by Brey Willows
The words made Maggie’s heart race. “There’s someone who might know? Really?”
Kody nodded but didn’t say anything. She stared off in the distance, looking miles away. Maggie turned to Shamus.
“Who is on the Crags of Moher?”
He turned his bright yellow eyes toward her, and she saw wisdom and intellect reflected back at her.
“The cailleach. Ancient Celtic witches who know, and see, most everything. But they’re…difficult.”
Brenda snorted. “They’re old hags with way too much power and not enough flair. You never know whose side they’re on, and they’re considered an absolute last resort. Total desperation.”
“And are we that desperate?” Maggie wanted to call the shots, and in truth, she knew she had every right to, what with the title she’d inherited and all. But she knew just as well that she had to give those creatures with her some say in things too. It was the right thing to do.
“I’d say we are. Don’t you think, shepherd?” Shamus licked at his paw like the answer didn’t matter, but the tone in his voice gave him away.
Kody sighed. “Curdled milk and fuckwits.” She stood and walked a few feet away.
Maggie started to stand, but Brenda held up her hand and shook her head, so Maggie sat back down. They’d known Kody far longer than she had. Instead, she asked Brenda a question that had been on her mind since she’d woken up.
“When I asked Avery to drink, you laughed. Why?”
Brenda giggled and even Shamus showed his teeth in what Maggie assumed was a smile. “The Puca are known for their morality. They regard laws and traditions as sacred, so asking them to drink the Red Queen to make sure they weren’t lying was basically one of the most insulting things you could have said.”
Maggie sighed. “I thought you said there wasn’t really anything to know?”
Shamus licked at his paw. “It didn’t cross my mind that you’d call them liars.”
Maggie was going to protest that she’d really done no such thing, but stopped when she saw Kody coming back, her eyes hard and her body tense.
“If we’re going to the Crags we need to get moving. The faster we get there and back to the cottage, the better.” She turned and stormed back to the house, slamming the door behind her.
Maggie turned to Shamus and Brenda. “Want to tell me what that’s about?”
Brenda stayed silent and Shamus gave her that inscrutable look.
“Okay. Thanks for the info. I’ll go get my grumpy-for-some-reason-shepherd and meet you back out here to go and meet with some ancient witches who might just throw me off a cliff. Awesome.” Maggie stood and followed Kody’s path. Life was getting more complicated by the day, and she hated not fully understanding who all the players were. It was like shadowboxing a wraith. And now that she knew that wraiths were real, that definitely wasn’t good.
Chapter Sixteen
Walking through New York was never peaceful. It was never dull, either. Walking through the Celtic sector was more exciting than any street in America. The silence was fine with her. She was used to her own company, though she didn’t like that Kody and the others seemed lost in their own thoughts and weren’t sharing. She just had to hope they’d share when the time was right. Hopefully before she insulted some other fairy tale creature.
Along the way Maggie began to notice more creatures. More to the point, they were noticing her. Perched in trees, peeking out from behind shrubs, and even running onto the path in front of them, only to stop, stare, and run off again. Some had skin that looked like bark, some had skin that looked like the colors of the plants around them. Some had pointed ears, some had hooked noses. Tall, short, fat, thin. It wasn’t long before the peace gave way to the murmurings of creatures along the path.
“I feel like I’m part of some weird parade.” Maggie moved closer to Kody and spoke softly, not wanting to offend anyone around them.
“You are the parade. We’re just flag bearers.” Kody gave her a wry smile. “Looks like word is out that you’re here. We’ll be expected.”
“Does it worry you?”
Kody shrugged. “A little, yeah. We’re pretty much outnumbered if anyone decides to make a move on you. I’m just hoping it will take them time to decide what to do, and by that time, we’ll be gone.” She frowned and kicked at a pebble that made a little creature with an incredibly pointy head skitter away. “They already knew you were alive in New York, so word may have traveled to the bad guys here.” She stopped and faced Maggie. “I hate all the unknown aspects to this, Maggie. Maybe we should just head to the cottage and get out of here.”
