The Witch's Journey Read online

  “I don’t believe we could go back to not bein’ lovers,” Faolan admitted.

  “I wouldn’t want to. But knowing you’ll leave and we’ll never see each other again, won’t every day…every time we’re together make it more difficult to say good-bye?”

  He sighed, held her hand tighter but didn’t reply. She glanced down at her collection of shells when a sea star washed up.

  “Do you make wishes on sea stars in your time?” Faolan asked.

  “We wish upon stars, but I’ve never heard that.”

  “Perhaps it’s only done by pirates?” he jested.

  “What would I wish for, Faolan?” She dared to look into his eyes. “To be pregnant so you’d feel forced to stay with me? Even creating a child together—one not meant to be—might be toying with fate.”

  “Do you want children?”

  “Someday. Do you, Faolan? It must’ve been really difficult losing your wife and unborn child?”

  “I maintain intense guilt knowing she’d still be alive if not for our being together.”

  “It may have happened if she’d been with any man. Sometimes it’s the woman’s anatomy; sometimes just the pregnancy.”

  “That possibility would be one of many reasons you couldn’t come back with me.”

  It was the first time he’d mentioned that with seriousness. It had been on her mind. Could she go back with him?

  “I doubt I’d fit in, having lived in this modern time. I couldn’t sail with a lot of men. Could I?”

  “It’s a dangerous life.”

  “Life has no guarantees no matter what century we live in.”

  He picked up the sea star.

  “I’ll wish for us to know joy and happiness for however much time we are together.”

  “I’ll wish that, too,” she replied and they kissed again. “We’ll always have special memories of Maine.”

  *

  Angelique introduced Faolan to Thanksgiving. She cooked a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Mrs. Boyle was there, as were Tristan, Danhoul and Timothy. Mr. Nivens couldn’t attend, for he’d been unwell. Newt was in New York at an art show and Fiona went with him to visit a friend there.

  As happy as Angelique was in having many friends here together, she tried not to think ahead to Christmas, knowing Faolan would probably be gone.

  *

  Angelique moaned, taking a bite of her waffle smothered in syrup, strawberries and whipped cream.

  “I’m going to weigh a ton if I keep eating like this. I always eat more when I’m happy.”

  “You’re a very fine cook.”

  “It’s only my cooking you like then?”

  Faolan grinned his now so familiar sexy grin.

  “I like everythin’ about you, Angel.”

  “Except when I put my cold feet on you in bed or steal the covers.”

  “I don’t mind. I adore sleeping beside you; holding you as you sleep. I don’t sleep with other women.”

  She stared, not understanding.

  “I’ve bedded my share, but slept with few. My wife, of course. Most others were only if I unintentionally fell asleep after partaking in too much drink. I make a point of not sleeping with them. It’s too intimate.”

  “More intimate than sex?”

  “In some ways,” he replied. “Sex is instinctual.”

  “And sleeping isn’t?”

  “A person’s completely vulnerable when asleep. You must trust the person you sleep with.”

  “People are vulnerable during sex, too.”

  “But then the other person is equally detained.”

  “Certainly if they’re with you.” She smirked. “I like sleeping with you, too, Faolan.”

  She frowned. As much as she wanted to simply enjoy their time together, she couldn’t stop dwelling on the future. She tried to think of it as similar to a summer romance, always knowing it wouldn’t be forever. She longed to live in the moment, but that was difficult.

  “You miss the sea,” she said.

  “I admit, lookin’ out on it makes me a wee bit homesick.”

  “I still haven’t found anything of your history.”

  “We spent considerable time lookin’ at the library.”

  “Sometimes you have to go to the birthplace to find records. I’d love to go to Ireland with you.”

  “How would we get there?”

  “By plane.”

  “I’d be uneasy ridin’ in those peculiar flyin’ ships.”

  “Flying’s actually great. It’s unsettling if there’s turbulence and landing’s occasionally rough. But mostly it’s no different than sitting here, other than you can see the clouds. Going by ship to Ireland would take a week. Flying from Boston to Dublin or Cork, which is closer to Kinsale, takes about six hours.”

  “Truly? In my time it takes nearly two moons even when the sea is calm.”

  “You’ve made that trip?”

  “I’ve been to the Caribbean a few times. America, only once. I’d never do so when relations between England and America are so strained. I’d stay far away from that until that dispute’s settled.”

  “That’s another three years from your time till the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776.”

  Neither liked to speak of time. It was their enemy, a topic to be avoided. His brow furrowed even now. To lighten the mood, she picked up the can of whipped cream and mischievously sprayed his mouth and chin.

  His expression was so delightfully amusing, she burst into laughter.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” he questioned, looking like a sexy Santa Claus.

  He started to wipe the whipped cream away.

  “No, wait.”

  She leaned forward, resting her hands on his firm thighs, kissing him and sensually licking it from his lips.

  “There’s a method to your madness, woman,” he said pulling her onto his lap and kissing her fervently.

  Ending the kiss, she moved away, further confusing him. Taking the can of whipped cream, she headed toward the bedroom.

  “Angel, just what…?”

