The Connelly Curse

by Lily Velez

  “Back then, all nature of creatures could leave the Otherworld as they pleased, and countless tales of the Old Wars tell of battles between man and demon. In this case, the Fomorians were commanding the warriors like puppets, hoping to claim Ireland for the Dark Lord province by province. Refusing to let that happen, Sétna gathered his most trusted allies and embarked upon a quest into the Otherworld to retrieve…” Jack traced his fingertip down the page. “That’s right. Now I remember. It was called The Eternal Flame and was the only thing that could expel the Fomorians from the bodies they’d possessed.”

  I sat up, immediately at attention. “Did they find it?”

  “They did, and when they returned to their homeland, a great battle erupted between Sétna’s men and the possessed warriors. With The Eternal Flame, Sétna was able to free the warriors of the Fomorians’ influence and send the demons back to the forsaken lands, thus saving the kingdom from darkness and returning its rightful ruler, Airgetmar, to the throne. In gratitude, the king threw a feast in Sétna’s honor and bestowed the highest title at the time upon him, so that all would know that he was Ireland’s savior.”

  “Except there’s a problem,” Connor said. “There’s no proof that half the kings we learned about growing up ever existed. This could be no more than another myth with no substance.”

  “Maybe,” Jack said. “But right now, it’s the only lead we have. The fact of the matter is that Alistair, using Professor Monroe as his host, is breaking open the Thirteen Seals, and he’ll continue to do so until all the prisoners have been released. As it currently stands, we’re powerless against him. He’s stronger than our magic and stronger even than the Hallowstone. But if we don’t try to stop him, then the Dark Lord is free to walk the earth, and that could mean the end of everything.”

  “What are you proposing then?” I asked.

  “I’m proposing,” Jack responded, closing the book with a sigh, “that we take a trip to the Otherworld.”

  9

  Scarlet

  “The Otherworld,” I repeated setting my tea down on an end table. “Where the forsaken lands are.” And thereby where every imaginable demon lived.

  “To be fair, the Otherworld is a place of many lands,” Jack answered. “There’s the abode of the gods, the realm of the dead, the kingdoms of the immortal races, and then yes, there are the forsaken lands Underneath, where demons dwell.”

  “So correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have to, uhm, die to get there?”

  “I’d want to go out in a blaze of glory personally,” Lucas commented as he called his cards back to his hands. He shuffled them before resuming with his flourishes. It was strange how I found the click of the cards mildly therapeutic.

  Jack set aside the book detailing the story of Sétna’s quest in the Otherworld. “Traditionally, there are three ways to enter the Otherworld. The first, as you’ve guessed, is through death. The second is to be spirited away by immortals.”

  When we had returned to Rosalyn Bay after the battle at Uisneach, shortly after I’d visited my dad in the hospital, Jack had given me a sprig of St. John’s Wort to keep in my pocket with the instruction that I wasn’t, under any circumstances whatsoever, to remove it until a minute after midnight.

  “It’ll keep you safe from The Wild Hunt,” he’d said, describing a wicked cavalcade of supernatural creatures that descended upon Ireland every Samhain with the express intent of abducting humans and taking them to the Otherworld.

  Thinking on it now, I wondered how many poor men and women had met such an awful fate as that. Did they long for their homes and loved ones? Did they even remember their former lives?

  “And the third way,” Jack said, “is through solar gates hidden inside passage tombs. Passage tombs were constructed with precise astronomical alignments. When they become illuminated at the first light of a solstice or equinox, they look like celestial passageways, hence the term ‘solar gates.’ People believed that on these holiest of days, it was possible to walk through the tomb and enter the Otherworld on the other end.”

  Unfortunately, the last equinox had been almost two months ago, and the next solstice wasn’t until December. The Wild Hunt wouldn’t come again for another year. And obviously dying wasn’t an option.

  “Is there a mysterious fourth way to enter the Otherworld?” I asked.

  “When you’re a witch, it opens a few more doors,” Jack said. He pulled up the long sleeve of his V-neck shirt and unfastened the watch on his left wrist. “And when you’re Marked, you just so happen to have more direct access.”

  “Are you mad?” Connor demanded. “You want to waltz into the forsaken lands, the one place in the Otherworld where you’re the most wanted witch in recent history, to find a magical ‘flame’ you’re not even sure exists so that you can use it against a demon we’re not even sure can be truly defeated?”

  “Well done, Connor,” Lucas said with mock applause. “You’ve kept up extraordinarily well this whole time. I’m sure that was very difficult for you. Would you like a gold star?”

  Connor made a flicking gesture with his hand, and in an instant, Lucas’s deck of cards erupted into flames. He let out a little yelp, dropping them to the floor, and watched on as the cards twisted and charred in the fire. The flames didn’t spread, being that they were controlled by magic, but they didn’t stop either until Lucas’s cards were reduced to ash.

  “Well, you can certainly say goodbye to your gold star after that,” Lucas quipped. Given his mellow reaction, it was safe to wager the cards weren’t one of his collectibles, most likely a simple deck he’d purchased from a corner store.

