Crescent Prophecy Read online

  Crescent Prophecy

  The Crescent Witch Chronicles - Book Two

  Nicole R. Taylor

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  The Crescent Witch Chronicles

  About Nicole

  VIP Newsletter

  Crescent Legacy

  Crescent Prophecy (The Crescent Witch Chronicles - Book Two) by Nicole R. Taylor

  Copyright © 2017-18 by Nicole R. Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Rebecca Frank Art

  Formatting: Nicole R. Taylor

  www.nicolertaylorwrites.com

  [email protected]

  Chapter 1

  Sitting behind the counter of Irish Moon, the crystal shop I owned and ran in the small Irish village of Derrydun, I lazily shuffled my tarot cards.

  Summer was coming to an end, and with it, marked my first three months as a new resident of Ireland.

  When my mother had passed—the same mother who abandoned my late father and me when I was two years old—I was drawn to Ireland to claim my inheritance. The cottage and Irish Moon I knew about, but a more mysterious legacy had revealed itself in the most unexpected way.

  Thinking about all the things that had happened since I first arrived in the little Irish village, I smiled. It hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing.

  It had all started when Robert O’Keeffe, the lawyer of my mother, Aileen, turned up and zapped me with his golden pen. It wasn’t as dirty as it sounded because that zap had unbound my magic.

  Yep, I was a Crescent Witch. The last in a long line of badasses who protected the magical creatures of Ireland, and now it was my turn to protect Derrydun and its hawthorn trees.

  Outside the window, I caught a glimpse of a handsome Irishman wearing a black and red checkered shirt. Boone. He was cutting back Mrs. Boyle’s—the unpredictable old lady who loved whacking people with her broom—hedges.

  Boone... Well, he was another story. He turned out to be a shapeshifter with amnesia.

  Seeing your crush turn into a fox, then a gyrfalcon, and a tabby cat, kind of made things impossible to deny.

  Add that in with my life in Australia falling apart—my boyfriend Alex dumping me and being handed a redundancy package from my employer. Then throw in a pinch of my witch legacy, a battle with a grotesque monster, almost being drowned by a bunch of shadow people, and my estranged mother being killed by a trickster fae called a spriggan and not a run-of-the-mill heart attack, and there you had the last four months of my life. One big ball of W.T.F.

  Oh, yeah, and the whole magic double life? Only Boone and I knew. To everyone else, I was just a weirdo in a crystal shop, and Boone was the sweetheart of Derrydun. He didn’t know where he’d come from before landing in the village, and no one cared. He could do no wrong, which had been infuriating for an outsider like me, but I’d since been accepted into the fold. Derrydun had claimed me, magically and ‘Irishly.’

  The tarot cards were heavy in my hands, and I placed the deck on the countertop. They were a pretty set of black cards with metallic gold artwork and had been a favorite of my mother. They were one of the few things I knew about Aileen and something I had found comfort in during the tumble dryer my life had become.

  The cards were not meant to see the future but act as words of wisdom and guidance for the journey ahead. Something that had come in handy a lot lately.

  The Tower had brought me here, and The Star had given me hope that things had been rebuilt enough, and now I could now look forward to a future of discovery and stability. At least for the time being.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I frowned. Mairead was late today. She was the seventeen-year-old shop assistant who helped me here at Irish Moon. Since it was her last day before she went off to Trinity College in Dublin, I would give her a pass.

  She was a moody Goth girl, who had an epic crush on my newly acquired boyfriend, Boone. I’d forgiven her weeks ago for tricking him into giving her a kiss as payment for looking after the shop when I was sick. Sick being the covert word for totally depleting my magical reserves healing Boone when he ran afoul of a craglorn. The awful creature that wouldn’t have even been stalking the village had it not been for my carelessness.

  Long story short, I owed him one—hence the healing—and in repayment, he’d planted his lips on Mairead. You better believe I’d made him suffer.

  Speaking of… The door thrust open, the bell jangling furiously, and Mairead stormed through the shop and disappeared out back to dump her bag. She looked nice today, her usual Goth attire ramped up to ten. Black boots, shiny black leggings, black top with white skulls printed on it, and a long black cardigan. When she reemerged, I smiled.

  “Last day. Glad to get rid of me?” I asked, scooping up the tarot cards.

  She rolled her eyes and pouted, her black lipstick making her skin look paler than the ivory of her makeup already did. Hugging a black folder against her chest, she sighed dramatically.

  I’d learned not to take her moody Goth attitude to heart because hers was always in the right place. How many times had she chastised me since arriving? Too many to count. Ultimately, it was the Crescent Witch legacy that forced me to stay, but it had been one of Mairead’s teenage tantrums that had sealed the deal and made me see that it wasn’t all that bad here.

