The Witch's Journey Read online

  “Part human, part magical being,” Lacinda kindly replied.

  “Do you want to go with the faery, wee angel, to find a mother who’ll care for you?” Faolan asked.

  The child nodded, but startled him when he heard her voice in his mind.

  “Thank you, Faolan, my guardian.”

  His chest swelled with pride. Lacinda took the child from Faolan’s arms and they promptly disappeared in a swirling purple light.

  “Thank you for rescuing her, boy. You’ve done a great service to humankind,” Aine said. “Now, I must erase the memories of everything you’ve witnessed.”

  Faolan didn’t know what this fierce-looking woman would do, but when she touched his head, he became incredibly tired.

  *

  Faolan awoke to Daideo leaning on his crutch, shaking him. Maimeo was weeping. Why was he here? He remembered skipping stones, watching the sunset, but couldn’t recall going near these rocks.

  “We thought we’d lost you to the sea, Faolan,” Daideo said.

  “Come home to supper and your warm bed, boyo.” Maimeo gently patted his head.

  *

  Ireland

  December 31, 1998

  “Brennan, slow down, will you? These curves frighten me at night.”

  “I’m not goin’ fast, Genny. I know these roads like the back of my hand. After spendin’ time in America, sure you’re unaccustomed to Irish roads.”

  “But even bein’ Irish and livin’ in Ireland most of my life, I’ve always disliked the windy, narrow roads with the steep cliffs and, besides, it might be icy. Please slow down for us,” she said touching her very pregnant belly.

  Taking his eyes off the road only for an instant, he smiled, lovingly put his hand on hers when the car began to skid. Brakes screeched and Genny screamed as they careened over the cliff.

  *

  Genny liked this nurse. Gentle and kind, she looked in Genny’s eyes and talked to her. The others came in and out as fast as they could—not knowing what to say. Genny touched her belly, still swollen from the child she’d carried…but empty now, like her arms. Her husband and baby were taken. She’d been injured so severely they’d removed her kidney, ovary and womb. She’d never carry another child. Why hadn’t she died, too? She’d prayed for that while trapped in the mangled car.

  The nurse looked as though she had something on her mind.

  “What is it, Lacinda?” Genny asked.

  “I know of a wee child needin’ a mother, so I do. Her own dear mother was recently killed and her father can’t adequately care for her. A delightful child, healthy and bright. I feel in my heart you should adopt her.”

  “It’s unlikely they’d permit a widow to adopt a child. I live in America now, which might complicate adoption.”

  “Do you have a home and a means to provide for her?”

  “We have some savings. My husband’s insurance will pay off the house in Boston and provide for me for some time, but…”

  “Haven’t you a room lovingly prepared for a child?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “This wee girl needs someone to love and care for her—and I think you need her.”

  “Adoptin’ a child can’t be that simple.”

  “It is…if you have magic,” Lacinda said as she and the whole room suddenly sparkled.

  Was the pain medication making Genny hallucinate? Yet it seemed very real.

  “Would you like to meet the wee girl?”

  Genny nodded and a beautiful little girl simply appeared.

  “Hello, sweet child.”

  The wee girl smiled angelically.

  “How old is she?” Genny asked.

  “Nearly fifteen months. Born on All Hallows’ Eve and the cusp of Samhain, she’s a rare and special child, very smart, loving, well-behaved…and magical.”

  “Why don’t you keep her?”

  “Because you need her and she needs you.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She has a name, but we’d like you to give her another.”

  “We?”

  “The faeries and others with magic.”

  “You’re certain it would be legal? If I adopt her, no one would ever take her from me?”

  “She’d be yours; I promise.”

  “What’s this locket?” Genny asked, looking at the silver chain, thinking it odd a young child would have such a necklace.

  “Inside is a triquetra.”

  Genny opened it and saw the three interlaced arcs of the Celtic symbol.

