by Nancy Warren
“I’ll take it away with me. I have a special library. It will be safe.”
I didn’t know what to do. I glanced at Kathleen, who nodded.
“And there’s a fire pit out back,” I told them. “I’m going to take that yew branch and burn it.”
Again, Pendress shook her head. “That tree branch has wonderful power. I’ll take that with me as well and keep it safe.”
I was getting a grim feeling about this. If this woman kept taking everything that had dark power attached to it, what would that make her capable of?
Kathleen looked like she might say something but then pressed her lips together as though not daring. I couldn’t help recalling that Lucinda had told me she’d made a powerful enemy, and that’s why she had to leave here. Could that enemy be Pendress Kennedy? And was that Glinda the Good Witch thing a complete act?
Pendress picked up the ancient book of spells, and as she did so, the book glowed a peculiar color of blue. No one seemed to notice but me and Cerridwen, who stared at me intently. Going on nothing but instinct, I said, “No.”
Chapter 8
Everyone turned to look at me because I’d said the word in a firm voice that didn’t sound like mine. I looked at the head of my coven, determined to hold my ground. “No. You cannot take that book of spells. It doesn’t belong to you, and it doesn’t belong to me. Brenda gave it to me for safekeeping and now she’s dead. I need to give the grimoire to her heirs, whoever they are.”
Pendress looked astonished that I’d given her the grimoire and then taken it back again. “You would give this book to a human? When you know what it’s capable of?”
“Pendress, I’m not a newly fledged witch. In all my years practicing the craft, I have never witnessed anything like what happened. Instead of rushing away with the book and that yew branch, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
She tapped her silver-polished fingernails on the cover of the book. She looked at Kathleen, who shrugged and nodded. “Very well. You’re involved anyway. You’re part of it.”
“Part of what?”
“I’m not entirely sure. But I suspect that this is the missing book of Biddy O’Donnell.”
“Who was Biddy O’Donnell?” I had to ask. “And was she anything to do with Billy and Brenda O’Donnell?” Seemed like a reasonable question, seeing they’d owned the book.
She walked to the window and stared out at the choppy sea. It was astonishing to see the sunshine dancing off the waves when it had been so terrifyingly dark in here not so very long ago. “Biddy O’Donnell was a renowned witch. Powerful.”
“But if her magic was so powerful, and her book is so powerful, why have we seen nothing like this before? Surely there would have been stories of peculiar happenings in and around Ballydehag.”
“Because her grimoire has been gathering dust in the home of a man who had no magic. When you recited that spell, you with your magic, you released something dangerous. And then, add in the branch from that ancient and magical yew tree, and you increased the power of the spell by something like tenfold.”
I was surprised. “The yew tree is that powerful?”
She gave me a thin smile. “That tree has kept evil tamped down for four hundred years. Trimming it was like giving Samson a crewcut.”
I looked at the branch. It seemed so innocuous.
“The tree’s lost much of its power to hold in the dangerous evil that lives beneath its roots. But also the tree has drawn up the nutrients from the soil for all these hundreds of years. Naturally, it’s also drawn up negative energy. So, when you cast that spell, even though you didn’t realize you were doing it, in the presence of a recently cut branch of the yew tree, well, you saw what happened.”
“And yet you were able to reverse that spell. How did you know how to do it?”
I remembered the sound of our two voices mingling and weaving in amongst each other’s—her melodious voice rising and falling as she intoned the words of her spell, my halting attempts to read Middle English, stumbling over the unfamiliar phrases—but still I had felt our words weaving together as though we were binding together a rope.
There was silence. Cerridwen came over and rubbed against my legs until I picked her up. Finally, Pendress said, “I recognized this book. You see, Biddy O’Donnell was kin to one of my ancestors.”
I knew Ireland was old and its magic was ancient, but this was really something. “Your ancestor was a witch?”
“She was.”
“Do you have her book?”
“I do.”
Kathleen and she shared a glance that seemed full of meaning, which I couldn’t interpret. Kathleen said, “You’ll have to tell her.”
Cerridwen rubbed her head beneath my chin, and I felt comforted. Whatever happened, she and I were at least together.
I didn’t like the expression on Pendress’s face. That Madonna-like serenity was at odds with the eyes that were as sharp as ice picks. “Did you think it was coincidence that brought you back here, Quinn? Of all the places we could have sent you, did you not wonder why we brought you back to Ireland?”
“Back to Ireland? I’ve never been here.”
“Your kin have.”
“But my family came from Ireland about three generations ago. I don’t have any connection with Ireland.”
“Foolish witch. Of course, you do. Trace back your lineage, and you will discover Biddy O’Donnell was your direct ancestor. Your magic flows directly through the female line from her.”
I stared at the grimoire in her arms. “My ancestor was the kind of witch who traps people in their houses with thorns?” Not to mention she’d been executed for supposedly horrible crimes, though I was reserving judgment on that. Still, it was like finding out your great-granny was a famous serial killer. Not exactly the best news.
“She was. And, for reasons I don’t yet understand, your destiny is here.”
