Crescent Prophecy

by Nicole R. Taylor

  “Well… I studied archaeology, anthropology, and folklore at Trinity College in Dublin,” she said. “Since graduatin’, I’ve worked on a few exhibitions around the country and a couple of excavations, but nothing long-term. I’ve been workin’ at Debenhams in Galway.”

  “You’re Indiana Jones, and you’ve been working in a department store?” I asked, making a face.

  She laughed and shook her head. “It’s not like that, though, it would be a thrill. Paid work is hard to come by, and when somethin’ does come up, it’s rather competitive. There’s only so much volunteerin’ I can do before the rent is due.”

  “Galway is a fair way to come for a job,” I mused.

  “Oh, I know. I don’t mind movin’. Been doin’ it me whole life.”

  I peered at her resume again and frowned. There was no logical reason why she would want to take a job selling New Age knickknacks to tourists when she could do a hundred other things. Like work in a museum or dig up ancient burial sites like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. Seriously, why wasn’t she in the Amazon looking for El Dorado?

  “Why do you want to work at a crystal shop in the ass end of nowhere?” I asked, voicing my thoughts. “Surely, there are more exciting places you can go?”

  “I suppose so, but I don’t want to leave Ireland.” She shrugged. “Out here is where the history lives, you know? There’s a ruined tower house on your doorstep, so it doesn’t get any closer than that. I can earn money doin’ somethin’ I’m interested in and be among history.”

  This woman was too good to be true. She was like the ready-made librarian, know-it-all sidekick out of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. The guy who knew everything because of books. What’s-his-name. The plot device needed to fill all the holes with his superior book smarts. Just what this story needed!

  “It gets busy in here,” I said, giving her the rundown of what I needed. “Derrydun is a stop on most of the bus tours, so don’t let the calm before the storm fool you. I have commitments that sometimes drag me away unexpectedly, so there’ll be times I might have to leave you to manage the place alone. You good with that?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. Galway is the same with the tour buses, and I don’t mind working alone. I like to be busy.”

  “And we’re strange around here.”

  “Aren’t all the best people?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “You say all the right things. When can you start?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “It’s a date!” I declared. “See you at ten a.m. sharp.”

  After seeing Lucy out, I watched her cross the street, pass under the hawthorn growing in the middle of the road, and get into a little blue car parked by Mary’s Teahouse. The tree didn’t move, and I frowned.

  When I’d first arrived in Derrydun, Boone told me the hawthorn had bent toward me, its leaves attracted to my magic like a magnet. I’d almost expected it to reveal something about Lucy as she passed beneath its branches, but not even a breeze stirred its limbs.

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. It had been too easy, her walking in here with her stellar resume and boho hippy sheik. She was perfect for the job, and I needed someone to run things when a witchy crisis was in full swing, so why was I all wound up about it? Maybe all this Crescent Witch destiny stuff was making me paranoid.

  I shook my head as a big white tour bus came around the bend and began to slowly navigate its way around the hawthorn.

  Maybe there was a way to make sure she wasn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing or so to speak. I’d been attacked by a wolf—which were meant to be extinct in Ireland—almost gutted by a twisted fae with giant claws, escaped a near drowning by a bunch of Sluagh—shadow fae who ate peoples’ souls for a living—and almost put myself into a magical coma when I used all of my magic to heal Boone. I was definitely not going to be brought down by an unemployed archaeologist.

  I had to be sure. Right? The last Crescent Witch couldn’t take any chances, not when the existence of magic hung in the balance.

  When I got back to the cottage that night, I retrieved the spell book from underneath the floorboards in the bedroom and brought it downstairs. Sitting on the couch—with its awful floral and beige color scheme—I began studying the pages.

  Lucy was way too good to be true. I had an uneasy feeling, but I wasn’t sure if it was my gut talking or the lingering doom and gloom of the battle for magic giving me a complex. There had to be a way to know for sure if she was a fae or under the influence of one.

