Emerald Isle (8 page)

He held a package in his hand and offered it to her. “Just a little something for Stacy’s birthday.”

Birdie said, “How gracious. I’ll see to it that she gets it.” She gripped the handle and pushed the door forward, but before she could get it closed, Leo wedged his foot in the crack.

“There is one more thing.”

Birdie rolled her eyes at the door. She stepped back and swung it open again. “Yes?”

“We received a complaint about you crashing into a mailbox.” He thumbed behind him. “The homeowner recognized your car. There’s a dent on the left fender.”

Could this evening get any more complicated?

Birdie called on her most dazzling smile. “Oh, yes, that was me.” She slapped her forehead. “I was in such a hurry to rush home for Anastasia’s birthday that I’m afraid I took a turn faster than I should have. Then the time just got away from me, and, well, here we are. Let me just get my checkbook. I’m happy to pay for the damages.”

Birdie held the door open, and Leo stepped over the threshold. She shut the door.

The chief of police sighed. “Actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that, Mrs. Geraghty. The owner has filed a complaint, and since you didn’t report the incident, and you just admitted you know you caused damage, I have to charge you with fleeing the scene of an accident with property destruction.”

Birdie was shocked. “You’re going to arrest me for hitting a mailbox?”

Leo looked as uncomfortable as Birdie felt. “I really have no choice. All it will amount to is a citation, and you can bond out right away. You’ll be back with Stacy in no time.”

From his lips
, Birdie thought. “Leo, please, I have a dinner table full of guests. Just tell me who the homeowner is and I’ll call to straighten this mess out.”

Leo grimaced. “It’s Bea Plough.”

It was the last name she wanted to hear at that moment. Bea Plough was a burdensome, bigoted albatross. She was the wife of Oscar’s best friend, Stan, so Birdie had been forced to endure the woman’s presence for the span of her marriage. But when she discovered that Bea was substitute teaching at the school district years later—and preaching hellfire and brimstone in the classroom—Birdie was livid. So when Anastasia announced that her history teacher had taken ill shortly after assigning a big project, she helped the girl reconstruct the Hill of Tara, complete with the ancient Celtic pantheon at the helm. Bea had nearly had a stroke.

Fiona came sailing into the room then, donned in a frilly apron the color of a pomegranate, carrying a coffee cup. “Birdie, I wondered if you might have a taste of this soup. I think it needs a touch more curry. Oh, hello, Leo.” She gave him a warm smile.

Leo said, “Hello, Mrs. Geraghty.”

Birdie reached for the soup cup, but Fiona snatched it back.

“On second thought, Sister, I think I would prefer this young man’s opinion.” Fiona floated over to Leo and gently touched his sleeve. She said in a silky voice that no man could resist, “Would you be a dear?”

Leo smiled and accepted the cup from Fiona’s soft hand. “Why not? I’m starving.” He held the cup in the air, said, “Cheers,” and gulped it down.

Leo looked at the empty mug. Fiona watched as he savored the soup.

“Hmm, pretty tasty. Are those chunks of appl—”

Fiona rescued the mug as Leo slumped to the floor.

I uncurled myself from the floor of my prison and stood to face the woman who’d just spoken my name.

She had hair the color of ravens’ wings, but her skin was so pale, it was practically translucent. She wore a lustrous dress buckled at the waistline, with a high collar, and enough cleavage to nurse a small village. Her eyes took on an indigo hue in the fading golden glow of the sun as she stood there, laughing at me.

More children laughed too, although I couldn’t see them. Just tiny fireflies popping around the forest, preparing for their evening flight.

A crow came and landed on the woman’s shoulder, but he didn’t peck at her, the bastard. He didn’t morph into something out of
Jurassic Park
either, and for that, I was grateful.

“Wh-who are you?” I asked, because I couldn’t think of anything less stupid to say.

More laughter.

She slinked around the cage, like a cat sizing up a parakeet.

“You don’t recognize me?” The woman leaned into the bird and said, “Shocking.”

