“Mom. Stop. It’s too much.”
“Too much? Why Maggie, it’s barely enough.”
≈
“Our house looks so sad,” said Maggie, as Dr. Black parked her new hybrid in the driveway alongside the log house. “My dad built it with his bare hands. It’s not one of those kits you buy in pieces and assemble like a puzzle. It’s real. He designed it, drew it, and then measured, stripped, cut, and lifted every one of these logs.”
The photo albums were stored away in a bottom cupboard, but she’d seen the pictures of the house in all its stages from conception to finish. Seventeen years ago, this corner of Hawk’s Claw Lane was part of the vast pine forest that flanked the back and side yards. Seventeen years ago, John Taylor had been a robust young father—her father, no matter what her mother said.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” Dr. Black said. “This must be incredibly hard for you. Try to remain positive. Perhaps, picture your father standing on the porch the way he was when—”
Maggie shuddered and Dylan poked the professor in the shoulder, silencing her. “Dead brilliant,” he whispered. The last time John had stood on that porch, he’d saved her from the priest. It had been an amazing feat for a man in his condition and could quite possibly be the last memory she would keep of him.
“Come on.” Dylan opened the car door and took her hand. As she stepped out, Daphne pulled her pickup truck in behind them and flashed the lights. Maggie smiled and waved. The coven had volunteered to set up a protective circle and spend the last night with her before her journey. It made her feel as if she was one of them—initiated or not. Whether they felt responsible for the events that had transformed her life really didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were now her friends.
Remy greeted her at the door, his tail drumming against the wooden railings in a familiar rhythm. “Ah Remy, I missed you.” The beat quickened.
“Has he been alone all day?” Daphne asked, as she petted the vibrating black lab.
“No. He was with the neighbours. My mom asked them to bring him home, so I could see him before— Oh my god. What is she thinking? I can’t go to Ireland. I can’t leave my dog. Who will look after him? We can’t just expect the neighbours to—”
“Relax. He’ll be perfectly fine and waiting for you when you come home,” said Estrada. He stood at the counter unpacking a bag full of Thai food.
“What do you know about dogs? Do you even like dogs?” asked Sensara.
“Of course I do. Who doesn’t like dogs?” Grabbing a handful of bone-shaped biscuits from the glass canister on the counter, he knelt down. “Come here, buddy.” Remy ran immediately to Estrada and crunched down the cookies. “See. He likes me,” he said, and patted the top of his head.
“He likes cookies, not bald Mexicans.” Sensara smiled coyly.
Maggie’s mouth dropped. He was wearing a black toque and looked incredibly handsome. Obviously, it was the priestess who did not like bald Mexicans. Nevertheless, her teasing worked. Estrada grabbed her from behind, hooked his arm around her waist and scooped up her long black hair. “Dylan, find me a razor. The Priestess wants her head shaved. She’s goin’ Sinead.”
“I am not.” She pulled away and whacked him across the chest, then yanked him back and kissed him as if there was no one else in the room.
“Shall I light a fire?” asked Dylan.
“There appears to be one going already,” said Daphne.
“Aye. It’s heating up in here,” said Dylan, whose cheeks had taken on their usual pink tinge.
“There’s kindling and wood beside the fireplace,” said Maggie, who couldn’t bear to see his embarrassment.
As Dylan dashed from the room, Dr. Black popped the cork on a bottle of red wine. “You know, Maggie. You don’t have to worry about Remy. He’s a special kind of dog.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, as she spooned steaming red shrimp curry on top of pineapple rice. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelled the food.
“Well, it was Remy who brought you to us in the beginning, wasn’t it? He obviously has a role in all of this.”
“Yeah. He freaked when he heard Dylan’s bagpipes. It sounded so creepy coming out of the trees over the lake like that. Weirder still, I was reading Macbeth and thinking about witches and suddenly there you were.”
