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

about the true power of the hawthorns and the spirits who lived inside them. And I told them about the craglorn and the fae that’d stolen Alex’s face.

I told them everything, leaving nothing out. Well, except for the naughty bits.

Finally, I explained what we needed to do to save magic and Ireland from the power Carman wanted to unleash.

I was well aware everyone was staring at me with their mouths hanging open, half in a state of disbelief and the other in shock. The whole thing was outlandish and dramatic, much like a supernatural soap opera. Asking them to believe and then fight beside a couple of smart-mouthed witches was probably a step too far, but we’d run out of options.

“This won’t be easy,” I said. “And I can’t promise that no one will get hurt, but we’ll do our best to protect you all from Carman and whatever she brings with her.”

“Boone,” Sean muttered, loud enough for me to hear and loud enough to snap the villagers out of their stupor.

The room erupted into a deafening hubbub, insults flying around like monkeys in a zoo flinging poo at each other.

I was contemplating flipping a table on its side and hiding behind it when Mrs. Boyle slammed the end of her shovel against the floor. The metal sent a boom through the room, silencing everyone. We turned to stare as the tight-lipped old woman stood and assumed a pose that looked like she was channeling Gandalf in his ‘you shall not pass’ stance from the Lord of The Rings movies. I’d only ever heard her shout Irish swear words, so whatever she was about to say had to be good.

We all stared at her, holding our breath, waiting for her pearl of wisdom. Then…

“You have my broom.”

I made a face and glanced around the room. Broom? Like she was swearing her sword to us? I didn’t even know if that was a thing without a round table and a castle. Or a fellowship en route to Mt. Doom.

“I think that means she’s cool with all this,” Mairead said, breaking the confused silence.

Heads began to nod, and one by one, others began to stand.

“Blasphemy!” Father O’Donegal shouted. “This is blasphemy of the highest order!”

“Oh, shut your pie hole, Finnegan,” little Mary Donnelly declared.

“Your name is Finnegan O’Donegal?” I exclaimed. “Anyway, remember that time at my mother’s funeral when your cat sat on the altar and licked its balls?”

“He let his cat lick his balls at my funeral?” Aileen exclaimed.

“Blasphemy!” Mairead called out from the peanut gallery.

“Sit down, Finnegan,” Roy said, shoving the old minister down into his seat. “Let’s hear what these girls have to say. If some witch hell-bent on destroyin’ Derrydun is on her way, then I want to know about it. I had enough trouble with that fox!”

“You believe us?” I asked. “You really believe us?”

“Unless this is some kind of mass delusion, and Aileen isn’t really standing there, then I’d say we believe you,” Mark Ashlyn said.

“It sure explains a lot,” Maggie added, smiling at her dad. “All these years we thought you were just weird.”

“They are weird,” Mairead called out.

“I thought the devil lived inside them,” Grace, Mairead’s mother, stated.

“Weird but worth fightin’ for,” Roy declared. “What’s the plan?”

Reaching for the calico bag full of crystals, I said, “We’ve made talismans to protect you. They’re not foolproof, but they’re the best we’ve got.”

Mairead took the bag from me and helped hand them around. Mary Donnelly gasped as her crystal flared, shining a golden light through her fingers.

“Mo dhia,” she whispered.

“Father O’Donegal,” I said, holding out a crystal. “Will you take one?”

He scowled, then glanced around at the other villagers. “The Bible teaches tolerance,” he said after a moment. “Also forgiveness, love, and understandin’.”

I grasped his hand and placed the piece of glowing yellow quartz into his palm. “Then we’re on the same page.”

He nodded. “Aye.”

Standing, I moved toward the bar where Aileen had retreated to. She was sipping a glass of whiskey, and I wrinkled my nose. I was sure I would never get used to the stuff. Maybe that was the Australian coming out in me. I’d gladly have a beer instead.

“What now?” I asked, watching the villagers compare crystals. All in all, they’d taken the whole ‘Derrydun was about to become a magical battleground’ thing pretty well.

“We watch,” Aileen replied. “And we wait. Carman will come soon enough, and when she does…”

“We’ll be ready.”

Chapter 17

It felt like summer.

The sun was warming my shoulders, and I shivered as a bead of sweat trickled down my spine. My black hair was twisted into a loose braid that I’d pulled forward so the breeze could cool the back of my neck. My toes dug into the earth, rocks and leaf litter scratching the soles of my bare feet.

Glancing up, I saw the hawthorn towering above me, its branches laden with tiny white blossoms. The barest hint of green shimmered through the petals, rendering depth to the scene.

I stepped forward, knowing this was a dream…or a vision sent to me from the ancestor spirits. There was no way I could tell the difference. Besides, after this long enduring the latest episode in the Crescent TV series, I kind of just went with it.

Glancing over my shoulder, I checked to make sure I hadn’t been followed. The forest was silent, and the village beyond hadn’t even noticed I’d skipped out on the Beltane festival early. Good, that meant I had time.

The door was back, the cast iron dark against the trunk of the hawthorn. I was going through again, that much was obvious, but why? Was this a premonition or a glimpse of the past? My thoughts didn’t seem to be my own, yet…

Everything inside me was screaming to not open the door as my hand reached out. Don’t open the door! My fingers curled around the latch. Open the door, Skye.

I twisted, the latch unhooked, and I pulled…

White light streamed through the opening, and I stepped through,