The Selkie Enchantress (22 page)

Owen nodded.

“Last summer, we found the selkie ghost’s pelt hidden under the roses. Maybe your mum’s pelt is hidden under
this
rose. Maybe if we could find it, we could stop her.”

“Come on!” Owen grabbed her hand, starting to lead her to the cottage.

“Wait.” Kelsey ground her heels into the pavement. “We can’t go now. She could see us!”

Owen dropped her hand.

“I’ll come for you tonight,” Kelsey whispered when the door to the pub opened and Sam stuck his head out. “After dark.”

Moira was lying. She had to be. The sea lashed the back of Nuala’s legs. The rain fell harder, splattering over the white sand like shattering crystals, dowsing what was left of the fire in the circle of rocks. She would never have dreamed of trading her powers if Moira hadn’t promised this would work!

She lifted her eyes to the swift-moving clouds. She’d been a pawn since the day she was born. Her fate decided for her. Her life nothing more than a trap. When would it end? When would it
ever
end?

Would it go on like this forever?

Cold tears spilled from her eyes, mixing with the rain. She sank to her knees as the wave of grief crashed over her. She pictured her lover—her Rowan. She hadn’t even been allowed to choose her own love. Or grieve the child they lost. And when she had done the one thing she thought they wanted—bringing a human into the sea, they’d punished her.

Because she’d brought a child instead of a husband. A boy with no memories. With almost no family who would miss him. From the arms of a mother who was far too young to care for him. But they hadn’t understood her mercy. They’d sent her away, casting her out of her own kingdom, forcing her to fend for herself. With nothing but instincts and fear to guide her.

Her hands closed over the wet sand. But she’d found her way. She’d made a new home for them, deep in the arctic seas. She’d found a deserted palace of bone-white coral fit for a queen, planted a garden of roses carved from ice to match the color of her heart. She’d taught Owen how to catch fish. How to swim as fast as a ray. How to watch for a polar bear’s claw, and listen for the distant call of a whale.

They had survived. And they would survive this. She pulled herself up, her heels sinking into the sand. Her skin began to glow, like the first twinkling lights of a ship lit up at night. The surf swirled around her ankles as she walked out of the sea. And closing her eyes, she started to sing.

***

“I remember,” Liam whispered, his breath warm against Caitlin’s skin. “The rose. It must have come from the flowers I brought you.” He inched back, his eyes widened as his gaze fell to their feet and he spotted the golden petals. “Yellow roses,” he breathed, bending down and scooping up a handful. “I brought you yellow roses. For our date.” He looked up at her, the memories swimming in his eyes. “You said they were your favorite.”

Caitlin stared at the yellow petals in his palm, her heart pounding in her ears. “The petals… they were white only moments ago.”

His arms tightened around her. The wind outside howled through the village streets. “I had them with me on the ferry. I asked Nuala to hold them when I went to help Finn with the lines. But something must have happened to them during the accident.”

“Liam,” Caitlin breathed, gazing up into those intense blue-gray eyes. “What if your fall wasn’t an accident?”

“It wasn’t.” His fingers closed over the petals. “It couldn’t have been. I’ve been working on those boats since I was a child. I would never have lost my footing that way.” He stepped back suddenly, his hand falling to his side. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Caitlin watched his fingers open, the petals spilling back to the floor.

“That voice. It sounds like…” He turned, reaching the door. “It’s coming from outside.”

Caitlin shook her head. “I don’t hear anything.” Her breath caught in her throat when his hand closed over the knob and she saw the faint blue shimmer dancing over his skin. “Liam!” She grabbed his hand, trying to pry his fingers from the knob, letting out a small cry when she felt how cold it was.

His gaze drifted down to her, but all the color had faded from his eyes. She moved between him and the door, but he pushed her aside easily. His mouth was set in a thin line, the rim of his lips turning blue. “Liam? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

His pupils dilated when he turned the knob. The storm swirled into the cottage, the ocean a thundering roar below the cliffs. He stepped into the curtain of rain, and Caitlin ran out after him. “Liam! Wait! Come back!”

He turned, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes were as pale and cold as broken glass. The water sluicing down his coat took on a silver shimmer, and then froze like that, a web of ice snaking over his clothes, down to his legs, over his shoes. His teeth chattered as he looked back at her. “I have to go.”

“Liam, come back inside!” The rain stung her face, the wind whipping it into her eyes. “Please, come back inside and warm up by the fire!”

Ice chips formed in his hair, dripping from his frozen locks. He pulled the hood of his coat up, covered in frost, and turned, striding toward the cliffs.

***

Sam stepped back from the doorway as Kelsey ran across the street, ducking back into the shelter of the pub. She shook rainwater off the sleeves of her sweater, dripping all over the polished floor. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course.” She rung out her hair and then started across the room to the kitchen. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Where’s Owen?”

She paused with her hand on the door, glancing over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “He went home.”

Sam dipped his hands in his pockets. “I thought something about the story might have upset him?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She rolled her eyes. “Owen’s always upset about something.”

Sam lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s true. He’s a bit of a worry wart, that one.” She pushed into the kitchen, her blond curls bouncing as she let the door slap shut behind her.

Brennan glanced up from the barstool. “He
is
a bit strange, isn’t he?”

Sam nodded and Brennan swiveled on his stool, going back to reading the newspaper he had open in front of him. Sam wandered over to the edge of the bar, turning the sports section toward him and pretending to scan the headlines as he strained to hear the muffled voices through the door.

“Dad,” Kelsey said. “Can I spend the night at Ashling’s tonight?”

