Emerald Isle (A Stacy Justice Mystery)

by Annino, Barbra

  Then I thought about it and looked at her hopefully. “Actually, I might be able to help with the Titanic.”

  “No.”

  “Fair enough. So how do I find the cauldron?”

  She snapped her fingers and the sphere floated forward. Badb came into the room then, loaded down with maps, which she spread out across a large banquet table.

  I helped myself to the water and grapes as Danu explained to me that I needed to gather all four corners—Guardian, Mage, Warrior, Seeker—and head to the Hill of Summoning.

  “While you are all responsible for the treasures as a whole, each of you has an intimate connection with a specific hallow. To the Seeker goes the cauldron. The Warrior is tethered to the spear. For the Guardian, it is the sword of light. The stone of destiny is tied to the Mage. The remaining three corners must connect with his or her treasure before you all approach the Hill of Summoning to find the missing cauldron. How that connection is satisfied is up to the individual; we do not govern the humans. Then, at the hill, you should be able to cast a spell to conjure an image of the cauldron. The strength of all of you combined leaves me no doubt that the cauldron will lead you directly to it. You just need to open your mind and follow the signs.”

  “Like what? What kind of signs?”

  “You will know them when you see them. Or hear them. Or feel them.”

  “Thanks, that clears it up.” A snapshot of the cauldron sputtered into view inside the bubble. I filed it into my memory bank. “Where is the Hill of Summoning?”

  Danu tapped the bubble, and a picture of a grass-blanketed mound with a small opening appeared. “It’s in the Boyne Valley.”

  The mound I was looking at wasn’t Dowth or Knowth, the megalithic passage tombs of Ireland constructed five thousand years ago, but there were other mounds in that area; I just wasn’t familiar with all of them. This one had stone steps embedded into it. A simple Google search would tell me where it was located.

  “I can find it.”

  Badb called me over to her to view a map of the island. I gulped down the water, set the glass on the tray, and joined her at the table. “The green lines are the leylines that make up the Web of Wyrd. Those are the arteries to the Otherworld, where we reside. Should you need to recharge your energy, require a magical boost, or speak with us or any god, you must locate a leyline.”

  Most of them threaded around and through ancient sites.

  Badb explained, “The leylines are guarded by the Sidhe, and they are extremely protective of their roads. You must be respectful and cautious when traveling over a leyline.”

  “They are a sensitive race, so whatever you do, don’t offend them,” Danu said.

  Badb added, “And bring an offering. Milk, honey, cake, or anything shiny. Fairies love shiny things. They’re like cats that way.”

  “We have assigned you a Fae fetch to guide you safely through the Otherworld, should the need arise,” Danu said. She raised her voice. “Pickle, would you join us, please?”

  A blond, wispy boy of about eighteen slipped through the door. His eyes were seashore blue and he was wearing a Star Trek hat.

  “Pickle, I’d like to introduce you to Stacy Justice. She’ll be performing a very important task, and I’d like you to guide her through the leylines should she call on you.”

  Pickle bowed before me and kissed my hand. Then he licked it and winked at me.

  I yanked my hand back and said, “Don’t get any lewd ideas, pal.”

  The poor thing burst into tears and bolted out of the room.

  Danu barked, “Did I not just tell you they are sensitive? He was being friendly.”

  “He licked me. My dog doesn’t even lick me.”

  Thor looked up from a bone he was chomping on and belched.

  Danu said, “If you need him, all you have to do is whisper his name three times while standing on or near a line.”

  “Got it. Pickle, Pickle, Pickle.”

  He popped back into the room.

  “Just checking,” I said.

  He left.

  Badb said, “I’ve marked on the map previous locations where the cauldron was stored, and where it was taken when it was last stolen, as well as the location of the remaining three hallows.”

