The Spell of Four

by Casey Morgan

  I’m funny. She called me funny.

  “Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” I said.

  Holy crackers. I’m actually flirting with her.

  I decided to ask more about her to keep the conversation going, and because she was interesting.

  “What brings you to the village, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m researching my family history. Do you know the McDonnells?”

  Did I know? she asked.

  Well, I definitely knew one McDonnell. Peter. He was a kid in one of my classes at school. He bullied me for years. Gave me a stutter, I think.

  Of course, none of this would I tell to Mila. It would make me sound like a fucking wimp.

  “I-I-I-I—” I stuttered. “The McDonnells are known around these parts, yes.”

  “I get the feeling from the way you say that that they don’t have a very good reputation, then,” she said suspiciously.

  “That would be an accurate feeling,” I confirmed. “You should’ve seen what happened at the wedding of Shanna’s sister Nina. Bit of a scandal, there.”

  “Oh, aye,” she said, trying to copy the accent. It was so fucking cute. “How was that? Was that good?”

  “Not bad, young lady,” I said in my best American accent.

  We both laughed.

  “What the heck did they do at a wedding?” she asked.

  “The McDonnell’s house was the venue for their wedding,” I explained. “I think they had a fantasy of wanting to get married on the old farmland or homestead of their ancestors. But, honestly, the place is a complete dump and the McDonnells living there are not very nice. They caused a huge ruckus – like they always do – and nearly ruined the entire ceremony.”

  “Oh, boy,” she said, sounding a little worried. “I’m related to these people? I came all this way and they’re a bunch of jerks. Great.”

  “Well, they’re not all like that,” I assured her. “My sister-in-law, Shanna, is very kind. Sweet as an angel and my brothers adore her.”

  “That’s kind of an interesting match up,” she noted. “Two husbands and one bride. How did the town take that?”

  “Not as badly as you’d think,” I revealed. “Sure, there was a bit of controversy at first, as this town is rather set in its ways and old-fashioned. But most people just accepted it. I mean, when you get right down to it, it’s nobody’s business but theirs, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose that’s true,” admitted Mila.

  “You know, Mila, I really think—”

  Just then, Donovan and Killian Odell walked into the room.

  “Hey, Dylaaaaaaaaan,” called Donovan, from across the room. “How are ya, lad?”

  “Oh, dammit,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Aren’t ye gonna introduce us to your new friend?” asked Killian.

  “Mila Jackson,” I began. “These lads are my best friends, Donovan and Killian Odell of the one and only Odell’s Hard Cider.”

  “Great to meet ye, lass,” said Donovan, shaking her hand.

  “Charmed,” said Killian, smoothly. “The Hennessey House gets such beautiful guests sometimes.”

  “Uh, h-hi,” she stammered. “I like your cider. And the design on the bottle.”

  She looked back and forth from them to me. She seemed a bit overwhelmed.

  I knew my friends were good looking, and I didn’t appreciate having competition right now. I decided to try to shift the focus back onto her.

  “Can I get you another hard cider, Mila?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she agreed.

  “All three of us should have one,” added Killian. “A beautiful woman shouldn’t have to drink alone.”

  I headed back to the bar to get the cider. This was a disaster. An epic, bloody disaster.

  Donovan and Killian were never short on girls. These guys both knew how to talk to them and get them into bed. And here they were wanting my girl – or, at least, the one I had decided in my head that I wanted to be my girl.

  Fuck. I just needed a little more time. Why did they have to come in right then?

  Grabbing three bottles, I opened them, put them on the tray and rushed back, before the Odells could sneak away with Mila or something.

  Someone at the bar gestured toward me, clearly wanting me to serve them. But I pretended not to see them and headed back to the table.

  “Here you go, folks,” I said, breaking the flow of whatever Killian was going on about. “Drink ‘em while their cold.”

  “Thanks,” Mila mumbled.

  The moment was gone. Donovan and Killian, while not really meaning to do so, had destroyed my momentum.