  The spells at the beginning of the book were written in Irish and Latin, the pages were wobbly and brown with age, and the further I went, the clearer the words became. It was a trip through time, though how long ago was anyone’s guess.

  I hoped I would be smart enough to put a spell of my own in there one day. After experiencing the magic I unleashed when I was fighting the craglorn, I knew it was in me. It was just putting it on paper that was the problem. I didn’t know which words to use to describe the instinct I’d used, let alone what kind of spell would be useful. You couldn’t teach love. It just was.

  The front door opened and banged shut, revealing Boone. He stomped his feet on the mat and kicked off his boots before shuffling into the lounge room.

  “Ah, here comes the Iron Chef,” I said, hinting I wanted him to cook dinner. It was the only way he was going to get a meal that wasn’t microwaved.

  “What’s an iron chef?” he asked, sitting beside me.

  “It’s this show that used to be on one of the TV channels back home,” I explained. “From an Asian country, I can’t remember which. It was a game show where chefs competed against one another in an arena.”

  “What did they win?”

  “They won the title of Iron Chef. Duh.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’” I air quoted the last part.

  “Surely, they won cash and prizes. I thought that was the point of those programs.”

  “Surely, the achievement is worth more than money and a bunch of stuff,” I said with a pout. “Don’t mess with Iron Chef. It has a cult following, you know.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “I’m weird? You’re the fox in human’s clothing.”

  Boone puffed out his chest and winked. “Aye, I am a bit of a fox if I do say so myself.”

  “Can you change into a pig?” I made a face.

  “Very funny.”

  Turning back to the spell book, I began flicking through the pages again. Tracing my fingers over worn handwriting and diagrams, I tried to piece together a plan.

  “What are you doin’?” Boone asked, looking at me like I’d sprouted a second head.

  “I want to see if there’s a way I can test her,” I muttered.

  “Test who for what?”

  “Lucy.”

  “Who’s Lucy?”

  “The woman I hired to help at Irish Moon. I want to see if I can test her to make sure she’s not a fae.”

  “Skye, I think you’re makin’ too much out of this. Hundreds of tourists come through the village every week, and none of them have been fae. Not everyone is out to get you. Besides, the hawthorns…”

  “We can’t be too careful,” I argued. “Look at what happened with that Hannah chick. She turned out to be a spriggan, and Aileen didn’t even know. The hawthorns didn’t help then, and we can’t rely on the trees all the time.” Boone stiffened at my offhanded comment about the fae that had killed my mother. She was trying to save him at the time, and it had once been a sore point between us, but now there were bigger fish to fry. “After everything that happened with the craglorn and everything that will happen with Carman eventually, I can’t take any chances.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “If she’s a spy, then I want to know.”

  He grunted, and I set the spell book aside. Nestling closer, I laid my hand over his and squeezed.

  “Boone, I’m the last Crescent. And
if I believe everything you’ve told me and all the shite in this book, then I’m the only one who can kick Carman’s ass. I’m pretty sure it was my ancestors who banished her from Ireland and locked the doors to the fae realm. I may not be the Crescent who did those things, but I’m the only one around for her to take revenge on. If I’m out of the picture, nothing will stand in her way. She’ll crawl back in and unleash whatever power lingers on the other side.” I sighed. And if she succeeded, magic would be extinct, and the world would be defenseless in the face of the fae realm. “It’s so dramatic, but you know. Priorities.”

  What was on the other side of the doors, anyway? Why did the Crescents lock them for good? Knowing my luck, it was to protect Earth from being invaded by a mystical army of fairies. That was usually how those stories went. The desire for ultimate power and chaos weren’t an exclusively human trait.

  “Aye, well, just be careful. Don’t go turnin’ her into a toad.”

  My eyes widened. “I can turn people into toads?”

  Boone frowned and cupped my face. Leaning forward, he kissed me. His touch was soft at first, but when tongue was added to the mix, the heat level rose. Just when things were borderline indecent, he pulled away.

