by Kelly Moran
Crammed into the passenger seat of an ancient Volkswagen Beetle, Kaida prayed for her life as Mara drove them east through town. Apparently, in her supposed aunt’s world, stop signs were merely a pretty bauble, traffic lights a suggestion, and pedestrians just part of an obstacle course. Oh, and there was no such thing as a speed limit. Considering the car had left the showroom sometime around Woodstock, Kaida was shocked the thing ran at all, never mind got above crawling.
Her head smacked the roof a third time when Mara flew over a speed bump and the front tire landed in a pothole. “I’m, uh, not in any hurry or anything. Don’t feel the need to rush on my account.”
“I ain’t rushin’, dear. Any slower, we’d be going backward.” Mara laid on the horn as a dog walker nearly missed the front bumper by an angel’s whisper. She stuck her face out the window, white hair billowing. “Head out of yer arse first, then cross the street.”
The man grinned, kept going, and waved over his shoulder, not missing a stride. “Will do, Mara.”
“That’s a good boy.” Gears ground and a plume of black smoke drifted from the rear. “We’re mighty glad you’re here.” Mara patted Kaida’s knee. “Feels like centuries I’ve personally been waiting.” The woman laughed, though Kaida didn’t get the punch line.
“I didn’t know I had siblings.” She had to yell over the rattling roar of the dying muffler. She gripped the handle tighter, hoping it didn’t snap off in her fist. The glove compartment’s panel was duct taped closed and her seat listed precariously left as if the springs had been rendered toast. When Reagan was in office. During the first term. “I have to admit, I’m nervous to meet them.”
At most, she’d figured her relations on the island would be distant cousins, not immediate family. This was turning out to be a day of surprises. Stunned stupid was more like it, joyride from hell not withstanding. Then again, her dream last night had indicated the two women shown to her were her sisters. She didn’t know what to make of the dream any more than she did the eccentric Irish woman in the driver’s seat.
“Aw, don’t be nervous. You may not know us yet, but we know all about you. Give it a bit, and you’ll feel right at home.”
They left civilization behind and wove down a long curvy road that hugged the ocean. Mara punched the accelerator as if her jaunt through town had been a warm up. The higher they climbed, the harder the car chugged, and soon the rocky shoreline made way to cliffs. A guardrail separated them from plummeting, so Kaida focused on the scenery.
Out her window, boulders cut through emerald green grass, shallow hills, and wildflowers just starting their spring bloom. Gray birch and pitch pine grew intermittent with seemingly no rhyme, reason, or care as to where their roots were planted. A light fog hovered over the ground, not thick enough to blanket, but it created a mysterious tranquility compared to the cobalt sky.
Mara veered right onto what appeared to be a narrow private lane. An eight-foot lannon stone wall teeming with Virginia creeper blocked the driver’s side view. The five-part purplish leaves of the woody vines, thick and pretty, had obviously been growing a long time.
After a short trek, Mara stopped the car at a two-winged gate. Wrought iron bars were separated by a stone pillar that continued on the other side in a clear split of property lines. The gate on the left held a trinity knot and the one to the right donned a shield claiming the Meath Clan, both in the same black iron. Beyond the bars was a steep hill, obscuring the view, and another narrow path like the one they’d just driven, which traveled in either direction. A twist in Kaida’s seat proved the wall continued along the road as far as her eye could see. No doubt, coast to coast to keep tourists from wandering onto the properties.
Privacy, indeed. It appeared the Galloways and Meaths didn’t like stragglers. Or each other, judging by the this-is-my-side, that-one’s-yours definition.
Mara mumbled something under her breath and held out her hand, palm up toward the windshield as if she could use The Force to open the lock. Odd. Just as Kaida was about to say something, the woman leaned partially out the window and punched a code into a panel on the wall. With a creak, the gate swung inward.
They traveled the road, barely wide enough for the car, cocooned by a stone wall on Mara’s side and a steep hill on Kaida’s. A short distance, and they turned right onto another path that bisected the land. Good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic. The incline was gradual, but the longer they drove, the more pressure built in her ears.
