Crescent Calling: The Crescent Witch Chronicles - Book One by R Nicole (essential reading TXT) 📗

opened the browser and waited. And waited. Then the mouse pointer turned into the spinning wheel of death. Again.

“Fine,” I spat, closing the lid of the laptop with a thud. “I’ll fix you.”

Taking out my mobile phone, I opened the web browser and searched for a local real estate agency. Finding a nice looking one in Sligo, I made the call while Mairead pouted sulkily at me.

I spoke with an enthusiastic Italian man named Fredrico something or other. Strange he was Italian and not Irish, but I supposed this part of the world was rather multicultural with the European Union and all of that. I’d never met someone from Italy before.

I explained the business, my circumstances, and he agreed to see what he could do.

“I have time,” he said. “I’ll stop by in an hour. Does that suit?”

“We’re open all day, so that’s perfect.”

Once I’d hung up the call, Mairead pounced on me.

“Are we really that horrible?” she asked, glaring at me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, scowling back just as hard.

“You’ve been here a week and already want to sell everythin’. You haven’t given us a chance!”

I gasped dramatically and rose to my feet. “I didn’t know this place existed!” I shouted. “My life is in Australia! Not here!”

“But—”

“But nothing,” I said irritably. “I want to go home.”

“You want to give up,” Mairead muttered, turning her back on me.

“Excuse me?” My hackles rose.

“Aileen was nice to me,” she cried. “She didn’t care that I looked different. You don’t even want to know your own mam!”

“She left me when I was two. What do you want me to do, Mairead?”

The girl was shaking with emotion, which put me on edge. “She might be dead, but you can still try.”

My mouth fell open.

“You like it here, admit it,” she said, practically stamping her foot. “You’re pretendin’ to hate it because you don’t want to like anythin’ to do with Aileen. I bet she had a good reason for comin’ home. She always did, you know. She was wise and kind, and you’re…”

“I’m what?” I asked, my face reddening in annoyance.

“Scared you might be just like her.”

I didn’t realize it until she’d thrown it in my face. Still, I just had to bite back at the poor girl to prove a stupid point. “And here I was thinking you were just chucking a tantrum because you would be losing your job.”

Rounding the counter, I strode outside to wait for the real estate agent, leaving Mairead to pout to her heart’s content.

Outside, Maggie was leaning against the wall, playing with her mobile phone. Standing beside her, I sighed.

“It’s a little early for a bad day,” the bartender said. “What’s the matter?”

“Mairead is being a sulky teenager,” I replied, thankful to see her. “I’ve decided to sell the shop, and she’s up in arms.”

“So you want to leave us?”

I groaned. “Not you, too.”

Maggie shrugged and slipped her phone into her jacket pocket. “Nah, I just would’ve thought you would stay a little longer before you made up your mind.”

“Them’s the breaks.”

“What are you doin’ out here?”

“Waiting for the real estate agent. He’s coming over from Sligo to evaluate the business.”

“Ah, this will be him now, I suppose,” she said as the sound of an approaching car hummed in the distance.

Behind us, the bell rang over the door as Mairead appeared. She glared at me and shook her hair defiantly. “Your boyfriend show up yet?”

“See what I mean?” I said to Maggie.

We lingered on the footpath, listening to the approaching car. When it appeared, zooming around the bend at an alarming speed, I realized the man behind the wheel hadn’t seen the tree in the middle of the road. The look of horror on his face was priceless. If he weren’t about to crash, I would’ve burst out into fits of laughter.

My heart skipped a beat as the car swerved around the hawthorn, careened through the coach bay, and splashed into the creek where it finally came to a halt.

Mairead began to laugh as the real estate agent kicked open the door—it was the one and only Fredrico because the name of the agency was on the side of the car—and tumbled out onto the ground.

“Oh, cac,” Maggie said, her sides practically splitting open.

“What’s cac?” I asked.

“It’s Irish for shit,” Mairead explained.

“I’ll say,” Maggie declared. “We’re going to have to fetch Roy and his tractor now. It’s going to cost the poor guy.”

“The power of three,” Mairead said. “I told you so!”

“What?”

“Three omens,” she explained triumphantly. “First the door, then the computer, and now that guy’s car crashin’ into the creek.”

“That’s stupid,” I declared. “There’s no such thing as omens. You’re just seeing what you want to see.”

“Tell him that.” She nodded toward Fredrico, who was ranting loudly in Italian.

Later, as I stood there watching Roy drag the car out of the creek with his tractor, and Fredrico told me he wouldn’t sell the shop for all the commission in the world, I started to see things from Mairead’s perspective. The power of three.

I wondered if fate was an actual thing or if Derrydun was some kind of vortex like the Bermuda Triangle. Strange things kept happening around me, and it wasn’t anything to do with the villagers and their peculiar quirks. Something wanted me to stay. Desperately.

Once Fredrico had sped away and Roy was on his way back to his farm, I went into Irish Moon, feeling rather sheepish.

“You were right,” I said to Mairead.

She leaned against the counter, cleaning up after the last busload of tourists had been through. Most of them had stood around watching the car being towed from the creek and taking photos, which didn’t help my situation. Roy thought it was hilarious, so I was pretty sure the gossip would make its way around the entire village by the end of the day.

“What? I can’t hear you,” Mairead said, pretending to be deaf.

“I said you were right!” I screwed up my face and stamped my foot. “Okay? Don’t