The Witching Hour: 11 Enchanting Novels Featuring Witches, Wizards, Vampires, Shifters, Ghosts, Fae, and More!, page 141
“What?” the girl asked behind me. “Have you had your heart broken by some Australian surfer guy?”
“Not everyone in Australia surfs,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s a cliché.”
“Whatever. So? Did you?”
Looked like I wasn’t going to get out of her cross-examination anytime soon. Turning away from the window and Boone’s display outside, I rounded the counter and sat behind the till.
“Yeah,” I said. “Right before I came here.”
“What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything,” I replied, taking out the tarot cards. “Sometimes, people grow apart.”
“But you weren’t expectin’ it, right?”
“What’s with the good cop, bad cop, Mairead?” I demanded, shuffling the cards.
I hadn’t thought about Alex for over a month, and I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved about it. We’d been serious, like weeks away from saying the L-word to one another kind of serious. Now that life felt like a dream, and it was already fading.
“Just tryin’ to figure you out.”
“There’s nothing to get,” I said, pulling a card from the deck. The Star. I felt better about this one and the having faith part now.
“So are you goin’ to stay? After the summer, I mean.”
I set the tarot cards down and sighed. I guess I was stuck here now that I knew I was a witch with a mystical sacred duty to the village. It wasn’t so bad. Was it?
Thinking about yesterday’s stupid episode at the tower house, I cringed. Nothing had shown up, but it had only been a day since Boone found me asleep in the meadow. There was still time to kill everyone with my stupidity.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess I’m staying.”
“So… Will you need some help in the holidays?”
Her face was lit up with such an innocent look of hope, despite the black lipstick she’d worn today. I nodded.
“Sure,” I replied. “I guess.”
There was no running from destiny.
It was a long day behind the counter at Irish Moon.
Three busloads of tourists shuffled around Derrydun and tramped through the store, buying up crystals, handmade wind chimes, books, and knickknacks, feeding the till. It was a fantastic day for takings, but my nerves were shot.
I didn’t like looking over my shoulder for an enemy I wasn’t even sure was coming.
By the time I made it back to the cottage, I was on edge. Thankfully, there had been no fae sightings among my customers, nor had there been any twisted and craggy monsters roaming about the main road, swinging from the branches of the hawthorn like a monkey.
I wasn’t long inside when there was a knock at the front door. Tiptoeing down the hall, I peered through the stained glass but couldn’t see anyone outside. Flipping the deadbolt, I opened the door a crack, but it was to fresh air. I was about to shut it again when a robust meow echoed through the air.
Glancing down, I saw Buddy sitting on the welcome mat, peering up at me with his big green eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” I declared.
Buddy—aka Boone—meowed and sauntered inside, his body small enough to shimmy through the crack.
Closing the door, I saw him tear up the stairs in his cat form before a thump sounded overhead.
“You know, you don’t have to show up as Buddy anymore,” I called out. “Besides, you keep forgetting your clothes. People are going to start talking about your nakedness.”
“If I kept showin’ up as myself, they would defiantly talk,” he replied wryly, his voice muffled. “Mary keeps tryin’ to send me off to the matchmakin’ festival in Lisdoonvarna. Obviously, I cannae go.”
“What matchmaking festival?” I demanded, squashing down a pang of jealousy. Ugh, Mairead was so right.
“They have it in this tiny village in County Cork,” he explained, coming back down the stairs, fully clothed. “It’s a whole big thing. People from all over the world go hopin’ to find someone.”
“Where did those clothes come from?” I made a face. “Do you have a closet full of red and black checkered shirts or something?”
“Aye. Two weeks’ worth, labeled with each day of the week.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” He laughed and went into the kitchen.
“Good,” I said, following him. “Because that would be weird.”
“Weirder than bein’ able to change into a cat?”
“Totally weirder.”
“I left a few things here when I moved out,” he explained, opening the fridge. “Where’s all your food?”
“You mean, where’s all the microwave meals?” I tapped the freezer. “Eat your heart out.”
He flung open the freezer door, and his eyebrows rose when he saw the stockpile I’d amassed. I had roast chicken, beef, lamb, casserole, curry and rice, lasagna. Every food group was represented in a pre-cooked, snap-frozen form.
Boone shook his head, his curls falling into his eyes. “Ah, this is terrible.”
“Hand me a frying pan, and I’ll burn the house down,” I said, puffing out my chest. “But hand me a microwave, and watch me surf the waves.” I wiggled my hands like I was doing the hula, and Boone burst out into laughter.
Smiling, I pulled out a chicken dinner and opened the box, glad our fight yesterday seemed to be forgotten. At least until we knew we were out of the woods craglorn and crazy ancient witch-wise.
“You cannae eat that nonsense,” he said, taking the plastic tray out of my hands.
“Are you going out to get some real food?” I put my hands on my hips.
“Ack, not tonight,” he commiserated, handing me back the frozen Frisbee. “I better make a selection.”
“Try the beef. That one has a lot of vegetables in it.”
Once we were armed with steaming plastic trays of food and decked out with cutlery and drinks, we set ourselves up in the lounge room among the cheesy floral furniture.