Being off the coast of Massachusetts, the island got its share of weather, just like the mainland. This road must be a bitch to clear in winter.
“Aye, snow’s a problem. Ice storms are worse, but we make do. Nature’s just nature, after all. No sense in challenging it. We natives are used to its wrath.”
Kaida whipped her gaze to Mara’s, not realizing she’d spoken aloud. In fact, she was certain she hadn’t.
The woman offered an all-knowing grin and tapped her temple. “Your thoughts are noisy, dear.”
Uh-huh. For the first time since agreeing to get in the vehicle, tendrils of unease twirled through Kaida. Crash test dummy aside, of course. Mara had seemed harmless and eccentric, but maybe she was missing a few faculties.
A rich laugh filled the car as Mara tilted her head back. “Rest assured. I’m not crazy.”
Unsure what to say—or think—Kaida focused up front. Her expressions must’ve given away her thoughts. Or something.
Finally, a clearing emerged and a house came into view. The breath seeped from her lungs and she unconsciously leaned forward, straining against the seatbelt.
Wow. Just...wow.
Cozied up to the cliffs, the three-story yellow Victorian towered like a homey, beaconing fortress. White trim and shutters, wrap-around porch, a rounded tower on the south face, and a romantic widow’s walk on the north. Decorative gables, dramatic cupolas, and timbering gave it an almost gingerbread-type feel. It screamed a combination of sordid narration and advent welcoming.
Behind it, the gray-blue Atlantic swept like a framed backdrop, and to the right, past a meadow of gardens, were dense woods. Galloway Forest, to be exact. According to the map Kaida had studied, it spanned roughly two-thousand acres. And on the other side lay the Meath Mansion, not visible through the thicket.
Something slammed into her, through her. With force. Energy? A wave of emotion or...she didn’t know. An over-boding sense of safety and acceptance melded with grief and joy. They pinched her chest all at once, tightened her throat, and had her eyes burning. And one word kept shoving to mind, perched at the tip of her tongue, chanting like a mantra.
Home, home, home...
Mara parked in a circular drive lined with red columbine and ferns, and shut off the car. The engine sputtered and whined a full three seconds before going silent. “They were excited to see you. Forgive the frontal barrage.” She jerked her chin at the house, where a brunette and redhead rose from rocking chairs on the porch.
Following Mara, Kaida climbed from the vehicle and waited as the women approached her. They were definitely the two from her dream, and since she didn’t have a clue what to make of that, she remained still.
One was slim, dressed in skinny jeans frayed at the knee and a navy sweater that hit her mid-thigh. Coils of auburn hair trailed almost to her waist. Her eyes were a smoky-blue shade of storm cloud and assessing in their perusal. She walked with the elegance and grace of a ballet dancer, but carried the determination of a predator. Alabaster skin held a faint tinge of peach in her cheeks. She wore no cosmetics, and didn’t need any.
The other was curvy, more sultry than flat-out seductive. A woman clearly comfortable in her body and attuned to how it moved. Mahogany waves just shy of cocoa in color stopped several inches below the swell of her generous breasts. Which were straining against a fitted red top painted the same shade as her full lips. She, too, wore jeans, but the denim was darker. Her eyes were an interesting shade of crystalline that deepened to turquoise around the
edges.
Both women matched her in height, and considering Kaida was five-eight, that was saying something. As they stopped in front of her, she got the oddest sense of déjà vu again. Except, unlike on the ferry, this carried with it vague fractures of...memory.
A laugh—the brunette’s—low and sexy. A voice—the redhead’s—calm and assured.
Which was insane. Kaida had never met them before.
The brunette grinned, and Kaida figured the woman could halt time if she did it often enough. Mischievous and hypnotic. “Welcome, sister. I’m Fiona and this is Ceara. We’ve waited such a long time for this day.”
She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around Kaida. An electric punch zapped between them, stealing her breath, liquefying her muscles for the briefest of moments. Heat blasted, but not a lick of pain followed even though she instinctively tensed for it. She quickly severed contact, and...
Wait. What was that? A blue light shimmered between them, then died. There and gone.