  “The adornment’s worn by those of her lineage. Her mother placed it there and there it must remain. It offers protection. Two notes, written by her mother, I’ll send with you. One’s for you; the other’s to be given to the child when she’s lived twenty-one years.”

  Genny reached for the child. She’d briefly held her own baby girl’s lifeless body. Heavily drugged and grief-stricken, Genny barely remembered. She wouldn’t give this child the name she and Brennan had chosen, but she’d give her a home. The child touched Genny’s dark hair. Her gentle empathy consoled her.

  With soft, light auburn curls and lovely expressive blue eyes, she could easily be Brennan’s baby. Genny would love her as her own.

  Chapter Two

  Boston

  October 31, Present Century

  “Angie! Angie!” Newt sang out, doing the Rolling Stones proud. He’d obviously let himself in. Angelique Kavanaugh lay soaking in her cherished antique porcelain claw-foot bathtub. The plentiful bubbles were scented with essential oils noted for relaxation. One flickering candle illuminated her large bathroom.

  “Angie, tell me you aren’t in bed at…” he must have paused to check the time on his phone “…eight o’clock on Halloween. This is your night.”

  She heard him go to her bedroom before he pushed the bathroom door open and grinned.

  “I’m glad you’re in the bath and not in bed. Happy birthday and happy Halloween,” he said in a voice like Dracula.

  “Hey, Newt. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. We’ve spent the past fourteen Halloweens together.”

  “This one’s different.”

  “Exactly why I’d never leave you alone tonight.”

  She reached for her glass of Pinot Grigio and took a long drink.

  “There’s more wine in the fridge or beer if you’d prefer.”

  Newt sat on the old-fashioned winged-back chair.

  “Did you go to Salem today?”

  “I couldn’t,” she said. “It’s always too busy on Halloween anyway. I dislike the crowds and that was Mom and Fiona’s thing.”

  “You haven’t put up any decorations or carved a dozen jack-o’-lanterns for your porch. That doesn’t involve crowds.”

  “Wasn’t in the mood.”

  “You’re not even handing out treats.”

  “I left candy at the shop and with Mrs. Boyle next door. She loves greeting trick-or-treaters.”

  “So do you, Angie. You adore wearing your witch hat and costume.”

  “Not this year, Newt.”

  His hazel eyes filled with sympathy. Angelique knew he also missed her mother. They’d been close, too.

  “I brought birthday cake from your favorite bakery.”

  “Thank you, my very thoughtful friend.”

  “I’m glad to do anything to make you smile. So what’s tonight’s itinerary? Eating, drinking and watching movies? Hocus Pocus at least.”

  “It was Mom’s favorite Halloween film.”

  “She made your birthday extra special, emphasizing all things Halloween.”

  “It’s not the same without her.”

  “Angie, she’d want you to have fun.”

  “I know.”

  “If I died would you stop eating pizza, going to Red Sox games and watching The Princess Bride?”

  “If you died, Newt, I don’t know what I’d do. So, please just stay safe and healthy for the next seventy years or so.�
�

  “Ditto!” He smiled. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?” He quickly snapped a photo with his phone. “You need to let me paint you like that one day.”

  She glanced down to see the bubbles had partly disintegrated, leaving one breast visible. She scowled and moved deeper in the water.

  “You always say I’m old-fashioned. Painting me naked is never going to happen.”

  “We could make certain the bubbles are covering you. With the flickering candlelight, your hair tied up like that, with a few curls falling down. I could shadow your face a little. Maybe no one would recognize you. I’d likely become instantly famous. Let me paint you.”

  “Don’t hold your breath and delete that damn photo!”

  “Finish your bath. I’ll go get ready for this evening.” Again with the Halloween voice.

  *

  The nostalgia of past years nearly overwhelmed Angelique. She glanced in the scalloped mirror on her antique dresser. She looked pathetically sad. Her beautiful mother had died six months earlier and they’d once been inseparable. She’d always made her birthday special; they shared a love of Halloween. This was the first without her and she’d yet to come to her as a spirit. Angelique took a deep breath. For Newt’s sake, she put on her best cheerful face.