  There were several landmarks circled in red. One was Newgrange, a five-thousand-year-old passage tomb older than the Egyptian pyramids. The shape of the construction represents the female reproductive organs. Inside the inner chamber, a beam of sunlight illuminates the ground every winter solstice for exactly seventeen minutes. There was another circle around Cong, a quaint village on the west coast where The Quiet Man was filmed. Several stone monument formations can be found nearby, said to have been erected by the Tuatha Dé Danann to mark battle sites where they defeated the Fir Bolg, and to honor fallen warriors.

  There was a blue circle around Trinity College in Dublin. Badb told me that was where the cauldron had been discovered after it was stolen in 1845. She pointed to another blue circle very near that. “The spear is on display at the Royal Irish Academy.” Farther north, another circle indicated the home of the sword. Howth Castle, located on the edge of the seaside village, Howth. Legend has it that Grace O’Malley, returning from a long voyage at sea and low on supplies, approached the castle seeking sustenance for her and her men. The lord of the manor refused to open the gates, balking at the interruption of his dinner. The pirate queen kidnapped his son to teach the English lord a lesson in Irish hospitality. She refused ransom but insisted that an extra plate always be set for weary travelers. The lord agreed. To this day, the tradition stands.

  “Now then, do you have any questions?” Danu asked.

  I looked from one to the other. “That’s it? That’s all the information you have?”

  “If we knew any more, we wouldn’t need you.”

  Badb rolled up the maps and handed them to me. “Are you ready to return to your realm?”

  “I guess so. Four corners. Hill of Summoning. Listen to the cauldron.” I couldn’t believe that was all they were giving me to help in my search.

  Danu walked me over to the hearth. Thor stood up, and I held his collar. She looked at me and raised one eyebrow.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded.

  She waved her arm in front of the opening.

  Nothing happened.

  She frowned. Waved it again.

  Still nothing.

  She looked at me, then at Badb. “Did you leave anything behind in the web?”

  I didn’t like the way she asked me that. I had a bad feeling about this. “I gave Birdie a locket. Why?”

  Danu turned to Badb. “Uh-oh.”

  Badb shook her head. “The Seeker? Really?”

  My stomach flip-flopped, and my lip was sweating. “What ‘uh-oh’? Don’t say ‘uh-oh,’ never say ‘uh-oh.’”

  Danu looked at me, worry painted on her face. “I’m not sure we can send you back.”

  Worst. Birthday. Ever.

  I stared at the flames of the fire, wishing with all my heart that I could go home.

  Birdie, if you can hear me, help.

  Fiona shot Birdie a puzzled look. “You mean you don’t remember why we are all outside? You don’t recall the purpose of the fetching spell?”

  Birdie was drawing a blank. She had the sense that this was important, however.

  Lolly had been bustling around the table, but she stopped what she was doing when she heard Fiona’s question. Birdie watched as Lolly approached, a shimmering hematite necklace in her hand.

  Lolly said to Fiona, “Could it be the fairy fire?”

  “Perhaps. She needs grounding,” Fiona said.

  “I have the hematite rope right here,” Lolly said.

  Birdie was growing annoyed that they were talking about her as if she weren’t there. “Just tell me, please.”

  Lolly said, “As soon as we get this on you.” She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach Birdie’s neck. She was just about to slip the cr
ystal necklace over her baby sister’s head, when something caught her attention.

  She hit the switch for the back porch light, nearly blinding Birdie.

  “Turn that off. It’s too bright,” Birdie complained, shielding her eyes.

  Lolly said, “Fiona, look.”

  Fiona rushed forward to see what had piqued Lolly’s interest.

  There, around Birdie’s neck, was an intricate filigree locket dangling from a long golden chain. Fiona reached for it.

  “Birdie, you weren’t wearing this earlier. Where did you get it?”

  Birdie looked down at the locket, then lifted her eyes to meet Fiona’s. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”

  The locket was long enough for Fiona to pull up to Birdie’s third eye. In a flash of clarity, Birdie saw Anastasia, watched the conversation they had had that morning at the cottage unfold in her head. She felt the warmth of her love for the child, and the light of her granddaughter embedded inside this talisman. That’s when she knew they were running out of time to rescue her.

