“Elephant, rose water, pineapple, toaster!”
I sat up in bed, my chest heaving. I swiped at the sweat on my forehead and dabbed my nightie against the perspiration under my boobs.
Outside, the night was darker than usual. There was no moonlight streaming through the windows to lighten the little bedroom, so I reached over and turned on the lamp. Warm light lit up the shadows, and I placed a hand on the empty bed beside me.
Another dream? And here I was hoping it was just concussion talking.
There was something… A feeling of dread? I was at the pineapple, and an elephant was inside the toaster. When I touched it, rose water came out. That was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. An elephant in a toaster!
Scratching my head, I reached for my tarot cards. The feel of them was comforting as I shuffled, and my thoughts went to Aileen. What would she do if she were here? It was hard to know since I never really knew her. Boone was the only other person who knew her as a witch.
A shiver went down my spine as I dwelled on what we’d found at the clearing. Nothing. Only a few months had passed since her death, but the ground where Hannah had dragged her under was unbroken.
My mother, my father, my life back in Australia. I’d lost it all, but I’d gained so much through the Crescent Calling. Knowing Carman was back in Ireland was a weight on my shoulders I never thought I would have the moment I’d seen Boone turn into a fox for the first time.
Drawing a card from the tarot deck, I sighed when I saw the Chariot reversed. Again.
“I already know,” I told the card. “Stop beating it into my head.”
Glancing over at the window, I felt a bad case of the heebie-jeebies tingling across my exposed skin, and I leaped out of bed and yanked down the blind. Some fae had wings, right? What if they flew up and perved at me while I slept? I shook out my limbs, my paranoia rising.
We’d known Carman might come all along, but now that she was here, I didn’t know what to do. Everything I’d learned about being a Crescent Witch had dissolved into mush.
Curling up under the quilt, I left the lamp on and let my senses fly around the cottage. I felt Mairead asleep in the spare bedroom and a few nighttime creatures scurrying around in the forest, but nothing else stirred. There were no flying fairies or ancient witches gearing up for a grudge match.
There was nothing at all.
When the next morning dawned, I moved to the couch downstairs with a can of energy drink and the Crescent spell book. Another night of zero sleep, and I was a zombie.
I heard the front door opening, and I called out, “That better be you, Boone. If not…I love a barbecue!”
“But only if I cook it, right?” Boone leaned against the doorframe, looking handsome in his leather bomber jacket and boots.
“Thank, God,” I declared. “I don’t like charcoal.”
“I better light the fire for you, then. I don’t what you burnin’ down the cottage.”
“Thanks.”
He crossed the room and began fussing over the fire, laying out logs and kindling in an elaborate teepee design that had me wondering if he was an arsonist in his secret forgotten life. He had a certain je ne sais quoi with hot things.
“Where’s Mairead?” he asked, lighting a match.
“She went Christmas shopping in Sligo,” I replied. “Took the bus an hour ago.”
“You’re not openin’ Irish Moon today?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “We needed a break.”
“Everythin’ okay?” He nodded toward the six-pack of energy drinks on the coffee table.
It was no use brushing it off, so I told him. “I had another dream last night.”
Boone raised his head from the fireplace, and his brow creased.
I shrugged. “I know it was important, but whenever I think about it, all I get is nonsense.”
“So it wasn’t the knock on the head?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.” I stroked the page of the spell book idly, my brain fogging up as I tried to recall what was just out of my grasp. “I can’t help thinking it’s another witchy omen.”
“Like what?”
“Like something is warning me about Carman and her plans. Like when the hawthorn warned me about Lucy.”
“Skye, the hawthorn put you in a vision of your family bein’ burned alive. You were tied to a stake.”
“So?” It was my turn to frown.
“It’s not a nice way of warnin’ you, is all.”
“Well, it’s either that or I’m broken. Broken would be bad.”
“You’re not broken.” Boone rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. “Your magic is still growin’. You said it yourself. Maybe it’s a reaction to Carman returnin’.”
“Like I’ve been given growth hormones?” I raised my eyebrows and clutched the spell book against my chest. “Okay…”
“All we can do is wait and watch,” he said. “Enjoy Christmas, Skye. You need moments like these.”
“To make the impending doom less doomy?” I rolled my eyes.
