The Witch's Journey Read online

  Faolan retrieved it straightaway.

  “Danhoul said you shouldn’t touch it.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t either,” Angelique replied.

  “If it isn’t a spell against him, your guardian should be safe,” a gruff voice said and Wolf appeared.

  “Where have you been?” Faolan firmly rebuked Wolf.

  “Who are you talking to?” Newt asked.

  “A small person called Wolf who’s my magical guide. Think a garden gnome, Grumpy from Snow White and Yoda all rolled into one.”

  Newt’s eyes widened.

  “I was in the realm of the gods trying to find out what’s detaining the other witches. Little did I know we’d nearly lose the fourth witch while I was away. Do you have no common sense, Ginger? Accepting gifts from strangers!”

  “A tissue’s hardly a gift and she seemed compassionate.”

  “Since you’re enamored with film and continually make reference to these seven dwarves, have you not watched Snow White in its entirety? How caring did the disguised stepmother with the poison apple appear?”

  “Fine, I’ll be more cautious next time.”

  “I hope there’ll be no next time!” Faolan said.

  “Where were you guardian?”

  “Faolan can’t be with me every minute. Besides, it happened in the ladies’ room.”

  “If you’d not been weeping over him seeking out other women, you’d not have been distracted.”

  “I wasn’t weeping because of that.”

  “Perhaps you wept because you carried his child then and intended to send him back to his time without telling him.”

  “That’s irrelevant now,” Angelique said, trying to sound even a little indifferent.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your unborn babe.” Wolf’s cantankerous face softened. “It seems a pattern for transcendent witches.”

  “The other witches have lost unborn children?”

  “Each one. The first, Alainn, the air witch, lost a newborn son.”

  “That would be so much worse,” Angelique said nearly weeping again.

  “How can I protect Angelique from danger?” Faolan asked.

  “Witches throughout history are perpetually in danger of one sort or another. Transcendent witches have even more enemies. I suspect this woman or whatever she was, perhaps evil witch or demoness, does have alliances with Odhran,” Wolf said.

  “Since it’s predicted the four transcendent witches must be present during that final battle to determine if goodness will prevail, of course you’ll be targeted, like the others. You were shielded most of your life and because you went to the spirit world, not once but three times, you’ve been the most difficult to track. You’ve eluded even those with benevolent magic. The light of the child you carried acted as a beacon.”

  “By Christ,” Faolan said.

  “Women who miscarry don’t typically nearly die,” Angelique said.

  “The hex caused greater blood loss. The intent was probably to take your life. Thankfully your guardian found you before that occurred—albeit he was the one who put you in that condition in the first place.”

  “Don’t!” she warned and waggled her finger at Wolf. “It takes two to tango!”

  “What?” Faolan said.

  “I won’t permit him to berate you. No opinions, Wolf. Just the facts. When was this third time I supposedly died?”

  “You’d be too young to remember. You must bear a scar—and your guardian was there, too.” Wolf pointed to Faolan. “The gods believe that’s why you summoned him. You named him your guardian long ago.”

  “What?” she and Faolan said together.

  “It’s simpler to show you,” Wolf said.

  Wolf’s vision revealed a helpful young boy, a desperate woman and a small child. They saw the woman stab the child, throw her into the sea. A tall, frightening man killed the woman though Angelique never saw his face. When he disappeared, a sea creature pushed the child ashore. The boy took her from the sea, restarted her breathing and warmed her.

  “That unconscionable man was Odhran and even back then you named Faolan your guardian.”

  “Those peculiar dreams I had were memories,” Faolan said. “That’s likely why I felt I should remember your scar.”

  “The gods erased your memories, but apparently not all,” Wolf claimed. “You and Ginger will remain together as you complete the quests. What you decide later is up to you.”

  “Since you’ve been to this realm of the gods, tell me when the other witches will return?” Angelique asked.

  “The gods don’t know. It’s suspected near the solstice.”

  “How can they not know? Don’t gods know and determine the fates of all?” Angelique asked.

