by Brenda Drake
“You’re lying,” Sinead said. “Move away, Gia. This is not your grandmother.”
“Yes she is.” I held my ground in front of Nana. “I performed a truth globe on her. And besides, for all I know, you’re lying to us.”
“Good gracious.” At my nod, Sinead reached under the bed and then holstered her dagger. “Of all globes, yours is a truth globe? I wouldn’t wish that globe on my enemies.”
“What’s wrong with my globe?”
“It’s not useful for battles. Did you perform the globe on everyone?” Sinead asked.
“Well, I’ve done Professor Attwood, Nana, Arik, Lei, and Merl.”
Sinead inclined her head in Faith’s direction as Faith eased out of her attack position. “What about her?”
“It won’t work on Laniars. Merl scried her—she checked out.”
“Right,” Sinead said. “How much blood does it require?”
“It just takes a drop.”
“Okay, perform one on me if it will help you to believe me. Then we’ll come up with a plan.” Sinead retrieved her dagger again. She seemed preoccupied as she pricked her finger and let her blood fall onto my hand.
Sinead’s face resembled an insect’s with the globe contorting her face. Her nose looked flatter and her ears larger, the points at the top more exaggerated. “I am truthful,” the image said.
After I busted the globe, my eyes went to our new ally.
“I’ve had a bad feeling about Carrig all along. He’s been ruthless on the practice field. He seems more concerned about training me to be a great fighter than learning anything about me. And he’s never mentioned you to me.” I turned to Nana. “Something must have happened when you went to get more ink. Can you think of anything?”
“No. Nothing. We took separate routes to the library. He said it wouldn’t be good for me to be seen with him.”
“Gia, have you ever seen more than the person saying they’re true in the globes?” Sinead asked.
“Well…,” I paused, fearing they’d think I was crazy. “After I did Arik’s globe–um–well, before I washed his blood off my hand, I performed another globe.”
“Go on,” Sinead urged.
“I asked it about Arik’s relationship with Veronique. The globe showed me–-” I trailed off feeling wicked uncomfortable.
“It showed you more than what it usually does,” Sinead finished for me.
“Uh-huh.” The thought of Arik and Veronique together nauseated me.
Sinead put her hand on my cheek. Warmth surged through my body and my anxiety subsided. “With matters of the heart, we all fall weak. It’s natural to be curious about your attraction.”
“I’m not attracted to Arik.”
“You can’t hide your emotions from fey. I can feel every mood in this room. Now, try and extract the memory of that morning from Ms. Kearns.” She gave me a warm smile. “Can you do that?”
“I’ll try.”
Nana went into the bathroom. When she returned, she pricked her finger with a safety pin and dragged her bleeding finger across my palm. I chanted the charm and a globe shimmered in my hand.
“Show me the morning of August the ninth in Nana’s sitting room.”
Waves rippled across the surface of the silvery globe. Color flickered across the sphere and Nana came into focus. She sat on a chair in her parlor, tattooing a girl who was propped on the ottoman in front of her and looked just like me.
“All finished,” Nana said.
“Good.” Carrig got up from Nana’s antique loveseat. “Deidre must be getting to your son’s house. An escort waits outside to take her. I won’t be a moment.”
Nana showed Carrig and Deidre to the door. She returned her tattoo supplies and began loading them into her tote. She held up one of the ink bottles and shook it. “Drat, not nearly enough.”
A knock came from the door. Nana crossed the room and let Carrig in.
He settled back onto the loveseat. “You’ve a worry on your face.”
“I don’t have enough black ink. The supply shop is just around the corner. We can leave for the library from there.”
Carrig struggled to get comfortable against the small pillows of the seat. “I think it’s best you’re not seen with me. I’ll meet you outside the library. If it isn’t any trouble, I’ll wait here a bit until my partner returns.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Nana tied a floral scarf around her neck. “Would you like some tea while you wait?”
“A bit of tea would be nice, but not if it’s any trouble to you.”