  In the living room, she smiled at all he’d done. There were black and orange streamers, store-bought and home-made Halloween decorations, many from when they were children. There were lighted candles everywhere.

  “Why do you have to be gay?” she lamented.

  He grinned at that. “Even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t mess up this long-time friendship with romance, Angie.”

  “You think best friends can’t have a romantic relationship?”

  “Maybe, but if it all goes sideways, then you’ve lost your best friend.”

  “I suppose.”

  She sat down on her antiquated settee and he passed her another glass of wine.

  “I love you, Angie. You’re special even without your magic—kind, giving, intelligent, beautiful, inside and out.”

  “Thank you. You’re kinda wonderful yourself. Thanks for doing this.” She gestured to the very Halloween-looking room.

  “Happy birthday to my favorite person.”

  He clinked his glass against hers, but she sensed his discontent.

  “Something wrong, Newt?”

  He dismissively shook his head. “Just feeling unsettled. Unlike you, I hope to find true love.”

  “I’d like to find love someday. I’m twenty-two today, not a withered old hag yet. I thought you had your eye on that professor.”

  “He’s apparently in a relationship. What about you and that gorgeous blond guy who lives upstairs.”

  “Danhoul’s great and very nice-looking.”

  “Nice-looking? He’s hot, as are the other two guys who live with Tristan.”

  “Fine, Danhoul is kinda hot and he’s a great guy. He also has magic, though I don’t think he senses I do. We had dinner and drinks one night. He even kissed me. There was a little something there, but it’d never work; he’s in love with someone else.”

  “Did he tell you that or did you use your witchy instincts?”

  “I intuitively know. It seems an odd setup with so many living there together, especially him living with the woman he loves and her husband, plus the other couple and Tristan, but each to their own.”

  “Do you suppose they’re all involved?”

  “I only know Danhoul and Tristan, but I sense the two married couples are in committed relationships. Maybe they’re just saving money. It’s hard with the economy as it is.”

  “It can’t all be about money. Now that the four-bedroom apartment’s vacant, Tristan and the others want to rent that one, too. They’re apparently expecting relatives, a couple from Pennsylvania. Is that okay with you?”

  “I leave that in your capable hands, Newt. I dislike the business end of owning property and being a landlord. As long as they’re taking care of my historic seventeenth-century house I love so much, I’m happy.”

  “Other than traveling, the only time I’ve seen you a little frivolous with your wealth was in restoring and decorating this massive home. It’s fantastic. Yours and the other three apartments are amazing.”

  “It’s pretty great, isn’t it?”

  She looked around the beautiful home with its carefully selected antiques.

  Her place on this main floor was a large two-bedroom apartment. Next door where Mrs. Boyle lived was also a two bedroom. Upstairs was the spacious four bedroom; the top apartment covered only half the main house and had two bedrooms; above that was the undeveloped attic.

  “I’m thinking of finally converting the attic into an apartment, too.”

  “May we speak business a little longer?” Newt asked.

  “While I can still focus,” she said pouring more wine.

  “We should order pizza before you’re drunk and won’t see midnight.”

  “I promise I’ll stay awake.”

  “So, Killian O’Brien, the tall, dark-haired, sinfully handsome Irishman with the fantastic build has management experience. His résumé says he ran a castle in Ireland. The other even taller, very sexy guy with the equally fabulous body, Darius Wyndham, has extensive carpentry and construction background.

  “I propose to offer them free rent of both apartments for managing and caretaking this home and the other real estate you own.”

  “If you trust them, that’s good enough for me.”

  “You should meet them, though, Angie.”

  “I’d have to meet them as a fellow tenant. You’re aware I don’t want anyone to know my true identity or that I’m wealthy.”