  “Anastasia. We must retrieve Anastasia.”

  Lolly and Fiona looked relieved, and the three of them rushed to the table. Lolly pulled the fetching spell from her coat pocket and read aloud, glasses perched at the edge of her nose.

  “The love of nine works best for this spell, to fetch a witch caught in the fairy realm.”

  Lolly did a quick head count before she continued. Nine bodies were present. “A sprig of basil in each hand, and hawthorn root from the witch’s land.”

  Fiona got to work prying open Derek’s hand to tuck a basil leaf inside. Birdie did the same for Cinnamon and Tony, while Lolly worked the herb into the rug that was Leo’s temporary home. Then she made sure Gus had one, and each sister grabbed a sprig for herself.

  “The hawthorn is here,” Fiona said, holding up a purple pouch.

  Lolly read on. “A symbol of the town where she resides, and the hair of a harlot who was never a bride.”

  “What?” Fiona frowned. “I don’t recall that last part. I have the amethyst crystal right here to represent the village, but where will we find the hair of a harlot?”

  Birdie said, “Let me see that,” and held her hand out.

  Lolly passed the page over to Birdie.

  “I don’t recall that part either.” She looked up at Lolly. “Do we know any harlots?”

  The two sisters stared at each other for a moment. Then, slowly, they both swung their heads to Fiona.

  Fiona parked her hands on her hips. “Really, we’re going there?”

  Lolly pretended to swat a bug. Birdie feigned a hangnail.

  Fiona said, “Fine. I’ll give you this one, but I have been a bride, so you can’t use my hair.”

  “What should we do?” Birdie asked.

  “Where will we find a harlot at this hour?” Lolly asked.

  None of them spoke for a few seconds, until Fiona snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. There’s a tavern in town called Down and Dirty. Apparently, the owner has quite the reputation. Birdie, you stay here and keep an eye on our participants. Lolly, let’s go.”

  Birdie watched as her two older sisters raced off toward the driveway. She heard her car start and tear away.

  If this works, she thought, I won’t force Anastasia to do anything she doesn’t want to do again. I’ll even call her Stacy. Perhaps.

  Birdie paced, nervously glancing at the clock through the kitchen door every fifteen seconds. She wondered how much longer her guests would sleep, how much longer Anastasia could survive the Web of Wyrd without losing her mind, and how much longer she could endure this night.

  She caught a glimpse of the locket in the reflection of the back door as she passed it. She paused, focusing on what it could mean.

  Where had it come from? She didn’t recall owning any such piece. Gently, she raised the trinket to examine it more closely.

  Why did it seem so familiar?

  Birdie clicked open the latch and saw a watch face tucked neatly inside. Instantly, a sharp bell rang in her mind’s eye. A far-off memory she couldn’t quite pull to the surface, but it was there nonetheless.

  This locket was important. But why?

  Then, like a whisper on the wind, she heard the call of her granddaughter.

  Birdie, if you can hear me, help.

  The voice was urgent, desperate, and fearful. Birdie swung her head toward the forest. She inched forward, then walked her eyes all over the house. She saw nothing in the windows, no light, no sign of life.

  No more voices.

  Had she really heard it? Or was it a trick? More fairy fire to distract her from bringing Anastasia home? What did they want with her, anyway?

  Frustrated, she sat down on the stoop hard, basil still clutched in her palm. She cradled the locket in both hands, put it to her third eye, and focused all her energy, all her strength, all her love onto this carved piece of metal. She concentrated. She envisioned Anastasia home, here with her.

  Eyes closed tight, hands locked around the necklace, Birdie imagined the face of her granddaughter, the face of the Seeker, and whispered a prayer to the wind. To the stars. To the gods.

  In the distance, a crow cawed.

  Chapter 15

  “What do you mean, you can’t send me back? You have to send me back!”

  Danu said, “You’ve disrupted the delicate fabric of your history. You caused a ripple in the web.”

