The Witch's Journey Page 15

  “This morning you said a little late.”

  “Pardon me, Captain. I’m ten days late.”

  She hastily took the box and her eyes turned stormy. She locked the door, which she only did when requesting privacy for matters more personal than urinating. She was quite comfortable with him there when she was peeing, as she referred to it. But apparently not now.

  He was as jittery as her; likely as irritable. A lot hinged on this and, honestly, he didn’t know what he hoped for.

  “It’s taking a long time,” he said through the door.

  She came out and handed him the test. He looked at the line across the small window.

  “This indicates you do not carry my child?”

  She nodded. He couldn’t prevent exhaling far too loudly though he hadn’t been aware he was holding his breath. He put his hand to his perspiring brow.

  “I guess that tells all,” Angelique said. “Do a happy dance if you like!”

  He didn’t reply.

  “I’m fairly certain I’ve found a spell. I’ll go study it more.” She pushed past him and loudly closed the guest room door.

  He followed. “Angel, do you really wish for time alone?”

  “Apparently I’ll have that soon enough. What I want is for you and me to have mind-blowing sex.”

  He fervently kissed her, lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed.

  *

  Later, while they soaked together in the bathtub, her leaning back against him, Faolan brought up the disconcerting subject again.

  “When the moon’s next full you’ll perform the spell?”

  “Probably, although the solstices amplify my abilities. The winter solstice is near. My magic may be more powerful then. Tristan and Danhoul think the other witches will be back soon, too. They’re supposed to have Ainsley, Timothy’s sister, with them. She’s likely a witch, too. It’s possible to draw from others’ powers. That’d be a lot of magic to tap into.”

  Angelique knew Faolan dreaded the thought of being parted, too, yet he deeply yearned for his old life. She shouldn’t have reacted so badly when he insisted she take the pregnancy test or when he’d been relieved after. What man in his circumstances wouldn’t be?

  After they dried off, went back to the bedroom and dressed, Angelique spoke.

  “I’m going to look in that envelope,” she said.

  “Maybe it’ll distract us,” Faolan agreed.

  “That’s odd,” she said reading it over. “There’s a key and a note saying to go to the Shipley house attic—which is this house. We lived across the street when I was young. That’s why I wanted to buy this when I discovered it for sale. Even as a child, I thought it was cool the house was so old. Lacinda, the woman living here, babysat me sometimes and would let me play in the attic.”

  “We never did clear out the attic,” Faolan said.

  “I always preferred showing you Boston or having you watch something with me, listen to my music and taste different foods.”

  “We visited Salem, went to a few films and the theater once,” Faolan replied.

  “I wanted to fill our days with as much as possible, but if we’re being truthful, we’ve spent more time in bed than anywhere else.”

  “I’m pleased of that, Angel.”

  “Other than showing you the attic that day, I haven’t been there since I bought the place.”

  “Let’s go now.”

  *

  They looked through the usual items that seemed to collect in attics. Worn discarded luggage and trunks, antiquated toys, clothes and furniture, an old-fashioned mannequin for displaying women’s garments.

  “With everything cleared out, it’ll make a spacious apartment,” she said.

  Angelique tried the key in three large trunks with no luck. It was too big for the suitcases.

  “I don’t see a secret door anywhere. I wonder what I could possibly find that has to do with my birth mother?”

  “Do you remember anything from when you visited?”

  “The rocking horse.”

  As Angelique went to the long-abandoned toy horse, a floorboard squeaked.

  “Why has this creaky plank excited you?” Faolan asked.

  She dropped to her knees and pulled on the floorboard.

  “What are you lookin’ for?”

  “Perhaps a treasure map,” she said. He grinned. “Or a magical message or note between star-crossed lovers. Perhaps like the movie The Lake House, where a man and woman pass letters to one another not knowing they lived in different times.”

  “You’re a romantic, Angel,” he said prying up the floorboard.

  She sighed disappointedly when nothing was beneath it.

