Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Oh you heard that, did you? The paramedic told Leslie that Deirdre’s probably going to have a concussion but she’ll be all right. It was just an accident.”

  “There are a lot of witchcraft books in the store; do you think your daughter is dabbling?”

  I suddenly felt very protective of Alana, which was ridiculous, considering the fact that I was having those same thoughts.

  “I think the girls were embellishing.”

  “Yes, but what they said about the hex —”

  “Is ridiculous. Come on, a hex?”

  “Think of who you’re speaking to, my dear. I believe in all sorts of things. Anyway, I hate to tell you this, but it did seem like the vase worked its way down the shelf until it was directly over where that poor girl was restocking.”

  Leslie’s eyes slewed to the side, and with an agitated flick of her hair she picked up a box of books and strode to the back of the store, looking pissed.

  “That’s impossible,” I said and shook my head.

  “It could have been a trick of the light but the more I think about it—it was almost as if it was guided by an invisible hand.”

  “Sandra, a vase can’t move itself.”

  “Well, clearly you have your beliefs and I have mine. Now I’m off to have lunch with Remus. We’ll see you Saturday night. Text me your address. Oh, and one more thing.” She lowered her voice and turned so only I could hear, “Do you still have THE book?”

  Leslie’s head popped out from behind one of the shelves.

  “Yes.”

  “You remember what I told you, don’t you?”

  “Alana has no access to it. It’s hidden.”

  “At home? You should consider giving it to me. You’re in danger.”

  She whirled around, clearly intending to make her dramatic exit, but as she took one step forward, her shin connected with a stool and box that had suddenly appeared in front of her and she went sprawling. The box tipped over, sending a shower of comedic mysteries down with her.

  “Cleanup on aisle two,” One of the kids in the back joked.

  Madam scrambled around in the mess and finally managed to get to her feet. She gave the kid who’d made the joke a dirty look.

  I hurried over. “Are you all right?”

  Madam waved a hand in dismissal. “Perfectly fine, but I’m afraid one of your incompetent workers has left a potentially dangerous box of books in the middle of the floor, which made a mess.”

  “My bad,” Leslie said. “I got interrupted while I was restocking.”

  Madam huffed and then turned back to me. “Think about what I said, dear. No rush. I just want what’s best for your family.” She lowered her voice even further, “I noticed a raven hanging around your door. That’s never good.”

  I nodded, feeling even more flustered as she stalked out the door.

  “Leslie!” I scolded. “You did that on purpose.”

  Leslie smiled. “Can’t stand that woman. Accusing Alana like that.”

  I put my hand over my mouth, torn between propriety and hilarity.

  I grinned. “That did irk me as well. Let me help you clean this up.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “It’ll make it easier to shelve them.”

  “Well, I guess we’re lucky that it wasn’t someone else who tripped over them.”

  Leslie winked at me and smiled. “Impossible. I had a very good eye on the situation.”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. Her stunt with the books had seriously improved my week.

  I glanced down at my cell and noticed it was flashing. “Alana wrote me. We had a big fight; maybe she’s ready to make up. Do you think I should ask her about Deirdre?”

  “It couldn’t hurt and it might just make you feel better,” Leslie said in a soothing tone.

  “I’m going to head over there now if you don’t mind holding down the fort.”

  “Of course not. What else would I have to do? Unless you want to set me up with one of Cullen’s cousins...” Leslie replied sounding back to normal.

  “Oh no. No more family for you.”

  “Come on. What about Ewan?”

  “Please. He’s a baby,” I said with mock amusement.

  “I can handle a younger man.”

  I turned around, ignoring Leslie, and stared up at the vases. “There’s something that doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Oh yeah? What?”

  “Deirdre was hit there, in front of the non-fiction, right?” I pointed four feet away from us, “And the vases sit on the top shelf over there in the travel section, while I don’t understand how it got from there to here, I’m perplexed because I only remember those three vases being clustered up there. Where did this one—the one that broke—come from?”