  They were good lads. The best. If they had known I was into this girl, they wouldn’t have blundered in here like this.

  But now? Their big personalities filled the room, while Mila and I shrank like wallflowers. I tried to stay in the mix to get back into the conversation.

  “You like the hard cider we make, then?” asked Donovan.

  Mila nodded.

  “It’s got a secret ingredient,” he smiled. “Betcha can’t guess what it is.”

  “Is it hazelnut?” she said, giving me a knowing glance.

  “What? How did you guess?” snapped Donovan.

  “I’m a lucky guesser,” she shrugged.

  “Can you taste it?” asked Killian. “The nuts, I mean. It’s a very subtle taste. The nuance of the taste is what has won us so many awards.”

  “We use them in addition to apples and other fruit,” explained Donovan. “Just don’t tell anyone. We can’t let the secret out; it’s an Odell trademark.”

  Donovan touched Mila’s hand as he said that. I saw it. And I also swear I saw the same moment of electricity pass as had happened with Mila and me, only now it was between Donovan and Mila.

  What was with this girl? Could she do that with all men? I’d have to keep mi brothers away. They were married.

  Not that I thought they’d ever run around on Shanna of their own free will. No, they were madly in love with her. But who knew what might happen if this beautiful witch Mila here possessed some spell that could take over their minds.

  After a few minutes of talking, I had to go back to the bar for a customer. He had been empty and, of course, he wanted a Guinness.

  As I said, there was an art to pouring it, but I was trying to take shortcuts. I ended up screwing up the entire pint and having to start over.

  It was a rookie bartender mistake, but fortunately, I was the only one that saw it. I gave the old man his pint and rushed back to the table.

  “I can’t believe a nice lady like you is a McDonnell,” said Killian, apparently now up to speed. “You have to be wary of your kin, miss. They’ve been known to get up to some shenanigans.”

  “Oh, aye,” I agreed.

  “Oh, aye,” said Donovan, a little louder, immediately taking over the conversation. “If one of those moronic asshole jerks gives you any trouble, you just call me.”

  “I don’t think— Well, I’m just a relative. I don’t think they would start trouble with me,” Mila protested.

  “Believe it,” insisted Donovan. “You’re not the first McDonnell to come back here to meet your kin. Even before Shanna came, there were others. They got robbed, they got lied to and they ended up spending a lot more money than they intended to. When you talk to a McDonnell, keep one hand on your wallet.”

  “Present company excluded, of course,” Killian qualified.

  “Oh, aye. Of course,” agreed Donovan. “An attractive girl like you has to be careful wherever she goes, to be sure. But with the McDonnell Clan, there’s an extra level of security ye need to take.”

  “Maybe Mila would like to hear something nice about her kin?” I suggested. “Or something else about the village, perhaps.”

  “Oh, aye,” agreed Donovan. “The village is old by the standards of you Americans. Why, Aiden’s family has owned this place for generations.”
r />   Mila nearly knocked her bottle over, but Killian caught it for her. She grabbed the bottle and his hand. Then it happened again. The zap of electricity. I saw it shoot through her hand to his and vice versa.

  That was three times now. This couldn’t be fucking real.

  I could see them looking into each other’s eyes. The electricity had done something to Killian, to me and to Donovan. What in blazes is going on?

  “With all the McDonnells who must live around here,” said Mila, swallowing hard. “I mean, there must be some good ones, no?”

  Donovan shrugged and asked me for another cider. I rushed to the bar to get it and then got stuck making another two drinks.

  It was getting close to dinner time and things were starting to pick up. If Mila was staying in the house, then it would be dinner time soon. She’d get up and leave.

  How could I get Donovan and Killian out of here?

  “Here ya go,” I said, coming back with the bottle. “Ya know, the rain’s stopped. I don’t suppose ye have to check on the orchard?”

  “No, lad,” said Donovan. “Ye usually don’t have to check on a crop after it’s gotten a good rain. It’s the other times when it’s dry that ye might have to check.”

