by Casey Morgan
The one without pants looked me up and down. “Looks like another one of those American sluts. Probably fucking the elves just like the last two.”
“Stinkin’ elves,” another boy muttered under his breath.
“I’m about sick of these sluts coming to town and ruining the McDonnell legacy.” The tallest of the boys crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Aye Terry,” agreed the brute next to him. “We need to do something. We need to let that whole town know that the McDonnells are not the laughing stock that they think we are.”
The old man shuffled closer to me. He ginned and leaned into my face. “Let’s make a statement with this here lass, eh lads?” His breath was sour in my face.
“Right, Pa,” the tallest agreed. “The town thinks we are bad witches. Let’s show them how bad we can be.”
I looked around, trying to find a way to get out of their circle. Being on the inside of a witch’s circle was never good. Being inside of a bad witch’s circle could end up deadly. There was one small gap between the dumb looking McDonnell and the one who wasn’t wearing pants. I shifted out of my heels and ran for the gap. The one without pants caught me easily and threw me back into the middle.
“Keep truing to run, lass,” the old man sneered. “We like trying to catch prey.” He took a hex bottle out of his coat pocket and rubbed his fingers on the glass.
My mind was very sober now; adrenaline had cleared my senses. This had gone too far. True, I had acted dumb earlier, but I had no intention of being a victim of a hex or a curse.
“Look, fellas,” I held out my arms placatingly. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was just drunk and repeating what I had heard.”
The tall one tutted. “Too late for that, lass. We need to make a statement here and yer goin’a help.”
I felt the magic in the air around me and started to pull it into my hands. The McDonnells may have been bad witches, but I was no slouch at magic; my parents had taught me to defend myself from an attacker. I formed a quick blast spell into my palm.
“She’s gotta spell, pa,” the slow one stuttered.
The old man shot a glance to my hands. I pulled them behind my back. The movement only made the witch smile.
“Good boy, Donnie. That’s a good eye, lad.” He reached into the other pocket of his threadbare coat and pulled out a clear orb. It was a spell dampener. He held the glass ball in front of my eyes. “Got this here trinket off the local vicar. Made a few modifications meself.”
He reached out with a gnarled hand and took hold of my jaw. His fingers were like sticks of ice. I dropped my blast spell and tried to knock his hands away.
The old man grunted. “Hold her lads. Terry. Peter,” he instructed.
The two tallest boys walked over and grabbed my arms. Their grip was like iron. I tried to weave my fingers into a burn spell, but they grabbed my hands and held my fingers open.
The old warlock resumed his efforts. His frosty fingers gripped my jaw and pulled open my mouth. He pushed the glass ball onto my tongue. Luckily it didn’t taste bad, but as soon as it touched me, I felt all the magic around my body dissipate and I couldn’t gather any more from the air around me.
The old man closed my mouth over the spell dampener and stood back. One of the other boys put a hand over my mouth so I couldn’t spit it out. The old man hobbled away a bit, laughing. He turned back to me when he met the edge of the circle. Gleefully, he waved his left hand in the air, twisting his middle and index finger in a dance. A hold spell clamped down on my mouth, holding the orb inside.
“That will keep the magic from ye,” he giggled. “While we do what we like.”
He brought up his other hand and twisted his third and fourth fingers on both hands and then passed one in front of the other. Invisible restraints clamped around my body and my feet locked into the ground. I was trapped. My heart hammered in my chest.
The two brutes who were holding me backed into the circle. The six McDonell men faced me and raised their hands. They started to dance their fingers in the same pattern; every single one of them moved perfectly in sync.
I fought the invisible restrains, but the orb in my mouth kept me helpless. I turned my head from side to side, desperate to catch a glance of a villager or a shopkeeper or something. The whole town seemed empty. Everyone was invited to the wedding. They were all at Hennessey House.
The movements of the McDonnell witches continued. Their fat fingers danced as one, forming a curse I had never seen before. The old man started to cackle. His face overflowed with a maniacal grin. The faces of the others were stoic and calm. Their milky eyes looking without really seeing.
