by Lily Velez
“Wow.” I hadn’t expected the superstitions to run so deep.
Liam shrugged again. “I suppose everyone needs something to believe in, and I’d like to think the myths serve a purpose. After all, if there’s great evil in the world, then that means there’s great good as well, a force that will protect us and keep us safe. I just wish the Connellys hadn’t ended up as the villains in the story.”
Liam eventually had to return to St. Andrew’s to meet up with classmates for a study group. Not ready to head back home just yet, I continued exploring on my own. I found my way to the beach, where the harbor was crowded with deep sea fishing boats unloading their nets and fresh catches of the day. At neighboring docks, smaller vessels bobbed excitedly in the dark, choppy waters. Their bells pealed a nostalgic tune.
Up ahead was the red-and-white-striped lighthouse Liam had told me about earlier today. It sat solemnly atop a bluff and apparently afforded the perfect view for whale watching as humpbacks made their way further north. When I reached its observation deck, though, I could only see the few brave souls still surfing the powerful ocean waves.
Inside the light house, at the center of a circular room, sat a large block of stone. A plaque was embedded into its exterior, affording a brief summary of the lighthouse’s history. The block of stone itself was said to be a broken off part of a larger menhir. There was even a triskele carved into its face. I pressed my hand against the symbol, wondering if another vision would visit me, still unsure over what I’d seen during Professor Byrne’s field trip.
I waited. Five seconds, ten, fifteen.
Nothing happened.
Disappointment washed over me. Maybe I really had just imagined those images in my head. They had seemed so real, though, so vivid. I was about to pull my hand away when a rush of heat covered my palm, as if I held it above a hot stove. Almost instantly, there was a strange pulsing sensation at the center of my hand, as if a second heart beat there. Something pulled at me, tugging at the innermost parts of me. Gasping, I yanked my hand back. The heat vanished at once, as did the strange pulse. What had just happened?
Before I could reflect on it further, the ominous sound of thunder rumbled throughout the darkening skies. I sighed. Wonderful. It looked like I’d have to begin the long trek back home sooner than later after all.
Forty minutes later, I wasn’t even close to halfway home. Worse still, the rain was coming down in sheets.
I mentally chided myself for not taking my dad up on his offer to let me borrow his car, but the point still stood that I didn’t feel comfortable driving on the left side of the road yet. I crossed my arms to stay warm, thankful at least for the little protection my rain coat provided, even as my sneakers trudged through a practical swamp on the side of the road. Their material let out a squishing noise with every step, and my socked feet were already mostly submerged in water. I didn’t know why I’d decided to try my luck wearing them instead of donning proper rain boots. Or why I hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella with me today. Maybe I’d hoped Rosalyn Bay would cut me a break from its miserable weather for one afternoon. So much for that. I was definitely going to soak in a nice hot bath once I got home.
Suddenly, a pair of high beams striped the road before me.
Startled, I spun around.
A shiny, black SUV was slowly crawling toward me.
I faced forward and picked up my pace. Ever since Jack had unceremoniously informed me I was being targeted in some senseless attack, I couldn’t help myself from looking over my shoulder at least a dozen times a day. Even though he’d later retracted the comment, paranoia wasn’t an easy thing to shake off.
The SUV was drawing closer. So close in fact I could hear the pop of gravel under its tires even over the clamor of rain. The vehicle was a new model, probably from this very year. Which meant it belonged to someone with plenty of disposable income, the type of income that could easily come from illegal activities. If my dad really had somehow gotten entangled with the wrong people, this was definitely the type of car they’d be driving.
The SUV pulled up right beside me then and stopped.
My heart instantly went double-time. They were going to try to snatch me right off the road!
I wouldn’t give them the chance. I bolted off at full speed, and when the SUV’s driver accelerated to pursue me, I pushed myself even harder, pumping my legs like pistons. Jack had been right. Someone was indeed targeting me. And now they’d gotten me all alone on some God-forsaken stretch of road where I’d be an easy casualty.
My only chance at surviving was to lose them altogether. I cut hard to the right, crossing into a pasture. Except I misjudged a step and went down before I could take another.
Behind me, the SUV was idling. A door opened and closed. Purpose-filled footsteps trekked across the grass.
They were coming for me.
I clawed at the slick grass, hoping to find a stick, anything with which to defend myself. My fingers closed in around a rock.
They might have caught up with me, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
Armed, I whirled around to face my attacker.
11
Jack Connelly came to a halt.
One hand held an umbrella and the other floated upward in a gesture of surrender.
“Jack?”
Behind him, someone powered down one of the SUV’s rear windows. Lucas’s face appeared, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t stop on our account,” he called out over the rain. He popped a strip of fried clam into his mouth and munched away, enthralled by my aggressive posture.
I let the rock tumble out of my grip and fall to the ground, and Jack immediately closed the distance between us, holding the umbrella over me and offering a hand to help me to my feet. His skin was soft, warm, and despite the circumstances, my chest heated at the touch.
