The Spell of Three

by Casey Morgan

  I wandered a bit in the sitting room to the side of the front desk. The old floral couches and chairs looked comfortable and clean. Knickknacks lined the shelves and low wooden side tables; little statues of angels or hearts, a flower here and there. An old silver lined mirror caught my attention. It reflected my rumpled appearance.

  I usually prided myself on the curls in my light red hair, but now I looked like a drowned rat in a yellow trench coat. I sighed and tried to comb the mess into something respectable.

  My mascara was smudged down my face. Not wanting to bother with a spell, I took a tissue from my purse and rubbed what I could off my cheeks, then gave up quickly. What I needed was a hot shower, and soon.

  I clumped around with my wet bags, looking for someone, anyone — and discovered a side door that opened into a pub.

  Hey, it was Ireland. Go figure.

  The pub had a much higher ceiling than the rest of the house. The wood paneling was brown, natural looking. A few ceiling fans spun lazily. There was a flat-screen TV on one wall but that seemed to be the limit of modern conveniences.

  About ten patrons looked at me as I slumped into the door. I glared back at them and they quickly turned away. I set my wet bags into a corner and wandered up to the bar.

  The patrons seemed to be a mix of magical beings. I saw the long, pointed ears of a few elves, a couple of witches that radiated their recognizable magic aura, and quite a few sprites that zipped above head height.

  One gentleman, who was sipping a beer and working on a spreadsheet on a laptop, was clearly a werewolf. His broad shoulders hunched over his screen. I gave him a wide birth. Wolves were notorious for their tempers.

  I slumped onto a red-topped barstool and waited for the bartender to notice me. The fellow was pouring a tiny ale for a rumpled and annoyed looking sprite.

  The sprite took his thimble-sized drink, flew in a circle and wandered off to find his friends. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had been charged full price for it, or given some kind of discount for small creatures' beverages.

  The only bright spot in my whole ordeal was that the bartender was handsome as all get-out. I mean, he was gorgeous, and I caught myself staring. He was a tall, broad-shouldered elf with more muscles than I could see, and a strong chiseled jawline.

  His eyes were the brightest green I had ever seen. They almost seemed to glow. Now I was really wishing that I didn’t look like a train wreck.

  Before he could turn his attention to me, I ran my hands through my lank hair and tried to soothe it. I quickly remembered my messed-up makeup and did a brief cleaning spell over my face.

  I wouldn’t look fantastic or up to my usual standards but clean-faced was better than having mascara smudged everywhere. When the bartender turned to look at me, I was ready for him.

  “Hey, I’m Shanna,” I said, trying to get my damp hair to frame my face. “Is there someone here to check me in?”

  The hot bartender grinned at me. “Aye, mi brother Ryan shoulda’ helped ye,” he replied. “I’m Brody Hennessey. Let me get his lay-about ass down here.”

  The points of Brody’s long, graceful ears turned slightly pink and he waved his fingers in a subtle arc. I felt his spell catch in the air and connect. It was a calling spell; his brother must have picked up.

  “Ryan, there’s a guest here,” Brody said into the air, while looking at me. “A comely lass by the name of Shanna, so drag yer carcass over here.”

  Brody winked a deep green eye at me.

  Jeez, this guy is forward. I couldn’t help but blush and think that, well, I was back on the market.

  Brody twirled his fingers and then ended the spell with a flourish of his thumb. He looked me over again.

  “My brother and I own the place,” he explained. “Hennessey House has been in our family for many a year. Inherited from our grandmother. Can I get you a pint while you’re waiting, Shanna?”

  “Not right now,” I said, declining. I folded my arms and leaned onto the bar. My long day was starting to get to me. “Maybe another time. After I get settled. It was kind of a rough ride getting here.”

  Another sprite customer was trying to get Brody’s attention, but he ignored the tiny flying man.

  “The storm, was it?” Brody’s green eyes locked onto my face.