“Oh, no, it’s no trouble at all. Eileen!” she called in the direction of the kitchen.
Aunt Eileen, Nana’s stepdaughter, blew in wearing her usual attire of head-to-toe black and a ratty floral shawl. She didn’t have a real job. Nana paid her to help around the house.
“Yes?” She tilted her head, her red, over-teased bouffant shifting slightly.
“Could you fix mister–-I’m sorry. I don’t believe Marietta ever told me your full name.”
“It’s McCabe.”
“Could you fix Mr. McCabe some tea? I have to run to the shop and get some more ink.”
“Certainly.” Aunt Eileen’s heavy black-lined eyes landed on Carrig. “How do you take it?”
“Cream and sugar, if you have,” Carrig said.
Nana grabbed her tote from the table and walked toward the kitchen with Baron slinking after her. “Make yourself comfortable. Oh, and Eileen, there’s freshly baked lemon bars resting on the stove. Be a dear and bring Mr. McCabe one with his tea.”
Before Nana departed the room in the globe, Sinead grabbed my hand. “Don’t close your palm just yet. I’ve read about truth globes. The magic lingers for a bit after the donor departs the target area. We may get a glimpse of what happened while Ms. Kearns was gone.”
Carrig fidgeted on the pillows, waiting for his tea. When Aunt Eileen came back into the room carrying a silver tea tray, he stood.
“Sit. Sit. I’ve got it.” She placed the tray on the small coffee table in front of him. Carrig repositioned himself on the loveseat. Aunt Eileen poured tea into a dainty porcelain cup, and balancing it on a saucer, she handed it to him. She took a seat in a poofy chair across from him. “You may help yourself to a lemon bar.”
“Thank you.” Carrig took a sip from his cup. “Are you a witch, as well?”
“Yes.”
Aunt Eileen was painfully shy. She never knew how to carry on a conversation. People misunderstood her oddness. She was never that way with me, though. She used to play with me for hours when I was younger and she had no other kids around.
“What’s your specialty?”
“Potions.” She studied her teacup.
“Right,” Carrig said, reaching for a lemon bar. He took a big bite as he watched the minutes tick by on Nana’s cuckoo clock.
They sat sipping tea in silence. Carrig drained his cup and placed it on top of the saucer on the table. He rubbed his temples, rocking a little, then he collapsed against the pillows.
Aunt Eileen smiled and walked toward the front door, disappearing from the globe’s view. The front door squeaked as it opened, and several heavy feet stamped across the entry tiles before the globe popped.
It sounded like we all gasped at the same time.
Chapter Seventeen
Carrig unloaded the practice equipment as I fidgeted with a practice globe, which was a small spongy ball designed to help me learn to fight while handling my battle one. The sun had barely risen above the horizon. We decided not to call, since someone might be listening, so Sinead and Faith were on their way to discuss our findings with Merl and Professor Attwood.
What played out in the globe looked like Aunt Eileen drugged Carrig, and whoever came into the room afterward did something to him. It wasn’t a compulsion spell, because he would still have recognized Sinead in her glamour. Hopefully Professor Attwood could determine which one was used.
The sense of something big
going down freaked me out, and I wished the Sentinels were back from their mission. I really needed someone to talk to.
“Uh, do you think we could try real swords today?” I asked, wishing I had my Converse and jeans on instead of battle gear. My boots weren’t broken in yet and they felt stiff.
Amusement lit Carrig’s face. “You think you’re ready for real swords, yeah?”
No. But I needed his blood to find out the truth. “I’m ready. I’d like to see how it feels. You know. Feel the weight of the sword. See what it’s like when steel hits steel, and all.”
“You don’t say? You wish to be one with the sword?”
I frowned, slipping my arm into my shield. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“That’s an American saying, isn’t it?”
There he went again, flashing his Irish charm. The man ran hot and cold so frequently, I couldn’t keep up with his moods.
“All right, then.” He pulled his sword from his scabbard.
I slid my blade out of mine.
