Opal Fire

by Barbra Annino

  CHAPTER 27

  My arms were jelly as I set the fruit down.

  “Good choice. Come out from behind there,” he said.

  When faced with the knowledge that your life will soon end, you either move incredibly slow or maniac fast. My legs carried me as if they’d been on the job for ninety years.

  The Mayor was considering his options. I already had one wound. Which was throbbing at that point. He would have to kill me carefully to construct a believable story.

  For Cinnamon’s sake, I hoped he got it right.

  I waited for instruction.

  “Move to the left of Kirk.”

  I did. Where were my spirit guides?

  “No.” He waved the gun. “Over there.”

  Again, I followed directions. Did I miss something? Didn’t I cast the spell correctly?

  “Yes. That’s it.”

  The Goddess. I forgot to call the Goddess.

  “By the power of Brighid, I release thee!” I said.

  “Too late,” said the Mayor.

  He pointed the gun at my head.

  I closed my eyes.

  Nothing happened.

  He drew a breath. “K…Kathy?” I heard him say.

  I opened one eye. The Mayor was staring over my head into the mirror behind me, transfixed on something.

  He was distracted enough for me take a split second to crash a bar stool into his skull. The gun flew from his hand, firing a phantom shot in the air before skating beneath the old jukebox.

  I belly flopped toward it and crammed my torn arm underneath, but I couldn’t see the weapon. I felt frantically for it. Then I remembered there was a crowbar nearby.

  Flopping like a fish, I tried to wiggle free, but the hole in my shirt was snagged onto something and it wouldn’t let go.

  Behind me, something made a sound.

  I snuck a peek. His face bloody, the Mayor was towering over me, crowbar high above his head.

  I flipped over, my arm still lodged, and I saw him bring it down. A sickening thud echoed in my ear as pain ripped through my shoulder. Again.

  I thrashed in place, my arm clearly not cooperating, still conjoined to some unidentifiable piece of the jukebox. The second blow came and sliced through my jeans. The cut was deep and blood gushed from it immediately. Before I could worry about the damage, I helicoptered my legs around and landed one good roundhouse kick, taking the Mayor’s feet out from under him. He landed on his back. Hard.

  For a second, I was sure he had broken it, thanks to the crunching sound that punctuated his fall.

  Then I looked up.

  The overhead beam had split wide. The last bolt dangled, hardly holding the huge, gothic chandelier with the pointy spikes.

  Apparently the gunshot had made a direct hit.

  The Mayor was gasping for air, the wind knocked from him, it seemed.

  And behind him, a moonbeam reflecting off her head like a halo, stood Kathy in her pink sweater and poodle skirt, a scarf neatly tied around her neck. She smiled at me, then looked at her former lover and shook her head, haunting eyes revealing a trace of peace.

  I looked away before the fixture plummeted, impaling the Mayor. I heard him scream in agony before I squeezed my eyes shut.

  CHAPTER 28

  The essential oils of lavender and myrrh coaxed me awake. Lolly was working on my leg, which burned like hell. Her copper head bobbed up and down like a buoy. Birdie leaned over me, adjusting something, her shawl feathered around her shoulders. She stopped and looked at me. My head felt heavy as the stark white of the room penetrated my eyes.

  “Welcome back, Anastasia,” Birdie said.

  “Hi,” I croaked. My mouth was dry.

  Behind Birdie, Fiona was arranging flowers, her face painted to perfection. “Oh, sweetheart, thank Brighid, you’re all right,” she said.

  Something was off. No capes. No lectures on how I am not fit to be a witch. My pulse quickened a bit and I heard a machine beep.

  “Lolly, the frankincense.” Lolly produced a small brown bottle and Birdie waved it under my nose.

  “Stop it, Birdie. That stuff stinks.” The machine stopped beeping.

  “Well, I want you to stay calm. Can’t have those nurses poking their heads in while we work on you.”

  A hospital. I was in a hospital.

  “That’s right and you’re going to be just fine,” Lolly said.