A green fog started to surround the square. It dipped and started to move around me. I sucked in a breath and tried to still my lungs. The fog crept closer to my nostrils. I tried my hardest not to breath it in, but it snuck in, burning the lining of my nose and smelling like a rotten lime. It even started creeping into my eyes.
I shook my head, trying my hardest to fight the curse off, but the fog kept coming. It burned down my throat and filled my lungs. My vision started to blur. The witches standing around me distorted into one man. It looked like I was surrounded by the old man who cackled and laughed in my face.
“Yer going to’ wish that ye never heard the McDonnell name, lass.” He pulled his hands to his sides, palms up.
The fog fled from my body and condensed into five balls around me. They danced in circles around my head.
“While this curse stands, no one will be able to speak ill of the McDonnell clan without ye feeling our wrath. Let it burn with ye!” He slapped his hands together and the orbs of fog went speeding away from the square.
I dropped. My knees hit the cobble stones and practically split the skin. I swayed, still trying to focus on the old man who surrounded me in different bodies.
He winked at me with six different eyes. And I blacked out.
****
Later, when I woke, I was draped over one of the park benches. My knees were stinging a bit, but otherwise I appeared to be unharmed. The McDonnells were gone. There was no evidence of them or the curse.
I sat up and almost immediately regretted it. My head throbbed with the worst hangover I had ever felt. I rubbed my face in my hands for a few minutes and then looked around. The street lights hadn’t come on yet. The sun was still in the midst of setting. I had only been gone from the reception for a few minutes.
Had I dreamt the whole thing? The McDonnells? The curse?
I felt my face again and looked over my body. No warts or rashes or pox. I looked normal. Maybe the McDonnells were bad witches but they weren’t accomplished witches? Maybe the curse was a failure?
Okay. Whatever. I still had the second half of a reception to go to and several hot elves to find. I got up from the park bench and stumbled back in the direction of the Hennessey House.
Chapter 4
Connor
What the hell happened to her? Dammit. I can’t work this party and chat up a girl at the same time. She was floating around flirting with Tavish, Ronan, and Seth of all people. The moment my back was turned, she’s gone. Well, I guess being alone is better than getting fired.
“Connor, ye lazy git,” said my boss Brody. “Close the bar and move everything inside the pub. Burt and Honora are off to their honeymoon and this reception is done, I think.”
“Aye, boss,” I agreed.
I started to close up the bar in the courtyard and move the glasses and bottles back to the pub. In a rare show of brotherly love, Seth, Ronan, and Tavish decided to help me. Right in the middle of one of our trips carrying things into the pub, she walks in. The gorgeous American witch. Dammit. I need to be done with work now.
“Where were you three?” she said to Tavish, Ronan, and Seth. “I thought you went outside. I thought you might be fighting over me.”
“Nah, we’re mates. Brothers,” assured Seth. Then he looked her up and down. “Not to say you’re not worth fighti
ng over.”
I had to agree with my older brother. That red dress was hugging some killer curves. Full breasts, a narrow waist and wide hips; everything a woman should be. She was one in a million, worth taking or throwing a few punches for.
“Ye must really like her, Seth,” noted Tavish. “If you’re so eager to get your ass kicked by me.”
“Easy Tavish,” cautioned Seth. “I know it’s proper to open with a joke, but something that funny…”
Dammit. I have to get done with my shift and get over there. They’re both doing the charming Irish lad thing. That’s my thing. She was making eyes at me first and that’s clearly dibbs. Ye shouldn’t have to call dibbs, yer brothers should just know.
I rushed putting away the glassware a bit. Let’s just say something may or may not have broken when I pushed the tray of glasses under the bar. Wouldn’t be the first time. I’ll probably get shit for it tomorrow, but who cares? I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses and made my way over.
“Hey, lass,” I greeted. “Sorry I got distracted. Job and all. Thanks for keeping her company, lads. I’ll take it from here.”
