- Home
- Nicole R. Taylor
Crescent Calling Page 13
Crescent Calling Read online
Page 13
Glancing away, I shuffled nervously. “Lucky you found me when you did,” I joked lamely. “Otherwise, I would have ended up as a meme.”
“We’re gonna disagree on things,” he said. “But I won’t leave you.”
He guided me back toward the path and around the group of tourists who were pointing cameras and mobile phones up at the tower house in an attempt to add to their libraries of landscape photos.
“That makes me feel a lot better,” I muttered sheepishly.
“Let me take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“It would put me mind at ease until we know for certain nothin’s creepin’ about,” he replied sternly.
“Fine.”
I allowed him to lead me back to the cottage like a naughty child, and to add insult to injury, I dragged my feet the entire way down the hill.
Boone deposited me on the stoop, waiting while I unlocked the door.
Turning, I couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “I, uh…”
Reaching out, he brushed his fingers across my collarbone. Shying away slightly, I blushed when he tugged the pendant out of my top and rested it in his palm.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“I…” Plucking it from his grasp, I curled my hand around the quartz point and felt a hum vibrate through my skin. “I think so.”
He smiled, the air still tense between us, or it just might’ve been my own embarrassment. After an awkward moment, he stepped down onto the path.
“Stay safe,” he said, backing along the gravel between the lavender bushes. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
Tightening my grip on the quartz, I watched him disappear through the garden and around the corner onto the main road. Why was I so stupid?
Opening my palm, I frowned when I saw the clear crystal had taken on a lemony hue. Its core was tinged with a golden thread that only seemed to deepen the longer I stared at it. I guess the spell worked, after all.
Closing myself in the cottage, I hoped it was worth the hassle.
Chapter 15
Playing with the golden crystal hanging around my neck, I stared out the window of Irish Moon, mesmerized by another waxing crescent.
Outside, Boone was helping Mrs. Boyle weed her garden, his ass sticking up in the air. When I said Mrs. Boyle was helping, it was in the minimalist way possible. She was leaning against her weapon of choice—her broom—watching him do all the hard work. One eye was on the garden, the other was on the street, watching for children to chase.
Sometimes, I wondered why she lived in the center of town if she didn’t like people that much. Only last week she clocked a poor schoolboy over the head with the end of her best straw broom. Then, when his mother came to waggle her finger at the old lady, she got a whack to match that of her son.
Mairead stood beside me and followed my gaze. Boone’s ass was up in the air as he bent over to pull out a stubborn root, and for a guy who could morph into a tabby cat, it was pretty damn fine.
“Lovely view this mornin’,” she declared, causing my mouth to fall open.
“Mairead!”
“So… Are you and Boone…” She raised her eyebrows.
“No,” I shot back a little too quickly. “Boone and I are just friends.”
Just friends, who’ve had too many almost-kiss moments and shared an outlandish secret no one would understand.
“Yeah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You need a bib you’re droolin’ so much.”
“Don’t tell me you saw him first because the age difference is phenomenal.”
“Age has nothin’ to do with it!”
“Age is a legality, Mairead.”
She pouted. “Age of consent is seventeen, so there! Anyway, I’m eighteen in August.”
“And you’ll be in Dublin by then with a whole University full of hot men your own age.”
“You’re only sayin’ that because you want him for yourself.”
“I’m only saying it because it’s true. You want to see the world, yeah?” She nodded. “If there’s one thing I know about Boone it’s that he’s probably never going to leave Derrydun anytime soon. Do you want to be stuck here for the rest of your life for a pretty face?”
Mairead screwed her nose up. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” I declared, turning back to the window. “A crush is some harmless fun, but a relationship…” I sighed.
“What?” the girl asked behind me. “Have you had your heart broken by some Australian surfer guy?”
“Not everyone in Australia surfs,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s a cliché.”
“Whatever. So? Did you?”
Looked like I wasn’t going to get out of her cross-examination anytime soon. Turning away from the window and Boone’s display outside, I rounded the counter and sat behind the till.
“Yeah,” I said. “Right before I came here.”
“What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything,” I replied, taking out the tarot cards. “Sometimes, people grow apart.”
“But you weren’t expectin’ it, right?”
“What’s with the good cop, bad cop, Mairead?” I demanded, shuffling the cards.
I hadn’t thought about Alex for over a month, and I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved about it. We’d been serious, like weeks away from saying the L-word to one another kind of serious. Now that life felt like a dream, and it was already fading.
“Just tryin’ to figure you out.”
“There’s nothing to get,” I said, pulling a card from the deck. The Star. I felt better about this one and the having faith part now.
“So are you goin’ to stay? After the summer, I mean.”
I set the tarot cards down and sighed. I guess I was stuck here now that I knew I was a witch with a mystical sacred duty to the village. It wasn’t so bad. Was it?
Thinking about yesterday’s stupid episode at the tower house, I cringed. Nothing had shown up, but it had only been a day since Boone found me asleep in the meadow. There was still time to kill everyone with my stupidity.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I guess I’m staying.”