The crow bobbed its head up and down as if that were the best joke he’d heard all week.

The dark-haired woman whipped her skirt around, sending feathers to the forest floor, and faced me. “Stacy Justice, I’m a trifle hurt that you do not know who stands
before you on this cherished night. After all, you just spoke to me not a frog’s spit ago.”

A frog’s spit ago? Who says stuff like that? Crazy people, that’s who.
She didn’t look anything like the woman from Birdie’s scrying mirror, and the only other soul I had spoken to was that irritating riddler ghost. But this woman looked very much alive.

She reached in through the bars and wrapped her sinewy fingers around the grip of my sword. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized it was still with me.

Instantly, the weapon vibrated, and shiny sparks of light like splintered diamonds burst all around the blade, then circled up and over my body, sending shivers through to my core. I heard chirpy voices oohing and ahhing from somewhere off in the distance and felt the strength of a thousand warriors surge through my essence.

It was the most exhilarating experience of my life, and I made a mental note to find out exactly what type of drug I had been slipped.

The raven-haired woman released my sword, stepped back, and studied me for another moment. “Well? Anything?”

I racked my brain.
Think, Stacy.
Who was she?

A twittering came from the top of the tree that was holding me, and the woman shifted her stance and cocked her head, listening.

She turned back to me, crossed her arms, and arched one glossy eyebrow, questioning.

I shrugged. “I got nothing.” She looked disappointed, so I added, “Sorry. Maybe if you gave me a hint.”

Just then, the trees along the pathway uncurled themselves one by one, and a wave of amber light flooded the cage, blinding me.

I heard squeaky whispers of “she comes” and “the queen,” and I knew this situation was going to get a lot worse before it got better.

When the blaze of light subsided, I opened my eyes. Two things immediately struck me. The first was the sight of Thor rolling around in a patch of grass, fireflies flickering all around him. The second was the staff of the woman standing before me.

I rubbed my head where she’d bonked me. “Ouch. What was that for?”

Her hair was a mass of flaming red waves, swept away from her face by a jeweled headpiece. Her eyes were a shade of sapphire sprinkled with specks of bronze that matched her draping gown.

She said to me, “That was for being incorrigible.” She turned to the black-haired woman and said, “For all that is sacred, Badb, let her out. Honestly.” She shook her head and walked over to a golden throne carved with lion’s-head feet.

“Just having a little fun, Danu,” the dark woman said.

Badb? The warrior goddess I had called on to charge my sword?

Danu? The mother goddess of the Tuatha?

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t even be a hallucination.

Holy nutfugget
, I thought.
I must be in a coma and Birdie’s reading to me from the Blessed Book.

That was the only logical explanation.

Birdie stared at the still body of the Amethyst chief of police. “Was that necessary?”

“Absolutely.” Fiona circled around to Leo’s head, bent down, and secured a grip on his torso. “Grab his feet.”

Birdie sighed and walked over to Leo. She stooped to lift his ankles.

Fiona explained. “Did you hear what he said? We don’t have time for you to get wrapped up in red tape. Besides, we could use him.” She pointed her chin toward Leo. “On three. One, two, three.”

The two women lifted the police officer. Fiona’s face reddened with the strain, and she grunted.

“He’s heavier than he looks,” Birdie said, gasping for breath.

They were inches from the settee when they heard a young man say, “Mrs. Geraghty?”

Both women dropped their cargo.

“The rug!” Birdie said.

Fiona ran to the edge of the antique wool rug and flipped it up and over Leo, kicking it snug.

It was Derek, Stacy’s business partner, who was calling to them. “Excuse me, ladies, but your sister”—Derek looked nervously over his shoulder—“seems to be having some sort of episode. She’s slow-dancing with Stacy’s boyfriend and calling him Jack. We didn’t think much of it when she took her shoes off, but she lost the dress about five minutes ago. All that’s left is a pair of knickers and a sports bra.”

“Thank you, Derek. We’ll be right out,” Birdie said.

