Fifteen years after it started, Birdie’s marriage was over. She stopped trying, stopped caring, hoping that one day their children and their grandchildren would enlighten the man.
But alas, that had not been the case. He was sitting in her bedroom like a virgin on her wedding night, expecting answers. But Birdie didn’t have the time or the patience to explain everything she’d been explaining to him for decades.
Then she got an idea.
She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it.” She directed him to twist his chair to face the scrying mirror. While the mirror did not accept messages, it did record all conversations between two parties.
She pressed a button on the bottom of the scrying mirror, tapped the options a few times, and played all the conversations of the past day and a half.
Oscar sat in the chair, statue still, until the last message ended.
Birdie looked at him expectantly.
“This is a gag, right? You’re punishing me because I didn’t make it to Stacy’s birthday dinner.”
Birdie strode over to him, snatched the hat off his head, opened her window, and tossed it out. Then she yelled, “Get out.” Pointed to the door.
Oscar stood up. “Now, just hang on a minute, Bird, give me a goddamn minute to process what you’re telling me.” He dragged his hands through his hair.
“You’ve had nearly fifty years to process what I am telling you. You chose not to.”
He sank back in the chair, stared at the floor. “So this council, have they been treating her well?”
Birdie told him all she knew about their daughter’s arrest and captivity, which wasn’t much. She explained that contact had not been permitted.
“And this was because Stacy was in danger. The man she killed, I mean. He was going to kill Stacy?”
Birdie nodded.
Oscar stood again and looked out the window. “But doesn’t that mean that Stacy may still be in danger? I mean, there must have been reason behind his intentions, correct? What if that reason still exists and someone else decides to act on it?”
Birdie scooted next to him, to see what caught his attention out the window. Anastasia was rushing toward the back door. Chance met her halfway, relieved her of her luggage.
Birdie hadn’t considered what Oscar was suggesting. She had always believed that the man had come after Anastasia because he felt he was a Seeker, and with her out of the way, he could secure a point for nomination for the role. There were three stages at which one was brought to the attention of the council. Birth, one’s teens, and one’s thirtieth year. Only then could the confirmation be deemed official. But many Seekers faced tasks along the way, which only enhanced their chances of proving to the council who they truly were. After that, it was rumored, the locket would be presented.
Except Anastasia was already wearing it.
Or perhaps Birdie had been mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t the Seeker’s locket after all, but a piece of jewelry given to the girl by a friend for her birthday.
“Birdie?” Oscar said.
Birdie snapped her head his way. “I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose.”
“Then no.” Oscar shook his head. “I can’t let her go. I’ve lost so much, Birdie. I can’t lose her too.” He walked to her, placed his arms on her shoulders, and held her gaze.
The stale scent of remorse hung in the room. Echoes of loss, regret, and what-might-have-beens vibrated the walls.
But Birdie had no time for nostalgia.
She wriggled free of him. “It’s the only way, Oscar. You don’t know these people. We have to follow through with our promise.”
“We can go to the police, tell them everything.”
She railed at him. “Tell them what? Think, Oscar. This is a world that conflicts with the one you know. If you do anything of the sort, there is no telling what they will do to both our girls.” She narrowed her eyes, slicing the air with her assertion. “That’s not an option.”
Oscar slapped his knees. “Well, then, there’s only one thing left to do.”
Birdie looked at the father of her daughter.
“I’m going with you.”
He strolled out of the room, cell phone in hand.
Birdie’s mouth hung open as a wave of Old Spice followed Oscar out the door.
Chapter 19
Chance was loading my bags into Birdie’s car when my grandfather banged through the screen door.
Gramps winked at me. I was about to say something, but he held up a finger. That’s when I noticed the phone covering his ear.
“Yeah, Roger? Listen, buddy, I need a favor.” He slipped around the burning bush and disappeared behind the house.
Birdie soared through the door next, her head swinging every which way. She saw me and said, “Where is he?”
Not knowing what was going on, and not wanting to get bumped farther up Gramps’s shit list, I said, “Who?”
Birdie waltzed toward me. “You couldn’t have waited until your mother was home, hmm? You had to tell him?”
“Whoa.” I put my hands up, blocking her aggression. “I had no idea he didn’t know about Mom. I can’t imagine why you never told him, Birdie.”
“What?” She prickled, smacked her lips together, then sucked in some air. “I did tell him, but you don’t know the man like I do. He’s bullheaded, and…”
She must have seen the confused look on my face, because she flung her arm in the air and said, “Never mind. I’ll explain later.”
Couldn’t wait for that conversation.
She rushed off toward the front of the house. I silently rooted for Gramps.
Chance jogged over to me. “Birdie have any bags?”
“Upstairs, I’m sure. I’ll help you.”
We came down with Birdie’s suitcases a few minutes later, and walked into a heated argument.
“You are not coming.” Birdie looked as if fire would shoot out her ears at any moment.
“Yes I am. It’s all arranged.” Gramps pivoted to Chance. “Hey, Chance, set those down and give me a hand with the bags you put away, will you? We won’t be taking Birdie’s car.”
