The Connelly Boys (Celtic Witches Book 1)

by Lily Velez

  It sounded like any other tale of forbidden love. How many times every day did young, star-crossed lovers refuse to let even fate tear them apart?

  “You have to know they were incredibly happy in those early years. If you were to look at pictures of them during that time, it’d be easy to see. But eventually came their struggles with starting a family, and after that, a difficult childbirth. What my father had done to save us drove a wedge between them from that moment on. He was crushed by the weight of his shame, his guilt. My mother, meanwhile, was heartbroken, thinking herself selfish for pursuing happiness despite what her premonitions had warned.

  “They were relieved when Connor, Lucas, and Rory were all born without a mark. But having one cursed son was enough to damper any hope of full happiness. For the most part, they tried to give us as normal a home life as they could, but there were times I could tell they were haunted by the inevitability of my fate. It was the guilt that ultimately drove my father to take his life. I was only twelve at the time.”

  An invisible fist squeezed my throat. I tightened my grip on the railing, winded. To have lost a parent at so young an age and in such a way. It was heartbreaking.

  “After that, my mother became a ghost of herself, retreating inward. She hardly spoke, hardly even looked at us, as if we weren’t there at all. She was in every way an absent parent. Connor never really forgave her for it. It was my grandfather, along with Seamus and Neala, who stepped in and parented us in those years. That’s when my brothers and I moved into Crowmarsh with our grandfather. It became our permanent home up until we each started classes at St. Andrew’s.”

  I turned to him and placed my fingers upon the back of his hand. His skin was smooth, warm. A slight buzz of energy radiated off him. Magic. “Jack, I’m so sorry.” The words were weak, I knew. I knew because I’d heard them time and again after I’d lost my mom. But for the first time, I realized what it was like to be on the other end, what it was like to have no idea what to say to console a friend.

  Jack looked at my hand on his. Then he slowly rotated his hand so that my fingertips rested upon his palm. Another slight move and our fingertips were gently touching now. It was such a simple thing, so chaste a connection, and yet my breath caught in my throat.

  “My dad’s burden was too heavy for him to carry,” he said softly. “I understand how he felt. I’ve lived with guilt of my own for so long.” He cut a glance toward the demon’s mark on his wrist, peeking out as always from underneath his watch.

  “Jack, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You can’t hold yourself responsible for a decision that was made before you were even born.”

  “In theory, I know that. I also know what it’s been like to see my brothers lose both their parents, to see them endure a hurricane of unflattering gossip both from witch-kind and the Sightless, to see them come to terms with the fact that in a few months’ time, I most likely won’t be in their lives anymore. This mark I bear, simple symbol that it is, has wreaked so much havoc in our lives and caused so much chaos.

  “I’ve done my best to shield them from as much of it as possible. After our grandfather was found, once we’d taken a leave from St. Andrew’s to grieve and be among our clansmen, I insisted they return to school while I further investigated the matter. I didn’t want them caught up in whatever darkness I stumbled upon, and I certainly didn’t want to attract evil to them because of this mark. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t just speed up the process and offer myself to the demon now, if their lives wouldn’t be better for it. No more looking over their shoulders for demons. No more tragedy.”

  “And no more you. Do you really think they’d trade in all their troubles if the cost was your soul?”

  “My point is they shouldn’t have to make the decision in the first place. Had it not been for me, all of them would’ve had the normal lives they deserved to have.”

  “You don’t know that. You don’t know if another difficulty altogether would’ve reared its head, forcing your dad straight to that crossroads demon again. I also don’t get the impression your brothers hold your curse against you. From what little I’ve seen, they’d do anything for you. People would kill for that kind of loyalty. Myself included. I look at the relationship you have with your brothers, and it makes me think of how much I miss that.”

  His brandy-colored eyes settled on mine. Our fingertips were still touching, and at some point while speaking, I must’ve stepped closer to him because I was near enough to smell that foresty scent of his.

  “You’re talking about your mother,” he said.

  I felt the familiar pinch at my heart. I glanced away, watching the rain fall. “She was my best friend, my world. When she was taken from me, it took me a while to figure out how to even continue living. I’m still trying to figure it out. She was just such a big part of my identity. When you lose that, it’s disorienting. Though I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”

  He gently curled his fingers, squeezing mine. Warmth spread up my arms and to my chest and neck. “No, I know the feeling all too well.”

  “I know you’re the eldest brother and that you probably feel an obligation to protect the others from every possible harm. But they want to protect you too, Jack. That’s what family is all about. That’s why they’re here at your side. Connor especially. He looked so worried when you were casting runes back in the forest.”

  Jack exhaled a long breath, eyes trained on the road in the distance. “Yes, that.”

  “Were things supposed to go that way?” A chill ran down my back as I recalled the brief spark of fear that had coursed through me amidst all that lightning.

  “Definitely not. My brothers think it’s because the Old Moon deadline is approaching, that it’s somehow making my magic stronger. But it’s the least of my worries honestly. Right now, my priority is helping my grandfather’s soul before it’s too late.”