Keira laughed and patted a seat for me to sit in next to her. I put the two glasses in front of us and started pouring shots.
“Hey, where’s our glasses?” asked Seth.
“Sorry, lads,” I smiled. “The bar’s closed.”
Keira laughed, and we clinked glasses. Seth made a face.
“C’mon Keira,” I said scoffing. “You’re not really with any of these three losers are ye?”
“Ooo, he’s taking out the big guns,” said Ronan. He pulled up a chair from another table and slipped it next to Keira.
“That’s a typical move of a guy with a little gun,” joked Seth. He also grabbed a chair. As did Tavish. The five of us gathered around the same small wooden table.
“Seriously, Keira,” I pushed. “Why don’t you leave with me right? It’s getting a bit crowded in here. We can go someplace quiet and talk.”
She looked at each of us, one after the other, then grinned at me. “Okay, but only if Seth, Ronan and Tavish can come,” she teased. She pulled a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair from her pony-tail and wound it around her finger.
“Wait a minute,” I said a bit confused.
“I don’t think the lady’s made up her mind yet, ye wee rude twat,” said Seth. He gave me a quick smack to the back of the head.
“Although I’m interested in what romantic place Connor is taking us,” joked Tavish. “Will there be candlelight and roses?”
“I think we can chat right here,” Keira said taking another sip of whiskey. “Even though the pub’s supposedly closed.”
Ronan smiled at her and moved a strand of her hair away from her face. “I agree. Here seems perfect,” he said.
Tavish reached over to another table, grabbed three small candle holders, and dumped out the candles. He slid one candle holder to Seth, and another to Ronan. Seth grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured them each a shot.
“You’re drinking out of the candleholder,” I noted. “That’s not very sanitary.”
“The whiskey kills the germs,” assured Seth. “Besides, the bar’s closed.” He gave me a snarky smile.
“Like ye said,” added Tavish.
Great. Now Brody would blame me for something else in the pub that wasn’t clean. I’d have to sneak back here later, wash out the candleholders, wash out the glasses Keira and I were using and probably get rid of that broken glass too. The longer I stay here, the more work these three are making for me.
“How long are ye in Ireland for?” I asked Keira.
“Hmm, as long as I want,” she said. “I can pretty much do my work from anywhere. I’m a writer. Plus, I’m kind of ducking my ex in New York.”
“You had to come all the way to Ireland to duck your ex in a city as big as New York?” asked Ronan.
“It’s kind of a small town when you get right down to it,” she said. “I mean, when you move in certain circles, it’s a lot harder to hide there than you think.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Tavish. “I’ve seen pictures and videos. Seems like a madhouse.”
“Yeah, well, you get used to it,” she assured. “You guys, on the other hand, have all these twisty roads. You ever heard of the grid system? It’s so easy to get lost here.” Her eyes went distant for a second.
“Aye,” I said. I leaned over and refilled her glass. The movement brought her out of her thoughts and she smiled sweetly at me. “They just didn’t hear of that system a thousand years ago when they built the roads.”
“A thousand?!” said Keira, shocked. “No. This village can’t be that old.”
“You’re right,” said Seth. “It’s older than that. That’s just when they built the roads.”
“It’s like that joke from that Scottish comedian who lived in New Bridge,” explained Ronan. “The New Bridge was 500 years old and the old bridge was still there, and it was a thousand.”
“Elf built towns are built to last,” Tavish chimed in.
“It’s crazy to think that a thousand years ago folk were sitting in this exact same spot, probably drinking and talking just like us,” said Keira. “With all the farms and sheep herding going on around here; how much has it really changed?”
“That’s a wee bit of an overreaching statement,” I noted. “We’re not living in the woods anymore. We got Wifi and running water.”
“Yeah, but 1000 years ago, there was no New York,” she said. “It’s just kind of mind boggling.”
“What do ye do for fun in New York?” asked Seth.