I couldn’t stop thinking about all the witches out there who might be falling victim to Carman’s insatiable thirst for power. She might be hoovering up a poor witch’s magic as we spoke about hiding out in Derrydun and waiting for her to come to us…at her full strength.
“We can’t leave the hawthorn unguarded,” Boone said, reading my expression.
“Are you sure you’re not a telepath?”
“I’m sure.”
Sure felt like he was.
“If there were more Crescents, then maybe we could’ve planned to go after her,” Boone went on. “But you’re all there is.”
Thinking about the Nightshade Witches, I knew finding allies would be impossible. To the other witches, I was the problem, and knowing Carman was back would only make things worse. Add a dash of taking away a whole coven’s Legacy forever—I understood why Legacy was capitalized now—and you had the perfect recipe for hatred. Long story short, I was screwed.
“They know we’re here…” I murmured.
Boone frowned.
“I can use my magic more openly,” I said. “I can cast barriers and wards or something around the village and the hawthorn. I can do something.”
“You’ll attract wanderin’ craglorn,” Boone pointed out. “They’ll sense your magic and—”
“Go poof!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together.
“I don’t think a barrier is like an electric fence, Skye.”
“Don’t dash my hopes for a Christmas miracle,” I said with a pout.
“Talkin’ about Christmas miracles. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
My ears pricked up at the word surprise. Thankful for the distraction, I shot to my feet and dropped the spell book on the couch.
“Oh! Oh! What is it? A pony?”
Boone’s eyebrows quirked. “Uh, no?”
My shoulders sank, and I screwed up my nose.
“Just…” He sighed and gestured for me to stay put. “Wait here.”
“One Christmas miracle, two Christmas miracle…”
There was rustling and thumping at the front door, then the tip of a pine tree was poking into the lounge room. I could’ve made a dirty joke, but I held my tongue when I saw how excited Boone was.
“A Christmas tree?” I asked.
I’d never had a tree after I’d moved out of home. It always seemed like too much work with all the putting up and taking down and the tangled tinsel. Not to mention there was always one light that didn’t work, and when one bulb blew, the whole strand was useless. Who kept the spares, anyway? You put them in a place so safe you forgot where a year later when it was time to get them out again.
The room filled with the scent of pine as Boone set up the tree in the corner, needles falling everywhere as he steadied the base.
“What are we decorating it with?” I asked, watching him. “Miniature athames, wands, and pentagrams?”
“Very funny,” he said, going outside and bringing back a box. “I got all kinds of stuff.” He pulled packets of ornaments and wads of tinsel out and strew them all over the floor. “Baubles, tinsel, lights…”
“I see there’s a color scheme,” I declared, holding up a box of black, silver, and gold Christmas balls. I snickered as a dirty thought lit up my brain. Balls.
“It’s a Crescent tree.”
I raised my eyebrows. A Crescent tree, huh? Diving back into the box, I found a packet of crescent moon ornaments and snorted. Merry Crescent-mas.
Opening the plastic package, I held up one of the little moons and hooked it onto the tree. Boone smiled up at me, knowing how better I felt even before I did.
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re right as usual.”
His smile turned into a grin. “You’re welcome.”
Christmas morning was a whirlwind of activity at the cottage.
We all sat underneath the horror that was the Christmas tree I’d decorated and unwrapped our meager presents. With everything that had happened since Halloween, I hadn’t thought about let alone had time to go get any presents, so I did last-minute shopping online with express delivery.
Boone was still stuck in Derrydun, unwilling to go past the limits of the hawthorns out of habit, so he shopped locally like the good guy he was. He’d given me a new pair of fingerless gloves and a sloppy beanie he’d asked Cheese Wheel Aoife from the handicrafts store to knit. Black with metallic gold thread weaved through. Very Crescent of him.
I’d been a total smartass and given him a new black and red checkered shirt and a black T-shirt with a fox design on the front. For Mairead, I gave her a new pair of Doc Martins, and Boone got her a fancy box to put all her paints in.
But Mairead blew us all out of the water.