Maggie shook her head and linked her arm through Kody’s, getting her walking again. “I know we’re doing the right thing, and you have to trust my instincts.” She smiled at a creature that stopped in front of her on the path, looking up at her with big, round eyes. “Hello there.”
It squeaked and ran into the hedge.
Kody laughed. “It must be your overwhelming charm.”
Maggie pinched her side. “Or your reputation.” She pondered her next question and decided to go for it. “Can I ask you something?”
Kody looked at her warily. “Sure. Why not?”
“How old are you?” She didn’t miss the expression of relief in Kody’s eyes, and she wondered just what she was worried Maggie would ask.
“You sure you want to know?” She grinned and plucked a thick yellow flower with a million tiny petals that she spun between her fingers. “I wouldn’t want you to feel lacking.”
Maggie huffed. “Not likely. Give.”
Kody side-glanced at her. “Okay.” They walked a few more steps before she said, “Two hundred and seven.”
Maggie stumbled and tripped over her own feet, landing hard on the ground. She didn’t pay any attention, though. She stared up at Kody from where she lay sprawled in the dirt. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you.”
Kody smiled widely and flexed her biceps. “Not too shabby for over two centuries, huh? Don’t be scundered, lass. Not many can keep up with me.”
Maggie scrambled to her feet. “I don’t know what scundered means, but it’s probably not nice.”
“Embarrassed.” Brenda tripped along ahead of them. “She’s such a pew.”
“What the hell? I don’t know what that means, either.” Their accents were heavier, and Maggie wondered if she’d hit her head or there was some delayed side effect to the potion. The potion that probably hadn’t worn off yet, which meant Kody was telling the truth. “Why do you all sound so Irish all of sudden? And how can you possibly be that old?”
“We’re home. And the longer we’re home, the more we become part of the world again.” Kody stretched and raised her face to the sun. “It feels damn good.” She dropped her arms and looked at Maggie. “And time is different here. People can live for centuries, aging incredibly slowly. Shepherds and spinners are even more affected by that. It’s like a failsafe, so we can do a lot of good work for a long time to the best effect.”
“I’ve certainly aged.” Maggie looked away, aware that Kody was right. She did feel a little lacking.
“Because you’ve been in the other world. When you’re here, you’ll age the way you would if you lived here.” Shamus walked beside her on all fours.
“And if I’m in the cottage? What happens there?”
Brenda turned around from where she was walking ahead of them. “Worried you’ll start to look like a bag of spuds, lovely?” She smiled and ducked the pebble Maggie tossed at her.
“Well, if I have the option not to…”
Kody laughed, and Maggie liked the way some of the tension had gone out of her. The relaxed look suited her.
“Cottage keepers tend to age the way we do here, because they spend a lot of time here. Plus, you’re a spinner. In theory, one day we’ll find a new cottage keeper, and you can be a full-time spinner. If you wanted to,” Kody said.
A full-time spinner. Living in this world of magic a
nd wonderful creatures and intrigue. But that meant giving up New York, giving up her sister, even though she didn’t really like her. Giving up…what? It was going to take a lot more thought to process that choice. Fortunately, she didn’t have to make it now.
Kody stopped and pointed through the trees. “Look. That’s probably my favorite view of the Crags.”
Maggie looked in the direction she was pointing. A finger of rock jutted from the ocean in front of an enormous cliff face covered with grass. The sun behind it made it look like it was pointing at the cliff. And perched at the edge of the cliff was a stone house with a thatched roof, complete with smoke coming from the chimney. It was perfect.
Kody slipped her arm through Maggie’s the way Maggie had done earlier. “Well, tale spinner, it’s time to meet the witches of Moher.”