“So you didn’t just randomly pick up a pawn, me, from the edge of your chessboard, all the way out in Seattle, and plonk me here in the middle of Ireland for no reason.”
“Oh, there was every reason.”
My heart was thudding, and even Cerridwen was stiff and alert in my arms. “What else have you been keeping from me?” Because I could sense there was more.
They both looked at Lochlan, who’d been silently watching our little melodrama unfold. “He’s not one of us. He has no place here,” Pendress said.
I didn’t know Lochlan all that well, but he’d been the first one to notice my distress, and he’d torn through thick thorns and branches to get to me. I wasn’t about to kick him out. I said, again finding a firmness that surprised me when facing this somewhat terrifying witch, “He’s part of this. He stays.”
When she shrugged her shoulders, the crystals at her neck sparkled. “Then let it be your responsibility.”
I nodded.
Pendress said, “They buried Biddy O’Donnell under the yew tree where she’s remained for four hundred years. When she died, she swore vengeance and that she would be back.”
This Biddy O’Donnell didn’t sound like a very nice gal. “You’re certain she was a witch?”
Pendress offered me the grimoire as proof.
“Was she a black witch?”
“Black is so definitive. I prefer the term dark.”
You say tomato and I say tomahto.
I was having trouble taking this in. “You’re saying that I am directly descended from a dark witch who’s been buried here in Ballydehag for centuries? A woman so powerful she needed a magic tree to keep her underground?”
“How do you think you got the power to cheat death?”
The area around my heart felt cold all of a sudden, as though it had been wrapped in ice. “I’ve always tried to follow the rules and do the right thing. I thought I was a white witch.” My voice was rising, and I swallowed, trying to control myself.
“We see that. A witch isn’t dark or white purely by destiny. Witches ch
oose how they use their power.”
Well, that was a relief, anyway. However, she continued, “But when you chose to use that very powerful spell that you knew was wrong, to pull your husband back to the living when he’d already begun his passage, you knew you were toying with the dark arts.”
The cold feeling around my heart was spreading to the rest of me. She was right. I had known. “Are you saying I’m a dark witch who’s been masquerading as a white one all these years?”
It was like finding out I was evil when all my life I’d counted myself one of the good guys.
“I’m only saying that you have to be very careful. We all choose how we use our powers. But most of us don’t have the power that you have. Your lineage is strong and contains as many famously good witches as famously bad ones.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better? “Did you bring me here to keep an eye on me?”
They both shook their heads in unison. “The prophecy seems to be coming true. We think Biddy O’Donnell may rise again.”
“What!” I shrieked the word. Cerridwen was so unnerved, she jumped out of my arms and ran to the corner, staring at me with wide eyes. I’d have comforted her except that I felt wide-eyed with fright myself. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she ran as far away from me as she could get. A familiar was intimately bound with its witch. She must be regretting the terrible mistake she’d made.
I was thinking wild thoughts. Just by reading a spell I didn’t understand, I’d wound this cottage in almost impenetrable branches and thorns. But if it weren’t for that broken piece of yew, I bet that spell wouldn’t have done anything particularly serious. Especially as I didn’t understand what I was saying. Pendress was just scaremongering. I wasn’t sure whether she was really after my apparently many, many times distant grandmother or whether she was trying to frighten me into obedience. I said, “If it hadn’t been for that yew being pruned, I don’t think the spell would have had this power.”
Pendress’s eyes flashed. “And do you think it’s a coincidence, Quinn? That that yew, which has held that witch in place, has suddenly lost so much of its power?”
“Of course, it’s a coincidence. Father O’Flanagan said that tree was interfering with the graveyard. He hired tree surgeons from Cork City. Yes, it’s a coincidence.”
She shook her head. And, like an echo, Kathleen shook hers. “It’s the witch’s doing. She must have a creature aboveground who is serving her.”
“Not poor Father O’Flanagan. He’s a Catholic priest.”
She shook her head again. “No. It’s not the father. He’s merely a pawn.”
I knew how the poor man felt. We were all pieces on this board, and I did not understand whose was the guiding hand. Or how this game would end.
A terrible thought occurred to me. That face in the mirror at Brenda O’Donnell’s house that only I’d seen. That message scrawled on the mirror.
I had a horrible feeling that Biddy O’Donnell might already be back.
Chapter 9
I looked outside, and I could see sunshine, and the atmosphere in here was still dark and ominous even though the windows were now clear. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and needed to get outside. “Why don’t we get outside and get some air.”
“If you wish.”
She walked toward the front door, and I stopped her. “Pendress. The grimoire.”
She hesitated and then put the old, leather-covered book down on the table. “Remember, Quinn, this is a book of enormous power. It belongs to you, so I must respect your wishes, but you must be very, very careful with it.”
Laying aside the drama melting from her words, did she not think I’d figured that out by now?
I merely nodded.
And we all walked outside into the sunshine. I lifted my face up to feel the warmth of the sun’s rays. There had been some bad moments back there when I’d wondered if I’d ever breathe fresh air or feel the sun on my face again. I turned to look at my cottage, and it was as though the building had never been touched. The climbing roses bloomed as brightly, their leaves a glossy green against the white cottage walls. I’d heard glass breaking, but no windows appeared damaged. They sparkled as though newly washed. I went closer to the roses, and their scent seemed even sweeter than usual.