  “Maybe I’ll include secret messages in my novel. You’ve certainly inspired some heated love scenes.”

  His eyebrow arched. “I’d gladly further inspire you.”

  They stared at the old sofa. Recognizing the desirous look he wore, she felt the same powerful attraction.

  “I want you,” he affirmed.

  He kissed her neck, which made her tremble.

  “I want you, too.”

  He led her to the sofa. She eagerly unfastened his jeans and tugged them down, releasing his worthy erection, then fondled him from tip to balls. He groaned.

  “Sit down,” she said.

  She knelt before him and orally pleased him till he stopped her.

  “I’d like to serve you in the same manner.”

  He expertly rid her of her jeans and panties. She entangled her fingers in his hair as his mouth and tongue brought her to the cusp of her peak.

  “Let’s meet our release together,” he said. “I’ve brought no condoms. With your courses late do you believe you’re fertile?”

  Instead of replying, she mounted him and eagerly moved up and down as he squeezed her hips. His intense expression revealed he’d soon come.

  “Angel, move straightaway. We daren’t defy fate. We cannot risk another possibility of you carrying my child. That would be a reckless, foolhardy gamble.”

  She quickly moved. Breathing heavily, he looked tormented. Their unfinished encounter left them frustrated.

  “Since you so narrowly dodged that bullet, we should be careful. Better I send you back to smugglers, thieves and murderers. Far more appealing than risking me carrying your child!”

  “Angel, don’t be sore at me.”

  She hastily dressed and he pulled up his jeans. She saw his uncertainty at her temper. Every time they made love, kissed or even spoke, she knew their time together was finite. Sometimes anger seemed easier than sadness.

  They both quickly turned, hearing an unusual sound from the attic’s darkest corner.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Faolan habitually reached for his sword though he hadn’t kept it with him for weeks. Nearing where the sound originated, they spotted a small trunk mostly concealed by a rolled-up threadbare rug. They heard knocking. Angelique’s pocket grew warm and she pulled out the key. It was glowing.

  “Hurry up, will you?” a voice called and Angelique jumped.

  “Who said that?”

  “If you’d open the infernal trunk, you’d find out.”

  Angelique and Faolan’s eyes met.

  “It can’t be anythin’ too large if it fits in that trunk,” he reasoned.

  “A faerie maybe?”

  The gruff voice didn’t sound like any faery she’d ever summoned.

  “The day grows late!” the cranky voice said.

  Angelique hesitantly slipped the key in the keyhole, not surprised it fit, then Faolan insisted on opening it.

  “Finally! By the gods of the Celts and the halls of the realms of magic, I thought I’d be made to listen to your carnal activities all confounded day. It wasn’t bad enough this trunk should’ve been opened long ago. Then you apparently needed to attend to that instead of setting me free.”

  The small person wearing a pointed yellow hat leapt from the trunk and stretched. He sto
od as tall as Angelique’s knees. He had a long white beard and a tiny, pinched face—now red with displeasure. He stared up at them, scowling.

  “A witch and her guardian, I presume?”

  “I am a witch, but Faolan’s not my guardian. Who or what are you?” Angelique asked.

  “What do I look like?” he snarled.

  They observed the small man.

  “You want the truth?”

  “Say what’s on your mind, witch.”

  “You look like a garden gnome.”

  “I’m not a gnome,” he said, arms crossed and scowl deepening.

  “A midget or dwarf perhaps?” Faolan guessed.

  “Those aren’t politically correct terms now,” Angelique said.

  “An elf,” he suggested.

  “A leprechaun?” Angelique said unable to hide her amusement.

  “Hmmphh!” the man said.

  “The day grows late,” Angelique said with sarcasm.

  “Far be it from me to keep you waitin’ when you’ve kept me waitin’ for months.”

  “Months?”

  “You were to receive the envelope with the key months ago.”

  “How do you know that, if you were trapped in that trunk?”

  “I was sent here some time ago. Thankfully I’m able to sleep for a lengthy time.”

