Cresent Prophecy by Axelle Chandler (sad books to read TXT) 📗

There was something that hadn’t occurred to me. What happened after the battle to end all battles? What if it never came in my lifetime? What if I were eighty and with a walking frame when I stood on the frontline against Carman? I would have to rock up on my mobility scooter with a crocheted rug over my knee to save Ireland’s magical people from annihilation. Good luck with that.

The more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t sure what my future held anymore. My destiny was with the Crescents…or was it? Was I bound completely to the survival of magic, or did I have a choice? What if there were no more of us left? Would some other coven step up and take the baton and fight Carman? I didn’t even know if there were any other witches out there.

As far as I knew, I was alone in this. Alone and without anyone else but Boone to confide in. Robert O’Keefe, the leprechaun lawyer, didn’t count because he’d disappeared over the rainbow after Aileen’s funeral and hadn’t come back.

Alex represented a normal life. One without fear of death or monsters.

Boone, on the other hand, was part of the life that wanted to kill me.

That was the choice Alex’s reappearance had thrown in front of me, for better or worse.

“So how long are you staying here?” I asked.

“Dunno. Depends. Is your boyfriend going to chase me out of town with a pitchfork?”

“For your information, he might work on a farm, but he’s not a yokel.”

Alex snickered, clearly not impressed. He was a city person, so it wasn’t any surprise when he didn’t understand.

Returning to the main street, I saw Sean McKinnon lingering outside of Molly McCreedy’s and held Alex back. The last thing I needed was for Sean to see us together and start ranting. When he went into the pub, I moved off again.

“So what’s so special about this town?” Alex asked as we passed the handicrafts store. “And why is there a tree growing in the middle of the road?”

“That’s a hawthorn,” I said. “It’s a sacred tree here. They’re said to guard the doorways into the realm of the fair folk.”

“The fair who?”

“Fairies,” I replied. “The Irish can be superstitious, so they won’t cut down a hawthorn tree, no matter where it grows.”

“But in the middle of the road?”

“Even in the middle of the road.”

I pointed out the various stores and locals as we walked the length of the village center. “There’s Mary’s Teahouse, which is owned by Mary Donnelly, a lovely old lady who makes the best scones with clotted cream you’ll ever taste. That’s the pub, Molly McCreedy’s. It’s covered in Virginia creeper and dates back hundreds of years. Up the street is a little service station, and see those traffic lights? No one ever pays any attention to them. Red, green, whatever.”

“There’s never any accidents?”

“Not that I’ve seen. The drivers here are mental, but they know courtesy.” Pointing to the coach bay, I continued, “There’s a pretty stream down behind the car park, and see that low fence just there? That’s where Fergus sits with his dog and donkey, weaving crosses of St. Brigid out of rushes for the tourists. His dog sits on the donkey’s back. You would never believe the amount of money he rakes in even if I told you.”

“A dog riding a donkey?” Alex scratched his head, looking bewildered. “This place sure does sound…interesting.”

“There’s a ruined tower house up on the hill that was supposedly where one of my ancestors lived.” I pointed over the top of Irish Moon where the top of the tower could be spotted over the trees even though the sun was almost completely set by now. “It dates back at least five hundred years.”

“Cool.” He scuffed his toe against the crack in the footpath. “So…you’re happy here?”

I shrugged. I had a lot on my plate I couldn’t talk about, but I suppose I was happy enough.

“You sounded happy just now, talking about the donkey and the ruins and the traffic lights.”

“Alex…”

“I’m going to stick around for a few days,” he declared. “Get to know this place, boyfriend be damned.”

“Boyfriend be damned?” I repeated, making a face.

“If you want to stay here, then I’m going to make sure it’s right for you.” He glanced up at the sky, then checked his watch. “It’s getting late. You’d better go home to checkers.”

“Checkers?” I snorted, knowing he was taking a dig at Boone’s choice of shirt. Red and black checks were his, but not Alex’s, thing. “I wouldn’t call him that to his face.”

“I know. I get the feeling he might punch mine in.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that. I’d never seen Boone’s face that shade of red before.

“Don’t let me keep you here,” I said in an attempt to discourage him.

“See you tomorrow, Skye.” He gave me a little wave and practically skipped over the street to where a lone car was parked by Mary’s Teahouse.

Knowing trouble was brewing and not comforted by the fact that magic had nothing to do with it, I legged it down the street and disappeared around the back of Irish Moon.

But when I got back to the cottage, Boone wasn’t there.

Chapter 5

It was a somber mood at Molly McCreedy’s the next night.

After an entire day at the shop with no visit from Boone, I went to have a drink to drown my sorrows, but mostly I went so I could get a decent meal in lieu of the Iron Chef’s disappearance.

I was sitting at the bar, picking at the remaining chips on my plate, when someone sat next to me. Assuming it was Sean McKinnon, whose favorite pastime was riling me up whenever I was there, I turned to give him a piece of my mind but found Alex instead.

“Hey,” he said like nothing was amiss. “I drove over to Sligo today. There’s some good food over that way, and I saw their football team