  Leslie laughed. “Truthfully, I’m stumped as well, but then again I don’t remember every piece of inventory that comes into the store.”

  “Obviously, neither do I. Oh well, I guess I’ll figure it out when I go over the inventory.” I grabbed my jean jacket from the back of the chair.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “No. Stay home. Spend some time with Alana.”

  I gave Leslie a big hug. “What would I do without you?”

  “Work more,” she said and laughed.

  I left the shop behind and pointed my car in the direction of the Colley Estate.

  SIXTEEN

  Hunedoara, Romania, 1494

  First thing Sofia saw when she emerged from her room was Elena hunched over crying. Vilhem leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

  “Mother? What was that all about?”

  Slowly, Elena straightened her slender back. “Sofia, go outside and check on the cow. Make sure that horrible woman hasn’t done anything to her.”

  Sofia’s disbelief rose in her throat, nearly choking her. “But, Mother—”

  The log in the fire snapped and Sofia jumped.

  At her mother’s glower, she swallowed her words, grabbed her cloak and shoes and ducked out the door. Daphania, our cat followed. Careful to keep her stride even, she waited until she had rounded the corner of the house before peeking back. The way was clear.

  Hunched over, Sofia tiptoed around the house and crouched below the window. She’d almost determined to chance a peek through the window when Vilhem’s voice halted her.

  “Elena, be reasonable. This illness has overtaken her mother, and when she dies, she’ll point the finger at you.”

  “You knew her mother was sick and yet you said nothing.”

  Mustering every ounce of bravery, Sofia peeked through the corner of the window. Vilhem knelt on the floor before Elena who sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his.

  “I came here to fetch you but then I saw you in that bed.” Vilhem pressed his lips in a tight line. “How could I tell you?”

  Elena tugged her hands away, got to her feet, and began to make ready, taking sprigs of herbs from the dried bunches gathered in baskets; pouring a bit of this powder and a bit of that into the large, cast-iron pot that hung over the fire.

  “I can’t lose you too,” he pleaded as she measured and stirred. “You should leave tonight.”

  Elena’s head came up slowly; she blinked in surprise … and fear.

  “I’ve told you how dangerous Alexandra is.”

  Elena stood rigid and immovable. “I don’t care.”

  Vilhem’s voice flared, “She loves power and she thrives on the town’s unrest. I’ll see you and Sofia somewhere safe and when I can arrange for it, you’ll both return or I’ll come to you.”

  “You may be right, but what kind of healer would I be if I allowed an innocent woman to die.” Elena’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. “Besides, Sofia is leaving. I caught her with Costin yesterday. He’s convinced her to run away with him,” she whispered, turning to stroke the back of his neck.

  “That will never work. They’ll go after him, and when they can catch him, they’ll punish her
.”

  Her mother turned away, and stared blankly at the wall. “I know. I tried to tell her. I’ve written the high priestess for help but I fear everything will implode before she gets here.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Forty minutes of crumbling stone fences and green countryside interrupted only by cottages and roving sheep, and I arrived at Móraí’s house—more formally known as the Colley Estate, home to her ancestors. I hadn’t been back here since before Alana was born. It still felt eerie—like being back at the scene of a crime. I half expected yellow caution tape to barricade off the place.

  The Castle ruins were over the hill to the north, but my eyes were drawn to the cemetery. Cullen came here from time to time to visit his mother’s grave but I always avoided it. I missed Lucile and I apologized to her in my head often enough but to me she wasn’t really in the ground. Besides Liam was buried next to her and I wasn’t interested in getting anywhere close to him.

  My eyes moved to the lynch gate, to the grave of Móraí’s Great-Great-Grandmother, Alastríona Fitzpatrick-Colley.

  I’d had a run-in with Alastríona in my past life. If only I’d known how much trouble the woman would cause. I wouldn’t have killed her, of course, because that would have meant no Cullen, but I definitely would have socked her one.