  “Not much of a farmer, are ye, Aiden?” added Killian.

  Great. Now they’re taking shots at me. Well, I guess I opened myself up for that. I was in a losing battle here, but I would go down swinging.

  “Well, Killian,” I said. “I play to my strengths. Like keeping you two boys loaded off yer arse.”

  “The thing ye have to watch out for if you’re a McDonnell,” said Donovan suddenly, “is the family curse. I think the McDonnells are cursed.”

  “No, ye don’t,” corrected Killian.

  “Yes, I do. I said it. Bad actions causes bad luck,” stated Donovan. “That’s just what I believe.”

  “It’s called karma, ye tit,” added Killian. “Ye believe in karma.”

  “Maybe,” admitted Donovan. “But I’m not a member of the Karmic religion or something.”

  “No one’s a member of the Karmic religion, ye daft noodlehead. Because there is no such thing,” laughed Killian.

  “I’ve heard of karma,” insisted Donovan. “Yer tellin’ me there’s no such thing as karma?”

  “No, I’m sayin’ there’s no religion about it,” insisted Killian. “Ye can’t go to the Karma Church and pray to Karma Jesus, is all I’m sayin’.”

  “Of course ye can,” insisted Donovan, doubling down. “Ye just have to go to Asia and Nepal. They’ve got Karmic temples all over the place.”

  “Buddhists. Those are Buddhist, ye brainless buffoon,” laughed Killian

  It was no use. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

  I finished my hard cider and went back to the bar. I had been so close to really talking to this girl. Mila and I really connected.

  Why did they have to walk inside the pub just then? Thirty more fucking seconds and it would’ve been, “Lads, quiet, I’m talking to my lady friend here.”

  And they would’ve said, “Oh, right. Sure, Aiden. We’ll go sit in the back, quiet like, and not disturb ye.”

  “What’s wrong, lad?” asked the guy at the bar.

  I guessed it was written all over my face.

  “What? Oh, nothing,” I muttered.

  “C’mon, Aiden,” he said, glancing toward Mila. “It’s the girl, isn’t it? Yer mates are talking to her.”

  “I was just about to ask for her number,” I admitted.

  “Can I give you some advice?” he asked.

  “Aye. Sure.”

  “He who hesitates is lost, Aiden,” he quoted. “Not only that, but ye can’t let your mates in on a good thing. Once your mates are in, then it’s you and your mates. Know what I’m sayin’?”

  “That we all have to date her?”

  “No. That you have to sort it out,” said the man. “Ye can’t let yourselves fight over a lass. Especially one like that. She’s too classy. Too beautiful. And she won’t want to see you boys fighting. It’s a turn off.”

  “So what should I do?” I asked.

  “After she leaves, you pull your lads aside and have a discussion with ‘em,” he explained. “You tell them how much the girl means to ye. And they’ll maybe say the same thing, but if they don’t— Then they’ll back off. Ye never know. Your lads might not like her or they might have girls of their own already. They might be trying to help ye out over there.”

  I looked over. Mila was laughing and Donovan was moving in close. Killian said something else and Mila shifted over to him, laughing and touching his knee.

  If this was help, I’d hate to see what they’d do if they wanted to sabotage me.

  “Look, lad,” said the man. “Just go over there and be yourself. Ye can’t do any worse than if ye just stand here serving me beer. Speaking of which, give me another pint.”

  I frowned.

  “Well, ye don’t want me to call you back over in the middle of it, do ye?” he asked.

  I poured him another pint and then tried to get back into the conversation. I was lost.

  I felt way in over my head in this “competition”. Donovan and Killian were interesting. I was just a bartender who took occasional breaks from it to go run into the mountains, and a wanna-be artist. And not even an interesting artist at that – just a graphic artist who drew bottle logos.

  There was no way an amazing girl from America would fall for a guy like me. Who was I? I was a nobody.