  “Well, Rip Van Winkle, didn’t you hear us last time we were here?”

  “I do sometimes fall into a deep slumber. At any rate it’s my damnable lot to be your guide.”

  “My guide?”

  “Are you hard of hearing?”

  “You disrespect Angelique with your tone,” Faolan chastised.

  “What were you doing earlier if not disrespecting her?”

  “What Faolan and I do together consensually is none of your business! Tell me why I’d need a guide.”

  “To take you on your journeys and complete the tasks so the four of you will finally meet.”

  “Four of us?”

  “Do you know nothing, Ginger Witch?”

  “Ginger Witch? I definitely don’t care for that name. My hair’s auburn, my name’s Angelique and I won’t be insulted by a miserable little shit barely the size of a medium-sized dog. Apparently I don’t know as much as I should. Don’t be so damn impatient. Oh, perfect, now I’m picking up on your negativity! Couldn’t I have Bashful or Doc? Did I have to get Grumpy as a guide? I can’t call you Grouchy Gus. I already gave that name to an unruly ghost.”

  “My name’s Wolf.”

  “Wolf?” She eyed him closer.

  “Is your witch hard of hearing?” he asked Faolan.

  “My hearing’s fine. I don’t think the name fits.”

  “It’s because of my slyness.”

  “I thought foxes were the sly ones?” Faolan said.

  “Maybe it’s because of my teeth.” Wolf opened his mouth to reveal rows of disturbingly sharp teeth. “I’m your magical guide. That’s all you need know.”

  “Obviously I need to know a whole lot more. If you’ve been here months, don’t you need to eat or relieve yourself?”

  “Those are the questions foremost in your mind?”

  “Angelique’s a caring woman.”

  “She sounded quite caring earlier.”

  “Stop mentioning what occurred before. You could’ve made your presence known. Maybe you’re a pervert as well as a crabby little bastard! I’d prefer a faery godmother if I need a magical guide.”

  “I’m who you get and you’re whom I’m assigned to. You’ve apparently selected your guardian as the earth witch, adamantly specified. She was most demanding. You weren’t to live numerous lives. You weren’t to be assigned a guardian but choose your own. The LAMB agency was to stay away throughout your childhood! Hmmph!”

  “Lamb agency? Who are they?”

  “It’s not important. It’s mostly disbanded; many have been killed. They were once formed to search for magical beings,” Wolf explained.

  “Like spies or secret agents of magic?”

  “Enough about them,” Wolf scolded. “What of your guardian?”

  “I told you, Faolan isn’t my guardian. He’s my…boyfriend.”

  “I’m hardly a boy.” Faolan sounded insulted.

  “And clearly more than a friend,” Wolf added.

  “I summoned Faolan with magic, but not as my guardian.”

  “You wish for another then?”

  “Faolan must return to his time.”

  “He’s from another time?”

  “Are you hard of hearing?” Angelique asked.

  Wolf scowled. “Naming a guardian was to be done by midnight of the last day of your twenty-first year. The book did say so.”

  “What book?”

  “The book with information you must learn,” Wolf impatiently said. “Was it not with the key?”

  “The key was with a note telling me to look in this attic, but there was no book.”

  “So you’ve no guardian and no book! Some transcendent witch you’ve turned out to be! How will the four of you be the hope of the world against Dark Lord Odhran if you know nothing of time travel and can’t accomplish the quests so the book’s taken back to the other witches? It’s a fine mess you’re in, Ginger.”

  “With your apparently vast knowledge maybe you can find this freaking book. Or maybe I’ll just throw you back in that damn trunk, lock it and forget I ever saw you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I wouldn’t push her just now; she’s already riled with me,” Faolan warned.

  “Because you’ve not wed her? Or because you insinuated her carrying your child would be a fate worse than death at the sword of your enemies?”

  “By Christ, you’re not helpin’ and I didn’t say that.”

  “You basically did!” Angelique said.