“You don’t have to come over like this anymore,” I said, stabbing a rubbery square of potato. “I’m fine.”
“You know I can’t let you out of me sight once it’s dark. Not right now.”
What he really meant was, I can’t let you out of my sight because your stupid talisman spell is probably going to get your soul sucked out by alien parasites.
“Fair enough,” I muttered, frowning when I saw he was staring at my boobs. “What are you looking at? My face is up here.”
“The talisman,” he said, causing my cheeks to flush crimson.
Glancing down, I saw the crystal had slipped out of my top and was sitting against the fabric of my dress…right over my boobs, which he wasn’t staring at, at all.
“It was clear yesterday,” he mused. “Now it’s got a golden tinge.”
“Is that to do with Crescent magic? You said Aileen…”
Boone nodded, raising his chin so he could gaze into my eyes. “You found your magic.”
“Sure did.” I rolled my eyes.
“It was a mistake, Skye,” Boone murmured. “We all make them. I’ve made plenty.”
I snorted and stabbed my fork at the little compartment of peas in front of me.
“Your talisman worked,” he went on. “It’s a clever thing to make.”
“I can’t be afraid to use my magic,” I said. “I just need to hold back a little. I’ve been heavy-handed.”
I expected Boone to start chastising me again, but he dropped his fork and raised his head, his eyes widening.
“What’s up your ass?” I pouted.
“Shh,” he hissed, holding up a finger.
Setting my own fork down, I listened to the silence outside. Before I arrived in Derrydun, I was so used to there being all kinds of noises. In the city, it had been the whoosh of cars on the street outside, doors slamming, neighbors playing music, dogs barking. At the beach, it had been the constant crashing of waves and the howling of the wind. Here, other than the rustling of leaves and the odd bird chirp, it was oddly quiet.
Whatever Boone was listening for, I couldn’t hear it at all.
“There’s nothing there…” I began, but he set his dinner aside and rose to his feet.
“It isn’t close, but…”
“But what? Is it a craglorn?” I felt like puking.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “Stay here, and whatever you do, don’t go outside.”
“I’m so not going out there. But what about you? What if…”
“I’m goin’ to change. Don’t worry about me. This is me duty.”
I didn’t like the way he referred to us hanging out as some annoying task he was forced into doing, but I had no choice. I wouldn’t admit it to his face, but I was afraid. Not just for me, but for him. I had no idea what a craglorn looked like in person, but the last time Boone went up against one, he was almost torn to shreds, and he was only able to escape with Aileen’s help. What if it tried to attack him?
“Boone,” I said, tugging on his arm.
“I’ll be fine, Skye,” he murmured. “I have to make sure…”
“Don’t try anything stupid, okay?”
“I won’t.”
He smiled lopsidedly and smoothed my hair behind my ear. His touch was too intimate for my mixed emotions, but right now, I didn’t give a stuff.
Reluctantly, I let him go, lingering in the lounge room as the front door opened and closed. My heart began to thrum, my skin prickling with goose bumps the moment I was alone.
I didn’t hear him change, and I didn’t hear him run or fly away. Neither had I heard the sound that had creeped him out, which wasn’t doing much for my own nerves right now. Sharpened hearing must be one of the side effects of his shapeshifting. The silence must be deafening for him.
Peering through the curtains, I was expecting something to pop up from the garden bed underneath and exclaim, rah! But nothing stirred. Above, thousands of stars were shining like diamonds dusted across a piece of black velvet. It was an epic cliché, but I didn’t have any other words to describe it.
Boone didn’t come back for a long time. I ate the rest of my microwave roast chicken in silence, fretting for his safety, while his beef dinner went cold.
The moon dipped lower in the sky, the night darkened, and it was three hours before I heard him come back.
He padded into the lounge room, wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of boxers, his jeans and boots in his hands. I didn’t care that he was in his undies, I cared that he’d come back in one piece.
I jumped off the couch and flung my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.
“Oh, my God,” I exclaimed. “I was beginning to think you’d been eaten.”
“I’m all right,” he said. “I flew over the forest, searchin’.”
“Did you find anything?” I pulled back, my arms slackening around his neck, but I didn’t let him go.
His expression was grave like he’d been sucking on a lemon, and my heart sank.
“It’s lost,” he murmured, dropping his jeans and boots.
“But it’s out there.” I let him go and fell back onto the couch. “I’m so stupid!” I fisted my hands in my hair and felt like pulling it out in clumps. “Why did I have to meddle in stupid shit I know nothing about? Why didn’t I go to the hawthorn?” I let out a frustrated cry.
Boone sat next to me, not bothering to put on his jeans. Right now, I had more important things to worry about than his lack of trousers.
“It doesn’t seem to know where to go,” he said quietly. “It was roaming around in circles, searchin’. It was a fair way from the village.”
I made a face. “Still doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“It won’t come out durin’ the day, so we’ve got time to prepare.”
“Oh, God,” I said, flapping my hands around. “Deep fried shit on a stick. We’ve got to kill it.”
Boone nodded. “To be sure. We can’t let it roam around here.”