  “I drew a card for you this morning,” I went on, waving the tarot deck. “It was the bitch card.”

  “Very funny.”

  “What’s that you’ve got there?”

  “I made this for you,” she said, handing me the display book.

  Flipping open the cover, I leafed through the silky plastic pockets, my eyebrows raising. It was an Irish Moon employee handbook. Mairead had actually sat down at a computer, typed out the shop procedures, printed it out, and put all the pages in the pockets. There was even a contents page.

  “You did all this?” My mouth fell open, and I glanced at her.

  “Can’t have Aileen’s shop fallin’ into chaos the moment I leave,” she said with a shrug. Her cheeks were turning redder by the minute. She pretended to be aloof, but she lapped up the praise, secretly loving the achievement. We’d become a mismatched pair of buddies somewhere along the track, her and me.

  “You think I can’t handle this place on my own? I can get Boone to help. He’s already got a thousand different jobs, so one more won’t hurt him.”

  “Do you really want to spend all your time with him?” she asked. “You don’t want to get tired of each other. Others are linin’ up.”

  “What, now you’re finally about to turn eighteen, you’re a relationship expert?” I asked with a snort.

  “I’d hate for you to give up lips like those.” She smiled sweetly.

  I gasped dramatically. “Oh, no, you didn’t!”

  “You may have caught him, but at least I still got a kiss.”

  I rolled my eyes and tossed her the feather duster.

  Boone was ten years her
senior, or at least, we thought he was, and she’d had a crush on him ever since he turned up in Derrydun. Me arriving had only thrown a spanner in the works of her grand plan to bag an older man.

  “You’re about to go to college in Dublin,” I said. “You’ll forget about Boone the moment you find a hot guy who’s into spider webs.”

  “I’m going to miss your jokes,” she shot back. “Not.”

  “Now, there’s some important information I must impart to you before you leave. It’s been passed down from woman to woman, over generations dating back to the land before time. A very important thing to remember when you’re out in the world on your own for the first time.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

  “Don’t forget to use protection.”

  “Skye!” the girl exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you get an itchy—”

  The door opened, and the bell jingled as Boone walked in, looking just as irritated as Mairead did.

  “It must be feather-up-the-butt day,” I declared. “What’s tickling you?”

  “Ack, I’m givin’ myself a headache,” he exclaimed, scratching his head.

  His wild, curly, almost black hair fell into his eyes, the haircut I’d given him the week before already grown out. He looked hot with his short back and sides and mop on top.

  “Overthinking again?” I asked, eyeing Mairead.

  We’d had this discussion before, Boone and I. A side effect of his memory loss was giving himself a migraine every time he tried to remember something about his forgotten past. Which meant his amnesia was magically induced. He’d told me Aileen had tried to remove the block but hadn’t been able to move it at all. Apparently, the verdict was, only the person who put it there in the first place could remove it. And that was totally useful information. Not.

  “Nay, Sean is givin’ me a ribbin’ again.”

  Sean McKinnon was the closest thing Boone had to a best mate. They worked together for Roy at his farm just outside of the village and spent a great deal of money over at the local pub, Molly McCreedy’s. Sean’s wife had died from cancer a few years ago, and he’d become the town drunk as a result. He’d never really gotten over her passing, and Boone seemed to be the only person able to keep him from completely drowning in sorrow.

  “The busybody,” I grumbled.

  “And Mary says spring is a great month, but summer could also work.”

  My mouth fell open. The village hadn’t let up with the gossiping ever since they’d seen Boone and I give each other a little kiss out front of Irish Moon. You would think a few weeks would give them time to cool down about it, but no. Looked like they were already planning the wedding.

  Mairead snorted, and I glared at her in warning. Turning, she began to dust the shelves while pretending not to listen in.

  “It’s only been a month,” I said. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had a chance to catch my breath yet.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do about it,” I said. “They’ll tire of it eventually.”

  “Eventually isn’t soon enough.”

  “You’re the one who never went out with anyone, so now that you have, of course, it’s going to be the talk of the village. The coveted has finally been claimed. It’s a small place. There isn’t much else to do but make a melodrama out of everything.”

  “You don’t seem worried about it,” he complained. “Especially with the…” He glanced at Mairead. “The thing.”

  “Aileen managed it,” I whispered, referring to her duty to the Crescents. “So can we. Just let them have their fun, and things will die down.”

  “How is that goin’, by the way?”

  “Just as shambolic as always.”

  “Have you been goin’ to the hawthorn?”

  “Of course, I have.”

  “Good.”

  “This is so weird,” I declared, raising my voice to give Mairead something to listen to. “This should be the other way around. Me complaining and you telling me to build a bridge.”

  “Aye, I know, I know.” He leaned against the counter and nudged the tarot cards. “Have you drawn anythin’ good today?”