* * *
The witch was standing in the doorway leaning on a gnarled wood staff when they walked up the path. She was short and stout, and Maggie thought she probably looked like many an Irish grandmother. But when they got closer, she saw why that correlation stopped working. The witch’s eyes were a black sky on a moonless night, shot through with moving light. Though she was turned toward Maggie it was hard to tell if she was actually looking at her. It probably should have been unnerving at the very least. But instead, Maggie felt a pull to her, like she wanted to sink down at her feet and rest her head against her knee, knowing everything would be okay. The witch had nodded decisively and gone inside.
Maggie looked at Kody, whose jaw was set and the lines around her eyes deep.
“I’m pretty sure that means you’re welcome.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and looked toward the water. “And I think you have to go in alone.”
“What? Why?” Maggie knew, though, that Kody was right. She felt it.
“We’re here for you. I’ve met Mal, the one you just saw, and her sisters before. And when I say there’s nothing I could do to protect you from them, I mean it. They’re the strongest people in any realm. But if she didn’t want you here, the cottage wouldn’t have been visible.” She motioned toward the door. “So, have fun.”
Maggie grimaced as she stepped toward the low door with the thick wood beam over the top. Symbols were carved into the wood, and as she watched they pulsed like living things. What if this was a bad idea? What if the witches were in collusion with the villains left here? Or even the person pulling the strings? Maggie could be walking into a trap. But when she focused again on that feeling inside her, the anxiety waned. She wanted to know who she was. She wanted to know where she’d come from, and who, if anyone, was left. And deeper than perhaps all of that, she wanted to know she was strong enough to do what needed to be done, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.
She stepped inside and the cool air swirled around her as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Drying plants, roots, and all manner of things Maggie couldn’t, and didn’t want to, identify hung from the broad beams crossing the little house. It smelled of earth and seawater, not unpleasant, but a little overwhelming in such a small space.
One of the witches sat alone at a table by the window, crushing something dried and pouring it into a vial of cloudy liquid. Where the plant met the liquid it hissed and turned black, like small explosions.
“Come, sit.”
The witch’s voice was surprisingly melodic and, intrigued, Maggie took the seat across from her.
“Ask your questions. Keep them simple.”
Maggie had expected more conversation, more explanation, more…something. She took a moment to consider what she wanted to know. “Are my parents alive?”
“No. They were killed by the Red Guard two months after you were taken away when they were found helping start a resistance.”
Bile rose in the back of Maggie’s throat at the same time as tears flooded her eyes. She’d wanted to know, and now she did.
“Is there anyone I’m related to still alive?” She asked the question without really thinking about it, still caught up in the pain of her parents’ death.
“Yes.”
Maggie looked away from the window and at the witch. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she didn’t know if she’d hear the next answer. “Who?”
“Your grandmother on your father’s side. She had retired and was no longer spinning, but she still went into hiding when the tossers began the purge.”
Maggie wasn’t sure what a tosser was, but it didn’t sound complimentary. “Can I see her?”
“One day. Now is not the time. But you will see her, yes.”
For the life of her, Maggie couldn’t think of another question. She had a grandmother. One she’d get to meet at some point. It was more than she could have hoped for. But then, what if she didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like Maggie? What if she didn’t want a reminder of her lost son around?
“Stop. Be in the moment. Next question.”
Maggie forced herself to focus. “How do I learn to use my powers?”
The witch looked up from the crushing of her plant. “Wrong order. Ask another.”
There was an order to her questions? It might have been better if she’d been told that. But she wasn’t about to argue with the being in front of her. “Can I be what I’m expected to be?”
“Right question. Difficult answer.” The witch swirled the liquid in the bottle and then sniffed it. “Smells like the arse end of a diseased lolliwicky.” She put a stopper in the bottle and placed it on the shelf among others. “You can, if you want to be. You won’t be, if you can’t.”
“Ookay. I don’t suppose you could clarify a teeny bit?” She knew better than to get cranky with a woman who had the sky in her eyes instead of eyeballs, but she felt her temper begin to fray.
“Ask the next question.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “How do I learn to use my powers?”