  “Going to the Otherworld may be reckless,” Jack said, “but what other choices do we have? There are only nine seals left, which means we only have nine days to stop Alistair. We might as well spend them pursuing our best chance at ending all of this.”

  “And why is it our sole responsibility?” Connor countered. “We stopped a Soul-Eater from rising. Now this? Let another clan of witches pull their weight. We’ve done enough. I say we take the matter to the new Council of Elders and let them recruit reinforcements. This isn’t our problem alone to deal with.”

  Jack hadn’t told his brothers the extent of the dark prophecy that went along with breaking the Thirteen Seals of Balor. He hadn’t told them about the future that awaited him if the Dark Lord succeeded in his plans to walk among men and rule them, that he’d be forced to help the Dark Lord consume the world with fire, that he’d be demon-kind’s reluctant savior and deadliest weapon—something I doubted the Council would be thrilled to hear.

  I wanted Jack’s brothers to know, though. They needed to know. They deserved to know. But it was his skeleton in the closet to reveal when he so chose, and I had to respect that.

  Taking the attention off Jack, I turned to Connor. “Technically, it kind of is our problem alone to deal with,” I said. “Or at least it’s mine. This is, after all, my fault, and I accept responsibility for that. So if going to the Otherworld is the only way to stop Alistair, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Actually,” Jack said. “It’s best if you stay here, all of you. This is something I plan to do on my own.”

  Whipping around, my eyes slammed into Jack’s. “What? No way. It wouldn’t be safe. Every demon who sees you will want to bring you to the Dark Lord to collect the price on your head.”

  “And what do you think they’ll do with a Daughter of Brigid? The demons resent the gods for exiling them to the forsaken lands. I have no doubt they’ll use you as a bargaining chip for their own self interests. Maybe worse.”

  A shiver rippled through me, but I ignored it. “I don’t care. That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “But it’s not one I’m willing to take. The Otherworld is no place for a witch without magic.”

  It was like a slap, and the words stung. I knew he was only stating facts, that wounding me was the furthest thing from his mind. But it still hurt. Being powerles
s made me feel so obscenely…normal. Or maybe not normal. Maybe what I really felt was insignificant, like there was little I could do to change the tides in this crisis.

  Jack seemed to register my hurt. He immediately softened his tone. “The safest place for you to be is right here.”

  “Except it’s not your decision to make,” I said. “I’m not going to ask you to clean up my mess for me. I created this problem, and I’m going to fix it. Whether you like it or not, I’m going.”

  Lucas grinned, his eyes ping-ponging back and forth between me and Jack. “A true Irish spitfire, isn’t she? It looks like you have no choice but to bring her along, Jack. She’ll probably only figure out her own way in if you don’t.”

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, as if keeping a migraine at bay. Guilt nipped at my heart. I wasn’t trying to be difficult. The last thing I wanted to do was give him a hard time, especially after what he’d recently confessed to me about his ever-present need to protect me from harm. Nonetheless, he couldn’t honestly have thought that any of us would simply sit back and let him rush headlong into the Otherworld by himself.

  “If she’s going, then I’m going too,” Connor said.

  “No,” Jack said. “No one else is going. Someone has to be here when Mam comes home this week. And given that the town’s still plagued by the damned, someone has to look after Rosalyn Bay as well.”

  “And when considering the well-being and safety of Rosalyn Bay’s townspeople, I was the first name that came to mind?”

  Jack said something in Irish under his breath. Gods, help me, most likely. He had the patience of a saint, so for it to be starting to thin, I knew Alistair’s words had to be haunting him. I knew the fate that awaited him had to be shaking him to his core.

  “Yes, Connor, I’m well aware you absolutely detest everything Rosalyn Bay stands for. Do you think you’re the first witch to loathe the idea of defending the Sightless? Why do you think so many of our kind have gone Elsewhere?

  “But we don’t live Elsewhere. We live here. And because we live here, it’s our duty to defend the Sightless against evil, just as witches have been doing for generations. Without thanks and to the great fanfare of continued persecution. Still, we do it. Because we walk a path of light, not darkness. Because we could choose to be evil, but we choose to be good.”

  There was a stabbing ache in my heart. Despite everything, Jack longed to be good. Perhaps he saw this quest to the Otherworld as a way by which he could redeem himself, as a way to prove to himself that he wasn’t slipping into darkness as Alistair had claimed he was, as even Seamus had claimed he was. I wanted to tell him he didn’t need redemption. He was already good.

  “I still think it’s a gods-awful plan,” Connor said, his mood about ten shades darker. His eyes were a storm behind his glasses. The deadly kind. “It’s not even a plan. It’s a suicide mission. So as long as you’re both aware of the likelihood that you’ll end up dead within your first twenty-four hours in the Otherworld, then bloody slán libh.” With that, he stalked out of the library.

  Lucas tutted. “I wouldn’t say ‘motivational speaker’ is in the running for Connor’s future career choices, would you?”

  Jack sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just go ahead and prepare the room for the spell.”

  “You mean we’re leaving later today?” I asked.

  “More like we’re leaving within the hour.”

  10

  Scarlet

  I wandered off to look for Connor. It probably would’ve been better to let him stew in his anger, but we needed him for the spell. More than that, I didn’t want him and Jack to part on bad terms.