  “The Page of Pentacles,” I replied. “This dude likes to learn new shite, so I guess he’s fitting, huh?”

  “It’s a good sign.” He glanced at Mairead, then back to me. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Mary’s Teahouse today?”

  “The one and the same.” He leaned over the counter and gave me an awkward kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  I watched him leave the shop and wander across the street to the bright pink cottage with the thatched roof. We were close, there was no denying it, but when it came to public displays of affection, Boone sucked. It was like going out with a teenage boy with zero experience who was stuck in the body of a full-grown man. A man who could change into a tabby cat.

  “So awkward,” Mairead said, standing by the window.

  “Shut up.” I made a face.

  “Seriously, I think I dodged a bullet.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Hey, before I forget…” I reached under the counter and found the box I’d put there that morning. “Here. Something to remember us by.” Offering her the box, she glanced at me warily, and I shook it. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

  Crossing the shop floor, she took the little red box from my fingers and cracked open the lid. I watched her with a smile as she saw the little golden quartz crystal pendant inside.

  “It’s just like yours,” she said.

  “Sure. They’re best friend charms.”

  It was really a talisman I’d spelled for protection, hence the golden flecks in the once clear piece of quartz. This time, I’d gone to the hawthorn in the forest to cast the spell rather than sit out in the open. My little crystal was the beginning of all our problems with the craglorn. By casting the spell outside the protection of the hawthorn, I’d sent up a flare, which attracted any wayward fae in the area, that I was a juicy buffet of magic just waiting to be sucked dry. Starving fae and tender, ripe witch equaled disaster. There was no way I was making that mistake again.

  Anyway, it was a much smoother cast this time. I was more experienced and only used a little of my witch juju. I totally felt like a spring lamb afterward rather than having to take a nap among the rhododendron at the tower house.

  “They so aren’t,” Mairead complained.

  “No, not really. It’s a talisman,” I said, smiling. “It’s a special quartz crystal for protection.”

  “Cool.” She tried to sound nonchalant about it, but immediately put the chain over her head.

  “We’ll miss you, Mairead,” I said. “You’re welcome to come back anytime.”

  “Yeah, right. You’ll replace me the second I’m gone.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” I quipped.

  Chapter 2

  Irish Moon was deathly quiet.

  Sitting behind the counter, my shoulders sagged as I surveyed the empty shop. Crystals glittered under the lights, the rack of wind chimes was still, the bookcase was dusted and rearranged, the tumbled stones were tumbled, the jewelry cabinet was dusted and reorganized, and still, I was bored out of my mind.

  I’d gotten used to having Mairead around in the shop. After a summer with her pouty Goth face and smartass one-liners, I was starting to become lonely with just myself for company. Not even Boone’s daily visit chased away all of the doldrums. I was also starting to realize how much she actually did around the place. Her employee handbook was coming in real handy.

  So, after a week without any help, and almost driving both Boone and myself mad, I finally scheduled some job interviews.

  Sitting among the crystals in Irish Moon, I felt their energy shining on me like a heat lamp. Glancing at the stack of resumes in my lap, I knew I was going to need every good vibe that came my way. I’d drawn the K
night of Cups that morning, but so far, my knight in shining armor hadn’t appeared.

  After seeing a woman who was clearly drunk, a guy who clearly had a flair for woman’s clothing, a farmer’s wife who tracked mud through the shop, and a girl who needed a job for brownie points with her parole officer, I was beginning to lose hope. The whole day was like a hilarious montage from a movie until finally, the perfect person showed up.

  Lucy Sutton had one hell of a resume, and I was more interested in finding out why she wanted a job as my sidekick. Granted, she didn’t know about the witch stuff, so on paper, I was just the owner of a New Age shop in the middle of nowhere. No one in their right mind would willingly ditch a big city to come here…unless they wanted to get away from something.

  When she arrived, I was expecting her to be dressed in a mixture of camo gear with a safari hat and a rifle slung over her shoulder for shooting lions, but she was the epitome of boho sheik.

  Her long strawberry-blonde hair was loose and wavy, her green eyes were made all the more brilliant by the mass of freckles over her entire face—she gave Maggie over at Molly McCreedy’s a run for her money—and her outfit was a layered tie-dye dress over blue jeans and boots. She totally had a seventies flower child vibe but didn’t look a day over thirty.

  “Hi, are you Skye?” she asked with a thick Irish accent.

  “The one and the same. You must be Lucy?”

  “Aye, that’s me. I hope I’m not too early.”

  “We like early around here,” I said, smiling. “Have a seat.”

  She slid onto the chair beside mine, her gaze darting around Irish Moon with unmasked curiosity.

  “Tell me about yourself,” I began.