“One has to be careful with real swords. No lunging with it.” He readied his stance. “Make sure to keep the blade at a distance. We wouldn’t want an accident now, would we?”
“I know. I know,” I said. “Just like the wooden ones, no body contact.” Except he hit me all the time with the fricking wooden ones.
“Okay then, give me your best.”
I took a deep, calming breath, ignoring the little voice in my brain that screamed using real weapons was a very bad mistake.
I brought my feet shoulder-width apart and raised my sword, my shield clanking against my belt. We waltzed around each other. I was definitely in better shape than Carrig, but he had more strength and experience. I steadied my breathing and glided my feet across the grass, never raising them more than an inch off the ground. In fencing, breathing and balance made all the difference in control, and I needed the advantage that our age difference gave me.
Carrig swung his sword. I parried. He flew by and turned quickly, sending another blow at me. I pivoted away, and his blade missed me by an inch.
I tossed my practice globe at him and he dodged it effortlessly. It thumped to the ground and rolled down the hill.
He threw a slow shot at me, as if I would fall for the fake. I beat his sword in the middle of its blade with mine. His shoulder hinted at a counter, so I swung low to block the strike. I was totally on the defense, which didn’t leave me open to cut him. I shuffled around to make myself a harder target.
When Carrig started panting, I knew I had him. It always surprised me during our sessions that he’d wear out first. For a trainer and a leader, he was out of shape.
“What’s the matter? Tired?” I mocked him as I spun away.
“Late night, is all.” He advanced toward me.
I was mentally in the fight, flexible and ready for an opening. Carrig brought his feet too close together and stumbled a little. I jumped at the opportunity and flicked my sword, slicing his cheek.
“Shites!” He groaned. “You drew blood.”
“You fell into my blade,” I protested.
He wiped the blood from his cheek with an irritated growl. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He darted across the pasture and disappeared through the double doors leading to the dining room.
When he was safely inside, I turned so my back faced the door. I swiped Carrig’s blood from the tip of my sword, smudged it into my hand, and recited the charm. The globe sprouted in my hand.
“Is Carrig McCabe true?”
His image blinked across the sphere. “It is unclear.”
I gasped, dropping my sword. My hands shook and I couldn’t catch my breath. Unclear? What does that mean? It’s not clear if he’s true or not? What is he up to? So many questions pinged my brain, causing white flashes of light in the corners of eyes. I swayed on my feet, dizzy, pain stabbing my temples.
“Why is it not clear?” I asked the globe.
Carrig’s face faded, and an image of a black flag with a red flame blazing in the middle flickered within the globe.
“What is that suppose to mean?” Hot frustration burned through me.
I heard his footsteps returning, so I dropped the globe, its lights sparked in front of me.
Carrig held a napkin to his face as he approached. “It’s just a scratch. There be no harm.”
“I feel sick,” I said with my back to him, the corner of my lip twitching out of control. “I think I need to lie down.” Using the globe still sucked energy from me.
His hand dropped on my shoulder, and his fingers dug into my skin as he spun me around. “What’s this? Sparks? I thought you hadn’t come into your magic. What have you been up to?”
I backed away from him, my legs weak. “Nothing.”
“You lie.” He grabbed my wrist, causing my sword to slip from my hand and thud against the ground. “Do you think me a fool?”
I tried to wrench free, but his grip tightened. My heart slammed against my breastbone.
No one had shown up yet to challenge Carrig…Sinead, Professor Attwood, Merl, even Nana had more power than I did, and they knew how dangerous it was for me to battle him by myself. A guard was supposed to watch our sessions from the dining room. But I was alone, taking on an experienced Sentinel.
You can’t depend on anyone else. You can best him. You have to.
I steadied my breaths and concentrated on the pink globe, willing it to come to me. Warmth rushed through my body, and my skin prickled. The globe encased Carrig and me. It formed and breathed around us, cradling us in its sphere.
Fear. Thoughts that make me feel secure. Anguish when I believed Faith would die. My emotions ignite the globe.
