The Connelly Boys (Celtic Witches Book 1)

by Lily Velez

  15

  When we returned to the library where I’d first spotted Jack and the others, Seamus was paging through a large, leather book with yellow pages that made a sound like crunching leaves as he turned them. Sitting on his desk was a framed picture of a woman in a valley of wildflowers, holding a little girl on her hip who clung to her affectionately. The woman had smooth, radiant skin the color of caramel and curly, black hair. The girl was the spitting image of her mother. Neala and Bree.

  As for Seamus, he looked to be in his mid to late forties. He had salt and pepper hair and medium-length stubble. He brought to mind the type of guy who wore flannel shirts, lived in a cabin in the woods, and cut his own firewood.

  “Scarlet, is it? We haven’t as of yet been properly introduced. I’m Seamus Ó Broin. Jack has told me a great deal about you.”

  His voice was a deep baritone, rich and smooth like cake batter, but his features were guarded. After losing his wife and daughter to hunters, he was clearly on high alert against any threats to his family, which meant I was more foe than friend to him right now. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Tell me,” he went on. “What possessed you to come to my nephew’s aid when that demon confronted him? Jack was a complete stranger to you. You owed him nothing. And yet, by his account, you did everything in your power to protect him.”

  My cheeks burned. It was awkward enough to answer the question with Jack standing right there beside me. But his brothers surrounded us too, hanging on my every word. I cleared my throat, feeling like it was lined with cobwebs all of a sudden. “To be honest, I don’t know. I just felt compelled to help him, I guess. It all happened so quickly. I didn’t really have the time to second-guess myself, only to act.”

  Seamus’s eyes remained fastened on me for a few long moments, as if he were sifting through my thoughts, trying to unearth the truth. “And your ability to banish the demon—what do you make of that?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never done anything like that before. I’m still not convinced I did anything at all. I’ve only ever lived an ordinary life up until now. I doubt I’d be able to do it a second time if I had to.”

  “You’ve never witnessed magic for yourself before then? Perhaps you once noticed something peculiar about your father or another family member in his bloodline but were quick to rationalize it?”

  “I’ve never met my dad’s side of the family, and trust me, there’s nothing ‘witchy’ about him. He’s just an every-day guy.”

  Seamus’s eyes switched to Jack, and he frowned slightly before looking back to me. “I see my nephew has shared more than I imagined with you. Now you know the truth of what we are, and possibly of what you are as well.”

  “He was only trying to help me understand,” I said. “I promise you I’m not interested in putting your family in any kind of danger. Right now, the only thing I care about is getting my father’s soul back before it’s too late.”

  The man held my gaze, seeming to weigh my words. Finally, he nodded. “You must forgive us if our welcome hasn’t been quite as warm as you might’ve preferred. These are dangerous times for our people, and we must exercise caution when interacting with those we know nothing about. Though I would’ve preferred my nephews to avoid becoming entangled with an outsider, there’s little I can do about it now. We can only move forward, and we must do so hastily, for I believe we have to consider the possibility at this point that the sluagh aren’t acting of their own volition.”

  “What do you mean?” Jack asked. “You think someone’s controlling them? Who?”

  Seamus rubbed his forehead, a deeper frown pulling at his mouth. “Hunters.”

  My nerves jumped. It wasn’t the answer I’d been expecting. According to Jack, The Black Hand was ruthless, merciless. Its members had to be if they’d go so far as to take the life of an innocent toddler like Bree.

  A flurry of thoughts passed behind Jack’s eyes. “We initially suspected hunters when Grandda was first found. I ruled them out once we learned it was the sluagh. But if the sluagh are actually working for The Black Hand, that would explain why they’ve specifically targeted witches these past weeks.”

  Seamus nodded. “Of course, if the sluagh are indeed being directed, then we have to accept that the hunters are working with a witch as well, as only a witch can summon and control supernatural creatures such as the sluagh.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Why would a witch work with hunters? Doesn’t that go against their own self-interests?”