Kaida blinked, utterly shaken, and figured hallucinations meant she needed more sleep. A lot more. She laughed nervously. “I’m so sorry. I must’ve picked up static from the car. I didn’t mean to shock you.”
A frustrated frown wrinkled Fiona’s brows. She sent a questioning glance at Mara, who slowly shook her head. They seemed to communicate via unspoken dialogue. Finally, Fiona nodded. Sighed. Appeared resigned.
Ceara stepped closer, but didn’t touch Kaida, as if her sister understood she was already unnerved and gave her space. “We have our work cut out for us, I guess.” She studied Kaida with the precision of a scientist, yet soothing maternal understanding warmed her eyes. “You have nothing to fear from us. How about we go inside, have some tea? We can talk.”
Kaida followed the women around the side of the house and through the garden. A walking path with crushed shells and stepping stones led the way. Benches were strategically placed on trails, interwoven like a maze, inviting visitors to stay. Relax. Explore.
Crystals in varying shades and tones dripped from twine hanging from trellises. Purple amethyst. Rose quartz. Yellow citrine. Blue apatite. Black agate. Aquamarine fuchsite. Red jasper. And those were the ones she recognized. Through a lattice arch above, lavender blooms from beach pea vines crept through the openings.
“This is beautiful.” Amazing. It was like walking into a fairy patch.
Ceara hummed. “It’s early in the season yet, but we’ll see more blooms soon. Do you have a garden?”
“No. Well, I did a bit growing up. My father was a landscaper. He taught me a lot. I live in a condo, though. No yard.” Soil, grass, and flora blended with the faint scent of saltwater, making Kaida wish she had the space or room at home to put her green thumb to work. Perhaps she’d find a way to take up the hobby when she returned to Iowa.
Tickseed provided a nice groundcover. Kaida had always loved the light pink buds because they resembled stars. Lily of the valley lined natural stones along the border, the fragrance pleasing. Red lobelia, pink and white phlox, and purple irises were open. Coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, turtleheads, and snapdragons were still in the green stage, recognizable by their leaves and stems. Toward the center of the area, rose bushes were arranged in a cluster and had several statuettes at their base. A mermaid. Dragon. Trolls. Frogs and snails. How cute, and they added playfulness. Whimsy.
They stepped through a screen door into what Kaida assumed would be a mudroom, but she found herself in a greenhouse instead. Two floor-to-ceiling glass walls had a wrap-around ledge holding small pots teeming with herbs. What had to be more than a hundred kinds. So many scents filled her at once. Rosemary and thyme. Eucalyptus and sage. Too many to name or take in.
The ceiling, too, was glass and had thick beams running the length. Dried plants and flowers were hanging upside down in bound clusters. A long, scarred pine workstation table centered the room, waist-high and with various tools on them. One of the walls hugging the house had tall shelving units. Labeled apothecary jars were neatly lined in rows. Again, more than a hundred of them.
“Wow. You guys are really into the holistic approach and...” She blinked. On the last wall was a stone hearth. Smack in the center of the wide mouth was a giant iron cauldron. Caught off guard, Kaida cleared her throat. “That’s interesting.”
Kitchen witches? Was that what she was dealing with? She’d heard the reference many times in her studies referencing everyday people who made their own potions or medicines. Some weirdos actually considered themselves the real deal. Wiccans often did the same for rituals and holidays. Considering the legend surrounding Six Fates Island, she had to wonder how far her family had taken the myth about curses and witchcraft.
“We own a shop in town.” Fiona smiled. “Remedies, lotions, teas. That sort of thing.” She exchanged a look with Ceara as if seeking help. “We’d be happy to show it to you tomorrow.”
Okay, that made much more sense. She relaxed. “I’d like that.”
“On that note, I have to get back to the shop.” Mara patted Kaida’s arm. “We don’t like to have it unattended for long. We have one of the part-timers there now. I’ll leave you three to get acquainted.”
“Thanks for bringing me.” Kaida might’ve taken a few days to gather her nerve if Mara hadn’t approached her first.
“Anytime, dear.”
When the elder woman left, Fiona laughed. “Did she shave ten years off your life? She drives like a drunk Nascar racer.”