  “What would you like for dinner?” he asked, dumping a proverbial bucket of ice water on my head.

  “A cock sandwich,” I retorted, completely frustrated.

  “A what?”

  “A cooked sandwich,” I said, scowling and picking up the spell book. “Like a nice slab of satisfying meat slapped between some bread.”

  It was a metaphor that went right over Boone’s clueless head, and he shrugged. Ever since I’d woken from my post-healing three-day sleep and we’d fallen into our romantic relationship, it had been awkward as hell. It was like he didn’t even know how to be affectionate or act normal around me. In the wake of me discovering my magic and his shapeshifter-ness, our easy friendship had stalled. Something wasn’t right, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

  It didn’t help that I was still trying to understand the new world I was thrown into, manage a business with zero book smarts, and find a new employee. I was building a new life from scratch, and it hadn’t been that long since I was dumped by my last boyfriend and lost my job in a supernatural conspiracy to get me back to the ancestral home of the Crescents.

  I needed Boone. Honestly, I needed him in more ways than a pillar of strength in the chaos. I needed him all night long, but he didn’t seem to get it. Considering it was the one thing men always knew everything about, it was way more annoying than the entire population of Derrydun planning our supposed spring wedding.

  Boone disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to wonder if I should be studying the spell book or going online to order myself a dildo.

  And when he reappeared half an hour later, guess what he had made me for dinner?

  A lamb sandwich.

  Chapter 3

  Fiddling absently with my tarot cards, I watched Lucy from behind the counter.

  After a morning of showing her the ins and outs of Irish Moon, I was happy to see her busying herself with tidying the shop and familiarizing herself with the stock. At least she was showing more enthusiasm than I had when I first arrived, but I suppose she’d come here wanting the job in the first place. Unlike me.

  She’d been early, too. It was like a vortex where everything was reversed. Lucy was the complete opposite of me, which was probably a good thing considering I liked to sleep in and laze about behind the counter.

  “Do you read tarot cards?” she asked, watching me shuffle.

  “I’ve been learning,” I replied. “They were my mother’s cards.”

  “Were?” Lucy crossed the shop floor and stood on the other side of the counter.

  “She died a few months ago.” I shrugged. “I inherited the shop and her house.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She shook out her hair to hide her reddening cheeks. “Way to go askin’ the personal questions on me first day.”

  “It’s fine. We weren’t really close. Meaning, I never really knew her when she was here. She left my dad and me when I was little and…”

  Realizing I was babbling to a suspected spy, I closed my mouth and shrugged. I was becoming really paranoid. Didn’t help that Lucy was easy to talk to. She had one of those faces, which could be a trick or a spell or anything.

  “So you and your dad lived in Australia?”

  I nodded.

  “How long have you been in Ireland for? Do you like it here?”

  “I’ve been here about five months now, I think. A lot has happened. A lot of readjusting.” That was the understatement of the century.

  “So how does this tarot thing work?” she went on, thankfully changing the subject. “I’ve never had them done before.”

  “Well, people think they’re for telling the future, but they’re more for guidance and intuition than anything. They can help you think about the situation you’re in and guide you toward making a decision. Life lessons.” I raised my eyebrows.

  They’d given me plenty of ‘lessons’ in the past few months. The Tower heralded the destruction of my world’s order and the rebuilding of my life in Derrydun. The Star had followed, cropping up in multiple readings to remind me of renewed hope after I’d found out I was a witch. Since then, the cards had been random and confusing, and no reoccurring trends had cropped up. I suppose it meant I was in a period of normality. Which was a good thing for someone like me.

  “Would you do me?” Lucy asked.

  “What?” I pulled a face.

  “A card, a card,” she exclaimed, flapping her hands about. “I’m not propositionin’ you! Oh, God, I did not just say that.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “That’s nothing. You should’ve heard some of the things Mairead used to say.”

  “Who?”

  “The girl who worked here before you.” Placing the cards on the counter, I swept the deck along the surface, fanning out the black and gold rectangles. “Now think about what you would like the cards to reveal to you, then choose one from wherever.”