  “Unfortunately,” Seamus said, “there have been witches known to betray their own kind over the years. It’s happened more often than any of us would care to admit. Working in tandem with hunters, they travel all over the world and ingratiate themselves with established clans, doing whatever they can to gain their trust. Then they turn on them.”

  I guessed it made sense then why Seamus cautioned his nephews against befriending outsiders. Even if someone appeared to have the best intentions—in the form of banishing a demon, for instance—who was to say they didn’t intend on selling you out later down the road? Had it not been for the fact that the sluagh had targeted me last night, there’d be no way for the Connellys to prove I wasn’t their enemy. Maybe that was what had spooked Rory on my first day of class. I’d drawn a symbol long associated with the witches in Rosalyn Bay, but I was an unknown, and therefore I could’ve easily been bad news.

  “This isn’t a rival we can confront on our own,” Seamus continued. “We’ll need to reach out to the other clans and unite as one body if we hope to stand a chance. I think it’d be best to request an audience with The Council of Elders. They’ll know how we might be able to defeat the hunters and the sluagh, and more importantly, free the souls of our people.”

  The words kindled a spark of hope in me. If this Council knew how to rescue the kidnapped souls, that meant I was one step closer to helping my dad. “Where is The Council located? Will it take us long to get there?”

  “I’m afraid I must seek out The Council on my own. Your presence would present far too great a risk.”

  I blinked, taken aback. “What? How?”

  “The sluagh have already caught your scent, which makes you a walking homing beacon wherever you go. Because they assisted you last night, the same holds true for my nephews. Now the sluagh, tireless predators that they are, will stop at nothing to claim your souls. Even if I were to cloak you with magic, they would still smell you.”

  Another reason why he would’ve preferred his nephews to not get involved with me, I realized. I really had endangered them. “Isn’t there a way to kill them?” I asked, turning to Jack. “Last night, you shot at them, didn’t you?”

  “Those bullets didn’t kill or banish the sluagh; neither did my magic against them. Both just forced the sluagh to briefly dematerialize so I could buy us time.”

  “That said,” Seamus continued, “for your safety, the five of you will remain here in Crowmarsh, which I’ve already spelled to ward off any attacks. The sluagh won’t be able to get to you so long as you remain within the estate.”

  “No way,” I said. “I’m not going to sit here under lock and key while my dad’s body wastes away in the hospital.”

  “This is the surest way to help your father.”

  “No, I need to do something.”

  “Stubborn little thing, isn’t she?” Lucas draped an arm over my shoulders. “Scarlet Ibis, you’ve got some fire in you. Uncle, can we keep her?”

  I shrugged him off, rolling my eyes. “If this is really about whether or not you can fully trust me, isn’t there some kind of spell you can do to determine that?”

  “She’s talking about spellcraft now?” Lucas wiped at nonexistent tears. “They grow up so quickly, don’t they?”

  “Trust me,” Connor said, “I’d love nothing more than to file through your memories to see who you’ve been colluding with recently, but you could’ve easily altered them in anticipation of an i
nterrogation. Or blocked them altogether.”

  “And unfortunately,” Lucas added, “we don’t exactly have a spare Hallowstone casually lying around Crowmarsh.”

  “What’s a Hallowstone?”

  “It was one of witch-kind’s most cherished relics,” Jack answered. “It came from a time when the Celts lived in peace in present-day Rosalyn Bay. Back then, there was a king named Fionn, who was very loved by his people. He was loved by the Celtic deities as well. So loved, in fact, that The Triple Goddess, Brigid, daughter of the All-Father, became his consort. In a symbolic sense, of course. Brigid could only walk among men on her feast day, Oimlec, which modern witches now call Imbolc. It marks the beginning of spring. So when Fionn and his people came under attack one summer night, she was unable to rush to their aid in her full power. Instead, she selected a single young woman from the clan, coming to her as an apparition and imbuing her with the strength and courage of the gods so that she could act on Brigid’s behalf.”