“So… Will you need some help in the holidays?”
Her face was lit up with such an innocent look of hope, despite the black lipstick she’d worn today. I nodded.
“Sure,” I replied. “I guess.”
There was no running from destiny.
It was a long day behind the counter at Irish Moon.
Three busloads of tourists shuffled around Derrydun and tramped through the store, buying up crystals, handmade wind chimes, books, and knickknacks, feeding the till. It was a fantastic day for takings, but my nerves were shot.
I didn’t like looking over my shoulder for an enemy I wasn’t even sure was coming.
By the time I made it back to the cottage, I was on edge. Thankfully, there had been no fae sightings among my customers, nor had there been any twisted and craggy monsters roaming about the main road, swinging from the branches of the hawthorn like a monkey.
I wasn’t long inside when there was a knock at the front door. Tiptoeing down the hall, I peered through the stained glass but couldn’t see anyone outside. Flipping the deadbolt, I opened the door a crack, but it was to fresh air. I was about to shut it again when a robust meow echoed through the air.
Glancing down, I saw Buddy sitting on the welcome mat, peering up at me with his big green eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” I declared.
Buddy—aka Boone—meowed and sauntered inside, his body small enough to shimmy through the crack.
Closing the door, I saw him tear up the stairs in his cat form before a thump sounded overhead.
“You know, you don’t have to show up as Buddy anymore,” I called out. “Besides, you keep forgetting your clothes. People are going to start talking about your nakedness.”
“If I kept showin’ up as myself, they would defiantly talk,” he replied wryly, his voice muff
led. “Mary keeps tryin’ to send me off to the matchmakin’ festival in Lisdoonvarna. Obviously, I cannae go.”
“What matchmaking festival?” I demanded, squashing down a pang of jealousy. Ugh, Mairead was so right.
“They have it in this tiny village in County Cork,” he explained, coming back down the stairs, fully clothed. “It’s a whole big thing. People from all over the world go hopin’ to find someone.”
“Where did those clothes come from?” I made a face. “Do you have a closet full of red and black checkered shirts or something?”
“Aye. Two weeks’ worth, labeled with each day of the week.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” He laughed and went into the kitchen.
“Good,” I said, following him. “Because that would be weird.”
“Weirder than bein’ able to change into a cat?”
“Totally weirder.”
“I left a few things here when I moved out,” he explained, opening the fridge. “Where’s all your food?”
“You mean, where’s all the microwave meals?” I tapped the freezer. “Eat your heart out.”
He flung open the freezer door, and his eyebrows rose when he saw the stockpile I’d amassed. I had roast chicken, beef, lamb, casserole, curry and rice, lasagna. Every food group was represented in a pre-cooked, snap-frozen form.
Boone shook his head, his curls falling into his eyes. “Ah, this is terrible.”
“Hand me a frying pan, and I’ll burn the house down,” I said, puffing out my chest. “But hand me a microwave, and watch me surf the waves.” I wiggled my hands like I was doing the hula, and Boone burst out into laughter.
Smiling, I pulled out a chicken dinner and opened the box, glad our fight yesterday seemed to be forgotten. At least until we knew we were out of the woods craglorn and crazy ancient witch-wise.
“You cannae eat that nonsense,” he said, taking the plastic tray out of my hands.
“Are you going out to get some real food?” I put my hands on my hips.
“Ack, not tonight,” he commiserated, handing me back the frozen Frisbee. “I better make a selection.”
“Try the beef. That one has a lot of vegetables in it.”
Once we were armed with steaming plastic trays of food and decked out with cutlery and drinks, we set ourselves up in the lounge room among the cheesy floral furniture.
“You don’t have to come over like this anymore,” I said, stabbing a rubbery square of potato. “I’m fine.”
“You know I can’t let you out of me sight once it’s dark. Not right now.”
What he really meant was, I can’t let you out of my sight because your stupid talisman spell is probably going to get your soul sucked out by alien parasites.
“Fair enough,” I muttered, frowning when I saw he was staring at my boobs. “What are you looking at? My face is up here.”
“The talisman,” he said, causing my cheeks to flush crimson.
Glancing down, I saw the crystal had slipped out of my top and was sitting against the fabric of my dress…right over my boobs, which he wasn’t staring at, at all.
“It was clear yesterday,” he mused. “Now it’s got a golden tinge.”
“Is that to do with Crescent magic? You said Aileen…”
Boone nodded, raising his chin so he could gaze into my eyes. “You found your magic.”
“Sure did.” I rolled my eyes.
“It was a mistake, Skye,” Boone murmured. “We all make them. I’ve made plenty.”
I snorted and stabbed my fork at the little compartment of peas in front of me.
“Your talisman worked,” he went on. “It’s a clever thing to make.”
“I can’t be afraid to use my magic,” I said. “I just need to hold back a little. I’ve been heavy-handed.”
I expected Boone to start chastising me again, but he dropped his fork and raised his head, his eyes widening.
“What’s up your ass?” I pouted.