  I drifted into his bedroom step by tentative step, but it became clear pretty quickly that no one was home. Ignoring my better judgment, I furthered into the space nonetheless, drawn in by a heavily populated bookcase in the corner. Upon its shelves sat weathered volumes of nineteenth-century classics. Curious if any of them were first editions, I pulled out one of the thick novels and opened it.

  When I did, something fluttered to the ground. I bent down to pick it up, my fingertips closing in on the glossy surface of a picture. I flipped it over, and Connor and the Connellys’ long-time friend Zoe Rivera, who we’d met up with in Dublin, greeted me in a selfie, though neither of them looked at the camera.

  They were too busy being absorbed in each other, foreheads pressed together with eyes shut, lips skimming over each other. The sun was behind them, gilding everything in gold, casting their skin in an ethereal, honey glow. I remembered Lucas having said the two had a colorful history. I remembered the electric tension between them every day we’d been in that underground library, searching for The Book of Fates.

  What had happened to cause the two witches in this picture, who had clearly once been so crazy about each other, to drift so far apart?

  A floorboard creaked, and I startled, dropping both the book and picture. Pivoting around with a racing heart, I realized with monumental relief that I was still alone in the room, the sound nothing more than the usual creaks and moans of a home as old as Crowmarsh. I stuck the picture back into the book, which I promptly returned to its shelf before continuing my search for Connor.

  I found him in the kitchen, his hands bracketed against the edges of the white, apron-front sink as he glared out the window.

  His dark eyes slid to the corner as I approached. His grip on the sink tightened. “What do you want, Monroe?”

  I briefly considered retreating, but no. I wasn’t going to cower away from one of Connor’s bad moods. I drew myself up. “For starters, you can drop the attitude,” I said. “I know you’re angry with me for once again endangering Jack, but it’s not like any of this was my intention.”

  He awarded me with a spectacular eye-roll, but the white in his knuckles started to fade as he loosened his grip. “Get over yourself. You think the broken portal matters to me? It was the only way to save Jack. You could’ve broken open a thousand portals for all I care.”

  I was surprised by the relief that overcame me, like a weight lifting from my heart.

  “What bothers me is that you didn’t tell us about your father sooner.” He faced me then, loosely crossing his arms as he leaned against the sink. “You’re a part of this family now. We can’t afford to keep secrets from each other.”

  It was, by far, the nicest thing Connor had ever said to me, so it took me a moment to fully register that he’d actually spoken it. Of course, then I remembered the newest secret I was keeping on Jack’s behalf, the one about that vile prophecy. It was hard to meet Connor’s eyes and not tell him everything, especially since I knew how much he loved Jack. The confession nearly spilled from my mouth right then and there as I tripped over my guilt.

  Don’t do it, Scarlet.

  I’d take a conversational detour instead. “Speaking of secrets, have you had a chance yet to look into Jack’s mind?” Connor and I had spoken about it at the memorial service for Maurice. It was the only way to ensure Jack wasn’t losing himself to dark magic.

  Connor shook his head. “As I suspected, he’s put a block on his thoughts. He’s probably anticipated my plan to file through his memories ever since Uisneach.”

  It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted Connor to tell me Jack didn’t spare a single thought for dark magic these days. I wanted him to tell me Jack was back on the straight-and-narrow with no immediate intentions to be anywhere but. I kept thinking about Jack’s eyes locked on that blood-stained knife and the internal war raging in him as it seemed to take everything in him to abstain.

  “Has he seemed out of character in any way to you?” I asked.

  “More stressed maybe. More tired. But then, we’ve had a lot to deal with in just the past few days alone. Our mother, the damned, Elizabeth’s cottage, Alistair.”

  “And now our plan to go to the Otherworld.”

  “Where he’ll be surrounded by demons,” Connor said.

  “All
of whom will jump at the chance to cash in on his debt.”

  When we laid it all out like that, I couldn’t blame Connor for being angry. I knew he was fiercely loyal. I knew he would sooner offer up his own life than see Jack lose his. He hated having to stay behind while Jack and I went to the Otherworld because that meant he wouldn’t be there to protect his brother. And the mere notion undoubtedly drove him crazy.

  “I’m going to make sure we both return,” I told him, placing a gentle hand to his arm. “I care about him too, Connor.”

  Our gazes held onto each other for a moment before Connor let go of a sigh. “Believe it or not, my worst fear isn’t that he’ll get himself killed. It’s that his proximity to demons and their dark magic could cause him to lose sight of who he is. It’s that if he comes back, it won’t be as Jack. It’ll be as something else entirely.”

  11

  Scarlet

  “Is there really nothing I can say to persuade you to stay here?”

  Jack and I were sealed away in another room as his brothers finished preparing the spell that would slingshot us into the Otherworld. The space was a small office, with shiny, mahogany walls that glowed in the light and a distinct leathery smell in the air. Across the way, built-in bookcases displayed a vast assortment of things: news magazines from decades ago, a few black-and-white photographs of men in uniform, and a number of war memorabilia: medals, badges, and stars. All of them honors Maurice had earned during his military service as a young man.