  “Like a proxy?” I asked.

  “In a way, yes. Brigid armed the young woman with two weapons. First, the legendary Sword of Light, which belonged to Nuada, the Celtic god of divine justice and truth. Forged in the Otherworld, it always struck true, and its blow was always fatal. The second weapon had been plucked right out of the night skies: the Allhallow, the brightest star in a constellation venerated by the local Celts.

  “With these two weapons, Brigid’s heroine was able to fend off an entire army of conquerors while the last of her clan escaped to safety. She, and the other women Brigid selected over the centuries to protect her people, became known as the god-touched, the Daughters of Brigid, a revered class of warrior witches entrusted with the sole purpose of protecting their clans.”

  My chest tightened. “The vision I had at the menhirs—I saw a female warrior with light glowing from her palm, as if she were holding a star. There was a sword strapped to her back too. Could that have been…?” The first Daughter?

  “What you saw was an Echo,” Jack said. “It’s a pulse of energy from witches who’ve come before us. It’s meant to show truth or provide guidance.”

  “Have you seen the same vision too?”

  “No, Echoes are selective when it comes to revealing themselves. A hundred witches might’ve touched that menhir after you, and not a single one would’ve seen anything. But yes, it sounds like you witnessed the legend herself.

  “As for her weapons, the Sword of Light was eventually returned to the Otherworld, where the gods dwell. The Allhallow, however, remained in the hands of the god-touched, passed from one Daughter to the next over the ages. During The Burning Times, The Council of Elders, which was newly formed then, insisted the Allhallow be broken into seven, smaller pieces called Hallowstones, each for the remaining druidic lines. It was meant to protect them against their enemies, so that persecutions would never happen on that scale again. But it was also meant to help them discern truth in times of darkness, as in the hands of a Celtic witch with an honorable heart, the stones were said to glow like the original star from which they came. Unfortunately, no one knows what ever became of the Hallowstones. A powerful witch stole them from the clans generations ago, but there’s never any mention of them after that, leaving most to assume they were lost to time or that they were never more than a legend to begin with.”

  “Which is why our focus right now,” Seamus said, “must be on The Council of Elders. I’m afraid we simply don’t have the luxury of relying on talismans that may or may not exist. The Council is our only hope at obtaining the answers we seek.”

  “Although that might not necessarily be true,” Jack said, coming to a realization. “What about The Wise Ones? We could always consult them. And it wouldn’t take nearly as long as it would with The Council.”

  Seamus shook his head with a sigh. “I doubt they’ll be much help at all, Jack. You know no one’s had a proper audience with them in some time.”

  “But Grandda—”

  “—was a dreamer,” his uncle finished. “He was a man who liked to tell stories. And can you blame him? Your grandfather had such a difficult childhood. Poverty, tragedy, and then, of course, the war once he was a young man. He found comfort in the stories he told you. He enjoyed living in them because they consoled his broken soul. But you must know that’s all they were. Stories. Folklore, legends, myths. There’s no stock in most of them, I’m afraid.”

  I glanced to Jack, and the crestfallen look on his face pained me.

  “Let me seek the wisdom of The Council,” Seamus continued. “In the interim, I urge the five of you to remain here. My request has little to do with trust and everything to do with wanting to ensure your safety. We have endured enough losses, have we not?”

  I had to remind myself of Neala and Bree, of how Seamus had to feel about facing off against the very ones who’d taken away his wife and daughter. It sobered me slightly, and the fight slowly left my body. I sighed. “How long will you be gone?”

  “A few days at most.”

  It was too long when I already had so little time to recover my dad’s soul. But I nodded nonetheless and kept my lips sealed. Seamus may have wanted me to stay put, and I’d pretend to oblige him for now.

  But the fact of the matter was I was going to leave Crowmarsh the first chance I got.