Bottles clinked in the kitchen. “I don’t see why not.”

“Great!” Her wet sneakers squeaked on the kitchen tiles and Sam straightened as her footsteps headed back his way.

“Wait a minute.” Tara’s softer voice drifted through the small window adjoining the bar and the kitchen. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Dominic asked, surprised.

Sam moved closer to the window, straining to hear Tara’s voice. “I’d feel better if Kelsey stayed with us tonight.”

“Why?” Dominic asked. There was a low scuffing—heavy boxes scraping against the floor. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“Nothing,” Tara said quickly. “I’m just a little shaken up by this storm. I’d rather we all stick together tonight.”

Kelsey walked back over to her father. “But Ashling’s mum was going to teach us how to make beeswax candles.”

“Beeswax candles?” Dominic echoed. “Now there’s a useful idea. We’re all going to need more candles if this storm doesn’t let up soon.”

“Can I go, then?” Kelsey pressed.

“I don’t see any reason why you should have to stay here with us when you could be making candles with Ashling. But I agree with your mother about spending the night. We’ll pick you up on our way home.”

“But I can stay past dinner, right? So we can test the candles after dark?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Kelsey dashed back toward the door, pushing it open and smiling far too cheerfully up at Sam. “I’m going to learn how to make candles.”

“How nice.” Sam looked over at Brennan. “Isn’t that nice, Brennan?”

Brennan turned the page of the paper. It crinkled as he folded it up. “We could use a few more candles up at the farm.”

“I’ll bring some by tomorrow,” Kelsey sang, dancing over to the front door and grabbing her jacket.

Sam narrowed his eyes as Kelsey breezed out the door. “I’ll meet you back at the farm later, Brennan.” He crossed the barroom, shrugging into his own jacket, and followed Kelsey out into the rain. He watched her skip through the puddles as she ran across the street to Ashling’s. She glanced over her shoulder when she got to the door. She hesitated for a split second when their eyes met, then waved like it was the most natural thing in the world, and slipped into the cottage.

He had to hand it to her. She was a clever kid. But not as clever as he was. He flipped up the collar of his jacket, shielding the back of his neck from the icy rain and set off through the alley toward the path leading north to Glenna’s cottage. He had a pretty good idea what Kelsey had in mind and when she was planning on doing it. But there was someone he needed to talk to first before he decided to stop her.

***

Caitlin spotted Sam disappearing into the alley behind the pub as she raced through the streets of the village. Sam! He might be able to help her! She tried to call out to him but her voice caught in her throat. What if no one believed her? What if they thought she was crazy? She splashed through the puddles, wrenching open the heavy door to the pub. She knew what she’d seen. She knew now that Liam was caught in some terrible spell.

She stopped short in the doorway, her gaze darting around the near empty room. Where was everyone? She caught Brennan’s eye as he glanced up from his paper. Forget it. She didn’t have time to worry about everyone else. Racing to the stairwell, she bounded up the steps two at a time. Her clogs clacked over the worn floorboards, echoing through the hallway as she rushed to Liam’s bedroom.

If Liam’s fall wasn’t an accident, if he was starting to remember things, if the roses were changing from white back to yellow, maybe she could find the document he lost. Her wet hands fumbled with the knob, her fingers slipping on the handle as she twisted it. Maybe she could find the fairy tale and put the missing pieces together. She stumbled through the door, letting it fly open and smack against the bookcase. If she could find the story, maybe she’d know what she was dealing with.

“Caitlin?” Tara’s voice called up the stairs.

She grabbed Liam’s leather briefcase, turning it over on the bed and shaking it. When only a few pens and crumpled pieces of paper fell out, she dipped her hand inside, searching the hidden flaps and zippered pockets for clues. She heard footsteps on the staircase.
Tara.

“Caitlin? Is that you?”

She tossed the briefcase onto the floor, grabbing the pile of folders on the bed. She flipped through the handwritten notes. The corners broke off in her fingers as she turned the pages frantically, scanning the words for something, anything that would explain how a grown man could fall under a spell.

How many times had he sifted through these pages in the last two days? How many hours had he spent trying to dig up the same document? The other night on the pier, after the accident, he said he printed out the paper he was working on for the conference next week. He said he brought it home to the island to work on over the weekend. It was all he’d talked about in the weeks leading up to their date.

“Caitlin?” Tara’s eyes went wide as she stepped into the room. “What’s going on?”

It has to be here. She threw the worthless pages back on the bed, pushed past Tara and sank into Liam’s desk chair. Running her fingers along the sides of his laptop, she found the power button and switched it on. Please let it have enough juice left in the battery. The screen blinked and flashed, and she held her breath as the files on the screen lit up.

She scanned the titles of each folder, searching for something that had to do with a fairy tale. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted the folder titled,
‘Limerick Conference.’
She heard the hiss of a match igniting as Tara lit a candle and set it on the desk beside her. She put her hand on the back of Caitlin’s chair, peering over her shoulder as Caitlin double-clicked on the folder.

What if Owen was right? What if his mother was a mermaid? What if Liam had discovered some new tale about a mermaid in the Trinity Library? And she had come on land to steal it away from him? But there was only one file inside the folder. A single document titled,
‘The White Selkie.’

“
The White Selkie
?” Tara whispered. “Is this…?”

“It has to be,” Caitlin breathed, her hand shaking as she clicked on the file and Liam’s words filled the screen. The wind howled through the streets, rattling the windows of the pub. The rusted chain holding the Guinness sign snapped, sending the sign flying and the loose chain cracking through the night like a whip. The image on the screen wavered, the words blurring together like wet ink.