“What are these, so withered, and so wild in their attire, that look not like th’inhabitants o’ th’ earth and yet are on it?” said Estrada.
“How do you remember quotes like that?” asked Maggie.
He shrugged. “I read.”
“Our high priest has literary leanings,” said Sensara. “It’s one of his many secrets.”
“I thought we looked resplendent that night,” said Dr. Black. Ignoring Sensara’s dig, she dabbed the corners of her lips with a paper napkin.
Remy, who was wandering around the table following the scent of food, dropped his head in Daphne’s lap. “You know, Maggie, I could take care of Remy for a while,” she said. “At least until your dad gets out of the hospital. That way your mom wouldn’t have to worry about him. He could come to work with me. I’m outside all the time. I’d like it. I think he would too.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” she said, as she scratched Remy’s ears. “I love dogs. You wouldn’t mind staying with me, would you, boy.”
“That would be great.”
“It’s settled then,” said Daphne. “As long as your mom agrees. We could take him along when we drop you off at the airport.”
“At four in the morning.”
“Don’t fret,” said Dylan. “I fly back and forth to Scotland all the time.” He was seated close beside her. Reaching over, he rubbed her back. The warmth of his hand felt so good she leaned into him and settled her head against his shoulder. “A bit boring is all. Ten hours to London. Be sure to bring along a good book.”
For several moments they ate in silence. Then Estrada lifted Sensara’s hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Perhaps, we should retire to the living room,” suggested Sylvia.
“Not yet,” said Daphne. “I have a small parting gift for Maggie.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a white linen cloth. “Here you go.”
Inside was a beautiful crystal mounted in silver knots and dangling from a silver chain. “A pendulum,” said Maggie.
“Have you ever used one?”
“No. I’ve just read about them.”
“Well, I’ll show you then. You want it to capture your energy, so hold it in your hand for several seconds.” Maggie was sure she could feel faint throbbing from the moment it touched her palm.
“Now, balance your elbow on the table and hold the tip of the chain very still in your right hand. Perfect. Let the crystal fall straight down and hold your left palm open below it.” Maggie opened her hand and then closed it, embarrassed by the scars on her palms. “Don’t worry. Crystals can do many amazing things, including healing.”
Maggie looked at Daphne with her spiky hair and cheerful smile and thought how incredible it was that she’d made friends with these witches, who were just the most wonderful kind and caring people in the whole world. She opened her hand.
“Now ask the pendulum to show you what an affirmative answer looks like. You can ask aloud or in your head.” Maggie asked silently and the crystal swung in a great circle around and around. “Fabulous. You’re a natural. Now ask it to show you a negative answer.” The crystal stopped midair and then moved rapidly straight back and forth. “You have the gift.”
“You do,” said Sensara. “It took me a long time to get my pendulum to respond with that kind of animation. You can use it to answer yes or no questions, but also to find things, like places on a map or lost articles. Estrada used it to find you.”
“You did?” He winked. So, that’s how he knew where she was. “Could it find lost grandparents?”
“Perhaps. But these tools work along with destiny, so if they don’t
appear directly, don’t blame the pendulum,” said Sensara. “The universe might have something else in store for you, another lesson on the journey.” Maggie nodded. “I have a little something for you too.” She took a small blue vial from her bag and handed it to Maggie.
“Frankincense.”
“Yes, it’s good for many things: grief, anxiety, depression, fear, loneliness. But most of all, it’s known for bringing peace and joy.”
“Huh,” said Maggie. Frankincense was one of the three gifts the wise men brought the Christ child, she remembered. She opened the bottle and inhaled. “It smells weird.”
“My gift’s a little weird too,” said Dr. Black.
“Oh?”
“My gift is a friend—your guardian in Ireland. Primrose is the woman I trust most in the world. I can think of no one I would rather entrust my daughter to than her.”
“Thank you. But this is too much. I hope you didn’t all get me gifts.”