“How did you know I was here?” Above us, the rain drummed against the umbrella, fast and loud.
“I didn’t. My brothers and I were returning from an errand. This road leads back to St. Andrew’s.”
Oh. Right.
“I thought…” I trailed off, thinking it best not to finish that sentence. Jack would probably think I was mental for believing I was under attack even when he’d told me otherwise.
“Will you let us give you a ride home?”
Only a fool would turn down the invitation in weather like this. I followed Jack back to the waiting car.
It took only minutes for the toasty interior of the SUV to wrap around me like a warm blanket and ease my discomfort. The heated front seats had helped with that, though I could still feel Connor’s glare boring holes into the back of my skull at having to give up riding shotgun.
My clothes were still soaked, of course, and I was embarrassed to be dripping water all over my leather seat. It was, without a doubt, the fanciest car I’d ever ridden in. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from a Mercedes-Benz, though.
“Do you want some?” Lucas shoved a Styrofoam takeaway box through the space between the front seats. There were a few clam strips left, along with thick, wavy ‘chips’ (the name for fries here) drenched in ketchup.
“Oh. No, thank you. I actually already ate.”
“You were in town then?” Jack asked, eyes trained on the road. The car’s wipers scrubbed the windshield at full speed, but even then, it was nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front of us.
“I didn’t want to be cooped up all day. My dad’s stuck grading papers for the weekend, and besides that, he’s not in any condition to be out in this weather. He’s nursing a cold.”
“Is he all right?” Jack asked. “Does he need anything? I think we might actually have some tea that tends to help with that sort of thing.” He started to lean toward the car’s glove department.
His concern touched me. I was also slightly amused by how much people here were devoted to their teas. “Actually, he has all the tea he needs. A student was kind enough to give him some, a
nd it looks like it’s already helping to fight off his bug, so I think he’ll be fine.” But I’d already decided that if my dad was still under the weather tomorrow, I’d go into town and buy the necessary ingredients to make him a nice chicken noodle soup, the way my mom had always done for me. In light of the album he’d given me this morning, it was the least I could do to show my appreciation and pay him back in kind. It still warmed my heart that he’d put together such a thoughtful gift for me.
“And did you have some tea yourself, Scarlet Ibis?” Lucas asked. “We can’t have you catching a bad dose too, now can we? Then both Monroes would be out for the count.”
“Don’t worry, I did.” In fact, I thought I might have another cup once I got home. It would certainly put some warmth back into my bones. Especially in light of the slight chill that coursed through me at what Lucas had called me. I pushed thoughts of Seers and cryptic messages out of my mind.
We settled into a comfortable silence after that, the only sound in the car the music from the radio. It was set at a low volume, but I was pretty sure every single song was straight out of the fifties. I smiled as Bill Haley started singing “Rock Around the Clock.”
At one point, I risked a glance at the rearview mirror to check on Jack’s brothers. Lucas was working on a second takeaway box. Connor sat beside him, wearing earbuds that were connected to his phone. Rory was in the row behind them, back pressed against a window and knees drawn up to create a makeshift desk for his sketchpad. Maybe he was working on one of those samurai drawings Liam had mentioned. Being that it was the weekend, they were all out of their St. Andrew’s uniforms and in ‘civilian’ clothes. It didn’t stop them from looking like models, though, like A-list celebrities who’d been dropped in the middle of nowhere for a film shoot. Jack looked especially striking, donning a black pea-coat with the collar popped up to protect his neck.
I thought about what the townspeople believed where it concerned the Connellys. Riding in a car with them like this, it was hard to picture them as the wrathful descendants of a persecuted, would-be witch who were now hell-bent on burning Rosalyn Bay to the ground.
And yet there were things from the past week I still didn’t have explanations for, things for which at least one Connelly had always been present.
What are you getting at, Scarlet? That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.
Maybe. But then again…what if it did?
“Thanks again for the ride,” I told Jack once he’d pulled up to my dad’s house. It was a weary-looking cottage that had seen better years, vines and roots climbing across its stone face. True to Rosalyn Bay fashion, there were also no neighbors for miles around, as if the cottage had simply dropped out of the sky one day and had landed in no-man’s land.
“No thanks necessary. Stay warm, and give your father our regards.”
Jack waited until I was safely inside before he started to pull away. I closed the umbrella he’d lent me and dropped it into a tall vase by the door. Then I braced myself for whatever fashion of parenting my dad was prepared to dole out. It’s not like he’d given me a curfew or anything, but he had to have worried once the storm had moved in, and since cell phone signals in this town were basically non-existent, he wouldn’t have been able to check in on me.
Oddly, though, the house was virtually soundless.
Was he asleep? Maybe his cold medicine and tea had knocked him out. I quietly tiptoed through the house in my wet socks, wincing every time a floorboard whined. This house was definitely on its last legs. Everything from a strong wind to the gentlest step made its tired bones ache.
I entered the hallway where my dad’s bedroom was located and nearly screamed at the girl who appeared on the far side.
