by Sarah Hegger
“Fuck!” Niamh leaped off the bed.
Sinead shrieked and jumped in front of her frozen sister.
Mags passed out, and Bronwyn started laughing. A ghost! A motherfucking ghost to add to everything else. Whelp! Why the fuck not?
Chapter Fifteen
Bronwyn’s time in England was running out. Her return ticket was booked for a week from today, and she really didn’t want to get on that plane.
From her window this morning, the sea was a calm blue with lazy, undulating swells.
Yesterday, they’d left the ghost—Thomas, yes, he had a name—talking to Roderick. Not a thought she’d care to verbalize too often, and definitely not outside the castle, but Thomas had undertaken the job of catching Roderick up to this century.
Bronwyn wished him luck with that. Roderick had been born in a time when men were thugs, and the thug with the biggest sword won. Considering that, he really wasn’t doing too badly with modern gender politics. Sinead had undertaken his enlightenment.
Sitting in a pool of sunlight in her casement, she took her time brushing her hair. Dee would have been right at home. “I hope you’re keeping up, Dee, because every day brings a new surprise.”
In the kitchen, Alannah would probably have breakfast going, with a grouchy Sinead giving her a hand. With her pack of animals, Niamh would already be sitting at the table, mainlining Twinings English Breakfast tea, and having strange nonverbal sorts of communication with her menagerie. Mags would appear when the meal was almost done, and Sinead would bitch at her. It wouldn’t bother Mags one bit, and she’d tell them all about what had kept her up late into the night.
It had only been a few days since Alexander had just about tossed her and her stuff into Baile, and already, being there felt as familiar as if she’d grown up in the castle.
She leaned her head against the deep stone of the embrasure. It was warm beneath her cheek, and if she concentrated, she could sense the pulse of sentience that was Baile. It reached out to her in welcome and made her feel like she was exactly where she should be.
An entire life of being an outcast in the town where she’d been born, and now, she’d stumbled on her true home. Life, however, didn’t work that simply, and she couldn’t drop everything and move into a castle in England. She had a house in America, and a life. Not much of a life, but one nevertheless.
“You really would love it here, Dee.” It broke her heart that Deidre hadn’t seen Baile. God, she would have loved how ancient everything was, and gotten the hugest kick out of the other witches. Never mind what Deidre would have made of Roderick and Maeve.
The other witches, and Roderick, seemed to take it for granted she would stay. Even Thomas the ghost had an opinion and was firmly in the her staying here camp.
Then there were all the questions around Alexander, and she’d give anything to be able to talk her concerns through with Dee. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d dropped her there. It was pathetic, but she missed him, and he was never far from her mind. If she concentrated, she even had a vague sense of him.
As she unpacked the layers of magic and mystery around Baile, she got more confused about Alexander. He’d been instrumental in the deaths of so many witches. She hated that about him, but at the same time, she couldn’t lie to herself about her response to him. Even knowing who he was and what he’d done, she felt the pull to be near him. It was like he’d burrowed into her being, and she couldn’t dislodge him.
She’d done enough research to know Roderick hadn’t been overreacting about Alexander, and he would for sure lose his shit if he suspected her feelings, ambivalent as they were. Niamh and the modern witches liked Alexander and had experienced a completely different man than the one Roderick and Maeve remembered. Niamh said he’d pretty much always been around, being friendly, even giving them a hand now and then at market.
What they’d uncovered thus far about Rhiannon did not make the prospect of more Alexander in Bronwyn’s future probable. Sadness welled inside at the idea of never seeing him again. Then there was that crazy prophecy, and she needed to sit down with Roderick and talk about the prophecy, but with revelations flying at them like mosquitoes in July, it was hard to concentrate on one thing.
“Hey.” Niamh stood in her doorway, accompanied by a squirrel clinging to her pant leg, the usual dogs and a one-eyed cat. “Those look like some heavy thoughts.”
“I was thinking about leaving.” Bronwyn tried to keep it light, but a lump lodged in her throat at the notion of not being here anymore.