  “Aiden, lad,” my brother Brody said, coming into the room. “We’re serving dinner to the guests. Please inform Ms. Jackson over there. Dinner is served in five minutes. Your friends aren’t invited.”

  “Am I?” I asked, hopefully.

  “And who’s gonna run the bar?” he asked. “Don’t worry. I’ll put in a good word with the girl when I can, aye?”

  Good ole Brody always knew how I was feeling, without me having to say a fucking word.

  “Aye,” I agreed. “Thanks brother.”

  Chapter 4

  Mila

  Wow, I was getting so much attention in Ireland. I just walked into the pub and the next thing I knew, three different handsome Irish guys were chatting me up.

  Oh, wait, maybe they were just being polite?

  But no, I thought there was a mutual interest there. There was definitely that spark when I touched them.

  My mother had told me about the “zing” she had experienced when she first met my dad, but this— Was that the zing or were there a lot of static-y rugs around this place?

  I was really confused and preoccupied. I was sitting at a dining room table with several other guests and I was completely tuned out of the conversation.

  “Mila? Mila!” called Brody.

  “Hmm? Oh, sorry,” I said. “My mind wandered for a bit. What were you saying?”

  We were sitting at the table. At the head of it was Shanna and on either side of it were Ryan and Brody. It seemed like a sensible arrangement for the trio.

  On one side of the table were me and another guest. Her name was Lori Gilpenk. She was an archaeologist witch doing a dig in a nearby village. She was quiet and older, in her fifties.

  Then there were Max and Betty Oppenheimer, a couple of retiree Werewolves from Germany who were here on vacation. Max and Betty were in their seventies, but as spry as ever.

  Finally, there was Keith Nabors. He was an older Englishman elf, maybe fifty years old, who looked and smelled like he was constantly drunk.

  There were also some sprites in the restaurant, but they didn’t bother sitting down, since they were so small. They just flew around and kept Aiden busy, as he poured them drinks, into their thimble sized beer mugs.

  “Anyhow,” Brody said, continuing the conversation. “Ms. Gilpenk here is an archaeologist. Perhaps she can help ye with tracking down your ancestors.”

  “Sorry, that’s not what I do,” she corrected. “Archaeology is the study of dead people and ci
vilizations. Not live ones.”

  “Well, couldn’t you track down just her dead relatives then?” suggested Ryan.

  “Sorry again, dear,” she said, making a face. “But that’s not how archaeology works. Although I must say, I am fascinated by your arrangement.”

  “You mean our wedding?” said Shanna. “There’s nothing fascinating about it, really. We just got married because we love each other.”

  “The three of you?” said Betty. “But there are— Where is the other wife?”

  “There is only one wife,” explained Max. “That is what they are saying. There are three of them in the relationship.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Betty, still confused. “Does the government here allow such things?”

  “We don’t ask the permission of government to follow our hearts,” proclaimed Shanna. “If they want to stop our marriage, let them try. They will fail.”

  “At the end of the day, a marriage to the state is just a piece of paper,” said Ryan. “They can’t stop us from living our lives the way we want.”

  “I am reminded of a couple we knew in Bonn,” recalled Max. “Their families did not like that they were together. They did not allow them to marry. They ran away and got married anyway. They had many children and grandchildren. It just goes to show: you cannot stop love.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet,” agreed Shanna.

  Keith, the English elf, chimed in. He was a little drunk and there was some bitterness in his voice.

  “I don’t see how it could work, personally,” he said curtly. “One woman satisfying two men? It’s just not normal. No offense.”

  “What is normal?” asked Shanna.

  “You know, a man and a woman,” he said.

  “Then are you a homophobe?” she asked.

  “No. Of course not.” he scoffed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  “Relax, Keith,” said Ryan. “It’s just a discussion. No one’s accusing anyone of anything.”

  “I think she just called me a homophobe. That’s an accusation. And not a very nice one at that,” he said. “I said I wasn’t trying to offend you. That’s what normal people do in a conversation. This just goes to show there are a lot of things about you that aren’t normal. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll retire early.”