  How did she do that? I didn’t say that out loud, did I?

  “Cinnamon,” I said and sat up, crystals raining around me.

  Birdie pushed me back down. “She’s fine, Anastasia. A mere flesh wound where the bullet grazed her skull. She just needed a little cleaning up and a few stitches.”

  I smiled at that, thanking the spirits.

  “And Mr. Huckleberry is going to help her rebuild the Black Opal,” Fiona informed me.

  “Now just lie still and let the crystals work,” Birdie said. One by one, she picked them up and put them back on my head, a crown of smooth rocks.

  “So, what’s wrong with me?” I asked. My arm was stiff and I felt like I was wearing a baseball mitt.

  Birdie’s bracelets jingled as she folded her hands in her lap. “You’re right wrist is sprained and the bullet was removed from your shoulder. The gash on your left leg cut to the bone, but that will heal nicely thanks to your aunt Lolly.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s nearly eight o’clock on Tuesday.”

  “What? I’ve been out for a whole day?” That was impossible. How could I have slept that long? “Thor...”

  “Taken care of,” Birdie dismissed my concern with a sweep of her arm.

  Lolly smiled and I caught a whiff of Jameson.

  “These beautiful roses are from Leo,” Fiona said, cupping the flower heads. Then she moved to the window. “This arrangement is from Chance.” She winked. “And of course there are plants from the office and cards and letters from half the town over here.” She motioned to a counter beneath the window. “Would you like me to read you Leo’s note?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Now, shall we talk about the lessons you’ve learned?” Birdie said, getting down to business.

  “I’ll pass on that too, Birdie.”

  “Nonsense.” She waited.

  I drew in a deep breath and thought about the events that had transpired over the last four days. The fire. The murders. Poor Kathy, buried in darkness for all those years.

  And then she came to my rescue.

  Birdie tapped my knee. “Well?”

  “A picture is worth a thousand words,” I said. I would have figured it all out sooner, had I known that photo was on the wall. Well, maybe.

  Birdie pursed her lips. She motioned to Lolly.

  Lolly reached behind her and pulled out the Blessed Book. She handed it to Birdie who placed it on the cart next to my bed.

  “Trust in your power. The rest will come,” Birdie said and patted the cover.

  There was a knock at the door and Leo poked his head in. “Is it okay?” he asked to no one in particular.

  Birdie rose, walked to the door and whispered something in Leo’s ear. He looked at her briefly, then nodded and smiled at Fiona and Lolly. The three of them waltzed from the room and Leo stepped in.

  His leather jacket was open, a white shirt off-setting his olive skin. I watched as he chose a chair near the foot of the bed. He clasped, then unclasped his hands. He crossed his legs. He uncrossed them. Then he stood and faced the window.

  Geez, did I look that bad? I smoothed my hair out.

  “Stacy, I’m so sorry. About everything.” His voice was hoarse, but his shoulders were solid and the view reminded me of why I had fallen for him in the first place. A heat trailed up my toes and through my legs.

  I didn’t say anything, because I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. Relationships were not my area of expertise.

  He reached into his pocket for something and held it in his hands, still facin
g the window.

  “I feel like my heart’s been ripped out. What my uncle did...it’s…unbelievable.” He shook his head. “I guess you know now the cruise wasn’t my idea. He had me convinced that something terrible would happen to you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what he was doing. For that, I will always be sorry.” He swore softly.

  That’s why he was sorry? I was expecting this conversation to go a little differently. Like, sorry I didn’t believe in you, Stacy. I’m a schmuck and you deserve better.

  I sighed. I thought about the conversation with Birdie at the inn, the fact that the women in my family seem destined to remain single, and how Leo’s eye twitches every time magic is mentioned. If I were to continue on this path, Leo couldn’t be a part of it.

  But this wasn’t the time to tell him that.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Leo. You couldn’t have known.” Then I thought of something else. “Did you find Kathy?”