  Lucy thought for a moment, then reached out and slid a card from the spread. Turning it over, she said, “Oh, this looks cool.”

  Taking the card, I saw it was the Ace of Wands. Traditionally, this card had an image of a hand emerging from a cloud, grasping a wand that was still growing, its length covered in new shoots and flowers, signifying a blossoming development. In the background, there was usually a castle to represent the promise of what opportunities were possible in the future. In this deck, the image was different, but it still had the same representations. The wand was the center focus, its length also covered with leaves, but at the top was the flame of inspiration. In the foreground were flowers and rolling fields, lush with the promise of a prosperous future…if one was intuitive enough to reach out and take it.

  “The Wands are a good suit,” I explained. “They are all about creativity, strength, and inspiration. The Ace is to do with inspiration, power, beginnings, and potential. It’s pretty much a sign that says, go for it.”

  “That’s good.” Lucy blew out a breath, and her shoulders sank, losing some of the tension she’d been holding.

  “It’s a really good card, to be honest. It’s saying that you’re inspired by a new project and to listen to your instincts. But…”

  “Oh, there’s always a but.”

  “That’s where the life lesson comes in,” I said with a chuckle. “The Ace is also reminding you that your inspiration is still only a seed. There’s still a long way to go, but if you nurture it, it could grow into something very good. Which is great for me, by the way.”

  Lucy laughed, and her eyes sparkled. Whatever nervousness she’d been carrying seemed to have disappeared, and despite my fears she was a trickster fae in the service of Carman, I was really liking her. Dammit.

  Our conversation petered out, and she turned back to the shop and made herself busy. Watchin
g her, I shuffled the tarot cards and drew one for myself. Seeing the card, I groaned. Great, just great. Why couldn’t I get the Ace of bloody Wands?

  The Three of Swords stared back at me, and I glared at the image of three blades piercing a heart with a teary eye in the center. Heartbreak, betrayal, grief, rejection, separation. Not good. Something was coming, but I knew it was. It was just a matter of when and if it had anything to do with the arrival of my new shop assistant.

  Lucy had made herself busy by emptying out each little container of tumbled stones and dusting them out before placing all the colored crystals back. First was the citrine—which was a curious choice as citrine was for wealth and prosperity—then the amethyst, rose quartz, snowflake obsidian, and fluorite.

  Seeing she was completely engrossed, I saw a chance at nabbing the final ingredient for my patchwork fae identification spell. Rounding the counter, I pretended to tidy the knickknacks on the counter—cheap bracelets, New Agey postcards, and Irish-themed trinkets—and worked my way closer. I just had to reach out and pluck a hair from her wild mane of strawberry-blonde waves, and it would do the trick. I just had to plonk it in the potion, and it would change color just like a drug test but without the pee in the jar.

  Just as I was inches from my target, I caught sight of Boone through the window. He pointed at Lucy and mouthed, “Is that her?” Giving him a pointed look, I made a cutting motion across my neck. He was going to blow my cover.

  Lucy turned and caught me gesturing at Boone, and her mouth dropped open. “Who’s that, and where can I get one?”

  “That is my boyfriend,” I retorted, annoyed he’d shown up and ruined my chance at snapping up a strand of her hair.

  Boone made a face and hurried away, likely knowing he would face my wrath later on. He wasn’t exactly on board with the whole fae test, which was mystifying as he was always the one to chastise me for fiddling with magic away from the hawthorns. I was desperate to have a house full of magically automated utensils to take over all the jobs I hated. Like drying the dishes, stirring pots on the stove, hanging out the washing, folding the washing, and so on. But I wasn’t allowed since, you know, the war for magic and the lingering threat of craglorns coming to suck out witches’ power and turning us into mummified husks and stuff. Which brought me back to my first argument—Boone was mad for dismissing my need to confirm Lucy’s orientation. Fae, human, or otherwise influenced.