  She sassily winked and realization dawned in his eyes. He grinned and followed.

  *

  “What did you buy?” Angelique asked when Faolan returned from a solo shopping excursion.

  He pulled a bouquet of pink roses from behind his back.

  “They’re beautiful, Faolan! Thank you!” She kissed him. “What else do you have?” she asked putting the roses in a vase.

  “Necessities.” He revealed two large boxes of condoms.

  “You anticipate being very amorous?” she asked when he proceeded to leave condoms in every room.

  “We’re always very amorous, Angel. But it’s bad enough we must disturb the spontaneity with stoppin’ to place one of these confounded sheaths, but to be forced to only have you in the bedchamber is limiting.”

  She smiled. They’d actually made love everywhere, even the laundry room with one heated encounter when he’d exuberantly lifted her upon the washer and made doing laundry incredibly memorable. Needing to stop during the heat of the moment was frustrating. She’d thought about going on the pill again or seeing about other birth control methods but most took time to be effective.

  He was about to open the nightstand drawer on her side, when she remembered.

  “Wait!” she called out.

  But he’d already seen. He retrieved the item and stared at it with disbelieving eyes.

  “What, by all that’s holy, is this?”

  “What does it look like?” she asked unable to hide her smirk at his aghast expression.

  “It appears to be a large purple cock.”

  She giggled nearly uncontrollably and snorted.

  “That’s precisely what it is. It’s called a vibrator.”

  He was apparently speechless.

  “Newt bought it mostly as a joke—I think. It’s still in the clear packaging. I haven’t used it, but apparently many women do.”

&
nbsp; He still held it, staring like it was something beyond his comprehension.

  “A button makes it vibrate. Evidently they bring a lot of pleasure.”

  He shook his head and put it in the drawer. “You live in a very peculiar time, Angel.”

  “Faolan Mahoney, you are a prude!”

  He playfully tickled her, picked her up, tossed her on the bed and gently fell atop her.

  “You’ll have no need for such an item while I’m with you.”

  “No, Captain, I don’t suppose I will.”

  *

  “Whoa, careful with that, Faolan!” Angelique said seeing him thrashing his sword about the living room.

  “I’ll become rusty without practice and unfit if I don’t keep active.”

  “We’ve been walking lots and doing other activities. You’ve expended a lot of energy.”

  “And reveled in every moment, but I must keep up my skills.”

  “I have an area set up in the basement for yoga and karate and an old punching bag you can—stab,” she suggested.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you come here often?” Faolan asked staring at the strange-looking shop down the dark alley.

  “Don’t tell me it’s freaking out an eighteenth-century pirate?”

  “Doesn’t it give you a disquietin’ sensation?”

  “A little. It’s an apothecary shop with books and items not found anywhere else. You can wait outside, Faolan.”

  “You’ll not go alone.”

  “Always my protector,” she said.

  He pulled her into his arms and ardently kissed her. Their passion had only intensified. They craved each other, heatedly and often. He led her to the side of the shop and firmly pressed her against the building. They could scarcely keep their hands off each other. She didn’t know if it was because the sex was so unbelievably fantastic, if they knew their time together was limited, or both.

  “Not here, Faolan.” She finally ended their fevered embrace although admittedly tempted to let him continue. “I won’t stay long in the shop.”

  Angelique opened the door to smell herbs and strong incense, but there was the hint of something darker. Spells concocted with blood, perhaps—maybe animal sacrifice. Never having been to the back, she preferred not to know.

  Up front were dried herbs, vials of various concoctions, rocks and crystals, wands, metaphysical and occult books, a wide variety of tarot cards and other divining tools much like any new-age shop. However, there were also antique daggers, poisonous herbs, books pertaining to dark magic and containers with some items Angelique thought must only be there to add a creepier atmosphere. She doubted the heart, brain, hand or eyeballs floating in the jars were real. However, this shop was unusual.

  Mystique, a practicing witch—who looked more like a vampire with her thick eyeliner, straight black hair and long black cape—stepped from the back and smiled. She’d picked up on Angelique’s magic, had her do a few readings here.

  “May I be of assistance, Samantha?”

  “What information do you have on time-travel spells?”

  “That’s ambitious,” Mystique said.

  “Likely impossible, but it’s always fascinated me. Even Einstein believed it was a possibility.”

  “Perhaps one of those books,” Mystique suggested, pointing to a shelf.

  Faolan appeared uneasy, nervously looking toward the door.

  One book bore a Satanic symbol. The next more scientific with mathematical formulas. The third drew Angelique’s attention. She inhaled the musty scent. There were words and symbols, sketches of timepieces, hourglasses and sundials, spells that pertained to time. The book intrigued her.

  “How much?” Angelique asked as another woman came from the back wearing a dark cloak with a wide hood. She looked like she belonged in a Satanic cult or a low-budget horror film.

  “Perhaps you’ll give us a spell in exchange,” the woman said, her face concealed.

  “What kind of spell are you looking for?” Angelique asked.

  “Perhaps one to find a man as appealing as yours, so willing to please you,” the woman said.

  “No magic’s that powerful,” Angelique replied possessively grasping Faolan’s hand.