The sisters smiled at Derek. He tossed them an odd look and walked out of the room toward the kitchen, mumbling under his breath.

“Lock that door,” Birdie said.

Fiona produced a key from her pocket and hurried to the door that divided the house, locking it.

When Fiona turned around, Birdie asked, “What do you mean we could use him?” She thumbed over her shoulder to Leo.

Fiona said, “Do you remember the retrieval spell you created when you were a student at the Academy? The one you put so much time and effort into?”

“You mean the one Tallulah absconded with? Of course I remember it.”

Fiona said, “That spell was genius, Birdie. I’m sure if we followed it precisely as it was written, we could unsnarl Stacy from the web.”

Birdie frowned. “But I ripped it up, after that initial competition the first year of school. I knew if anyone found it, they would suspect it was I who cheated on the creative-spell-writing test.” She tightened her jaw. “I feared expulsion. Not that it mattered in the end.”

“That’s true. But you see…” Fiona reached into her apron and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I made a copy.”

Birdie was stunned. She reached out her hand, and Fiona dropped a folded piece of notebook paper into it. Birdie uncurled the corners and read.

It was indeed the spell she had crafted more than fifty years ago. She looked at Fiona, incredulous. “But I don’t understand. How? Why would you save it?”

Fiona said, “Because I was incredibly proud of my baby sister. Your talent has always been the force field of our family.” She shrugged. “We visited that week, remember? I rescued it from the wastebasket.”

Birdie felt a growing excitement. It could work. If Anastasia hadn’t been pulled too deep into the Web of Wyrd, if she had only been sucked into one plane and not traveled through multiple dimensions—they could bring her home.

She threw her arms around Fiona and said, “Thank you.”

Fiona squeezed her back.

There was a knock at the door that divided the house, and Cinnamon called, “Birdie? Fiona? Are you two out there?”

Fiona stepped forward and unlocked the door. Birdie pocketed the spell.

“There you two are. I just gave Lolly the last of the wine, but I have a case in my car I was going to drop by the bar. I sent Tony for a bottle, but you better get outside and bring some clothes before she catches pneumonia.”

Birdie collected a hooded, full-length faux fur from the coat closet and handed it to her youngest granddaughter. “Give this to your aunt and we’ll begin serving dinner momentarily.”

“Where’s Stacy?” Cinnamon asked, scanning the room.

Birdie and Fiona exchanged a nervous glance. “She was feeling a bit peaked, so I gave her a tonic and sent her up to a guest room.”

“Really? She seemed fine this afternoon. Maybe I should go check on her.”

Cinnamon started for the front staircase.

Birdie caught her arm and said, “I’m sure that isn’t necessary, dear. She’ll be down in a minute. You know those spa treatments rush all the toxins out of the body so quickly, it could cause anyone to feel woozy.” She raised an eyebrow at Fiona.

Fiona picked up the cue and went to Cinnamon’s side. She put a hand to the girl’s forehead and said. “Oh my, you’re looking a bit pale yourself, dear.”

Cinnamon touched her cheek. “I am?”

“Certainly understandable. You are eating for two, after all,” Birdie said.

Cinnamon nodded and said, “That’s true. I am feeling light-headed.” She glanced at the settee that Leo was near and said, “Maybe I should lie down too.”

Fiona put her arm around Cinnamon and guided her to the doorway. “You need something to eat is all. How about some nice hot soup?”

Birdie asked cautiously, “Fiona, are you sure that soup might not be too…spicy…for a woman in her condition?”

Cinnamon said, “I like spicy food.”

“Not to worry, Birdie. It’s perfectly seasoned,” Fiona said, and looked at her sister reassuringly.

A flash of light beamed from upstairs then, and Birdie’s mirror jingled.

Cinnamon said, “What was that?”

“Motion light. Just had it installed,” Birdie said.

“In your bedroom?” Cinnamon asked.

Birdie said, “Can’t be too careful. Now be a good girl and go give your auntie the coat.”