  “You’re takin’ this little churl’s side?”

  “What are these quests I’m to do? Who in the hell is Dark Lord Odhran? Sounds like someone from Tolkien’s Middle Earth or Rowling’s Voldemort.”

  “Odhran’s considerably worse than any fictional villain. Perhaps more like Lucifer.”

  “Perfect! Well help me find the book so I can save these other witches, but that’s as much as I’ll commit to.”

  “It involves time travel so you will need a guardian accompanying you. Was he summoned before midnight on the first day of your twenty-second year?”

  “Just at midnight.”

  “He appears tall and strong.”

  He looked up at Faolan and nearly fell over.

  “Would he protect you no matter the cost?”

  “Of course I would,” Faolan said.

  “Then it’s settled. He’ll be your guardian.”

  “Why do I even need a guardian?”

  “You’re the last transcendent witch. All four need guardians. You’ll meet the other three, but first you must do your part; use the scrolls to learn your tasks.”

  “My tasks?”

  The small man scowled again. “If you aren’t deaf, are you witless?”

  “I’m trying to understand. This is all news to me.”

  “Did you not read the letter?”

  “I freaking told you, the letter only said I should look in this attic.”

  “Oh aye, the other letter must be here then.”

  Wolf jumped back into the trunk, noisily rummaged around, tossing items out, then pulled out another envelope, aged and yellowed.

  “It’s from, Bronaugh, the witch who gave you life,” Wolf stated.

  “Why don’t you just say my mother?” Angelique said.

  She sat on the old sofa, moving over when the spring jabbed her again. She slowly removed the letter but didn’t look.

  “Well, witch; get on with it!”

  “Would you prefer I read it aloud?” Faolan compassionately asked.

  Angelique nodded and passed him the letter. Unfolding it, he began.

  My dearest Ailish,

  I’ve had a premon
ition of my death and know I won’t live to see you grown. There’s so much I want to tell you, but time’s limited. Firstly, I need you to know I’ve loved you since I learned I carried you, then more with each movement within me. I’ve cherished every precious moment we’ve had together these fourteen months.

  Now as I watch you sleep, see your perfect face, your lovely long dark lashes and shiny, soft red curls, I know you’ll be a beauty one day. I’ve already proudly witnessed your uncommon intelligence, deep empathy and powerful magic.

  I tried to protect you from the hideous beasts pursuing you. Moving through time, always fleeing—that’s no life for a child. I’ve placed magic around you and hope it’ll protect you from evil. You are powerful, Ailish. You’re the water witch, the last of the transcendent witches.

  You have a tremendous task ahead of you, my daughter. You’ll one day participate in the predicted battle of good and evil against the Dark Lord Odhran and those horrific people, demons and devils who band with him. Always there’ll be those who seek you before you reach your full potential and before the four of you congregate. Together your strength will be unprecedented, but necessary.

  I’ve stayed here in Ireland within faery realms and magical glades, moving throughout different centuries, but I sense them ever around me, those with darkness from the Unseelie Court, the portal to the dark realm some might refer to as Hell. They’ll probably try to kill you so you can’t meet the other witches, or they’ll try to take you hoping to steer you to their malevolence.

  As I write this, I know my time will soon end. I sense them nearer. I pray those with benevolent powers will place you in the care of a mortal woman with a pure heart who’s accepting of your magic but will allow you a normal childhood. I have faith you’ll stay safe until you’ve experienced your awakening when your ever-growing powers are revealed.

  There’ll be guardians sent to you through the years. Some remain, some move on, but they’ll be protectors. Thanks to my grandmother (the third transcendent witch) and her strict conditions, choosing your sovereign guardian will be up to you. Witches almost always fall in love with their sovereign guardian. I wish you a powerful, passionate, mutual love, my daughter. Allow your guardian to protect you…heart and body.

  It’s believed you’ll be tasked with journeying through time to ensure the other witches have the magical book necessary for all of you to meet. Use protection spells and intuitiveness.