  “Her body was stuffed in a freezer in my uncle’s garage along with a string of love letters. They’re searching his place for evidence now. The theory we have is that Eddie and Kirk helped him bury the body in the wall and that’s why he killed them. Only they could link him to her. Mr. Huckleberry had hired Eddie at one time to stabilize the foundation. Eddie suggested that he rebuild the entire wall instead. We figured that was when they buried her there. The dates match up to Kathy’s disappearance. We won’t know for sure until we do some more investigating, but those were good guys. They couldn’t have known her death was intentional.”

  He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “I didn’t understand...things, Stacy, I know that now, but I think I’m starting to. I want to anyway.”

  He crossed to me and put the envelope on the nightstand. Then he looked at me for the first time, so much emotion in his eyes that my heart cracked.

  He cocked his head. “What’s in your hair?”

  I felt the crown of my head and bumped into the crystals Birdie put there. I pulled them out, one by one and examined them.

  Gemstones have spiritual properties as well as healing capabilities, so I gave Leo his first lesson in magic. “Amethyst, for rest, argonite, to heal bones, bloodstone, for wound repair.” Bloodstone- the warrior stone and a symbol of justice, Birdie once told me.

  Leo smiled. “Guess I have a lot to learn.”

  He leaned over the bed and softly kissed me. “Get some rest. If you decide you want to try again, you know where to find me.”

  My gaze followed as he started for the door. I ached to call him back.

  Leo stopped and turned around. “Stacy?”

  I waited, hoping he wouldn’t say what he looked like he wanted to say. He didn’t have to. I could feel it.

  His lips parted, then paused. “Get better.”

  A knot formed in my throat and I rolled onto my side. The door clicked and he was gone.

  After a moment, I reached for the envelope.

  Inside were two tickets to Ireland and a brochure of a castle. Leo’s note read: I’ve heard this place is magical. I thought you two should meet and I wanted to be the one to introduce you.

  I smiled and sunk into sleep, dreaming of ivy blanketed countryside, lapping waves, and knights in leather armor.

  But dreams, as I have learned, can be deceiving.

  I left the hospital the next evening with my arm in a sling, Vicodin, crutches, my book, and the crystals.

  Gramps drove me home safely and I begged him to tell Birdie and the aunts that I wasn’t up for dinner or company. I just wanted to snuggle with my dog, read a book, and eat macaroni and cheese.

  Thor acted like he hadn’t seen me in a month as Gramps set my things on the counter. He hopped around me, nuzzling my free hand and talking in that way that Great Danes do. I kissed his big nose and he wiggled.

  Gramps hugged me gingerly and told me to call if I needed anything. Then he left.

  In the living room sat a box filled with things from my office that Derek had delivered while I was in the hospital. His note read: Parker thought you’d be more comfortable working at home until you recover. Take some time off. Call when you can.

  The note was taped to the three muses sword that I threatened Derek with earlier in the week. I laughed at the recollection and propped it against the counter. Maybe Cinnamon would help me hang it up later.

  I set about organizing my desk. Plugged in my laptop, sorted through files, tossed office supplies in the top drawer. Then I put the Blessed Book next to all of it and fumbled with the bloodstone.

  I supposed I would have to build my own supply kit if I was going to start practicing the craft. Candles, oil, stones, a scrying mirror. I needed the whole shebang. Then perhaps, my own spells would find their way between the pages of the Blessed Book. Maybe I would finally become a Geraghty Girl.

  The thought made me shiver. I wasn’t sure if that was what I truly wanted, but I owed it to myself to find out.

  Thor scratched at the front door, telling me he had to go out and I hobbled over to open it. The leg didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, so I doubted I would use the crutches much. The real bitch was carrying my arm in a sling. How was I going to work? Dress? Pee?

  I shuffled into the bathroom, clipped my hair up and crawled into sweatpants. I took a long hard look at the mirror that had disrupted my life. Thankfully, it had no messages for me today except that I was tired. A yawn escaped and I went in search of food.