  “I told you, the third witch—in her anger at Aine and the other Celtic gods and their decisions—has wholly veiled herself, the other two witches and their men. The combined knowledge and intuition of the entire Council of the Gods can’t determine where or even when they are.”

  “They’re in other times?”

  “Perhaps. They’re from different times at any rate, but the earth witch veiled them. It’s believed they’ll return with the solstice.”

  “I’m supposed to do these tasks before the four of us can be together?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d really like to hear all of this conversation,” Newt said.

  “May I?” Angelique asked.

  “May you what?” Wolf replied.

  “Permit Newt to hear you.”

  “How would you do that?” Wolf asked.

  “It’s actually quite remedial.”

  “It’s actually quite remedial,” Wolf repeated in a less than pleasing voice.

  “Even Bashful or Sneezy would’ve been better.”

  “You’re not amusing, Ginger.”

  “Doc would have been appreciated last night. Although Danhoul possesses magical healing.”

  “He’s a High Druid born to parents with powerful abilities and of the line of Odhran. If you wish him to be your guardian, the gods have granted me permission. Sometimes it’s good to have the man with whom you’re romantically involved as guardian, but that, too, can create unrest as you’ve learned.”

  “Still sitting in the dark,” Newt said.

  “All words now spoken here, may be heard by those I hold dear.”

  “To catch you up on the conversation.” Angelique closed her eyes and twirled her finger counterclockwise.

  All three males stared in disbelief as the conversation from the time Wolf entered the room was repeated.

  “You took us back in time?” Wolf asked. “Or permitted us to see the echo?”

  “I called it a rerun when I’d do it for Mom. I sometimes see details I hadn’t noticed the first time.”

  “Therefore, Ginger, you could show us what happened when you were with the woman who placed the hex on you?”

  “Possibly, although my magic’s affected when I’m physically ailing.”

  “Be cautious, Angel. I’m not saying that only as the man who…cares for you, but as your guardian who thought you’d die.”

  “If we determine who she is, we’ll possibly know what we’re dealing with,” Wolf said.

  After answering the knock at the door, Faolan let Danhoul, Tristan and Timothy in.

  *

  “Shite, you have an elgnorf!” Tristan exclaimed, clearly impressed.

  “I wholly dislike that term,” Wolf said.

  “You’re part elf, gnome and dwarf, right?”

  Wolf didn’t reply.

  “This is Wolf,” Angelique said.

  “How are you?” Danhoul asked Angelique.

  Faolan saw Danhoul’s deep concern. For someone who’d admitted he was in love with another, he seemed to deeply care for Angelique. Faolan believed it might be more than just as a friend.

  “I’m doing okay. Thanks again for all you did, Danhoul, and you, too, Tristan and Timothy.”

  “I was
happy to help,” Timothy said sitting by Newt, and Angelique saw the smile they shared.

  “Glad to be of service,” Tristan said with a comical bow. “Back to your elf/gnome/dwarf. How did you come by him?”

  “I’m not a pet dog, annoying young searcher.”

  “No, apparently you’re the wilder variety,” Tristan suggested with a laugh.

  Wolf scowled and bared his teeth.

  “Christ!” Tristan jumped back.

  “The water witch was about to show us something with her magic. If you’d kindly close your constantly flapping mouth, perhaps it could be done.”

  “He’s a real charmer!” Tristan whispered, holding his hand by the side of his mouth.

  “It hasn’t been determined if Angel will attempt this feat. She’s still not recovered,” Faolan said.

  “The pitfalls of having a witch’s guardian being the man who cares for her,” Wolf said.

  “I don’t blame Faolan for being worried about Samantha,” Danhoul defended Faolan. “I suppose I should call you Angelique now—or Ailish.”

  “Angelique please; I’ll never be Ailish.”