Frowning, Niamh came and sat beside her. “You’re leaving?”
“I have to. Eventually.” Bronwyn petted the cat that had crawled into her lap. Animals at Baile never fought or tried to eat each other. Other than Roz, that was, and she shoved that memory away. “My ticket is booked, and I have a home and a business to get back to.”
“Business?” Niamh gently pried the squirrel off her leg and put it on the floor. “I never asked what you do in America.”
“It’s a family business,” Bronwyn said. “We make herbal remedies, shampoos and lotions, that sort of thing.”
“Of course you do.” Niamh chuckled. “You’re a healer after all.”
“It’s weird, you know.” There was an excellent chance Niamh knew exactly what she was about to say. “Our family all had these talents or gifts, and we never put it together that they might be more than a useful ability.”
“I’m a guardian witch.” Niamh shrugged and grinned. “Which means I have an affinity for animals.” She nodded at her current pack. “I should be able to ride around inside their heads. I mean, I’ve read about guardians in the library. Tahra was the first one.”
One of the original four witches called to service. The others had been Brenna, called as a seer; Deidre, called as a healer; and Rhiannon. Rhiannon had been the original warden, her gift the same as Alannah and Sinead. According to Roderick, she had gone bad and tried to usurp Goddess. She had attacked Baile in the sixteen hundreds, and that attack had resulted in the deaths of nearly the entire coven, and Roderick and Maeve going into stasis. Hermione had been more accurate than she’d realized with her tour guide patter comprised of rumors and half-truths.
The cat padded over to Niamh and curled in her lap. “I thought they were cool stories,” Niamh said. “Family legacies that had been exaggerated and romanticized over time.”
“Instead, the opposite is true.” The Beaty family had told the same kind of stories. How her great great grandmother could always tell the sex of an unborn baby, or the way great great great aunt Heather could take anyone’s headache away, and according to Dee, how Bronwyn’s mother had always known exactly where it hurt before the person told her. Myths and poetic story-telling Bronwyn had assumed. “We don’t even know the half of what we should be able to do.”
“What do you make of all we’ve found out?” Niamh looked at her. “Do you think it can be true?”
Relief that someone else felt the same made Bronwyn laugh. “I’m having a real hard time with it, to be honest. I keep looking at Roderick and Maeve and thinking they might be villagers with a good act.”
“The statue is missing,” Niamh said. “It’s all over the village.”
“It’s…” Bronwyn didn’t have the word.
“Unbelievable,” Niamh murmured.
“Yeah.” Bronwyn fixed her gaze outside the window. “I almost can’t believe if we drove past the green the statue wouldn’t still be there.”
“Right?” Niamh straightened and her eyes gleamed. “We could always go and take a look. To make sure.”
Bronwyn needed to be clear she’d understood Niamh right. Nobody had come right out and said it, but they were all on unofficial lockdown with Roderick holding the gate keys. “You mean take a look at the missing statue? On the green? In the village?”
“Uh-huh.” Eyes sparkling, Niamh chewed her bottom lip and nodded.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Alexander had been c
rystal clear on her staying put. Then again, at some point she would have to leave Baile, even if it was to get to the airport.
Niamh pulled a face. “I really don’t know, but I can’t see what harm it can do.”
“Alexander seemed to think I was in a lot of danger from Rhiannon.” Bronwyn had read enough about Rhiannon to know a threat from that quarter was not good. Roderick had driven the point home.
“Yeah.” Niamh brightened. “But she’d have to know you were out of the castle for you to be in any danger, and we can slip out without anyone knowing.”
They could sneak away, and getting out of Baile might help clear her head.
“We can go after breakfast.” Niamh nudged her shoulder with hers. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Alexander’s dire warnings rang in her memory, but she was tired of trying to make sense of all the new and crazy revelations and she just wanted to do something normal. Like go for a drive with a friend. “Let’s do it.”
Niamh grinned. “We can be there and back before anyone even knows we’ve left Baile.”