  “Yes, but you need to start getting out more.”

  “I go out every day now. I walk by the seashore, the marina and in the common. I go to the markets, the care home, the animal shelter and cemeteries.”

  “Yes, but you mostly avoid everything that doesn’t have fur or have one or both feet already in the grave. Fiona says you never accept her dinner invitations.”

  “Fiona’s like an auntie to me but she’s grieving Mom, too; being with her just hurts more. Don’t worry, Newt. I’ll be okay.”

  “Did your dad call today?”

  She sighed. “I didn’t answer.”

  “You’re never gonna forgive him?”

  She shrugged and went to the window, smiled and looked out at the stragglers trick-or-treating after curfew.

  “What kind of pizza should we order?”

  “Whatever you’d like.”

  “Spicy pepperoni with hot peppers?”

  “Eewww!”

  “Just seeing if you’re paying attention. When are you going back to university?”

  “I’m keeping up with most of my courses. They’re still allowing online classes as compassionate leave.”

  “But, Angie, I am worried. Genny would be upset that you’ve kind of quit living. And maybe cut your father some slack. He was trying at the funeral.”

  “Only because he feels guilty. He was already banging that younger woman when Mom was hurt, then left soon after, didn’t come back even when Mom was ill and dying. He’s married his mistress who’s barely older than me and moved to his bloody Greek island. But he’ll be screwing someone else soon, if he isn’t already.”

  “Bitter much?” Newt said.

  “I admit I’m bitter about Dad.” She sighed. “You’re really the only one who knows just how un-nice I can be.”

  “I found that out not long after I met you when my parents decided public school might be good for building character. I was naïve enough to believe the kids might accept me.”

  “I’m sorry for how alone you felt, Newt. I hope it’d be different today, but wearing a girly sweater wasn’t the best way to begin at a new school.”

  “I was too flamboyant back then, but you didn’t strive to fit in either. You were totally goth at eight years old.”

  “Mom em
braced diversity and allowed me to dress in black. I was just annoyed I couldn’t wear my witch hat in school.” She laughed.

  “I didn’t believe in anything supernatural till those boys who’d beaten me up for the umpteenth time met karma by your magic. I was so relieved when you told them if they came near me again you’d put a curse on them.”

  “It worked. They left you alone.”

  He nodded. “And you and I became fast friends.”

  “One of my only friends,” Angelique said. “Do you suppose I’m cursed, Newt?”

  “Why? Because nearly everyone you’ve ever been close to has died or moved far away?”

  “Nothing like sugar-coating it, Newt. Why don’t you give me a nice papercut and pour lemon juice on it?”

  He smirked at her quote from their favorite movie.

  “If your curse is to lose people, why am I still here?”

  “I’ve always placed protection spells around you. But I did with Mom and my friend Sylvie too…and now both of them are gone.”

  “I doubt even magic can protect people from all misfortune, Angie.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Since you’re a little drunk, just tell me, did you drop out of med school to get back at your dad, not just because your mom was sick?”

  “I never wanted to go into medicine; I was only appeasing him. I preferred Mom’s holistic healing.”

  “Yet you avoid her shop.”

  “I dropped off Halloween treats there today,” she countered. “The Third Eye was Mom’s passion. Being there now makes me sadder. Fiona’s doing fine. She’s hired those two women from upstairs. They’re witches, too.”

  “You haven’t even met them.”

  “I can sense their magic.”

  “All the more reason to meet them.”

  “I don’t want them to sense my magic.”

  “You said Danhoul didn’t.”

  “But I mostly prefer to keep clear of others with magic. I certainly don’t want anyone to think I’m open to joining a Wiccan coven. I pick up on people’s feelings and emotions, too. When I’m ready I’ll meet the other witches one day.”

  “Keep saying one day and you’ll find life has passed you by.”

  “Oh my freakin’ God, Newton! You should cut me some slack. I’m not…”