  Danhoul nodded. “Angelique very nearly died last night. Because of the stipulations Ainsley, the third witch—who’s actually Angelique’s great-grandmother—demanded, there’d be no chance of reliving this life. The other three witches lived many lives with varying outcomes. Ainsley only did it to ensure Angelique wasn’t tormented like the other three, constantly living the same life by the gods’ design, over and over, then being disturbed by so many confusing memories. But if Angelique dies…”

  “Must we speak of that?” Faolan interrupted, exhaling loudly as he took Angelique’s hand.

  “Faolan, I want to do this. I suspect Danhoul can heal me further and I promise I’ll rest the remainder of the day. It’d be good to learn if anyone knows this woman who hexed me.”

  “Is this wise, Danhoul?” Faolan asked.

  “I’m not completely in favor of it, but the sooner we know who or what we’re dealin’ with, the better prepared we’ll be for possible further attacks—because there’ll likely be more. Evidently no one knows where Angelique lives or they would’ve been here already. We can be grateful of that.”

  “How do they not know? If they found Angel at the gallery, why not here?”

  “I suspect you have the house warded?” Tristan asked and Angelique nodded.

  Faolan felt increasingly uneasy. Angelique looked pale and tired. He touched her cheek and in her eyes was such obvious affection for him, it nearly took his breath away. He laced his fingers through hers.

  “You can really make all of us see what you saw?” Tristan asked.

  “I’ve never attempted it with so many or when I’m this weak, but I want to try. Then I’ll rest, I promise.”

  She looked at Faolan; he kissed her, then begrudgingly nodded.

  “We’ll need to be in water,” Angelique said.

  “The Charles River and the ocean would be a tad frigid now,” Tristan said.

  “Your bathtub’s large but not big enough for all of us,” Newt added.

  “Even if we were all the size of your little…”

  “Don’t say it, young Tristan, or you may find yourself not much bigger than I. You already dismay at your height.”

  “Because I’m always surrounded by damn guardians over six feet tall.”

  “How do you imagine I feel?” Wolf asked.

  “Good things come in small packages,” Angelique said.

  “That isn’t necessarily complimentary to Faolan,” Tristan joked.

  The scowl Angelique gave Tristan was as formidable as any Faolan had seen Wolf manage.

  “A small package wasn’t part of her summoning spell,” Newt said.

  “Enough of this unnecessary talk,” Wolf said.

  “I agree,” Angelique replied.

  She used her magic to open the tallest cupboard.

  “We’ll use a bowl large enough we can all place our hands in.”

  Faolan stood and easily reached it.

  “Show-off!” Tristan said.

  “It must be filled with spring water,” she said, almost apologetically.

  After their argument last night, which involved her need for special water, Faolan was regretful.

  “Chemicals in tap water don’t permit magic to flow,” she explained.

  Faolan filled it half full of hot, then cold water from the water cooler though that name alone perplexed him when one spout exuded hot water. He sat the bowl on the table.

  “I’ll say the spell, then one at a time around the table counterclockwise, we’ll slowly add our hands.”

  Faolan tried to remain unfazed. She mouthed the words and put her hands in the water, then gestured to him. He placed his hands beside hers. When they touched, the water rippled. She smiled.

  “Why do you smile?” he whispered.

  “See how the water’s changed color?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s pale silvery blue, the color of your aura. Blended with my purple it makes a very lovely color. Now you, Newt.”

  He complied, as did the others around the table. The water now shimmered with colors like a rainbow.

  “That’s good,” she said. “It’s not murky so all here have a pure soul.”

  “I doubt that would be a sentiment shared by all,” Faolan said.

  “But I’ve felt your soul,” she whispered.

  “Enough mushy talk. We have a purpose here, Ginger.”

  Almost immediately an image appeared in the water. It was Newt’s gallery. Several people were milling about. Faolan was standing with Misty. Was he really staring that obviously at her very large, mostly exposed breasts?

  Angelique rolled her eyes disapprovingly in the image and again now, but said nothing. Then Angelique went off to the ladies’ room and Faolan’s heart ached at seeing her distraught.