“Maybe not ten years. Five, perhaps.” Kaida laughed and exchanged a smile with Ceara. “I think the car itself was more frightening.”
Ceara nodded. “She refuses to part with her Bug.” She tilted her head. “Come inside.”
The kitchen was light and airy. And big. Wainscoting held prints of herbs. Distressed white cabinets covered two walls. The appliances were stainless steel. A large blue tile island matched the countertops and had a bowl of red apples in the center. The bay window over the sink showed a view of the garden. A stained-glass round table sat in a corner and seated six. Bottles in multiple colors and sizes lined the tops of the cabinets.
“Have a seat. I’ll brew a pot.” Ceara moved to the stove and started a kettle, then set out mugs. She fished through jars on a counter rack, selected something, and put leaves in metal steepers. “How was the ferry ride? Did you just get in today?”
“Yes, and the trip was nice. It was fascinating to watch the island approaching.” Kaida took a chair next to Fiona. “The hotel’s very lovely also.”
Ceara’s head whipped around, red coiled strands flying. “You checked into the Meath Hotel?” Her affronted tone set Kaida back. “I’m sorry. Of course, you did. You’re welcome to stay with us. We were assuming you would.” Her gaze flicked to Fiona’s and away. She walked three mugs of tea to the table and sat across from Kaida. “We’re family.”
Since she didn’t know how to respond, Kaida sipped the tea. Rosemary and hints of jasmine left a pleasant aftertaste once she swallowed. “I’ve known all my life that I was adopted by distant cousins on my mother’s side, but they never told me about you guys. Or about the island. It wasn’t until my parents died six months ago that I received a letter from my birth mother.” She jerked her gaze at the two women. “Our mother, I suppose.”
She was suddenly struck by the similarities between her and her sisters the closer she examined them. Their hair color and skin tones were different, as were their facial shapes. But they all shared the same button nose, full mouth, and blue eyes. Though the shades were diverse. Not that hair length was a genetic quality, but she found it interesting all three wore theirs nearly to their waists.
“You’re wondering why Fiona and I were raised on the island, but you weren’t.” Not a question. A statement. Ceara studied her mug, contemplative. “The easy answer is it was to keep you safe until it was time for things to be put in motion.”
The fine hairs stood on the back of Kaida’s neck. “What do you mean, keep me safe?”
Ceara met her gaze. “What do you know about Six Fates Island’s history? Are you aware of the Galloway curse?”
“Yes, I’ve read about it many times. Supposedly, Celeste Galloway cast a spell before she was burned.”
Ceara nodded. “So, you’re aware of the verbiage used. Three by three. Since the curse was cast, the Meaths and Galloways have not been blessed with true love. Not once. Nothing lasts and relationships end badly. We have walked the Earth for three centuries, never feeling at peace and constantly searching for it.”
She paused. “A few months after I was born, the Meath family delivered a set of male triplets. The first in three-hundred years to have three born. Fiona came a year later. And when Mom learned she was expecting you, she and Aunt Mara began to plan. The pregnancy was kept secret. You arrived with blue eyes just like us, and that confirmed everything. They sent you away.”
Fiona set her cup aside. “Your birth activated the first thread to breaking the curse. Three Meath males with green eyes. Three Galloway females with blue eyes. If word of that had spread, there’s no telling what might have happened. Aunt Mara feels dark forces are at work trying to stop us from undoing the cycle. We’ve felt the same way.”
Anger was the first to rise to the surface. Kaida had been raised in a loving home, but she’d never had a sense of belonging. Here they were, the family she’d searched for, dreamed about, calmly telling her she’d been tossed aside. At birth. And for what? Being a blue-eyed girl?
Concern swiftly followed. These two seemingly logical, normal women actually appeared to believe that a supposed curse, spoken by a desperate single mother three-hundred years ago, who knew she was about to die horribly, was fact instead of fiction.
Had she made a mistake coming here? Had she been so determined to find a connection that she’d leapt before she’d looked?
Her “sisters” were obviously seeking a reaction from her, so Kaida drew a careful breath. “That’s putting a lot of stock in lore, don’t you think?” Hello, overreaction.