  I could see the light brown stubble that lined his chin. It gave his features a rough appearance, manly, despite his elegant ears.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That and a sheep.”

  “Gerald?” he asked, furrowing his light brown eyebrows.

  I nodded. “Yep. Caused me to get a flat tire.”

  “Gerald’s a jerk.”

  He grinned at me.

  “You changed your own tire,” he continued, sounding mildly impressed. “Good for you, lass. I admire a woman that can do for herself.”

  “Speaking of doing for yourself,” moaned the sprite with a gray beard. He fluttered closer to Brody’s face. “Mi glass is almost empty.”

  “Finish your drink then, Todd,” said Brody, practically crossing his eyes to stare at the small man flying in front of his nose. “And I’ll pour you another thimble when your current one is empty. It’s not rocket science, it’s drinking. Now go sit down, until you’re really in need.”

  He waved his large hand at the sprite, who immediately flew back a few feet. Brody turned back to me.

  “Sorry about that, Shanna.” He rolled his eyes. “My regulars can be a demanding lot. Gotta keep 'em happy, for some reason. Even though this is the only drinking hole around here for miles.”

  “It’s fine,” I replied. “I don’t want to keep you.”

  “You’re not keepin’ me at all,” he smiled, leaning towards me. His breath was minty and sweet.

  I stared into his deep green eyes and then down at his full, soft looking lips. I found myself leaning towards him, like his body was magnetic.

  The sprite flew in front of my face, his back to me, disrupting the spell that was between Brody and me.

  “I’m finished,” announced Todd, his swallow-sized wings fanning my forehead. He turned his tiny mug upside down and shook it. “Can I have another thimble now?”

  Brody took the cup from the little man with a sigh. He filled it and handed it back to the sprite.

  Another elf walked into the pub and around to the back of the bar to join Brody. They were about the same height, a good foot taller than me, and shared a similar jawline. This must have been Brody’s brother, Ryan. He looked harried.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” he said to his glowering brother. He stopped short when he saw me. “Who is this?”

  Ryan and I made eye contact. He seemed a little smitten. Truth be told, so was I. He was just as handsome as his brother. Both had long pointed ears, rugged good looks and that two-day beard growth that I liked.

  Their hair was full, with a slight wave to it, but Ryan’s hair was lighter, a dirty blonde. Brody’s was more of a light brown. I wanted to run my fingers through both of their hair at once. I rather shocked myself, with that thought.

  “I’m Shanna,” I finally answered, trying not to blush.

  “I’m Ryan Hennessey,” he said, introducing himself. “Let me show you around.”

  “Thanks,” I answered, looking away and suppressing a smile.

  Brody gave me a quick wink and turned back to his customers. Ryan helped me gather my wet luggage and then led me back into the bed and breakfast. He checked me in at the front desk, having me fill out the appropriate paperwork.

  “You’ll get a nice quiet sleep here,” promised Ryan. “Nothing for miles but sheep and drunken Irishmen.” He winked at me. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right.”

  I laughed. I wasn’t sure if Ryan was funny or if I was swooning. Maybe it was just because I was on the rebound. I changed the subject, trying to get my mind off the handsome elvish brothers.

  “I’m looking to visit some of my relatives while I’m here,” I explained. “Do you know Ailbe and Fiona McDonnell?�
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  His green eyes opened wide for a second and then he quickly looked down.

  “The McDonnells, you say? You’re a McDonnell?” he asked, as if making sure.

  “Yes, originally I was supposed to be married,” I explained. “The honeymoon was already paid for, so I decided to come alone.”

  “Oh, aye. That’s why the different last name on the booking,” he said, tapping the paperwork I had just finished. “The McDonnells are… known here. Can’t say I’ve met Ailbe and Fiona personally.”

  That was a strange answer. I wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t offer more information about how I could find them. Maybe it was just a cultural thing I wasn’t understanding, but whatever. As long as I was in Luck’s Hollow, I knew I’d find them eventually.