Hanging in the hallway was the painting of Derrydun she’d been working on for the last two months. All that building up of color and dabbing blots of paint all over the canvas had really paid off. The finished product was stunning with all its intricate details. The tower house stood proudly on the hill, each block of stone detailed with the very tip of her paintbrush. The sky was streaked with swirling clouds, the forest below was awash with every shade of green imaginable, and the main street of the village was vibrant and alive. The hot pink of Mary’s Teahouse stood out like a sore thumb among it all, but that was exactly how it was like in real life. Garish. She’d even managed to get the ancient hawthorn in the picture. Its canopy rose over the rest of the trees in the forest, tall and proud. The kid had mad skills.
Once the presents were open, Boone and I showered and dressed before making our way over to Molly McCreedy’s. Apparently, Christmas lunch at the pub was a huge tradition in Derrydun. Everyone came, bringing food, drink, and presents, and partied until they were drunk as skunks. It was the local Irish way, Boone said. The village was so tight-knit that everyone was everyone’s family, and no one was turned away.
I didn’t have any presents, so I brought along all kinds of crystals and tumbled stones, handing them out to those whose energy matched. Amethyst for Mrs. Boyle. Citrine for Mary Donnelly. Rose quartz for Roy, and even though it was pink, it was good for his nature-loving soul. Even Sean McKinnon got a piece of tiger’s eye. He grumbled about getting a rock but put it into his pocket, anyway.
“Skye! Skye!”
I turned at the sound of Mairead’s excited voice and stumbled as she almost crashed into me. She was wearing her usual drab garb, but she’d donned a black Santa hat with white furry trim. I’d known her long enough to not be surprised by the irony.
“Where’s the fire?” I asked, holding her back.
“You’ll never guess what happened!”
“Mairead… You’re…” I made a face. “Happy.”
“So?”
“Aren’t Goths meant to be mopey?”
“Pfft.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s a stereotype.”
“Are you sure? Because when you wear black lipstick and smile—”
“I made up with me parents,” she blurted.
“Huh?” When did that happen? I was such a good guardian—forgetting to make sure she wasn’t getting high on paint fumes, feeding her microwave meals, making her do her own laundry, and not even knowing what was going on in her life. Superb parenting.
“They want me to come home,” she went on. “For Christmas, then…” She shrugged. “I gave them a paintin’ I did. The one of the gyrfalcon in the hawthorn tree outside of Irish Moon.”
“You did another painting?” I frowned. “Man, I’m such a bad parent.”
“No, you’re pretty cool.”
“So you’re moving back?”
She nodded. “They are me parents… Even though they kicked me out.”
“As long as they don’t try to force you to go back to Trinity.”
Mairead shrugged. “I don’t think they understood about me art. Now they’ve seen, I guess they came around. They were disappointed about how I came home…”
I nodded. She couldn’t exactly tell them about being kidnapped by evil fae who mistook her for me, could she? She hadn’t been happy at Trinity, but being snatched off the street had ultimately pushed her into coming back to Derrydun.
“Do they still think I’m the devil incarnate?” I asked, my lips quirking.
She grinned and backed away, weaving between Mary Donnelly and Cheese Wheel Aoife before using Mrs. Boyle as a buffer.
“Mairead!” I stamped my foot. “Don’t you walk away from me, young lady!”
“What’s going on?” Boone asked, appearing beside me.
“Mairead’s moving out.”
“Well, you did ask for a Christmas miracle.”
I gasped and slapped him on the arm.
“Ow.” He rubbed his bicep.
“I’m glad they made up. It was an awful side effect of her kidnapping.”
“See, Skye? Everythin’ is starting to work out.” Boone smiled and guided me to a spot he’d saved for us at the table by the fireplace.
Sliding into a chair, I fiddled with the cutlery as food started to appear. Maggie moved from table to table, laying out platters and jugs. Even Sean McKinnon was giving her a hand and walking more steadily than usual.
“Is Sean…sober?” I asked, leaning toward Boone.
“See?” he said with a wink. “Christmas brings out the best in everyone.”
I glanced around the pub, taking in everyone’s smiling faces. Roy was wearing a paper hat from the inside of a Christmas cracker. Mary Donnelly was decked out in pink and completely sloshed on mulled wine. Maggie was still flitting between tables, topping up beer glasses and ferrying out bowls of mushy peas. Mairead was sitting between her parents, looking pleased as punch, her black fuzzy Santa hat askew on her head. Fergus was feeding his dog scraps under the table. Even Mrs. Boyle looked as if she had a smile on her face.