It was ridiculously easy for Niamh to lift the Landy’s keys from the peg beside the door and tuck them in her pocket. After breakfast Alannah and Sinead went to putter in their garden. Mags drifted off to wherever Mags went when she got that misty look in her eyes, and Roderick and Maeve returned to the barracks for more lessons in catch up with Thomas.
As they drove across the wards, Niamh shivered and turned to her. “Did you feel that?”
“Yeah.” It was like feathers over her skin.
“It’s always been there.” Niamh accelerated down the hill like Roderick was chasing them. “But it’s gotten stronger since Roderick arrived.”
It was a glorious summer day and Bronwyn rolled down the window and let the wind tangle her hair.
Niamh drove down the hill and turned away from the village green.
“Where are we going?” Bronwyn looked behind her at the green growing smaller. From this angle she couldn’t see the place where the statue had stood. “I thought we were going to look at the statue.”
“We are. After.” Niamh nodded and glanced at her. “But I thought we could pick up a few groceries at the same time.”
That seemed harmless enough and gave them a perfect excuse for their outing. “Okay.”
“I always get someone to come with me.” Niamh pulled a face. “I hate going alone.”
“You hate shopping?” Bronwyn stared at her. “Doesn’t that mean you lose your girl card or something?”
“There’s shopping for fun stuff.” Niamh pulled a face. “But it’s not the shopping; it’s the people.”
It took five minutes in Tesco to see what Niamh had been speaking about. Niamh was a magnet for men and women, and they got pissy when they couldn’t get near her.
“Niamh.” A tall, thirty-something man near as dammit hurdled the display of oranges and popped up in front of them. “How are you? Haven’t seen you around.”
“I’m good, Neil.” Niamh gave him a polite smile and stepped around him.
A woman with two children passed them. “Hi, Niamh.” She smiled, and her children waved. The younger started to whine about wanting to play with Niamh, and his mother hushed him with an apologetic smile.
Neil followed them to the bananas. “Have you given any more thought to dinner?”
“I have, Neil, and I can’t at the moment, but I’ll give you a ring.” She selected a bunch of bananas and put them in the shopping cart. “Alannah hates it when I buy fruit or veggies,” she said to Bronwyn. “But she can’t grow bananas, and I really love them.”
“It doesn’t have to be dinner.” Neil dropped into place beside Niamh. “We could do coffee or tea or a drink if you prefer.”
Niamh’s smiled tightened. “Okay, Neil. I’ll give you a call.”
“When?” Neil jostled Bronwyn out the way. “Because I don’t want to miss your call.”
“Hey!” Bronwyn refused to give ground. She was short, not invisible.
“You said you’d call last time.” Neil’s gaze fixed frantically on Niamh. “And then you didn’t. I have a life, you know, Niamh. I can’t stand around Tesco waiting for you to show up.”
“Actually, standing about Tesco waiting for Niamh to show up is not a life.” Alexander turned the corner into the produce section, his attention locked on Neil. “The lady has answered your question, and as a gentleman, accept your dismissal with grace and leave while you still have some dignity.”
Bronwyn’s heart triple timed it, and she tried not to stare. He was such a beautiful man, and his presence filled the empty place inside her she’d been saving for him. It made no sense that someone that beautiful could front for so much evil.
Little witch. He looked at her and smiled.
Sadness and longing in his smile made Bronwyn want to weep.
“Alexander.” Niamh sighed her relief. “Nice to see you.”
“It’s always nice to see you, Niamh.” Alexander gave Niamh a smoldering smile, but it was superficial and nothing like the smiles he gave Bronwyn. There was something so palpable between her and Alexander, like they were two halves of the same whole. If Bronwyn believed in the prophecy, that would be one explanation, and one that left her tasting disappointment. She didn’t like the idea of him only being drawn to her because of a prophecy that was outside his control.
“And Bronwyn.” He took her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm. “I didn’t think to see you here.”