  Ryan seemed a little dismayed, but I just figured he was trying to impress me and was disappointed he couldn’t help me further.

  “This is to your room,” he said, handing me an elegant old key. “Sorry about your canceled wedding, but I hope you enjoy your stay anyway.”

  I looked around, taking in all the little details in the comfy cottage.

  “How can I not?” I gushed. “This place is so scenic.”

  Ryan nodded but didn’t follow my gaze. He seemed distracted now, less friendly. Now I was wondering if I had said something wrong. I couldn’t imagine what it could be, though.

  “It’s the first staircase and then the second door on the left,” Ryan told me. “There’s a plaque on the door that says Honeymoon Suite.”

  Well, isn’t that just great, I thought.

  Ryan gave me one more quick nod and then went back into the pub.

  Alone, I walked through the halls of the house. It was definitely like something out of a movie. The interior and the décor were vintage. There was an old tea set on a table. Normally, I would’ve thought it was just for display, but judging by the rest of the house, it very well could still be in use.

  The furniture everywhere was beautiful. Everything seemed hand carved and made specifically just for this B&B. There was a chair made out of two different colors of inlaid wood. And a coat rack that appeared to be carved from one piece of wood, with the hooks at the end looking just like leaves. I mean, everything looked like an antique from your grandmother’s house, only it was perfectly kept and dust free.

  There was a framed picture on the wall in the hallway that looked very old. Upon closer examination of the hand carved frame, I noticed the corner of the picture said “1898”.

  It was that sepia color that old photos are and it featured a family of elves standing in front of the cottage. This must have been Brody and Ryan’s ancestors. There weren’t a lot of old pictures still left from that time.

  A second picture appeared to be of the B&B, with a sign that said “Hennessey House”. The date on that picture was 1902.

  At the top of the stairs, there was a table by the first door. On it was a little basin, a white, ceramic pitcher of water and a towel.

  I immediately wondered if I had my own bathroom or if it was shared. I didn’t like sharing my bathroom, especially with other guests I didn’t know.

  Oh, well, when in Rome, I thought. I unlocked the door to the Honeymoon Suite.

  The interior was pretty breathtaking. There was a large, four poster bed with a brass headboard that was just beautiful.

  The room was full of antiques that had been polished and kept in perfect condition for decades. In the corner was an old-style writing desk, with the rolling wooden shutter that went over the whole thing.

  Next to that was an old-time dressing area and vanity with old bottles of perfume on a silver tray. Even the curtains and windows were done in a style from a bygone era. It was charming, authentic — if a bit drafty.

  “Well, Derek,” I said, putting my bag down. “You got your wish.”

  All of this was Derek’s idea for the honeymoon. I wanted to go to a beach. White sand, margaritas in a pool, tropical breezes — He wanted to visit my relatives in Ireland in the most miserable, cold, rainy weather.

  No offense, but that wasn’t the kind of weather that turned me on. And what else was I supposed to do on my honeymoon? It wasn’t playing Canasta!

  I sat on the bed. It was soft, yet firm. I imagined it would’ve been fun having sex on it. That thought brought my whole mood down.

  I could not believe I was single again. It was like I had wasted all that time that I had been with Derek.

  Every minute, every second with him was a lie, as far as I was concerned. What kind of man cheats on you with your younger sister when you’re engaged?

  But was Derek the problem, or was it Nora? Nora, my younger sister, whom my parents held in such high esteem. They were blind to her shenanigans. Even after she stole Derek from me and ran away with him, somehow they still couldn’t bring themselves to blame her.

  Nora never suffered the consequences of her actions and was never — ever — held accountable. What a betrayal. What a bitch.

  I laughed a little, remembering the little sprite I had met on the road. He was a kind man. Maybe people were just nicer here in Ireland. Even if they did call things as they saw them when necessary.

  Brody and Ryan were nice. They were brothers. For all their joking and name calling of each other, they genuinely seemed to have a good bond, not like my sister and me. Guess it was different for brothers. Or was it?