“Shh,” he hissed, holding up a finger.
Setting my own fork down, I listened to the silence outside. Before I arrived in Derrydun, I was so used to there being all kinds of noises. In the city, it had been the whoosh of cars on the street outside, doors slamming, neighbors playing music, dogs barking. At the beach, it had been the constant crashing of waves and the howling of the wind. Here, other than the rustling of leaves and the odd bird chirp, it was oddly quiet.
Whatever Boone was listening for, I couldn’t hear it at all.
“There’s nothing there…” I began, but he set his dinner aside and rose to his feet.
“It isn’t close, but…”
“But what? Is it a craglorn?” I felt like puking.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “Stay here, and whatever you do, don’t go outside.”
“I’m so not going out there. But what about you? What if…”
“I’m goin’ to change. Don’t worry about me. This is me duty.”
I didn’t like the way he referred to us hanging out as some annoying task he was forced into doing, but I had no choice. I wouldn’t admit it to his face, but I was afraid. Not just for me, but for him. I had no idea what a craglorn looked like in person, but the last time Boone went up against one, he was almost torn to shreds, and he was only able to escape with Aileen’s help. What if it tried to attack him?
“Boone,” I said, tugging on his arm.
“I’ll be fine, Skye,” he murmured. “I have to make sure…”
“Don’t try anything stupid, okay?”
“I won’t.”
He smiled lopsidedly and smoothed my hair behind my ear. His touch was too intimate for my mixed emotions, but right now, I didn’t give a stuff.
Reluctantly, I let him go, lingering in the lounge room as the front door opened and closed. My heart began to thrum, my skin prickling with goose bumps the moment I was alone.
I didn’t hear him change, and I didn’t hear him run or fly away. Neither had I heard the sound that had creeped him out, which wasn’t doing much for my own nerves right now. Sharpened hearing must be one of the side effects of his shapeshifting. The silence must be deafening for him.
Peering through the curtains, I was expecting something to pop up from the garden bed underneath and exclaim, rah! But nothing stirred. Above, thousands of stars were shining like diamonds dusted across a piece of black velvet. It was an epic cliché, but I didn’t have any other words to describe it.
Boone didn’t come back for a long time. I ate the rest of my microwave roast chicken in silence, fretting for his safety, while his beef dinner went cold.
The moon dipped lower in the sky, the night darkened, and it was three hours before I heard him come back.
He padded into the lounge room, wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of boxers, his jeans and boots in his hands. I didn’t care that he was in his undies, I cared that he’d come back in one piece.
I jumped off the couch and flung my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.
“Oh, my God,” I exclaimed. “I was beginning to think you’d been eaten.”
“I’m all right,” he said. “I flew over the forest, searchin’.”
“Did you find anything?” I pulled back, my arms slackening around his neck, but I didn’t let him go.
His expression was grave like he’d been sucking on a lemon, and my heart sank.
“It’s lost,” he murmured, dropping his jeans and boots.
“But it’s out there.” I let him go and fell back onto the couch. “I’m so stupid!” I fisted my hands in my hair and felt like pulling it out in clumps. “Why did I have to meddle in stupid shit I know nothing about? Why didn’t I go to the hawthorn?” I let out a frustrated cry.
Boone sat next to me, not bothering to put on his jeans. Right now, I had more important things to worry about than his lack of trousers.
“It doesn’t seem to know where to go,” he said quietly. “It was roaming around in circles, sea
rchin’. It was a fair way from the village.”
I made a face. “Still doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“It won’t come out durin’ the day, so we’ve got time to prepare.”
“Oh, God,” I said, flapping my hands around. “Deep fried shit on a stick. We’ve got to kill it.”
Boone nodded. “To be sure. We can’t let it roam around here.”
He was right. The only way to end this was to make sure the craglorn didn’t reach Derrydun in the first place. We had to go out into the forest in the middle of the night and kill it.
“So…” I muttered, my heart heavy. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’ll find a way to end it.” Or it would be the end of us.
He slid his arm around my back and sighed. Everything was in that gesture, the burden I’d stupidly brought down onto my shoulders clear as the crystal hanging around my neck. Well, clear with a lemony hue.
I glanced at him, knowing I was the only one capable of putting the twisted fae down for good. The last Crescent Witch had to live up to her destiny. This was why I was called home, after all. The protector of Derrydun.
I guess it was time to add monster slayer to my resume.
Chapter 16
Peering through the crack in the curtains, I studied the dark garden outside.
Nothing stirred, but it didn’t help settle my nerves. I knew the craglorn was out there, and I knew it was searching for me. Me, the idiot who called it here in the first place. The twisted monster starving for magic. Moron.
“We don’t have to do this now,” Boone said behind me as he dragged on his jeans and boots. “If it comes closer to the village, I can lead it away. I could confuse it for a few days to give us time to come up with a permanent solution.”
“You know what they say about a festering wound?” I asked, turning around.
He made a face and shook his head.
“The longer you leave it to fester, the worse it’ll get.”
“That’s a terrible punch line.”