Chance started for the Cadillac.
Birdie said, “You will do no such thing, young man.”
Chance hesitated, looked from one to the other.
Gramps pooh-poohed Birdie with a flick of his wrist. “Pay no attention to her.”
Chance trotted forward and opened the car door.
“Chance, who do you think could disrupt your life more?” Birdie asked this from where she stood on the back patio.
Poor Chance didn’t know what the hell to do. His gaze darted to my grandmother, and then beyond. My guess was he was looking at the back step, probably recalling Leo wrapped up like an egg roll the night before. He shut the door.
“Come on, boy, you’re not afraid of an old lady, are you?” This from my grandfather.
All three Geraghty Girls reeled at Gramps. It was fifty degrees and overcast, but Chance started glistening like he was sitting in a sauna.
I waved an imaginary flag. “All right, that’s enough. All of you.” I headed for Chance, passed a stern look from Birdie to Gramps along the way, and hissed, “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”
Chance shook his head and smirked.
I reached up to kiss him. “I appreciate you helping out at the asylum, but I think they all need a medication adjustment. Probably best if you go.”
“You sure?” He shifted his eyes past me. “You’re outnumbered.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got this.”
He squeezed me tight, said he’d miss me, and I told him I’d call as soon as I was able. I watched him head down and around the driveway of the bed-and-breakfast and toward the cottage where his truck was parked.
He waved as he drove off.
A stretch limousine rolled into the driveway then. The driver got out and said, “Pickup for the airport?”
“We’ll just be a few minutes.” I til
ted my head toward Birdie’s car. “But you can grab the bags in the backseat.” I ran back to the house.
Birdie and Gramps were still bickering.
“Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
Gramps jumped in to plead his case before my grandmother had a chance to open her mouth. “I’ve arranged for transportation for all of us to go to Ireland.”
Birdie crossed her arms, darted her eyes to Gramps. “You’re not going.” Her eyes slid to me. “He could jeopardize everything. There’s no telling how he could bungle this.”
I wasn’t sure why Birdie objected to Gramps’s tagging along, but I suspected I didn’t want to know, that it was between the two of them.
“She’s my daughter too,” Gramps said.
The hurt in his eyes was heartbreaking, but there was determination there too. Was it redemption he was chasing? For what? He couldn’t have prevented what had happened to my mother any more than the rest of us, my father included. It wasn’t right to leave him in the dark on this. Gramps loved us—all of us—and he’d always been there, whenever or wherever we needed him.
Birdie said, “He knows nothing about the council, about how any of this works.”
I rolled my eyes. “To be fair, Birdie, neither did I until a few months ago.”
“I have money. You never know when that will come in handy,” Gramps said, flapping a wad of bills in front of Birdie’s face.
“He has a point there.” Bribe money. Hell, maybe we could buy Mom’s freedom if things went sour.
Birdie said, “That won’t do us any good.”
Gramps remained composed. He looked like a man sitting on a royal flush. “Well, then how about a plane navigated by a pilot guaranteed to have no affiliation with the people who kidnapped our daughter? Not to mention the nut who came for our granddaughter.”
That clinched it for me. Having been hunted more times than I cared to count, I was all for flying friendly skies and getting to the island with all functioning body parts still attached. I looked at Birdie. “He goes.”
I whistled to Thor, who galloped to my side. Gramps decided to quit while he was ahead and strutted away.
“Excuse me? What makes you think you get to decide?” Birdie poked my shoulder.
I shrugged. “Easy, Grandma. I’m the Seeker. I’ve got a sword and everything.” I grinned and kissed her cheek.
“Well, I’m the Mage, and you need me too. All four corners, right? So what if I decide not to go?” She raised one threatening eyebrow.
Fiona piped up, “Actually, Birdie, you aren’t technically the Mage.”
I whipped my head around. “What?”
Birdie glowered at her sister.
“Who is?” I asked.
“Technically, it was Tallulah who was confirmed,” Fiona said.
Birdie flashed Fiona an inflamed look.
I was flabbergasted. I stepped directly in front of Birdie. “Oh, come on, are you going to tell me that you’d let that bitch take your place?” I grabbed the purse from my grandmother’s shoulder. “Please.” I trekked toward the limo.
“I still don’t like this,” Birdie called from behind me.
“Protest noted,” I said. “Now get in the car.”
Except for the driver’s rigid disapproval of traveling with a dog the size of a pony, the ride to the airport was quiet and uneventful.
Birdie made a few phone calls, explaining the change in plans to whomever it concerned. She jotted down notes here and there and made assurances that we were still on schedule, whatever that meant.
Gramps was silently watching the scenery fly by, and Lolly and Fiona were indulging in the minibar.
Over an hour later, the sun was shining brightly as the limousine wove around a bend and into the small airport parking lot. Gramps went inside to “take care of paperwork,” and Birdie followed. I clipped a leash on to Thor so he could drain his breakfast.
A man came to collect our bags. I dug around for the maps Badb had given me. I didn’t want those in the belly of the aircraft. I was hoping to learn more about the council, the cauldron, Tallulah, and her grandson—perhaps even formulate some sort of plan—while we were in flight.
