  Her unsettled scattered thoughts displeasingly fell upon a most unpleasant memory of her time in England on one of the rare times she had dared to allow her own mind to enter another’s to control their thoughts. She shook her head again not wanting to linger on the memories, but feeling there was precious little she could dwell upon that did not cause further fretfulness or regret.