An overwhelming pang of despair came over me at the thought of what was coming. How was I supposed to protect them from Carman? If she managed to take the hawthorn and open the doorway… The thought of what might come out of there was the stuff of nightmares. An army of fae just like the scout who’d threatened me at Halloween. Derrydun wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Skye.” Boone placed his hand on my thigh under the table and squeezed. “Don’t dwell on what-ifs.”
“I just…” I trailed off, knowing anything I said would sound lame. I was supposed to be the strong one. I was the last Crescent Witch, the sole member of the most badass coven there ever was. I was meant to know what to do. Watching and waiting didn’t seem like the Crescent thing to do.
“Ever since the craglorn, you’ve been stressin’,” he murmured into my ear. “We can only do what’s in our power.”
“You sound like a broken record,” I drawled.
“Life’s too short,” he murmured. Picking up his glass, he stood and bashed the side with his fork. Ding, ding, ding.
“What are you doing?” I said with a hiss, glancing around uneasily.
“Can I have your attention,” he called out to the room. “I’ve got somethin’ important to say.”
I tugged on his shirt as the din faded to curious murmurings. Mary Donnelly caught my gaze and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. All eyes turned our way, and I tugged at Boone more furiously.
“Sit down,” I whispered, trying to smile and glare at the same time. I must’ve looked frightening, especially since I was flushed red with embarrassment. “You can’t tell them…”
But Boone wasn’t listening. I was full-on ready to whoop his ass if he began changing into a silver fox when he started talking. Boone talking? I’d always taken him for ‘the silent and in the corner’ type, not a public speaker.
“Seven months ago, this curious Australian with her smart mouth and uncanny resemblance to her late mother, Aileen, landed in our laps quite unexpectedly. In that seven months, there’ve been untold amounts of chaos, excitement, and scandal,” he said.
“Hear, hear!” Roy bellowed, stamping his foot on the ground much to the amusement of the villagers.
“She’s filled me life with excitement, countless pop culture references that go straight over me head, frightful danger, and unwaverin’ support, and a smack on the back of me head when I’m throwin’ a tantrum. That’s why I cannae bear to be apart from her another day.” Boone turned to me and lowered himself to one knee. “Skye Williams…” He fished about in his pocket—while I tried to get my heart to start beating again—and produced a silver and gold ring. “An bpósfaidh tú mé?” Then in English, he said, “Will ye marry me?”
I dropped my fork, and it clattered to the floor. Fergus’s Jack Russell darted under the table and began gnawing at the choice bit of roast beef I’d been about to put into my mouth when Boone had stood.
“Skye?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes!” I shrieked, almost falling off my chair.
“I told you,” Mary said to Roy. “Spring.”
Boone grasped my face in his hands and kissed me hard. “Cac, I almost didn’t think you’d say yes…”
“Put it on,” I demanded. “It isn’t real until the ring is on.”
“Is that true?”
“Dunno, but it sounds like the official thing to do.” I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers.
“Like I said,” Boone murmured, sliding the silver and gold ring on. “Untold amounts of chaos.”
“I’ll agree with the chaos but untold amounts?” I made a face. “I’m disputing that.”
Abruptly, Sean shot to his feet and exclaimed, “Maggie!”
The entire pub fell silent as he leaped around the table and knelt at Maggie’s feet.
“Sean, you’re makin’ a scene,” she said through her teeth. “You’re stealin’ Boone’s moment, you eejit!”
“I love you, Maggie!” he exclaimed, clutching at her legs. “I’ve been fightin’ it for so long, but it’s time!”
Roy snorted, earning himself a kick from Mary under the table. The cutlery jingled, and beer sloshed from the old farmer’s pint glass.
Maggie shot me a look that said ‘help,’ and I rose to my feet.
“Sean McKinnon!” I exclaimed. “I always thought you were a gentleman.”
He stared at me, looking vacant, blinked twice, then let Maggie go.
“Even when you were calling me a witch,” I added, much to the everyone’s amusement.
“You’ve got to know when a woman doesn’t want your attention, boy,” Roy bellowed. “Go dtachta grá leatromach do bhall fearga!”
The entire pub burst out into riotous laughter, but as usual, I had no clue what any of it meant. Leaning over to Boone, I opened my mouth to ask him, but his seat was empty.
He was gone.