  They seemed close. I wondered if they were close enough to share the same woman? I would totally bang the both of them.

  I shocked myself again by thinking that. But then I figured, Why not?

  They were handsome as hell and there was obviously some mutual attraction. That would sure show Derek and Nora! I should totally get laid while I was on my one-woman honeymoon, right?

  “Whoa,” I said aloud, pumping the brakes and bringing myself back to reality.

  It really wasn’t like me to be having thoughts like this. Guess I was all keyed up from thinking about Derek and Nora. They always had a way of making me so mad!

  But jeez, Shanna, what are you thinking? How would having sex with two strangers be enacting revenge against your sister?

  I must be horny or something. I have to try and settle down and relax. Maybe my libido is all out of whack because I’m in the Honeymoon Suite.

  I shook my head and started to explore my room.

  I found the bathroom, which, luckily, had a lock on it for privacy. Of course, it also had one of those old-fashioned basin tubs with the little feet on them. After taking a nice hot bubble bath and making myself look like something that didn’t just climb out of the swamp, I unpacked my bag.

  The room had plenty of drawer and closet space. For a second, I wondered why, and then I remembered that it was normally holding the items of two people.

  This thought made me become mildly depressed again. Derek talks me into this stupid honeymoon and he’s not even here!

  I didn’t even care about canceling the wedding. Most women get excited just thinking about their wedding day. The thought of being in front of a bunch of people, having to remember a bunch of words to say, had made me anxious and I was happy to cancel it. But to me the marriage had been what I had wanted, not the wedding itself.

  Dammit, what the hell is wrong with you?

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked aloud, sitting down on the bed and balling up my fists. “And my parents? What the hell is wrong with them? ‘Ease up on Nora! Ease up on Nora! She didn’t choose to fall in love with your fiancé! ‘How would you feel, Mom? How would you feel?’”

  Tears started running down my face. For the second time today. And there was no kind sprite to make me feel better this time around.

  Okay, I had to stop this. I was ranting to myself. I had done it in my head, in the car — which is probably why I didn’t see the sheep. I had done it while changing the tire in the rain.

  It was just unhealthy, going over these negative emotions again and again. What I would say to her and him, w
hat they would say back, my awesome responses, their lame excuses — it was all in my head.

  I knew I wasn’t going to get “revenge” — I was probably never going to see or talk to either one of them again. I had to just move on with my life. I had to stop thinking about it. There had to be something better to think about.

  I took a deep breath. I was still holding the last sweater from my mostly unpacked bag in my hand. I was just about to put it away in a drawer when I started ranting.

  I knew that staying alone in this room that was supposed to be for two was going to get me ranting again. I had to go where there were people. Talking to people would help me work through it. New people, new friends, would make me forget.

  Those two sexy brothers would make me forget – that was for sure. I’d go talk to them! They had to be in the pub downstairs.

  I checked my outfit in an antique mirror; basic blue jeans and a black sweater. I fluffed my curls and headed out of the suite.

  “Hey, are you okay, dear?” asked a woman standing near my door when I stepped out into the hall.

  “Oh,” I said, a little startled. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Allison Davies,” she said.

  Allison was a 50-something woman with graying hair and kind eyes. She had a larger build and looked like a wolf-shifter, with her orange eyes and wild hair.

  She was wearing a sweatshirt featuring a picture of little people who I assumed were her grandkids. It was a pack of about fourteen kids.

  “Shanna McDonnell,” I said, shaking her rough hand. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

  “I heard shouting.” She pointed at one of her ears. Wolves had excellent hearing and could usually hear through walls. “Was there someone you were mad at?” she asked.

  “Just myself,” I explained, a little embarrassed, feeling my cheeks turn pink. “This was supposed to be my honeymoon. It, uh, didn’t work out.”

  Allison frowned at me in a grandmotherly way.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, patting me gently on the shoulder. “Well, don’t worry, dear. You’re so young! Someone as pretty as you will have the boys lining up in no time!”