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

I grunted.

“I love you,” he added, backing toward the door.

Sighing, I managed a half-smile. “Love you, too.”

By the time closing rolled around, the store was in chaos.

Locking the door, I turned to the mess and sighed. Starting at the closest display, I began straightening the agate slices and polishing off grubby fingerprints. Since I’d learned more about crystals and magic, I knew they absorbed energies as well as giving them out, so after a day of being handled by various strangers, they soon became muddled. I felt it every time I wrapped up a pretty specimen, so I made sure to cleanse as I went.

Picking up a slice of blue agate, I studied the pattern—which looked like the age rings in a tree trunk—and sighed. Ever since Lucy told me about the witches disliking me, I was miserable. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Should I sit back and keep to my own—my own being Derrydun and no one else—or continue on my path to handing Carman her ass despite how my own people felt about me?

The sound of the lock turning caught my attention, and I glanced up to find Lucy pushing the door open. I could feel the hum of her magic in the air, and it made my stomach turn.

“Be careful with that,” I said, putting down the agate. “I don’t want your magic attracting a craglorn. I’ve got enough to deal with without cleaning up your mess.”

“You’re still angry,” she said nervously.

“I’m livid!”

She glanced over her shoulder, likely regretting coming back at all. Or she was making sure she wasn’t standing in the crosshairs of the sniper she’d arranged earlier.

“Do you want this job?” I asked. “Do you genuinely want it, or was it all about canvassing the village for optimal vantage points to take me out?”

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she began, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“I didn’t tell them,” she blurted. “They don’t know about you yet.”

“Who? Your coven?” I snorted and moved to the next shelf and began tidying it.

“Yeah…”

I wanted to ask her all sorts of questions, but my distrust was stronger than ever. To know there were other witches out there? I needed help learning how to use my magic, and especially a witch history one-oh-one class so I knew what to look for when it came to magical creatures and if they wanted to murder me or not. That would’ve been handy.

Finding where you belonged? It was meant to be a happy occasion like meeting your long-lost family, but no. Not for me. I was apparently the outcast.

Glancing at Lucy, who hadn’t moved or uttered another word, I said, “Answer one simple question, and depending on your answer, you get to keep your job.”

She nodded.

“Why did you come here? Why did you come searching for me, and why did you stay?”

“I… I wanted to see if it was true,” she said. “That the Crescents were no more.”

“My mother hid me well, I see,” I drawled. “I suppose you had dealings with her since you seemed to know she was hanging around?”

She nodded but didn’t say anything else. I figured they’d had the same amount of respect for Aileen as they now showed me, which was why she kept to herself here in Derrydun. I would have to ask Boone about it later and see what he knew because he’d never met any other witches in the whole time he’d been here, either. It was very telling.

“So the Crescents saved all your asses from Carman by kicking her out of Ireland, then closed the doorways to the fae realm,” I declared, rattling off what I supposed was common knowledge. “They bound all this with their blood, my blood, and it’s the only thing that can undo it all. Sound about right?”

Lucy blinked, looking a little shell-shocked.

“Now you’re all in ultimate dilemma mode because here’s the last Crescent, some random Australian chick who doesn’t know shite all, who’s the key to one of two things. Salvation or extinction.” I raised my eyebrows. “Right?”

“Right.”

“And you all hate my guts by default. Without even meeting me. Without even giving me a chance.”

“It’s not like that…”

“It’s totally like that,” I declared. “Why should I risk my life, huh? If the witches don’t care about me, then maybe I should just let the fae continue hunting you all down. I’ll get my powers bound again and go sip a mai tai on a beach in Thailand while you deal with your war.”

They weren’t fighting, so why should I? I knew there was a metaphor for survival and the human condition or something equally as poignant, but I didn’t really want to think about it. Here I was thinking having magical powers would be the best thing that happened to me, like that kid and his wizarding school, owls, adventures with his two best mates, and crazy broomstick-riding classes. Instead, here I was being slammed with rotten tomatoes.

“We can’t stop you,” Lucy said after a moment. “If that’s what you want to do, then…”

I stared at her, the gravity of who I was beginning to sink in. “You’re telling me that…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You have more magic in you than any of us,” she went on, shaking her head. “At least, of the witches I’ve met. Which hasn’t been many.”

“I’m not…” I almost choked. “I’m not all powerful. I’m just a woman…”

“You’re a Crescent.” She shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes and turned away, feeling really uncomfortable. Clueless Skye Williams, the savior of Ireland. Pfft.

Not even six months had passed since Aileen died, and I’d been a practicing witch less than that. I didn’t know who to trust other than Boone, but I couldn’t deny I needed help. I was a stranger to these people and to my destiny. I had no choice but to trust Lucy at least a little.

“What now?” I asked. “Now we both know the truth of our