I also couldn’t wait to hear the Mage story. If Fiona insisted it was Birdie, yet the council had appointed Tallulah, what had happened?
As much as I was dreading this trip and the daunting task that lay ahead of us (because it was the only thing standing in the way of my mother’s freedom), I had to admit I was looking forward to a showdown with the almighty Tallulah.
I suspected perhaps Birdie was too. That boosted my confidence, knowing that we were on the same side, had the same goals in mind, even the same enemies. It wasn’t just my quest this time, it was a family affair.
A custodial twinge clawed at my ribs, a need to safeguard my grandmother from the demons she might face as she confronted her past.
How would she handle it?
How would I?
The engine of a plane rocketed to life, bursting my thought bubble, and I watched a small jet drift down the runway, nudging its way into position.
Gramps came out of the building and said, “Everybody ready?”
Birdie and I shared a look.
“Yes,” we said.
Chapter 20
An hour into the flight, both Thor and Oscar had fallen asleep, upside down, with their tongues dangling over their cheeks. Birdie, her sisters, and her granddaughter were huddled around a table, maps spread out in the center. Birdie was enraptured by the transformation in her granddaughter. The girl seemed energized, but there was something else. It took Birdie a moment to discover what it was, but then she knew.
The light that had been switched off so long ago was back on.
Anastasia was explaining what the goddess had told her. “So the red circles indicate where the cauldron had been sheltered over the years, peacefully, and this”—she pointed to the location of Trinity College—“is where it was taken when it was last stolen, just before the Great Famine.”
The girl grabbed a bottle of water from the table and swigged it. Then she questioned Birdie and her sisters. “So what do you guys think? Any chance it’s there again?”
Fiona said, “I suppose anything is possible, but it was a professor who stole it then. A madman, really. He moved it often, hiding it all around the campus, disguising the cauldron in plain sight.”
“Blasphemous,” Lolly said, sipping a whiskey sour.
Fiona continued, “He even put it on display for a time in the library.”
“So what happened?” Anastasia asked.
Birdie stood, stretched. “The Seeker of the era was nearly worn out, when she finally tracked him down.”
“What do you mean?” Anastasia asked, looking nervous.
“It was a long journey, six years total,” Birdie said.
Lolly said, “Many lives lost.”
Anastasia swallowed hard. “That long. Why?”
“For starters, he was the Mage,” Fiona said.
“And he had managed to convince the Guardian and the Warrior to join forces with him in his despicable plan,” Birdie said.
Lolly said, “Only the Seeker remained true to her cause.”
“Is that why there’s no mention of the Mage in the Blessed Book?”
Birdie sat back down. She clasped her granddaughter’s hands. “Yes. That was your great-grandmother’s way of locking up the most painful stretch of her life. You see, it was her cousin who was Seeker. The entire ordeal ravaged your grandmother. The eviction from her land, watching her neighbors, loved ones, wither away and die, the emigration from the ancient soil—it was a lot to bear.”
Anastasia looked at her shoes. Kicked the table. “Six years.” She stood, went to gaze out the window.
Birdie felt her heart tug at her granddaughter’s obvious worry. She wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, that she was strong, that her destiny dictated she had to be. But the girl ha
d to come to that conclusion on her own.
“She wasn’t you, Stacy,” Fiona said.
“But she was a Seeker,” the girl replied, her back to them.
“That is all she was. You are much, much more. Your talent, your abilities, surpass any I have ever seen,” Lolly said.
“Plus, you have mastered the gift of necromancy, become a leader for your familiar, honed your spell crafting. The visions, the dreams, you understand them now, even learned to tune in to the physical alerts your body sends to you.” Birdie paused to see if that had sunk in.
“I haven’t had any visions or dreams lately, and only one spirit has visited me.”
“Hecate’s skirt, child, you’ve been too busy summoning the goddess. Literally.” Birdie watched as the corners of her granddaughter’s mouth curled up.
Anastasia turned, smiling. “I guess I did do that, didn’t I?”
The Geraghty sisters nodded.
The girl stepped forward. “What I don’t understand is why the Mage stole the cauldron.”
“Greed,” Birdie said.
Fiona elaborated. “Ireland was a conquered country. It fell under the rule of the British government, became a member of the United Kingdom in 1801.”
Birdie said, “The Celtic grazing lands, held by the same families for centuries, were seized, colonized, and carved up by the new government. Lofty rents were enforced, along with exorbitant taxes.”
“And the money,” Fiona said, “was spent on England.”
“Farmsteads shrunk as middlemen began managing properties for landlords,” Birdie said. “More parcels meant more money to line their pockets.”
Lolly said, “And more tax dollars sent to the crown. Six million pounds in 1842 alone.”
Anastasia gasped.
“Evicted from their pastureland and forced to farm smaller patches, the Irish searched for a more suitable crop that would feed their families in tighter quarters,” Fiona said.
“So they turned to the potato,” said Birdie. “It became the sole source of nourishment.”
Emerald Isle (A Stacy Justice Mystery) Page 12