“I’ve never seen a girl yet who didn’t like getting gifts.” Estrada was just finishing his second helping of pineapple rice and shrimp curry. “My gift is really for me.”
“Qué sorpresa,” mocked Sensara. What a surprise.
“Ah, I love it when you speak my language,” he said, messing up her hair. She punched him as he rose from the table and walked toward Maggie. He rubbed his hands slowly together, then reached behind her ear and produced a small paperback book. “Yeats is one of my favourite poets, but this is all about Irish faeries. I expect you to find me at least one while you’re there.”
She read the cover as she accepted the lovingly battered book. “The Celtic Twilight by W.B. Yeats. Oh, I love his poems too.”
“I love his faeries,” confessed Estrada. “They’re nothing like Queen Mab and those twittering fireflies Shakespeare wrote about. Irish faeries are much like us, only better because they can do real magic. They’re ghostly gods who live in a kind of parallel world of music and dancing and feasting and lovemaking.” His voice grew husky as he moved behind Sensara and rubbed her neck. “Your mission, Maggie Taylor, is to find faeries, and when you do, you must take me to meet them.”
“Estrada’s been trying to see faeries for years,” said Sensara.
“Then, finding faeries is my quest,” said Maggie. “Faeries and grandparents. I wonder which will be easier.”
Once everyone had eaten their fill, they cleaned up together, and then wandered drowsily into the living room with another bottle of wine. Daphne lit candles, while Estrada plunked down in the corner of the sectional and pulled Sensara onto his lap.
She pulled off his toque and flung it across the room. “I suppose I’ll just have to get used to it,” she said, running her hands over his head. “It does feel like velvet.” He pulled her close and kissed her.
Maggie tried not to look, as no one else paid them any attention. She wondered if they were always this amorous. She was jealous and knew it. If only Dylan could be more affectionate and less shy.
As the others settled back into the soft floral cushions, Maggie sat on the rug in front of the fire and petted Remy. She had never been away from him and hoped he would understand.
Startled by the sudden chime of the doorbell, she hopped up and crossed the room with the black dog at her heels, while Dylan hovered behind her in the doorway.
“Bastian,” she said, as she opened the door. “I was hoping to see you before I left. Come in.” She closed the door behind him. “We’ve just eaten, but would you like a glass of wine?”
“Oh, no thanks,” he said, his gaze shifting quickly from Maggie to her champions in the other room. “I’ll come back later. You’ve got company.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll introduce you.”
“We met last week,” he whispered. “And I’m coming down with a sore throat.”
“That doesn’t matter. Come and join us anyway,” she said, and clasped his hand. “These people are healers. And you know you’re like a brother to me.”
“I feel the same. Like you’re my sister, I mean. But, I’d just like to speak to you privately for a minute, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Come into the kitchen. It’s where we always meet anyway.” She dragged him through the door with such intensity he tripped over Remy, who was circling his feet. The dog yipped and Bastian nearly fell.
“Jeez Remy. Are you okay?” The lab answered by sitting perfectly at his feet.
“He doesn’t sit like that for me,” she said.
“He’s just after this.” He pulled a wrapped steak bone out of his jacket pocket, ripped off the plastic and slipped it into the dog’s gentle mouth. Turning to the sink, he washed his hands while he continued talking. “Your mom mentioned that you’re going to Ireland. I was hoping we could exchange emails so we could keep in touch.”
“Yeah, for sure. This is my hotmail address.” She scribbled it on a piece of paper and set it on the counter. Hey, I just thought of something. With my dad in the hospital, are you laid off?” He shrugged. “Are you going to be okay? Financially, I mean? Do you have other work?”
“I’ll survive.” As he dried his hands slowly with the towel, she got the feeling he hadn’t finished what he’d come for.
“You seem upset. Is everything okay?”
