The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) (18 page)

“But her home,” Tara said softly. “It was destroyed.”

“I know,” Dominic said, and a shadow passed over his eyes. “It almost went down with you in it.”

The door opened and Caitlin and Liam walked in, their expressions tense. Dominic stood, ushering them in. He looked down at Owen, ruffling his nephew’s hair. “Kelsey’s in her room if you want to say hi.”

Owen nodded, disappearing into the back.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Tara turned to Caitlin. “What do you know about blackthorn?”

“It’s a shrub,” Caitlin said, settling into the chair beside Liam. “I think it’s relatively common.”

“It’s one of the first plants to bloom in Ireland—usually on Imbolc,” Liam added, already booting up the laptop he’d brought with him. “Which is tomorrow.”

“Imbolc,” Tara said slowly. “That’s a pagan holiday, right?”

Dominic nodded. “It’s the half-way point between winter and spring. Pagans celebrate it as Imbolc and Christians as St. Brigid’s Day.”

“St. Brigid,” Tara murmured. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“There’s a church devoted to her in Kildare,” Dominic explained. “We stopped there once on a trip back from Dublin. I wanted to show you the spot where the sacred fires used to burn.”

“Right,” Tara said softly. “The fires that used to burn continuously in her honor. I remember thinking that practice seemed more pagan than Christian.

“It was,” Caitlin said. “But many early Christian rituals had roots in pagan traditions. Especially the ones connected to Brigid.” Caitlin peered over Liam’s shoulder at what he was pulling up on the screen. “There’s some debate about this, but many pagans believe Brigid was originally a Celtic goddess. Before the Christians came to Ireland, Kildare was already a holy site devoted to the goddess. When Christianity spread through Ireland, Brigid was ‘Christianized,’ and she founded a monastery—one that welcomed both men and women—on that same land.”

“Isn’t it rare for the two religions to come together like that?” Tara asked.

“It is,” Caitlin acknowledged. “But Brigid is our strongest link between the old and the new. She is the only Celtic goddess who was embraced by the church. The first of February is a Christian feast day to honor one of Ireland’s patron saints and a pagan festival to honor the goddess. Whether you’re a pagan, a Christian, or someone who practices a little of both, Brigid is a beloved religious figure.”

“And the grounds of Kildare are a powerfully sacred place,” Tara finished.

Caitlin nodded as Liam turned the computer around to show her an image of a shrub in full bloom. “This is what blackthorn looks like.”

Tara leaned closer. “There was a sketch in the book,” she murmured. “It was rough, but it looked like that.” She looked up at Caitlin. “Do we have any on the island?”

Caitlin shook her head. “Not that I know of. If we did, it would probably be gone by now. The tourists like to snap off the branches to make wands and walking sticks. They think it has magical powers.”

“Does it?”

Caitlin shrugged. “Carrying a blackthorn wand is said to protect you from evil. But who knows if that’s true or not.”

“It didn’t do a very good job of protecting Tara,” Dominic said tightly.

“If anything,” Tara said slowly, “it’s what started the fire.” Tara looked down at her burned hands. “I should never have gone there.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” Dominic stood. “I think we should call off the search for Brigid.”

“What?” Tara gaped at him. “No. We can’t do that now. We have to find her.”

“Not if this search is going to put you”—Dom looked at Caitlin and Liam—“put
any
of you, in danger.”

“This is our home,” Tara said quietly. “We cannot let Moira take it away from us.”

“You said the book changed shape in your hands?” Liam asked. “Like it was under some kind of enchantment?”

Tara nodded. “Glenna clearly didn’t want anybody to find it.”

“But it’s gone now?”

“As far as I know,” Tara answered. “There was nothing left of the cottage but ash when we left.”

ON THE ROCKY
shores of a deserted island, a few kilometers south of Seal Island, Moira held the book in her hands. The charred pages crinkled and faded to ash as the wind teased the corners of the ancient spell book. Her tears fell into the sea and steam rose up from the drops as they hit the surface.

Glenna was against her. Her daughter—her own flesh and blood—was against her. She’d been against her all along. Her fingers traced the fading sketch, the long black thorns and delicate flowers. Why? Why couldn’t her daughter understand that she was doing this for both of them?

That this was the only way?

She closed her eyes, the memories sweeping over her like a wall of black smoke. She should never have followed that glittering green tail deep into the depths of the sea. She should never have left the selkie boundaries when she was fifteen. But she could not bear to spend her days tending her garden and practicing her songs as her sister did. She’d tested the boundaries for years, pushing the limits to see how far she could go.

The first glimpse of those sparkling fins had been impossible to resist. She’d followed the mermaid to a coral castle with soaring spires and turrets that had stretched high into the undulating currents, as far as the eye could see. She’d slipped past the guards, and through a narrow window looking down into the vast ballroom, she’d seen him—the prince.