  I squeezed his hand, nodding. “Then we’ll go see your mom first thing tomorrow morning. Where does she live?”

  “She lives in a place called Serenity Falls.”

  “Is that a town nearby?”

  “It’s not a town,” Jack said.

  “What is it then?”

  There was a long pause, and then he answered. “It’s an asylum.”

  20

  “They used to lobotomize people here, you know.”

  Both Jack and Connor gave Lucas a disapproving look at the volunteered information.

  “What? It’s true.” Lucas shrugged, shuffling his cards. “Don’t worry, Scarlet Ibis. We won’t let them get to you with their ice picks.”

  “Funny,” I said as my stomach churned.

  The exterior of Serenity Falls Asylum—or Serenity Falls Mental Health Institute, as it was now called in an obvious effort to move away from whatever reputation it’d had during the lobotomy era—had been welcoming enough. Though it was yet another overcast day in Ireland, the sun was doing its best to perforate the clouds, painting everything with a slight gild of pale gold. Outside, men and women in scrubs had been patiently walking alongside their wards, others merely supervising as residents played badminton or croquet or tilled the soil of large vegetable patches.

  Inside, the building was bright and airy, though the place had that antiseptic smell to it hospitals were notorious for. In a common room to the right, residents played checkers, read books or newspapers, or watched the black-and-white movie currently playing on a large TV.

  A scratchy record played, its slow, dreamy music filtering out of speakers affixed to the walls down each stretching corridor. In these corridors, there were more residents casually walking along, engaged in conversation with each other. Others simply sat in chairs stationed by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the views beyond in quiet reflection.

  We walked down one of these corridors now, led by a nurse whose curly, blonde hair was pinned up in a neat chignon under her cap. “I was wondering if you’d be coming by for your usual visit,” she
said to Jack with a dazzling smile, her lipstick apple red. They were a few paces ahead of the rest of us.

  “I bet you were,” Lucas murmured with a smirk, springing his cards from one hand to another.

  Heat stabbed my chest. I crossed my arms and focused on the tiles. They were so polished they glowed under the fluorescent lights.

  “How’s she doing today?” Jack asked.

  The nurse let go of a sigh. “I’m afraid she isn’t much improved from your last visit.”

  Jack glanced to Connor. In the parking lot, he’d suggested his brothers hang back.

  “No way in hell,” Connor had said.

  “It might be for the best. We’re not going to get very far with her if your anger’s suffocating all the energy in the room.”

  “I’m liable to side with Jack on that front,” Lucas said. “In fact, tell me why we haven’t just ditched Connor on the side of the road at this point?”

  Before they could get into it again, Jack had dropped the matter and ushered us all inside.

  Up ahead, a woman with thinning hair was shuffling back and forth in the hallway, wringing her hands and murmuring to herself. As we passed her, she didn’t make eye contact, as if she wasn’t even aware we were there. She only kept muttering. Counting, I realized. She was counting to six over and over again.

  Some doors were open, revealing rooms that looked like bare college dorms. White walls, white bedsheets, white floors, and little to no furniture. All of the windows had grates over them.

  In one room, a young man sat on his bed, crying into his knees as he hugged his arms around his legs. A male nurse sat across from him, quietly speaking to him. The young man started moaning, clamping his hands to the sides of his head. “No, no, no,” he whined. In a room a few doors down, a man was arguing with someone who wasn’t there. “I told you I didn’t want to see them again,” he said, jutting a finger toward his invisible opponent’s chest.

  This was the section of Serenity Falls where Alison Connelly dwelled. It wasn’t lost on me how far out of sight she and her neighbors were tucked away.

  The nurse finally stopped at a room and pushed open the door. I kept to the rear as we entered. The sun had at long last managed to break through the clouds, and its golden light spilled into the room, staining the tiles yellow. The space was like all the others I’d seen. Minimally furnished with no personal effects. The air inside was warm, heavy, and stale.

  It was the figure by the window that most drew my attention, though. There, a woman who looked like she weighed no more than a hundred pounds sat in a wheelchair, slightly hunched over. She was small and frail, as if she were withering away. Graying brown hair that had lost its shine hung limply to her mid-back, one errant strand caressing the pale skin of her cheek. She wore the same outfit all the patients did, a light blue ensemble resembling pajamas. Over this outfit she donned a ratty, pink robe.

  “Alison, love,” the nurse said, striding into the room and flipping the light on. “I have some visitors for you today. Jack is here again, and he’s brought your other boys with him. Isn’t that nice?”

  Alison didn’t look up, didn’t do so much as acknowledge the woman’s words. As I furthered into the room, I saw why. Her eyes were practically dead. She stared toward the window, but it was with an unfocused gaze.

  Her lips were dry and chapped, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. But the oddest thing was the way her body was positioned. She held her left arm high above her head in a frozen posture, palm facing the ceiling as if she were expecting alms from heaven. She was barely breathing, and her body was as rigid as a marble statue.