“That’s typical. You’re worried about me while you’re the one who’s got some lunatic after you.” He picked up the scrap of paper and tucked it in his pocket. “That bloody priest. That day he punched me, I should have finished him. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Not really. He just tied me up and kept me drugged for a while. I had a rather long sleep.”
He ran both hands through his short hair and clasped them on his head. “Jesus! The next time I see him, I’ll finish him.”
“Bastian. Don’t…” She shook her head. “You’re scaring me.”
“All right, Maggie?” She turned at the sound of Dylan’s voice, then saw the look that passed between the two men and shivered. Like a pair of angry guard dogs, she hoped they would not end up devouring each other in their frenzy to protect her.
As he pushed past Dylan, Bastian elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hey, watch it.” The front door slammed and Dylan came to her. “What was that all about?”
“I’m not sure. I think he’s upset about my dad. Bastian’s like one of the family, so whatever happens to us, happens to him too.”
Glad to finally be alone with Dylan, she wrapped her arms around his neck, cuddled against his shoulder, and closed her eyes. Carpe diem. Hours tied down in a cabin wondering if she would live or die, her father’s poor prognosis, and her mother’s startling confession—everything she’d experienced in the last few days had convinced her that seizing the moment was the only thing to do. While stroking the back of his neck, she tilted his head forward and kissed him on the lips. Easily aroused, he opened his mouth and kissed her back, perhaps feeling the same urge to gather rosebuds.
“I have something for you,” he said, when the long kiss ended. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small jeweller’s box.
“Oh! What is it?” She slipped off the pink bow and opened it. Inside was a necklace with a stone heart.
“It’s rose quartz. They say the stone opens your heart to love.” He blushed.
“Thank you, Dylan. It’s beautiful.” She hugged him, and then kissed him again. “I love kissing you. Stay with me tonight. I don’t want to sleep alone. I want to sleep with you.”
“But your mother—”
“Even if she comes home, she won’t notice. Besides, she was young once. She knows what it’s like—”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, and pulled away. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“Why? I thought you cared about me.”
“I do care about you, but—”
“But what? Jeez Dylan, what’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
&nbs
p; “I’ve never seen a boy that would turn down sex.”
He rolled his eyes and sneered. “What kind of boys have you been seeing?”
Wrapping her arms around him, she drew him in tightly. “I just really want to be with you, and this is my last night here for who knows how long.” She kissed his neck. “I thought you wanted me.”
“Look, Maggie. When I have sex with a girl, it will be because I know we both love each other, not because one of us, or both of us, are scared or horny or under some kind of spell.”
“Spell! What? Has everybody read my diary?” Feeling suddenly exposed, she pushed away from him.
He shrugged. “Well, yes. Your mother was worried. She thought it might help us to find you.”
“Jesus, Dylan. I conjured that spell weeks ago. Things have changed since then. Now we really care about each other.”
“Do we, Maggie? I know I care for you. I’m just not so sure it’s me that you love.”
“Oh, I get it. You still think I’m in love with him,” she said, gesturing towards Estrada in the other room.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure you’ve ever been in love with anyone.” Stepping away, he leaned against the counter, hands on his hips. “And like I said, I don’t want to have sex until I’m sure the girl I love, loves me back.”
“You sound like him.”
“Who?”
“Father Grace.”
“I sound like the priest that tried to rape you?” His face burned scarlet.
“That’s exactly what he said to me that night on the porch.”
“Why? Did you want to be with him too? Is that why he tried to rape you?”
She raised her hand to slap him again, as she had that night, but was caught by the truth in his words. She had wanted to be with the priest. “How can you even think a thing like that?”
“Because I’ve been watching you, Maggie. When I first met you, I thought you were different. I thought you were—” he paused searching for words in his anger— “I don’t know…innocent. But, you’ve changed.” He stamped out of the room and left her standing alone in the kitchen with her mouth open and her heart beating so fast she thought it might burst.
To Charm a Killer (Hollystone Mysteries Book 1) Page 18
