When the sun rose the next morning after a long, sleepless night, Poppy knew what she had to do. She packed an overnight bag and loaded her car, heading out of town before the town awoke.
In morning light, the emerald hills off the California coast were dramatic. She could see why her ancestors had settled here after leaving their home in Ireland. This land echoed Cork’s green fields, the changeable ocean, the magic in the air. It surrounded her, was a part of her.
Her grandmother grew up in the house bordering the forest by Cloch Chroí, but passed it on to her daughter once her husband died. And when Poppy’s own parents decided to retire in Ireland, they’d given it to her.
She loved her parents and spoke with them often, but the bond she shared with her grandmother surpassed all other familial ties. Nana said it had something to do with their former lives, and Poppy believed her. Her grandmother was the wisest woman she’d ever known. If anyone could help her figure out how to fix this mess, it was her.
She pulled into her grandma’s driveway an hour later. From the bamboo shutters on the windows to the straw umbrellas shading lounge chairs sunk in the sand, the modest house on the beach fit her.
“Right on time, Honey. Breakfast is ready,” her grandma said.
“Nana.” The relief poured through her. Leaving the bags in her car, she sprinted up the porch and into her grandmother’s arms.
“There, there.” She rubbed Poppy’s back briskly. “We’ll figure it out.”
Poppy wasn’t surprised by her grandma’s words. Nana was wise in ways that Poppy didn’t understand. She hadn’t been gifted with sight like Nana.
“We’ll get your bags later. Let’s get some food into our bellies while we talk it over.”
The house was relatively small compared to the other homes along this stretch of beach, but it was just enough for her. It was bright, airy, and once inside, it felt bigger than it appeared. The kitchen was quaint, but welcoming, its bright paint reflecting light from a large bay window in the breakfast nook.
Her grandma topped french toast with syrup before adding two strips of bacon from a pile cooling next to the oven. “Better eat up while it’s hot.” She winked.
“How did you know I was coming?”
“Oh, well. The same way I always know.” She smiled.
Poppy cut her food into bite-sized pieces, but didn’t start eating until her grandma sat across from her. The warmed syrup pricked her taste buds. She moaned at her first bite of heaven. “Why are these so good?”
“Because I added a little magic.”
Poppy raised a brow before inspecting her food. “You did? Want to share that ingredient?”
A secret smile crested her wrinkled cheek. “Maybe someday.”
They’d had this conversation more times than she could count. Someday she’d figure out the extra ingredient. “Thanks for making these.”
“It’s my pleasure, Sweeting. I don’t get to cook for others very often.”
“You aren’t lonely here are you?” Why hadn’t she asked that before now? Was she so selfish, so wrapped up in her own life that she wasn’t able to see the needs of someone she loved?
“Oh, now. None of that,” Nana scolded. “You have enough on your mind without adding misplaced guilt to the mix. I’m perfectly happy here. I have friends. I have a life. I could use a great grandchild or two, but first we need to fix the matter of their father.” Poppy’s fork clattered on her plate. “Deep breath, Dear.”
Poppy’s hand shook as she reached for a glass of orange juice. “So, you know?”
Her lips pinched. “It’s not hard to tell. You’re up here after All Hallows Eve on your 28th year. I’d have to know something went wrong.”
“But I think you know more than that.”
“Perhaps,” she nodded thoughtfully.
“Did you see it? What happened?”
“Of course.”
Her hand shook as she set down the cup. “How could this have happened? It wasn’t meant to be this way. The prophecy—”
“Prophecies turn out the way they’re supposed to.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her grandma dabbed her lips with a white napkin before pushing out of her chair. “Come with me. There’s something I want you to see.”
Poppy didn’t question her. She rose, immediately following her grandmother into one of the small spare bedrooms that doubled as an office.
Her grandma opened the door to the tiny closet, the hinges squeaking from misuse, before she pulled out a large leather-bound book.
She couldn’t remember ever seeing it, but for some reason, it felt familiar to her. “What is that?”
A wrinkled hand caressed the front. “This book holds all the important visions I’ve had in my life.”
Poppy’s eyes latched on to the cover. That book not only held secrets of her grandmother’s life and every one in her family, but could easily hold secrets the world wasn’t ready for. Her grandmother was the most powerful seer of her time. No one, not even in her mother’s generation, nor hers, compared. “Why have I never seen it before?”
“Because you weren’t ready.”
Her eyes slid to her grandmother’s, the light green color identical. “I don’t know if I’m ready now.”
A chuckle eased from her lips. “You aren’t. At least not for most of it. I don’t know if you ever will be. But your prophecy, the one about last night, is in here.”
The page was bookmarked, and Poppy wondered how long her grandma knew she’d be coming.
Poppy scanned the familiar words, written in the looping script. She read it slowly the second time through, but there wasn’t anything new here. It was the same exact prophecy she’d memorized. The one she’d been thinking of her whole life.
“I don’t understand.” She looked up questioningly. “There’s nothing new there.”
“Read it one more time.”
Her eyes slipped over the words, instead of reading them, she felt them. Deep within her.
‘Til the next full moon is all the time you have together to forge your union or lose it forever. If hearts aren’t joined by the bright circle’s light, then surrender your love to the dark of night.
The words sent chills through her. The full moon was five days away. She had five days to find her mate, to make him accept her. Or else all was lost.
“There’s not enough time,” she whispered.
“For?”
“To find him.”
“What makes you think you haven’t already?”
She pushed away from the wall. “Drake’s not the one. He’s not magic. He hasn’t been marked by the moon.”
Her grandmother’s head cocked. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve known him for years. I think that’s something I’d know. Besides, I told him the same thing. He didn’t admit to having magic.”
“Only you will know who it is. You have to decide.”
Her lips firmed. “It’s not that simple.”
Her grandma’s mouth opened, but she closed it slowly, shaking her head.
“What?”
Her grandma tapped her lips, hesitating. “I can’t say more. This is for you to decide, for you to work through. Go home. See what happens. Nothing can be accomplished while you’re here. Time is going by, and you don’t want to waste it. I love you. You’ll figure this out.”
Her grandmother’s faith in her did little to sooth her worry. She didn’t know if she could figure this out. Didn’t know if there was enough time.
But what else could she do? She couldn’t run from this, couldn’t hide. If her mate was out there, he was around her home, and that’s where she needed to be as well.
If Drake screwed up her fate, she needed to trust that fate would step in once again to fix the mess.
All hope was not lost.
Chapter 3
The Witching Moon: The Witches of Redwood Falls - Book 1 Page 4
