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

we need to be careful using our magic. We’re being hunted on all sides.”

“What happens if she opens the doors?” Mairead asked, her eyes wide.

“That’s the fifty-million-billion-trillion-dollar question. Anything could happen. Armageddon or sunshine and rainbows. No one knows, but if that story is anything to go by”—I whistled—“lucky us.”

“You don’t know much.”

“The only thing I do know is Carman is pure evil, and the Crescent Witches—that’s me—were the only ones powerful enough to stand up to her. That’s why they need my blood, and I’m the only one in her way. There was a reason she was cursed out of Ireland, and there was a reason the fae realm was sealed from ours. Somehow, I don’t think it was to do with razing crops. The stories don’t seem to mention that part.”

“What reason?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“That means you don’t know,” she said with a pout.

“No, I don’t. I didn’t even know I was a witch until I saw—” I stopped dead in my tracks, not wanting to tell Mairead of all people about the time I found Boone naked on the end of my bed.

“Saw what?”

“Nothing.”

She eyed me skeptically.

“The myths say Carman died,” she declared. “And when she did, a festival was named after her. It was called Óenach Carmain. There’s a similar festival that’s still held now. Lughnasadh. There are tons of different myths about different goddesses and stuff. I guess it depends on who you’re talkin’ to.”

“What’s that?” I asked, another Irish thing going straight over my head.

“Lughnasadh is like a giant farmer’s market. There’s food, animals, craft markets, and stuff. It’s a Wiccan harvest festival.”

“So you did learn something at university,” I declared. “Ha!”

“Maybe…”

Thinking of what Mairead said about the myth surrounding Carman, I began to wonder what her endgame was the first time around. She’d destroyed Ireland’s crops, taking out the food source and causing havoc until the Crescent Witches stopped her. But there was one flaw in the history books. Carman wasn’t dead.

The door opened then slammed closed, and Boone appeared.

Mairead smiled, instantly brightening at the sight of him.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten the time when you conned him into giving you a kiss.”

“Are you really a tabby cat?” she demanded.

Boone glanced at me and chuckled. “You’ve been tellin’ her stories.”

“I left out the good bits.”

“What good bits?” Mairead wailed.

Watching Boone as he filled the girl in on his abilities and his memory loss, a feeling of warmth spread through my chest. It felt good to be able to tell someone about all of this. Keeping a secret was hard work.

Thinking about crazy Beth and her pushover of a husband, Gregory, I sighed. It had been a pain in my ass knowing the witches weren’t a fan, and it looked like humanity was jumping onto the bandwagon.

And so, the existential question of the century kept coming around and around, haunting my every move. Why should I lift a finger to help? If only they knew what was waiting for them.

Focusing on Boone and Mairead’s conversation, I knew I would fight, anyway. First, for them, and then time would tell if it would be for everyone else.

Chapter 17

“Skye.” A hand shook my shoulder. “Are you awake?”

“It’s Saturday, Dad,” I said, moaning and swatting blindly. “Let me sleep in.”

“Skye.”

The shaking intensified, and my head snapped up. Mairead was crouched beside the bed, dressed in her nightie, her eyes wide.

“What? What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching for the lamp.

Warm light illuminated the room. Luckily, Boone had gone home, and we weren’t in the middle of sexy times. Otherwise, I would’ve been mortified.

“I…” She glanced at the bed and shivered, her bare toes twitching.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

She nodded.

“Get in.” Rolling over, I rubbed my eyes and patted the bed next to me.

Mairead scrambled around the end of the bed and slid in next to me.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked, facing her.

“It was just about the… You know.” She buried under the covers, hiding her face.

“I’m sorry… You’ve been handling things really well. Like a boss, actually.”

“I feel better with you and Boone around.”

I smiled, though I felt a pang stab me in the chest at another reminder of my responsibility. I wondered how Aileen had handled it.

“I guess it just hit me,” she went on, her fingers worrying the edge of the quilt. “I could’ve died.” She sniffed, her eyes misting with tears.

“It’s okay,” I murmured.

“I thought about it, about what you have to do—and what Aileen was doin’ for us—and it must be hard. You’re riskin’ your life.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m working on it. Which makes me wonder about you.”

“Why?”

“Have you thought about what you want to do with Trinity?”

Mairead made a face.

“Maybe you were taking the wrong classes,” I suggested. “What were you studying?”

“Psychology.”

I remembered when I was in high school psychology seemed to be the buzzword of all the seniors. Like fleek, and YOLO, or whatever the kids nowadays were saying. Psychology had been the career choice of the moment.

“Is that something you want to do? Or was it something you chose because you had to choose something? I know how these high school career councilors work. Not everyone has their life mapped out at seventeen.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“Are you?”

“Me birthday was last month.” She pouted.

“Did I say happy birthday?”

“No.”

“Not even on Facebook?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” I thought for a moment. “What was I doing last month? Oh, yeah, I was battling the mind manipulation of a fae who’d stolen the identity of my ex-boyfriend.”

Mairead screwed her nose. “Huh?”

“It’s a long story, but we were talking about you and your gnarly dream.”

“Do you think it’s stress?” she asked.

“Honestly, I think it’s more about the kidnapping part.”

“Skye, I… I’m tryin’. I want to be strong.”

“I know. I can tell.”

We fell silent, listening to the night outside. All was still, which meant, tomorrow, frost would be lying on the ground, coating everything in a thin sheen of white