“Ah, you know,” she said dismissively. “Probably the same shit you do here. It’s boring.”
“New York City is boring?!” laughed Ronan incredulous. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Okay, maybe it’s not that boring, but once you get used to it? It’s pretty predictable,” she assured. “Ireland seems kind of exciting. I mean, you have castles here, right?”
“Oh, aye,” I said. “I could take ye to one. We could go on a picnic.”
“I know the perfect spot,” Ronan said leaning towards Keira. It looked like he put his hand on her knee under the table.
“Ooo, I love a picnic,” said Seth excitedly, inviting himself. “Tavish, will you make us something nice?”
“Oh, aye,” agreed Tavish, with a wink. “I promise ye, it will be good.”
It seemed like to matter how I tried to frame the conversation, Seth, Ronan, and Tavish managed to get themselves put in the mix. I guess this Keira woman was determined to take us all along for the ride until she said otherwise. That’s fine with me. My brothers were good people, but they weren’t going to beat me in this.
“What do you do, Connor?” she asked.
“I’m a doctoral student studying history at the U of C,” I explained. “I’m working on my dissertation.”
“In other words, he’s working at a bar,” said Seth. “Ain’t that right, bartender who makes us drink from candleholders.” He poured himself another shot of the good whisky.
“Well, in a short time it’ll be Dr. Bartender-who-makes-ya-drink-from-candleholders,” I corrected. “You could stand to learn your own history, Seth. Might bring in some customers if you actually knew what the hell you were talking about.”
“I know my inventory and that’s enough,” countered Seth weakly.
“I know the history of the cake,” offered Tavish. He was starting to slur his speech a bit. “The word cake comes from the Viking word kaka.”
“Or maybe that’s was just the taste of a Viking cake. Probably tasted like shit,” I joked.
Keira laughed, as did the lads. I was only concerned about Keira laughing, of course. Tavish gave me an opening and I took it.
“That’s probably how we got cake here,” said Tavish. “Ya know, the Vikings landed here back in the day. Probably burned the whole place down.”
“Nah, we’re too far from the coast,”
said Ronan. “The Vikings didn’t come inland.”
“Of course they did, ya daft pansy,” I corrected. “Why do ye think the old church is just a ruin? The Vikings did that. Which is how it got rebuilt over in town, but originally the village was closer to the old ruin.”
“That sounds like an interesting place to visit,” said Keira. “Are there old gravestones too?”
“Oh, aye,” I said. “But ye can’t read any of ‘em. Too old. The words have worn away or the headstones are gone.”
“Who stole ‘em?” asked Seth. He looked seriously concerned. He was drunk too.
“They were made of wood,” I laughed. “Ye see? This is why ye need to go to the university.”
“I got my major in business,” said Seth proudly to Keira. “And I got a business.” He turned back to me. “Yer wee major in history ain’t going to make ye nuthin’. Ye can’t build history.”
“No, but ye can make it,” I said, winking to Keira.
She blushed and took another sip from her cup.
“How’d you get to be a baker, Tavish?” she asked, trying to include him.
“Ah, ye know, it was just somethin’ I fell into,” he said humbly. “I always liked cooking, but I don’t like to eat much. That’s weird, I know, but ye can’t keep a six-pack and eat cake every day.”
Keira was eyeing up Tavish pretty good. She put a straw in her mouth and rubbed it all around. Dammit, this American. Irish girls didn’t act bold like that. Guess it was the New York City in her. She was all confidence.
“And your shop,” she said to Seth. “What’s it sell? Knick-knacks?”
“Aye, mostly stuff for the tourists,” he said. “I’m trying to build a brand of souvenir shops for Ireland. The customer’s the tourist, but the brand is for the local people.”
“Sounds like a smart plan,” added Keira.
“You don’t really care,” dismissed Seth. “But that’s fine. I’m showing steady growth and that’s the main thing.”
“Yeah, I’m into growth,” giggled Keira, her cheeks going slightly red. “I like it when things get bigger.”