  “But he was brought to you by a spell?” the woman questioned.

  Angelique shivered. “How much for the book?” she repeated.

  Faolan seemed more uncomfortable.

  “Was it a spell of love or merely of lust? One endures time, one fades sure as iron rusts,” the woman eerily said.

  “I won’t listen to words from someone who doesn’t even show her face,” Angelique replied.

  “Let’s just leave, Angel,” Faolan said.

  “The book?”

  “Thirty dollars,” Mystique replied.

  “And perhaps a drop of witch’s blood,” the hooded woman added.

  “I don’t think she’ll draw customers, Mystique,” Angelique said setting the book back down. “Not those you’d want anyway.”

  Faolan looked relieved when they started for the door.

  “I didn’t think a transcendent witch would be so easily unsettled,” the other woman called after them.

  Angelique didn’t reply and Faolan swiftly ushered her out.

  “I’ve never seen her there before but my pendant’s burning.”

  “Best you didn’t get the book then, if it would be delving into something dark.”

  “It’s her that’s dark.”

  Nearly to the street, Mystique came after them, her long cape billowing.

  “Take the book, Samantha.”

  “Who’s that woman?” Angelique asked.

  “Her name’s Claudia. She offers classes in spell-casting magic. She’s popular, but a little dark, even for me.”

  “I’d be careful what I let into your shop, Mystique. Her aura’s nearly black.”

  “She seems very interested in you, but here, take the book. No charge. I found it in a trunk left by the previous shop owner. I set it out just before you came in. It must be a sign.”

  “Thanks, Mystique. Burn sage when she leaves, line the doors and windows with charmed sea salt or black salt.”

  *

  “Anything interesting?” Faolan asked Angelique as she pored over the book.

  “There’s seasonal spells. Spells to renew a love faded by time and reversing aging caused by time, but none mention time travel…or sending someone through time.”

  “How could I go back now, Angel?”

  Their eyes met and she wanted to cry.

  “What’s in that?” He changed the subject gesturing toward the official-looking envelope she hadn’t opened.

  “It’s from Mom’s lawyer.”

  “Why’s it sealed?”

  “Apparently it contains something about my birth mother. Mom was reluctant to speak much of my adoption. Maybe I don’t want to know.”

  “You intend to avoid it forever?”

  “I’ll read it someday.”

  “Your monthly courses haven’t begun,” Faolan said, changing the subject again. “They’re late.”

  “A little.”

  “Is that common?”

  “No,” she admitted. “And the full moon’s come and gone.”

  “I don’t believe they’ll resume,” Faolan said.

  “You think I’m pregnant?”

  “Last month before your courses began, you were irritable, weepy and you ate an exorbitant amount of chocolate.”

  “Maybe I’m just happier now, certainly more content having an incredibly sexy man in my bed. And it was a perfectly acceptable amount of chocolate. But you and I weren’t close then, certainly not lovers. How…?”

  “I pay close attention to detail, Angel. Aren’t you aware of that by now?” he asked staring at her breasts.

  “Now you’re trying to determine if there are changes in my breasts suggesting I’m pregnant? You undoubtedly would have noticed earlier when you had your hands and mouth on them.”r />
  “I may have been a little preoccupied. Do memories of our lovemaking still make you flustered, Angel?” he asked as he walked nearer.

  “Not another step or we’ll end up back in bed. I need to think. If I purchase a pregnancy test and find out I’m not pregnant, I’ll seriously need to work on a spell to send you back. I can’t keep you here indefinitely when I see you’re discontent in wanting to return to the sea. If the test was positive…then what? You’d feel tied to a life here when you’re a captain of a freaking pirate ship.”

  “What’s this test you speak of?”

  “You simply pee on it and it determines if you’re pregnant. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “I must know, Angelique.”

  He usually only called her that when he was being serious or a little perturbed with her.

  “Fine. I’ll go buy a pregnancy test,” she said.

  “Don’t be displeased with me for needin’ to know.”

  “I’m not,” she said though she haughtily grabbed her coat. Apparently he was coming, too.

  “You can’t sense the truth with magic?” Faolan asked as they walked.

  “My perceptive abilities don’t work well for myself. Otherwise I would’ve avoided the two serious accidents I was in.”

  “Two? Newt told me of the incident when you didn’t waken for weeks.”

  “I don’t remember much of that. I thought maybe Newt mentioned I was also in a motorcycle accident with Ewan. He was killed instantly but I was thrown into the water just like the first time. Water heals me, but surely not from death.”

  They walked into the pharmacy, holding hands as always. The thought of Faolan leaving made her physically ill. Maybe that’s what was causing her recent nausea but it was unlikely.

  “There.” She pointed to the pregnancy tests.

  “Right here by the condoms,” he said. “That’s reassurin’!”

  *

  “Now you have this test, you’re not intendin’ to use it?” Faolan said feeling undeniably perturbed at her constant procrastination.

  “A morning sample’s best.”

  “It says it should show up within a few days of a missed period.” He read from the box. “How late are your courses?”

  “Ten days,” she whispered.