“Better.” The witch pressed the heel of her hand into a pile of flower petals and they let off a sickly sweet scent. “You learn by doing. You learn by being taught. You learn when there’s no other choice. You’ve already tried, haven’t you?” She looked at Maggie with her fathomless eyes.
“I did. I found a creature in New York, but then I lost him because I didn’t really know what I was doing. Kody tried to talk me out of it, but I was stubborn.”
“Stubborn can keep you from getting dead. Or get you killed faster than a horsefly in a swamp of frogs.” She held out a bowl with the flower petals in it. “Crush these into a paste.”
Just as Maggie was about to argue that flowers didn’t become paste, she remembered where she was, and why. She grabbed a heavy stone pestle and started mashing the flowers, and sure enough, they turned into a bright yellow paste. She pushed the bowl back to the witch, who shoved another one back at her.
“Now this one.”
They repeated the process until there was a blue, a green, and a red paste, all made from various flower mixes. The witch picked up two of the bowls. “Take the other two and follow me.”
Maggie did as she was told, wondering just where all this was leading. When she blinked in the late day sunshine, she saw Kody standing at the cliff edge, looking out over the water. The sun draped over her like a lover, making her skin shine. Her expression was relaxed, her shoulders down. She was exquisite.
“Time for that nonsense later. Keep your head out here, not in your pants.”
“You see a lot for a woman with no eyes.” Maggie’s temper strained, a little more so at the embarrassment of being caught ogling Kody.
“And you see very little for someone with them.” The witch set her bowls down in front of an easel holding a medium sized canvas. “Sit down.”
Maggie set her bowls beside the others. “I didn’t come to paint sunsets.” She ducked forward when the felt the sting of a smacked head. “Ow!”
“Behave.” The witch handed her a brush. “I want you to stare at the horizon. Let it go blurry and think about all the things you’ve lea
rned since you became the cottage keeper. All of it. And I want you to let the question of what to do next linger in your mind. Don’t try to answer it, just let it be. And while you’re thinking, paint. Don’t think about what you’re painting, because you’ll just get in your own way.”
“Paint but don’t think about what I’m painting, and think, but don’t think. That’s great.” She sighed and swirled the brush in the yellow. “I can think and talk at the same time. I was told you had sisters, but I only see you.”
The witch snorted and sat on a stool slightly behind and to the side of Maggie. “Good that rumor hasn’t run around like a tart with no knickers.” She held a ball of yarn in her hands and began winding it into another ball. “I’m Mal. My sister Pen fell in love with a royal in another sector. He doesn’t love the silly cow back, so she haunts his forests hoping he’ll change his mind after she eats some children and turns a bunch of plants black.”
Maggie painted and listened to Mal’s story while still considering her current position.
“My other sister, Dila, saved a fisherman from drowning off our coast, and in the process the silly goose fell in love with him. She put on a second skin so he’d love her back, and they’ve moved to some swampy little fishing village not far from here. She can only take that skin off when he isn’t around, otherwise he’d know she’s a wrinkled old bat like me and not the pretty princess in rags she seems to be.” She snorted again and yanked hard at the yarn. “You can imagine how well that will end.”
Maggie couldn’t imagine it would end well. But then, if the witches were part of the fairy tales, then it made sense that it wouldn’t end well for them. Funny, she thought, that the witch’s stories in these tales never got told.
“Think about what you’re going to do next.”
The command came from right next to her and made her jump, but she didn’t stop painting and didn’t look away from the sun setting the horizon on fire. She felt her hand moving, felt the speed and the electricity she’d always felt when she got lost in the creative flow. She let it come, reveling in the movement of it through her veins. She thought of the emotional rollercoaster of the last weeks. She thought of her real parents, her foster parents, her sister. She thought of Lacona and his sweet smile, she thought of watching Blech transform into Shamus and back again. Most of all, she felt it. Every tear, every bit of confusion, every smile. And always, there was Kody right beside her.