  “So unripple it!”

  Danu chewed her lip. “I’m not sure how.”

  “I can’t believe this. You’re not sure how? You’re a goddess, for crying out loud.” I flipped my frustration over to Badb. “And you think I’m not worthy of my title? Give me a break.”

  Danu said, “You don’t understand—this has never happened before.”

  “Never happened before? Seriously?”

  Badb said, “Well, there was that one time, Danu.”

  Danu’s worried face took on a reflection of nostalgia. “Oh, yes.” She looked at me. “She was a Guardian.”

  “Great.” I slapped my hands together. “Who was it? What did you do?”

  Danu looked away. “Her name was Amelia Earhart.”

  Amelia Earhart. The first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, who disappeared somewhere over the Pacific in 1937, never to be seen or heard from again. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” I was vaguely aware that the incessant repetition of words made me sound like a parrot, but I didn’t care. I slumped against the wall. Thor trotted over to me and clamped his jaw on my skirt.

  Badb said, “Don’t despair. We can find a way, in time.”

  I marched toward her, wrestling myself away from the dog. “In time? You’ve had, like, five thousand years to iron out the kinks in this rabbit hole.”

  Thor tugged on my skirt again, causing my sword to jingle.

  “Not now, boy.” I turned to Danu. “How will I find the cauldron if I can’t get back?”

  “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

  I started pacing, clutching the maps tight in my hand. Oh, Birdie, I swear if you get me out of this, I’ll be a better witch. I’ll go on any ridiculous quest you ask me to.

  I stopped. A sinking feeling settled in my gut. “Mom,” I whispered.

  Thor barked impatiently and pawed at my skirt.

  “Yes?” Danu asked.

  “Not you. My mother. I have to get to her. If I don’t show up at the council hearing, they won’t release her.”

  Apparently fed up with getting the brush-off, Thor flung his head back, reared up like a stallion, and howled loudly enough to pierce an eardrum. The floor shook with force when he landed. Even Badb jumped.

  I twirled to face him. “What is it?”

  He looked at me like he wanted to whiz all over my shoes, then charged from the room.

  Danu, Badb, and I glanced at each other. Then we shot after Thor.

  We found him standing in the great hall of the palace—a room large enough to park a yacht in—in
front of a larger-than-life portrait of Danu. It looked eerily similar to the one hanging in Birdie’s house. Thor sat down, harrumphed, then cocked his head, as if wondering if I was smart enough to figure out what he was trying to tell me.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” I asked him.

  He grumbled loudly, then pawed at the carpet. A display I deciphered as, You got a better idea?

  I ruffled his ears, kissed his big snout, and said, “Good job.”

  He pranced up to the painting proudly and waited.

  I turned to Badb and Danu. “You brought me here through the painting on our end; let’s see if I can go home through it on yours.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Danu said.

  “I’ll give it a go,” said Badb.

  I turned toward the huge frame and tucked the maps under my arm. I stepped forward, put one hand on Thor’s collar, and glued the other to my sword.

  Behind me, I heard the goddesses chant. My eyes were squeezed shut, my mind focused on home, and my thoughts trained on Birdie.

  If anyone had the talent to bring me back, it was her.

  Birdie’s sisters, having returned from cutting the hair of the harlot, completed the spell and watched as Birdie brought the locket to her head for a third time.

  This time, she chanted to the goddesses, still clinging to the image of her granddaughter in her head and the will to bring her home in her heart.

  Then she heard a rustling in the woods.

  I felt as if I had been stuck in a commercial dryer on the spin cycle for about three days. But whatever wormhole we had traveled through, one thing was certain when I opened my eyes.

  I knew these woods.

  Thor did too, judging by the manner in which he gleefully pranced around, peeing on every branch that brushed against his hind legs.

  I ran my hands up and down my body to make sure I was intact. Two hands, two arms, ten digits…wait…what was this?

  The locket was hanging from my neck.