  After her lover, Nico, had tumbled to his death in Monaco coincidently because of me, she’d fled back home to Ireland, pregnant with Nico’s child and duped Thomas Colley into marrying her. Little Nioclas had been born six months later, beginning the bloodline that would lead to Liam. I thought of the tour Liam had given me once upon a time. The property was lined with underground tunnels leading from the house to the church to the castle ruins on Fairy Hill. I’d been so naive in trusting him.

  Suddenly my skin crawled, just knowing my baby girl was inside those walls. I told myself logically that a house couldn’t be evil, as I walked up the cement walkway, which was now cracked and studded with weeds, and yet the feeling lingered. The porch steps sagged and creaked under my feet. I was getting the distinct sense that without Liam, Móraí and this house were falling apart. I knocked on the front door of what was once the caretaker’s cottage, but no one answered. It was locked. My heart began to pulse. What if Alana was hurt? What if Liam wasn’t dead and he had her. Get a hold of yourself, I scolded.

  I turned around and headed back down the steps one at a time and unlatched the lynch gate, letting myself into the side yard. The tinkling of the wind chimes coaxed me around the side, reminding me there was a back door into the kitchen. It was creepy to be back here again. I could see the graveyard off in the distance, the place where Sam MacDonnell had died many years ago. Some things had changed. Móraí now had a garden. I took a deep breath and let myself be soothed by the abundance of vines and flowers.

  It was cooling off, the way most Dublin nights did, even in summer. I’d once heard someone describe Ireland’s unpredictable weather as four seasons in one day. Couldn’t say I disagreed—well, maybe three; there hadn’t been snow yet today.

  I turned the knob. The backdoor swung inward, creaking just like a haunted house. I rolled my eyes and mentally reprimanded myself for being so melodramatic.

  The kitchen was empty, so I continued through, pausing in the doorway of the living room, watching Alana and Móraí. I felt voyeuristic but it wasn’t my fault no one had answered the door. They sat on the floor with eyes closed, presumably meditating. Alana looked so rebellious in her tight rust-colored jeans. A Kiss T-shirt with the arms cut off.

  On a worktable under the window there was a large assortment of herbs and oils, wax, and small charms. Incense burned in the corner, giving me a mild tension headache, and for a moment the floor seemed to tremble ever so slightly beneath my feet. A tiny little corner of my mind wondered what they were up to.

  Móraí opened her eyes.

  “Sophia.” She seemed a little embarrassed to be caught off guard. Funny. Móraí had always given the illusion of being an uptight socialite. I pictured her as I’d always seen her in the upstairs wing of Cullen’s parents’ home: hair pulled back in a tight chignon, sporting only designer labels. What a contrast. Her silver hair was braided and hung limply down her back. She wore a long dress, reminiscent of an old hippie with a Celtic star pendant hanging around her neck.

  Cullen was right. She’d gone Wiccan.

  Alana opened her eyes, too, and looked up.

  “Mum. I was just thinkin’ about ye.” She looked at Móraí. “I guess the conjure balls do work.”

  Móraí smiled.

  “Hi, baby. I brought a peace offering,” I said, holding out a new diary. “One with a sturdy lock.”

  “Is this a trick? Where’s the spare key.”

  “I don’t have a key. I swear, and if you promise to talk to me more openly and honestly, I’ll never invade your space again,” I replied.

  She got to her feet in one swift movement, far more gracefully then I ever could have—and that was saying a lot because I did yoga twice a week.

  “Does that mean you’ll come home?” I asked.

  Alana’s only response was to pull on her leather jacket and grab her bag but it was enough and inside I secretly did a happy dance. I wasn’t sure when it had become a contest between myself and Móraí but it felt like I’d just won a small battle.

  Alana followed me into the kitchen to where I’d left my shoes.

  “That’s a lovely garden you’ve got, Móraí,” I said as she trailed us outside. “I didn’t know you had a green thumb.”

  “Her friend has been helping her,” Alana said, cutting in.

