Crescent Legacy, Nicole Taylor [best 7 inch ereader .txt] 📗

his donkey gets cold?” I asked the old women as it’s hoof beats echoed dully.

Mrs. Boyle scowled at me.

“Do you have any other jobs you need help with?” I added, knowing I wouldn’t get any small talk from her that didn’t involve foul words in Gaelic.

She shook her head. “Gread leat.”

It basically meant ‘go the hell away,’ so I pushed through the gate, making sure I latched it behind me.

Crossing the street, I pressed my nose against the window of the handicraft store. The glass was cold, and my breath began fogging it up. Spying Aoife still by the fireplace, I knocked and waved when she glanced up.

The woman unlocked the door and gestured for me to come in out of the cold. Instantly, the scent of lavender and rose wafted up my nostrils from the display of handmade soaps by the door.

“Skye,” she said. “Are you all right, dear? I heard—”

Before she could ask about Boone’s disappearance—boy, gossip traveled faster than gastro around here—I picked up a throw rug from the basket by the till. “I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

“Yes, of course.” She eyed the rug in my hands and blinked in bewilderment.

“What do you know about donkey coats?”

Chapter 12

“And…we’re live.”

I peered at the laptop as Mairead clicked a button with a flourish.

“That’s it?” I asked. “The website is open for business?”

“Duh.” The Goth girl rolled her eyes.

“So how does it work? With the shop and the magical Internet?”

Mairead tapped the updated employee handbook she’d painstakingly worked on since the new computer equipment arrived. “It’s all linked, so if someone buys somethin’ in the shop, it’ll be taken off the website.”

“What if someone buys it online?”

“Then the computer won’t be able to scan the item if we don’t have any others in stock,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this, you know.”

“I can see the thousand euro I spent on all this hasn’t gone to waste,” I said, picking up the fancy barcode zapper thingy and brandishing it like a laser pistol. “Pew! Pew!”

Mairead snatched the scanner from me and clucked her tongue. “This isn’t Star Wars.”

“Yeah, Star Wars is a guaranteed HEA.”

“HEA?”

“Happily. Ever. After.” I made a face and took out the tarot cards, more out of habit than anything.

“So, when we get new stock, we have to enter it into the computer,” she went on. “Then print out barcodes.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“You’ll know how much you have sittin’ in the storeroom with a click or two,” Mairead complained.

“So the stockroom is all clean and fully itemized?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t pay me enough for that.”

“I could…” I smiled sweetly and shuffled the tarot cards.

“Is this my shop or yours?”

I shrugged and set the cards on the counter. Fanning them out, I let my palm hover over the top, sensing the energy they were giving off. I hadn’t drawn one since I pulled the Five of Cups, and that was a week ago. Things were… Well, they were still raw.

“You’re still wearin’ the ring,” Mairead noted.

I snorted, loving how she called it ‘the ring’ like it was the One Ring from Lord of The Rings and it would eat my soul or something equally as horrifying. One ring to rule them all… Anyway, maybe it was hope that made me keep it on. Hope that what Boone and I had was real, and hope that he would come through the door of Irish Moon like nothing had ever changed. Or maybe it was just a reminder of the sacrifices I’d made to ensure the safety of Derrydun, Ireland, and everything else in the world.

Ignoring the tarot cards, I stood and reached for my coat. “Do you think you could hold the fort for a while?”

Mairead narrowed her eyes. “Where are you goin’?”

I knew she partly blamed me for driving Boone away, and so did I, but there was nothing I could do to help that now.

“It’s… Witch business,” I replied.

“Like that’s an excuse,” she muttered sullenly.

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact,” I declared, shrugging into my trusty leather jacket. “I have to ask a tree a question.”

“You’re weird.”

“I know. Isn’t it delightful?”

Outside, the weather was still rotten. Winter seemed to go on forever here, and the dreary sky was a testament to my sour mood. There was nothing to differentiate one day from the next—thick fog blanketed the village and shrouded the tower house every morning, it cleared by mid-morning to gray skies, sometimes we were given the gift of misty rain, and then night fell and brought a frost along with it.

Bundling up in my jacket, I pulled on my old beanie and covered the tips of my ears, and then I shoved my hands into my old faithful fingerless gloves. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to wear the ones Boone had given to me at Christmas, so I’d gone back to the ones I’d had before. Old familiars.

The path to the hawthorn was quiet. A little bird flitted through the trees but flew away when it heard me approaching. Everyone had gone and found someplace warm to be, including all the animals. I was the only mad person out here.

Stepping into the clearing, I studied the knotted and gnarled truck of the ancient hawthorn. It looked different this time of year. Its branches had lost most of their leaves, and thousands of red berries had sprouted in their place. When spring came, I knew it would be white with blossoms, heralding the new season.

Glancing around the clearing, I shivered. Boone and I had shared so many things here. He’d revealed his fox shape to me over there, I’d stabbed his brother in the eye a little to the left, we’d fought the craglorn by that tree stump, and so many other things. Conversations, attempts at unlocking his memories, declarations of love… The list went on.

I couldn’t help wondering if I’d managed to crack open the curse on his mind, would