  16

  In the predawn darkness, I crept through Crowmarsh on cat’s feet, my heart thumping wildly at every moan of wood. Seamus had already left for The Council of Elders not half an hour ago. Jack and his brothers, however, were still asleep. This was my chance to escape. It was now or never.

  Every shadow had a more sinister edge as I moved through the estate. Three times already, I’d stilled in my tracks, lungs clenching at what I thought was one of the Connellys watching me. It turned out to be a suit of armor in one case, a crowded coat rack in another, and billowing curtains on the third occasion. Nonetheless, I continued to strain to hear the telltale sounds of someone stirring from their sleep.

  Even when I finally reached the ground level, my muscles were still tight, like springs coiling up and preparing to launch me into flight should the need arise. I moved quickly now, spurred on by my proximity to freedom.

  I’d learned from Jack that Crowmarsh was based in Galway, about two hours southeast from Rosalyn Bay. The plan was to call Liam once I’d put enough distance between me and the estate and ask if he could wrangle up transportation and collect me. Of course, this all depended on my being able to catch a cell signal in this remote stretch of land. Yesterday, I’d received a delayed text from Natalie asking why I’d missed our video chat date…about twenty hours after she’d sent it. I’d tried to text her back several times, but the delivery kept failing.

  Finally, there it was: the entrance, marked by two, mammoth front doors with arched tops. Like most of the house, they looked to be from another era.

  Almost there…

  Before I knew it, my hand was on one of the doorknobs. Then I was unlocking the door and easing it open ever so slowly, relieved its hinges were well-greased.

  Only when I glimpsed the property beyond did I allow myself to let go of a breath. The estate grounds were misty and indigo blue under the lightening skies. The last of the stars were dimming, and birds were beginning to awaken, calling out to their companions in quick, shrill notes.

  I put one foot in front of the other to quickly pass through, but just as I was about to cross the threshold, I slammed into something that felt like a sheet of glass.

  I reared back, my forehead throbbing from the impact. What on earth? Had I overlooked an exterior door, one of those glass-paneled types? I reached out a hand to test the doorway, and my palm came against something somewhat solid but also strange. When I applied more pressure against it, it felt like the repelling force sometimes created by magnets that refused to stick together.

  There wasn’t a second door at all. No hinges, no lock, no handle. My view of the estate’s front lawn was as clear as ever. So
then what was that?

  “It’s the ward.”

  I whirled around, breathless, the shock of the voice giving my heart a painful squeeze.

  With the flip of a switch, stark light bathed the foyer. My eyes winced at the sudden brightness. Connor was only a few steps away from me, arms crossed and shoulder leaning against the wall. Even dressed down in a simple shirt and lounge pants, that blistering look of his was still daunting. He looked like a wrathful deity.

  How long had he been standing there? It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. I must’ve been so preoccupied with the mysterious non-door that I hadn’t heard him approach.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Going somewhere?”

  I steeled myself. Maybe Connor was used to successfully intimidating rugby rivals and whatever St. Andrew’s classmates grated on his nerves, but I wasn’t going to cower away from him.

  “I need to leave,” I said, practically speaking through my teeth.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You can’t just keep me here. I’ll call the police if I have to.”

  He shrugged. “Have at it. You think they want to come anywhere near this place? Not that they’d be able to anyway. No one in, no one out. That’s sort of how a double ward works.”

  So much for Seamus offering me sanctuary. This was more like a prison sentence. Heat filled my chest. “What part of ‘my dad could die’ don’t you understand? I’m not going to sit here, twiddling my thumbs, while your uncle talks to whoever these Council people are.”

  “Don’t you get it? You’re a danger to anyone you’re around right now because of the sluagh. Jack’s blind faith in you is reckless. Believe me, I want nothing more than to cut ties with you, but Jack would only go after you. And you’d definitely get him killed.”

  “Except, as you can see, I’m alone right now. It was never my intention to drag Jack along.”

  “And how exactly did you picture that working out for you? You don’t know the first thing about how to help your father.”