I’d expected the garden would look like a forest after a terrible storm, but there wasn’t so much as a yew needle on the ground. The entire incident could have been a dream.
Lochlan said, “I’m glad you’re all right, Quinn. I’ll leave you three now.”
He didn’t exactly shrink from the sun, but he wasn’t shoving his face in it like I was. I followed him into the shadows beneath an apple tree. “Thank you.”
He looked over at the two witches talking intently to each other and then back at me. “I’m always here if you need me. Be careful.”
I shuddered at his words. “Believe me, I will.”
With a curt nod of his head, he turned and strode away back toward his lonely castle, Devil’s Keep. I wondered if my ancestor had once owned it. It seemed like the sort of place Biddy O’Donnell would call home.
I watched his tall figure retreat, and then I turned back toward the two witches swapping secrets on my front lawn. I didn’t have to be a witch to know that they were gossiping about me.
I walked up to them and interrupted. “If this Biddy O’Donnell has someone above ground doing her bidding, we have to find them.”
“Yes,” Pendress said.
“Could they have caused Brenda’s death?”
Kathleen looked to Pendress for an answer. She said, “I don’t know. I can’t see it. I believe it’s possible. If Biddy O’Donnell has an agent here, she may have been desperate to get her hands on the book and, believing Brenda O’Donnell had the grimoire but unable to find it, could have lashed out in a rage.”
Not how anybody wanted to go. And why did I feel guilty? Like this was my fault? Was I responsible for the actions of some ancient ancestor of mine?
Still, her blood, and presumably her magic, ran in my veins. I felt like getting an emergency blood transfusion.
“There’s something else you should know.”
Pendress put a hand to her heart. “I’m not sure I can sustain more revelations.”
She wasn’t going to like this one. “I’ve seen a… presence in the O’Donnell house.”
Kathleen looked like she’d swallowed a spider. “You said so during Billy O’Donnell’s wake, but I thought it was only Billy not quite passed over.”
“I don’t think it was Billy,” I said.
Pendress was looking at me, and her eyes were as clear and cool as a bottomless lake. “What exactly happened?”
“At Billy’s wake, I felt strange. Like there was something heavy and dark in the house. I went upstairs to the bathroom, and this terrifying face was looking back at me from the mirror.”
“What did it look like?”
How to describe it? “Female. Old and shriveled with angry, dark eyes.”
“And it was looking at you from the mirror?”
“Yes. And last night, Brenda was hurt and asked me for water. I went into the bathroom, and there was writing on the mirror. It was in red. I thought it was blood, but it could have been lipstick. The message read, “Go away, you’re not wanted here.”
“Rather childish, don’t you think?” Pendress sounded mildly amused while I still felt a clutch of dread at my throat. And yet, when I stepped past my fear, I could see her point.
“You think it’s a coincidence that message was on the mirror the night Brenda died?”
“I don’t know. What happened to the message?”
One thing I really admired about Pendress was that she often asked exactly the right question. “It disappeared. I was going to show the police, but it was gone when I went back.”
“Which makes me think the message was for you, not Brenda.”
“But while Brenda was dying? Why leave it then?”
Pendress stared at the roses as though they might answer. The way my day was going so far, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if they had. However, the flowers remained mute. Finally, Pendress said, “Perhaps the ghost, for want of a better term, is sending you messages, so the fact that you were there is what caused the writing to appear on the mirror.”
“And Brenda’s death was unconnected to the writing on the mirror?” I asked.
“That depends on who killed Brenda.”
And we were back to that. “I need to find out what happened to her.” Brenda had only come to Ballydehag to bury her father. She’d been on her way back to Dublin, and her life, when it was so cruelly taken away from her. I said what I was thinking. “Why would an ancient witch, or her minion, have killed Brenda? What did they stand to gain?”
“I have no idea. I agree, it’s not logical, but anger and disappointment make witches do foolish things.” Pendress reminded me.
I wasn’t convinced. I had a pretty good radar, and I hadn’t sensed any other witches but Kathleen in the area. And Pendress when she chose to show up. Coincidences happened. I wondered if Brenda’s death might in fact be nothing to do with supernatural powers but have a very human cause.
“I think I’ll do a bit of digging and see what I can uncover about Brenda and her past. What if a human committed her murder? Someone with very human motives?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Pendress said to my surprise. “Rule out the human element. And then we’ll look to see whether magic may have played a role. If Biddy O’Donnell is causing trouble from the grave, we must stop her.”
We all agreed and went our separate ways.
I glanced back at my cottage. I didn’t want to go into it. What if it got wrapped in greenery again? And had I done a really stupid thing in hanging on to that book of shadows? I should have let Pendress take it when she’d wanted to. Just get it out of here. But my instinct had been so strong when I’d seen the blue light around that book as she’d touched it. I hadn’t made it to this age without understanding that I needed to listen to my instincts.