  I bent down to touch one of the berries. “Wow, these look like shiny black marbles.”

  “Don’t touch, dear,” Móraí said grabbing for my hand. “These plants are sensitive,” she said, steering me away.

  I mumbled an apology and climbed into my car.

  As soon as we were on the main road back, I turned to Alana.

  “I have to stop by the bookstore to make sure it got closed up properly—what with Deirdre’s accident, we’re short staffed right now. Do you want to come with me or should I drop you at home?”

  I was pretty clear on what a conjure ball was, but I wanted to double-check with Leslie, who had now consumed almost one third of the books we’d just received and was already more familiar with spell books than I.

  “I’ll come with. What do ye mean Deirdre’s accident?”

  “Oh, right, I haven’t told you yet. A vase fell from one of the top shelves and knocked Deirdre out this morning. She was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.”

  I debated bringing up the hex but decided to wait until we’d been back on good terms for at least an hour. Better yet maybe Leslie would bring it up.

  The closed sign was already flipped when we arrived but, just as I figured, Leslie was still there, nose stuck in a book.

  “Can you be a normal person even for one night, Leslie? You’re supposed to be getting ready for the concert and instead you’re reading about,” I bent my head down and read the cover, “scrying and crystal balls.”

  “What? The concerts not til eight. We’re good, right, Alana?”

  “Plenty of time, it’s only five.”

  I shook my head and set down a paper cup. “Here. We brought you a coffee.”

  “Thanks! I just finished a cup of peppermint tea but I do so love caffeine. Did you bring me a cupcake?”

  I ignored her. “How was the rest of the afternoon?”

  “It was good.”

  Alana wandered into the back office, calling for Daphne.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I need some books on magic. Load me up.”

  Leslie offered up her signature high-pitched giggle. “All right, Harry Potter. What sort of books on magic and why?”

  “What do you know about conjure balls? Are they good magic or bad?”

  “Umm…I think both, some conjure objects and some conjure spirits. I was reading about the objects
last night.”

  She struggled with a stack of books, pulling one from the pile and opening it. “Here it is: love balls include talismans, like a wedding ring, a lock of a loved one’s hair.”

  I gave her a look and she lowered her voice.

  “There are luck balls which might include dice, horseshoes, and herbs that attract good fortune. But there are also ones that conjure spirits. Only a true caster can cast these spells correctly. When these spells are cast incorrectly the caster is usually haunted for the rest of their lives by the tormented soul they tried to conjure.”

  “That definitely sounds bad,” I whispered.

  “Why do you need to know about conjuring?”

  “Why else? Móraí,” I said, rolling my eyes. “She’s acting weird—weirder than usual, that is. She was wearing a pendant and Alana joked they’d conjured me. Oh, and she has a garden now. Since when does she garden? I bent down to pick one of her berries and she all but slapped my hand away.”

  “A garden?” She pulled a thick Witch’s Guide to Poisons off a bookshelf. Setting the book on the table, she began reading. “Do you think it was a witches garden?”

  “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

  She flipped several pages. “You know—botanicals used in brewing potions, plants of the deadly variety? Did it look like this?”

  “Yes. It did,” I said, reading the name Belladonna.

  “It’s also known as deadly nightshade—very poisonous. That’s why she wouldn’t let you touch it, silly.”

  “I saw this one, too,” I said, pointing to the other page featuring club moss.

  “Witch’s dust.”

  “I’ve heard of that. You see it in movies or magic shows when people want to distract and disappear. Its oily yellow spores explode when ignited, like mini fireworks.”

  Alana rounded the corner, taking in the new supernatural section, and Leslie and I stopped talking.

  “Mum, I didn’t know you were into magic. This is brilliant. I’m gonna ring up Móraí and tell her about this–she is absolutely going to love it. This is very cool.”

  For the first time in many years Alana looked at me like she used to, like I knew something and like she respected me. I smiled on the outside but inside I frowned. “Shall we go? You ladies have a concert to get to.”