He’d been surrounded by a circle of his people; they’d been laughing and cheering as they clapped him on the back. His smile had been radiant, brighter than a Midsummer’s moon. His bare chest had gleamed, rippling with muscles, and the strong tail that had propelled him through a crowd that had parted for him to pass had been the color of emeralds dusted in gold.

She’d fallen in love at first sight. She’d known she had to find a way to be with him. She’d believed, in her foolishness, that their love could unite their kingdoms. That their love could break down the borders and restrictions the mermaids had put on them so long ago.

But she had not known then what she knew now. That love made people weak. It made people vulnerable. It made people do things they would never do otherwise.

Moira’s nails scraped over the pages as she tore them from the book. She had risked everything to be with him.

And he had chosen someone else.

She hurled the pages into the ocean, and they ignited, bursting into flames. He’d chosen her
sister
. The parchment sizzled, forming sparkling balls of fire floating over the surface. Her pathetic, insipient, malleable twin sister!

The flames twisted, twirling into the night until they transformed into a garden of brilliant orange roses. Moira gazed into the moonlit surface—at the reflection of Brigid shedding her seal-skin on a white beach.

“Are you sure he said this was the place?” Brigid asked, shivering as
her bare skin met the cold night.

“I’m sure,” Moira urged. “He said he’d be waiting for you just over that hill.”

Moira slid from the rocks, into the dark waters, edging back from the beach. She watched her sister wrap her precious seal-skin around her naked body and start up the path.

Toward the man who was watching from the cliffs.

She heard Brigid’s panicked scream when he grabbed her, snatching her pelt. She watched her sister struggle, her cries muffled as his big hand covered her mouth.

Moira slid under the surface, into the darkness and freedom of the sea. Her sister’s Prince was not waiting for her on the other side of the hill. He was waiting on a beach, several kilometers north along the coast. And he would be getting a different twin.

Moira swept her arm out, the long sleeve of her dress skimming the surface of the sea. She flung the empty leather binding of the book into the circle of roses. The petals shivered, fading to black as the book splashed into the water, sinking like coal.

She had gotten rid of her sister once, and she would get rid of her again. The rocks shook, pebbles skittering into the tide pools as a low rumbling echoed in the distance. The dark sea churned and bubbled as the lava began to flow. The eruption would take care of Nuala, which meant there was only one person now standing between her and the throne. The one person she’d thought was on her side—her daughter.

G
lenna twisted her moonstone ring, round and around on her finger. Sam had taken the keys from her over an hour ago when they got the call from Caitlin—the call saying Tara had almost died. She looked up, catching her reflection in the mirror on the back of the visor. Her face was still pale, her eyes wide and haunted. But Tara was alive. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Sam cut the engine in the lot of St. James’s Hospital in Dublin. “Are you sure it was Moira?”

Glenna nodded. “I’m sure. My mother knows I’m not on her side now. If she got the book—and I’m sure she did—she knows that I’ve been trying to prove Brigid’s innocence for years. But without the blackthorn, I can’t prove Moira killed him.”

“Then we have to find her,” Sam said, opening the door, “and warn her before Moira figures out where she’s hiding.”

Glenna took a deep breath. “My mother is tracking you, Sam. She’s using you to find Brigid.”

Sam paused, his hand on the door.

“That’s why I’ve been trying to stop you,” she explained. “So you wouldn’t lead Moira straight to her.”

Sam gazed out the window, at the brightly-lit hospital entrance. A muscle in his jaw began to tick. “That’s why I had such a hard time the first couple months,” he said, putting the pieces together. “You were using your powers against me.”

“To protect Brigid,” Glenna explained. “Moira didn’t know that I knew the truth. She thought I was on her side. The only reason I knew was because of my visions.”

Sam looked back at her. “Do you know where Brigid is?”

Glenna shook her head. “I’ve been searching for her for years. But she’s hidden somewhere where Moira can’t see her—somewhere protected.” Glenna breathed in the scent of exhaust blowing in Sam’s open door. “I thought I had more time. But when Nuala came on land in November, she set things in motion—things that couldn’t be undone. Her failure to bring a suitable mate into the sea cost her the throne.”

Sam rested his hands back on the wheel. “So you’re saying that every trade Moira made with Nuala was to clear her path to the throne?”

Glenna nodded as a nurse wheeled an elderly man out to a van idling by the curb. “Even though I helped bring Liam back, Moira thought I was still on her side—that I would help her reclaim the throne.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lights flashed through the parking lot as an ambulance pulled up to the entrance. “Because if my mother cannot release herself from this curse, all her dark powers will pass to me.”

“Glenna—”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Glenna looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the look in his eyes. “Brigid is the eldest daughter of the selkie queen. She is the proper ruler. She is the only one who can restore the balance to the seas, protect the islands, and save us from Moira.”