I sagged against a wall, pressing a hand to my palpitating heart. It was only my reflection. I’d forgotten about the mirror that hung on the back of my dad’s bedroom door. While I waited for my pulse to relax, I noticed the line of light underneath the closed door to my dad’s office down the same hall. Strange, as he wasn’t in the habit of closing the door when he worked, so accustomed was he to having the house to himself.
I knocked. “Dad?”
I waited, listening for any sound coming from the other side.
Nothing.
I knocked again. “Dad?” I called for him louder this time.
When he failed to answer again, I slowly opened the door, the hinges whining, and leaned in.
And then my heart shot up my throat.
The office was in complete disarray. Across the way, a shattered window gaped open like a mouth filled with pointy teeth, matching glass shards glistening from the floor like fallen puzzle pieces. The curtains billowed wildly in the storm breeze. Everywhere I looked, there was nothing but chaos. The desk was overturned, as were two book cases with broken shelves. There were graded papers littering the floor, some scattering to the far corners of the office with every gust of wind.
I furthered into the room, trying to make sense of it all. It was only when I made my way around the desk that I saw him.
It was my dad, lying face-down on the ground, absolutely motionless.
12
My dad wasn’t dead.
I could still detect a pulse lightly tapping against the warm skin of his neck. It was barely there, but it was there. I tried to maintain a grip on my phone as I pulled it out to call for an ambulance, but the tingling in my fingers made it near impossible. I dropped the phone twice.
Breathe, Scarlet!
With trembling hands, I unlocked the screen and started to dial.
“Scarlet?”
I yelped at the intrusion and dropped the phone again, but the sight of Jack calmed my rattled nerves. A little. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” I said, my throat pinching around the words. “I’ve tried waking him up, but he won’t come to.”
Jack rushed over, taking my dad’s wrist despite my telling him I’d already found a pulse. Maybe he wanted confirmation. I hadn’t imagined it, had I? But no, he felt the pulse too. Even so, the tension in my shoulders and upper back was still coiled tight. My hands were still shaking as well.
Jack’s other brothers filled the doorway to the office then, their eyes stuck on my dad’s unmoving body.
“How did you…?” I couldn’t find the words to complete the question.
“Something felt off as I was pulling away,” Jack answered. “I wanted to check in and make sure you were all right.”
“Was this done by the man who attacked your grandfather?”
Jack strode to the broken office window, the scattered shards of glass crunching under his footfalls. The curtains still swelled out in the storm breeze. Jack leaned out the window and looked skyward. When he turned back around, his face was grim.
“A western window,” he told his brothers.
“What does the position of the window have to do with anything?” I asked. “And you haven’t answered my other question. Do you know who’s behind this? What’s wrong with my dad? Why isn’t he waking up?”
“That’s more than one question,” Connor said, his tone impatient.
“I think I’m entitled to ask however many questions I want, considering it’s my dad who’s unconscious on the floor. If you guys know something, then you’d better be ready to tell the police. I’m calling them right now.”
Connor scoffed. “They aren’t going to be able to help you.”
I ignored him and dialed. The call immediately failed. Gritting my teeth, I tried again.
“Scarlet,” Jack said, his gentle voice placating. “You’ll have to trust us on this. I’ll give you all the answers you want, but right now—”
A thunderous flurry of beating wings came from outside, as if a flock of birds were rushing past. Jack’s spine went ramrod straight. If he were an animal, the hair down his back would be standing tall.
“They’re still here.” His face momentarily paled. Then his features hardened into a look of utter determination, and he charge
d out the office, his brothers on his heels. I hurried after them, reluctant as I was to leave my dad behind, and found them gathered at the sitting room window.
“They’ve surrounded the car,” Connor was saying.
Surrounded? Were we outnumbered? I pushed my way between Connor and Jack, but what I saw outside completely baffled me. Under the torrent of rain, a horde of ravens encircled the Connellys’ SUV in a storm of menacing black. I knew birds tended to fly closer to the ground during bad weather to escape the uncomfortable air pressure, but the behavior I observed now was bizarre.
“What are they doing?”
“Catching a scent,” Jack answered.
“I thought birds hunted by sight.”
“Most do,” he said. “But those aren’t birds.”
I cut another look toward the raging mass. “I’m pretty sure they are.”
“Oh, Scarlet Ibis,” Lucas said then. “You are quite behind on your Irish folklore, aren’t you? What you see before you, love, are the sluagh.”
“The sluagh?”
“Otherwise known as The Host of the Unforgiven Dead. They're the restless spirits of people who were so evil in life the Celtic deities rejected them in death. With no home to call their own, they’re forced to roam the skies aimlessly for eternity.”
I blinked. Was he out of his mind?
Was I, for not immediately objecting to the idea?
“Is there an attic here?” Jack asked, ripping me from my thoughts.
“Y-yes. But—”
“Get her upstairs,” Jack told Connor. “We have only seconds before they strike again. Barricade yourselves inside the attic and don’t come out no matter what you hear. I’ll try to fend them off.”