He was right. The only way to end this was to make sure the craglorn didn’t reach Derrydun in the first place. We had to go out into the forest in the middle of the night and kill it.
“So…” I muttered, my heart heavy. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’ll find a way to end it.” Or it would be the end of us.
He slid his arm around my back and sighed. Everything was in that gesture, the burden I’d stupidly brought down onto my shoulders clear as the crystal hanging around my neck. Well, clear with a lemony hue.
I glanced at him, knowing I was the only one capable of putting the twisted fae down for good. The last Crescent Witch had to live up to her destiny. This was why I was called home, after all. The protector of Derrydun.
I guess it was time to add monster slayer to my resume.
16
Peering through the crack in the curtains, I studied the dark garden outside.
Nothing stirred, but it didn’t help settle my nerves. I knew the craglorn was out there, and I knew it was searching for me. Me, the idiot who called it here in the first place. The twisted monster starving for magic. Moron.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Boone said behind me as he dragged on his jeans and boots. “If it comes closer to the village, I can lead it away. I could confuse it for a few days to give us time to come up with a permanent solution.”
“You know what they say about a festering wound?” I asked, turning around.
He made a face and shook his head.
“The longer you leave it to fester, the worse it’ll get.”
“That’s a terrible punch line.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Let me just think up something that includes puss and maggots, then.” Now that he was decent and no longer parading around in his boxers, I sat back on the couch. “I need to deal with this now before someone gets hurt.”
Boone didn’t say anything. He just watched me stew in my own juices as my mind raced. How did I defeat something I’d never seen before with a power I’d hardly begun using?
“There’s gotta be a spell or something in here.” I opened the spell book—the grimoire—and began studying each page. Too bad some of them were written in languages that were similar to English but not. Went to show how words changed over the centuries. Unfortunately, ye olde English was not my forte.
“Aileen’s magic was always instinctual,” Boone said, seeming to have accepted my need for immediate action. “I never saw her chant or perform rituals.”
“I can’t rely on instinct,” I complained, leafing through the spell book. “I need a backup plan.”
“I’ve seen you cast spells, Skye.”
“Yeah, little ones. All two of them.”
“That packed a punch.”
“What if I choke?” I asked. “What if I freeze just as the craglorn tries to suck me dry? What then?” I raised my eyebrows. “I would be a wrinkled prune.” I made a slurping sound, then smacked my lips. “Bam. Dehydrated.”
“I don’t think it works that way,” Boone said, making a face.
“I don’t really want to find out. Anyway, I can’t just hold up my hand, shape it like a pretend gun, and go pew pew! I’m pretty sure I would be insulting the entire Crescent bloodline by pretending I’m an extra in Star Wars.”
He snorted, and my head shot up. He was stifling a laugh, which wasn’t helping my mood.
“Boone!”
“Hey, you said it.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “What do you need me to do?”
“Be quiet. That would be a good start.”
Focusing on the challenge ahead, I turned the pages of the spell book, allowing my thoughts to mull. The fae had been trapped here a thousand years, so there had to be a clue in there somewhere, right? The Crescents were epic badasses who’d have to have faced off with them before. This book was the coven’s answer for a Bible. There had to be an origin story in here somewhere. I was just missing it in my naivety.
I wished there was a page labeled craglorn one-oh-one. It would make my life a lot easier, but I knew this was one of those ‘life lesson’ moments. If I got through this, I was so making a cute graphic with an inspirational quote slapped on it. Hashtag adulting.
Glancing at the clock on the mantle, I saw it was one a.m. Boone was slouched on the couch beside me and hadn’t once complained. His eyelids were drooping, so he was either trying not to drift off or he was a total weirdo who slept with his eyes open.
“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he mumbled.
“Like what?” I smiled sweetly.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up.
“Okay, I think I’ve got this down.” I took a deep breath. “I can create a magical net to trap the craglorn, but I need a place to anchor it to. Since I’m essentially a newbie, I should probably use the hawthorn in the forest. It’s powerful, can help me control my magic, and will act as a lure. Then we just need a way to finish off Mr. Craggy for good.”
“Mr. Craggy?”
“Mr. Craggy.” I thought for a moment. “How do you kill a fae? I mean, can we just cut off its head?”
“You want to decapitate a craglorn?” Boone’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yeah?” I began to feel uncertain.
Boone opened his mouth and shut it again, looking uncomfortable. He wanted to say something but was too pussy to say it.
“Spit it out,” I demanded.
“Aileen… She used magic and only magic.”
“You think the only way to kill it for good is to use magic?” I snorted. “Stands to reason.” I opened the book again.
“You might be able to hurt it but not mortally.”
“Then we make a magical dagger!” I turned around the page I’d found and showed him. Some long-dead ancestor had drawn up schematics for a weapon to protect against the fae, and it sat before me, the thick book of spells finally revealing something I had a shot at understanding. Besides, this witch’s handwriting was completely A-plus material. I’d give her a gold star.
“A dagger?” Boone peered at the book, clearly not understanding. His shapeshifting juju was instinctual, and I suspected it was linked to his emotions more than anything, so recipes and maths equations were likely beyond him. In a magical sense, not a flunk out of year seven maths scenario.