  While I was in the hospital, Chance had replaced the glass in the backdoor window and Gramps had ordered me a new refrigerator. It was a sleek stainless model that I could never afford. I didn’t like to take advantage of his wealth and generosity, but I needed a refrigerator and he needed to pamper someone so it was a win-win.

  I snagged an apple from the counter and bit into it. Then I went to check Chance’s handiwork. As usual, it looked great. I walked toward the backdoor, marveling at my fortune of knowing such talented people.

  Then I halted.

  When trouble comes knocking, most of us ignore the signs. I have been guilty of it myself more times than I care to count. In hindsight, people will often admit that yes, their creepy neighbor seemed a bit off, or the minute they walked down the alley, they knew it was a mistake.

  But right then—after all that had happened—I knew when I saw the spider web I had an uninvited guest.

  An intruder.

  I swear to the gods, if my bedroom saw as much action as the backdoor of my cottage, I would be a much happier woman.

  The door was locked, so I didn’t bother trying to figure out how someone could have gotten inside. The question was who?

  And more importantly- when?

  Was someone here now? I centered myself, drawing on the power within me, but the Vicodin cast a haze over my intuition and my senses were duller than usual.

  I took a deep breath. No chills. No nausea. Just...fuzz. A buzzing in my ear like a bell.

  I picked up the sword, not taking any chances.

  Chance. Maybe that was it. Chance wasn’t invited to fix the window. He just did it.

  Or maybe the painkillers were causing hallucinations.

  The cottage was calm. Thor was outside. I was safe.

  I limped over to the window, the sword my cane, and watched my dog romp in the yard. I stood there, letting the tension slip away, peace take over. It felt good. My lungs filled with air and I let my eyes slide shut.

  When I opened them, a face flashed in the bay window.

  Only it wasn’t outside.

  It was behind me.

  And it wore a mustache.

  CHAPTER 29

  I kicked my uninjured leg behind me and whirled around, stabbing the wall perpendicular to the window with the sword. The three muses bobbed up and down, as if laughing.

  At him, or me I wasn’t sure.

  Bull’s eye. He was tacked up by his overcoat.

  I had a few advantages over the little guy. I was taller, there was a huge Great Dane outside and I
had a really cool sword in my hand.

  He, however had one huge advantage over me. Anonymity.

  “Who the hell are you and why have you been following me?” I demanded.

  He refused to speak. He just shook in his boots, rattling against the blade, then he swallowed hard and something about it struck me as odd. I looked at his neck, his features, his frame. All… dainty. My chest tightened.

  The words of Maegan penetrated my head as we stared at each other, The Seeker of Justice shall cross with one who embodies the old soil, the force of which will have great impact on Geraghtys past, present, and future. The choice she makes shall decide her fate. One path leads to unity; three become one. The other leads to destruction–which shall never be repaired.

  This was it. This was the moment Maegan warned about.

  “Why won’t you speak?” I asked.

  He looked down, his toes barely touching the carpet. I don’t know why, but I plucked the sword from the drywall and lowered it to my side.

  He seemed vulnerable, not threatening, standing there in the shadow of the sun.

  I sighed, losing patience. “Okay, as you can see, I’ve had a pretty screwed up week. So off with the hat and glasses and let’s talk about what it is you want so you can leave my house and I can get on with my life. And if the sword isn’t a big enough incentive not to try anything that might get your arm lopped off, then take a gander at my boy, Thor.” I pointed out the window.

  He peeked, then faced me again.

  He looked at the carpet, contemplating his next move. Wisely, he chose the right one.

  The sunglasses floated down first. Then the mustache and gloves.

  He lifted his head up and slowly removed his hat.

  I gasped as a pool of long red hair, the same color as the setting sun, spilled around the shoulders of a female.

  I stepped back, staring. Disbelief overwhelmed me.

  Her green eyes.

  Her red hair.

  But it couldn’t be. It was impossible.

  I have only seen that shade of hair on one other person.

  But how was this possible?

  She removed her coat, exposed a cape.