  When the woman came from the stall, Faolan was more distressed. After her encounter with Angelique in the restroom, the image faded.

  “Wait, I saw her at the gallery,” Newt said. “She passed Misty some money. I thought maybe they were friends.”

  “Maybe she paid Misty to wear tainted perfume that contributed to the hex,” Angelique suggested.

  “I recognize the stripper but not the woman in the restroom,” Danhoul said.

  “How could we not recognize the stripper?” Tristan said.

  “Can we concentrate on the other woman?” Angelique asked. “Unless you’d like me to give my opinion on you taking Faolan to a strip club?”

  “Don’t know the other woman,” Tristan quickly added.

  Timothy shook his head.

  “I’d never seen her before, but people drop in unexpectedly to these events,” Newt said.

  “The woman has dark magic but her eyes don’t have the quality of a demoness,” Wolf added.

  “Could she be a shifter?” Danhoul asked.

  “Hard to tell by a scant image,” Wolf said. “Most likely she’s a witch.”

  “What’s wrong, Faolan?” Angelique said.

  “I regret to say, I know her.”

  “She’s from your time?” Angelique asked.

  “Wait? Faolan’s from another time?” Tristan asked. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  “How did I not know that?” Danhoul asked. “We’ve been together on many occasions and I didn’t see that.”

  “You didn’t suspect with his antiquated way of speaking? However, I’ve shielded him with my magic, too,” Angelique said. “So, Faolan…who’s the woman who tried to kill me?”

  “Her name’s Clodaugh. She’s from my time. Well, I suppose I can’t even be sure of that. But she was there in my time.”

  “Clearly there’s more to it or you wouldn’t wear such a guilty expression,” Angelique said.

  “We shared a bed—only briefly, but…”

  “Perfect!” Angelique said.

  “That might be a good thing,” Tristan sa
id.

  “How could that possibly be good?” Angelique snapped.

  “It might only be personal. Maybe she’s just a jealous woman and it has nothing to do with Odhran or evil.”

  “She placed a bloody dangerous hex on Angelique with an evil symbol,” Danhoul said. “It might be personal, but it’s not just personal and clearly, she’s very dangerous. She nearly took the life of a transcendent witch and probably had Misty help her.”

  “I believe that might have been Clodaugh in the apothecary shop, too,” Faolan added.

  Angelique simply inhaled, trying to stay calm.

  “Arianna’s aunt’s name is Clodaugh,” Tristan said. “She caused trouble for her and is apparently allied with Odhran. What do you suppose the chances are this is the same woman?”

  “It seems unlikely, but it’s possible,” Danhoul said. “If she knows you’re a transcendent witch and wants to hurt you, that affects all of us.”

  “Why haven’t you told me you’re both from other times—and Timothy, too?” Angelique looked accusingly at Danhoul and Tristan.

  “How did you know?” Danhoul asked.

  “Your ripples in the water went backward like Faolan’s.”

  “Timothy’s just been brought here from the middle of the American Civil War,” Danhoul said.

  “Really? That must have been a terrible time for you, Timothy?” Angelique said noting Timothy’s black skin.

  “I was once a slave,” Timothy admitted.

  She squeezed his hand empathetically.

  “I’m very sorry for all you must have gone through,” Angelique said.

  “What time period are you from?” Faolan asked the other men.

  “I’m guardian to Alainn, the first witch,” Danhoul said. “Tristan’s an intuitive searcher for those with magic and has assisted with the other transcendent witches. We’ve both lived in a few different times.”

  “Faolan’s an eighteenth-century pirate I summoned with a spell. Maybe we should all just divulge the whole truth sometime soon, but just now I’m too weak. I must rest and…use the bathroom.”

  She stood, looking like she might collapse again. Faolan lifted her into his arms.

  “I knew this was an unfavorable notion.”

  “Keep that blanket around me,” she whispered.

  In the bathroom, she removed it. Faolan shook his head and his eyebrows knitted, for blood had thoroughly soaked her garments.