Sensation shot through her. The effect he had on her crackled beneath her skin. The thought of never seeing him again made her want to puke. “Niamh asked me to come with her.”
“Right.” Alexander stared at Neil. Neil blushed and scurried away. Alexander’s manner changed to aloof as quickly as if a switch had been flipped and he dropped her hand. “And whilst I understand why Niamh prefers company when she leaves Baile, I can’t condone you ignoring my warning.”
That ripped her out of her erotic haze. “It’s only a quick trip for some groceries and to see the missing statue.”
“You can’t leave Baile,” he said, serious as a freaking heart attack. “I told you and Niamh that, yet here you are.”
“She can’t stay locked in Baile forever. Besides, nobody even knows we’re here.” Niamh scowled at him. “And what the hell can happen to us in Tesco anyway?”
“I know you’re here, and you’re being naïve if you think I’m the only one. You’re a witch, your magic leaves a psychic resonance.” His face hardened, and chill invaded his voice. “You can’t afford to take chances. And the danger is specific to Bronwyn.”
Cold slithered down her spine and made Bronwyn shiver. “I’m not sure what to believe that comes out your mouth anymore.”
“Really?” He turned to her, and he was pissed, his dark eyes like onyx, power surging and snapping in the air about him. “Then let me reiterate the salient points.” He leaned close enough to almost touch noses with her. “You’re in peril. Rhiannon wants you, and you won’t like what she has planned for you. Once she’s done with you, she will kill you and take the child of the prophecy.” He spoke quietly but deliberately. “She will get rid of you like she got rid of your entire family.” Straightening, he turned to Niamh. “And once she’s done with Bronwyn, she’s coming for the rest of you. You don’t have to take my word for it; ask Roderick. He will tell you exactly what Rhiannon is capable of.”
This was a side to Alexander she hadn’t seen, and it chilled Bronwyn to the bone. Niamh had gone pale and stared at him as if she’d seen a ghost. “Who are you?”
Alexander straightened. “Honestly, Niamh, that should have been your first question when we met.”
“I’m asking you now.” The scents of basil and strawberries came from Niamh as she used her magic. “You deliberately befriended us.”
“Good,” Alexander said. “Use your magic to help you delve into me. Go deeper.”
Niamh frowned, and her magic str
oked over Bronwyn’s skin. “You’re old. Really old. You shouldn’t be alive.”
“More,” he whispered. “Use your magic, Niamh. Use it every chance you get and flex it like a muscle. Goddess needs that from you. You have the ability to see within all animals, including humans. Look deeper.”
Niamh frowned, studying him. Her eyes went opaque and the scent of basil and strawberries strengthened. “Shit!” She leaped away from him, eyes huge. “You’re her son! You’re Rhiannon’s son, and you’re…different.”
“Well done.” Alexander snarled. “Roderick will tell you to stay the fuck away from me, and you really need to listen to him.” He turned back to Bronwyn. “I’m the son of the woman who wants to possess you, use you, and discard you. That should be enough to keep you clear of me. Now get behind those fucking wards before she pinpoints where you are.”
Trying to ram these new puzzle pieces into place, Bronwyn stood frozen and blinked at him. Alexander being Rhiannon’s son was so, so much worse than anything she’d imagined.
“Take her straight back to Baile.” Alexander turned to Niamh. “And both of you stay there.”
Numb, brain gears spinning, she let Niamh hurry her out of Tesco and into the Land Rover.
Bronwyn’s heart beat so fast it felt like it could leap out of her chest at any minute. A son’s loyalty lay with his mother.
“Shit!” As she drove, Niamh gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I had no idea. He was always this charming, amusing man who never seemed to chase me around like the Neils of this world.”
“He’s Rhiannon’s son.” Saying it aloud didn’t make it any easier to grasp. Later when she could process this she would have questions about every interaction she’d ever had with him, every word, every touch, every look. He’d always said he felt the same thing for her that she did for him, that the connection between them was real for him too. How could she trust any of what he’d said to be true if he was Rhiannon’s son?