  The nurse’s warm smile never left her face. Of course not. This was nothing new to her. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, patting Jack’s arm before she showed herself out and closed the door behind her.

  Jack wasted no time in bridging the distance between him and his mother. He placed a delicate hand to Alison’s shoulder. “Mam, can you hear me?”

  No response. No movement. Her eyes remained vacant, and the arm remained uplifted.

  My mouth and throat became a desert, and any words I might’ve offered completely vacated my mind. The lack of response from Alison didn’t seem to bother Jack. Connor, on the other hand, looked like a tea kettle about to burst its top. His arms were crossed tightly, his face reddening as he stared at his mother with a withering look that could’ve leveled buildings. His resentment, whether it was over her abandonment or over her letting things get to this point, practically electrified the air.

  Fearing another brotherly quarrel was hemorrhaging, I found my voice, though I couldn’t keep it from cracking slightly. “Is she…?” Aware? Alive?

  “It’s called posturing,” Jack explained. “She’ll maintain a position like this for hours. She generally doesn’t respond to any stimuli, and she’s mostly mute. Sometimes she may mutter things, but it tends to be…it tends to not make any sense. But it’s normal for her condition.”

  Connor scoffed. “It’s anything but normal.”

  Jack ignored him. “The doctors haven’t been able to explain it or cure it. When she was first admitted, she was already mostly disengaged with the outside world, but she hadn’t been the slightest bit catatonic like this. This is something that’s developed within the past year.”

  “Why would The Wise Ones tell us to come here?” I asked, keeping my tone gentle. “If she’s unable to speak, how could we possibly get any answers from her?”

  “Actually,” Jack said. “I’ve been thinking about that all night, and I think I have an idea. But there’s a catch.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s going to be incredibly dangerous.”

  21

  “It’s called a transference spell.”

  As Jack spoke, Rory pulled crystals and candles out of the backpack he’d brought into Serenity Falls, setting the objects on a table by the window.

  “It’s powerful magic that allows you to cast your subconscious into the mind of another person.”

  “So where does the dangerous part come in?” I asked, goosebumps sleeving my arms. With what looked to be a piece of charcoal, Rory began drawing a large, elaborate circle on the floor. A sigil, Lucas explained. It looked like something out of a medieval alchemy book. There were symbols at the circle’s cardinal points, a string of runes along its edges, and Irish words filling up the body.

  “Typically, you’ll find yourself in the person’s memories,” Jack said. “You might happen upon their dreams and their hopes as well. But it’s not unusual to also stumble upon their fears and nightmares. And for many people, the fears in their mind can be just as terrifying as the monsters in the real world. There’s also the risk of becoming lost in someone’s mind. The entire experience feels very real, in the same way that a dream feels real when you’re in the midst of having one. The longer you stay, the more your sense of self begins to deteriorate, until you believe the thought world you transferred into is your actual reality. If you’ve made your home in a happy memory, drawn in by its allure, it might not sound like a bad thing. But if it’s a fear or nightmare that’s drawn you in…”

  “Then you’re stuck in a living hell,” Connor finished, “with no chance of returning to your own body, given that you’ve lost yourself in the other person’s mind.”

  I blew out my cheeks with a breath. “Wonderful.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Jack said. There was a look on his face akin to guilt. “My brothers and I can’t be the ones to transfer.”

  “What?” Connor and I said it at the same time. He flung a scornful look at me like a dart, as if I had no place taking the words right out of his mouth.

  “It’s too risky,” Jack said. “There’s no guessing what memories we’ll walk into the moment we step into our mother’s mind, but whatever they are, we’ll be too emotionally attached to them, too affected by them. Which means we run a greater risk of losing ourselves either because we’ll want to stay o
r because the darkness of the memories will pull us under easily. It would be best for someone with no attachment whatsoever to our past to do it.”

  “Have you gone mad?” Connor asked him. “You’re pinning all your hopes on her? She doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

  I bristled, but the truth was Connor was probably right, which only made me bristle more.

  “All you have to do,” Jack said to me, “is find our mother and engage her. The spell’s magic will allow you to break the memory’s ‘fourth wall,’ so to speak, so you won’t just be an observer. You’ll be able to interact with her. When you do, tell her who you are and why you’re there.”

  “Will she have the information I need if I’m interacting with a past version of her, though?”

  “When we relive our memories in our minds, we do so as our present-day selves with our present-day knowledge. Once you break the illusion of the memory for her, she’ll have the same awareness she does right now, even if the memory itself occurred decades ago. Does that make sense?”

  “I think so.”

  Connor shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

  I resisted the urge to narrow my eyes at him. “Will this change your mom’s memories in any way, my poking through them?”

  He shook his head. “No, the memories will revert to their original 'script' after you leave, as if you were never there. Oh, and one more thing. There’s really no rhyme or reason behind how the spell works as far as interacting with the person. In some memories, the person will note your presence easily and engage you, and in others, it’ll be as if you’re completely invisible. Don’t let the latter discourage you. Just move on to the next memory and try again.”