Sparks shot through my stomach and into my chest. I held on to the magic with all my will. The bubble lasted a little longer this time before the magic slipped from my hold and the globe busted.
Carrig sank to his knees. “What happened?” He looked confused. “Who are you?”
I stumbled backward and plucked up my sword. “You don’t remember me?”
“No. I’ve never seen you before in all me life.”
“But I look just like Deidre. You remember her, right?”
“I don’t know a Deidre.” He glanced around, shock evident on his face. “Where am I?”
Great. Either he has amnesia or he’s playing me.
I pointed my sword toward his chest, staring down the blade at him. “What do you remember?” The sword seemed heavier than normal and my body seemed weightless. I pushed through the side effects of using the globe, struggling to keep my grip on the handle.
“The last thing I remember…I got off work, stopped off at the pub, and downed a few pints. Just a minute, a French lass was at the pub. She bought me a strong one and now, you and this.” His face went pale. “What’s going about here?”
What the hell? Was he cheating on Sinead? He was lucky I didn’t slice him again. Instead I asked, “Do you remember the lass’s name?”
“Christ, it was something like Ver…Vera…” He rubbed his temples.
No. It couldn’t be. Could it?
“Veronique?”
“That’d be it. She’s about this high.” He raised his hand to indicate about five-eight. “With bosoms to here.” He cupped his hands out in front of his chest. He exaggerated.
“Yes, that’s her.” I rolled my eyes. “Wait. She’s a Sentinel, Carrig. Why didn’t you recognize her?”
“Me name’s not Carrig.”
“Really.” That globe must’ve hit him hard. “What’s your name, then?”
“Sean McGann.”
Sean McGann? I bit my lip as I processed his words. “Oh, my goodness. Are you Carrig’s changeling?” My globe must have released whomever, or whatever, was controlling him. Or was this a trick?
“Bullocks,” he muttered.
I had asked the globe if Carrig was untrue. Not Sean. I needed to verify his identity. “You know your Irish tales about magic?”
/> “Aye, I do.”
“Well, that’s what this is. Magic. I have to do something, and it requires a drop of your blood.” I bent, lifted the corner of the bandage on his face, and rubbed my finger across the cut. The truth globe verified Sean was indeed Carrig’s changeling. I had read about wizards weaving people’s minds together in one of the books Professor Attwood gave me. Could it be that their minds had been woven together and that’s why the globe was unclear? If so, what wizard was controlling them? And where was Carrig?
Apparently, someone had switched Carrig with Sean, and worse of all, Aunt Eileen had something to do with it.
Glancing from Sean to the darkened windows of the castle, I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought there was supposed to be a guard there, making sure I was safe. Why wasn’t he or she helping me?
I snatched up my sword, slid it into the scabbard, and reached my hand out. Sean took it, and I guided him to his feet. “I’m going to take you to a nice man. He’ll make sure you get home safely.”
“He won’t be locking me up, now, will he?”
“No, I promise.”
“All right, then.”
We made our way across the practice field. Professor Attwood had said it would take a few months before the side effects of using magic would subside. And my body was already recovering quicker than it had before. Just under the surface of my skin, the pink globe pulsated. I unfurled my fingers, and a sphere easily formed on my palm, jiggling with my steps. It was like an extension of my hand. I willed it to grow as big as a basketball and to shrink as small as a golf ball.
“Will you stop messing with that t’ing ? It’s bloody strange.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I popped the globe.
Before we made it to the castle, Arik flew out the double doors and raced toward us. Sinead was close behind him.
“Hurry! She’s behind us!”
”Who is?”
“Veronique! Just don’t stand there. Run!” Arik grabbed my arm and dragged me in the direction of the outbuilding. Sinead ran up to my other side.
“Sean, come with us,” I yelled over my shoulder.
“Who’s Sean?” Arik glanced back.
“Carrig’s changeling. Long story. I’ll tell you later.” I vaulted over a rock. “What happened to the guard that was supposed to be—guarding me?”
