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

toward the hawthorn. Nothing happened—at least, not straightaway.

My skin crawled as if slimy, gooey worms were slithering up my arms and legs, and I almost pulled away. At the last second, I realized it was the tree answering my call. Her tendrils were reaching out—roots, branches, and vines—to greet me.

“So you are in there,” I murmured. “What were you trying to tell me, hawthorn? I don’t know, but I’m glad you’re here.”

I was plunged into darkness before twisting and turning. I was falling like when Alice fell down the rabbit hole. Panicking, I screamed, reaching out for something to grab hold of, but there was nothing there.

I fell on my ass, the wind rushing out of my lungs, and I moaned. Ow, my butt cheek.

Glancing up, I almost did a little wee when I saw a face staring down at me. Not just any face. It was a tree with leaves for hair, bark for skin, and awful glowing green eyes. Boone had told me about her, about how she’d drowned Aileen in the earth. It could only be one person.

“Hannah?”

She wailed, her voice peeling with a thousand threads of pain, and the ground began to rumble beneath my feet.

“No…” I scrambled to my feet, but I was caught.

The forest floor turned to quicksand, and I sank, my boots sticking. The pressure against my legs was unbearable, and I screamed for help, but no one came. I struggled, but the more I moved, the faster I was swallowed up.

“I’m coming,” a voice whispered in my ear. “Wait for me.”

A heavy pressure was squashing my chest, causing my limbs to slow. Dirt filled my mouth, choking and stealing my breath. Struggling for air, I clawed at the earth, trying desperately to fight my way out of the darkness. Reaching toward the surface, I pushed and kicked, climbing higher and higher.

“Skye!”

Light burst in my eyes, and I coughed violently, spitting dirt onto the ground before me. What a rush!

Turning, I wiped the tears from my eyes and shook out the earth still clinging to my clothes. I stilled when I realized I was standing in the center of Derrydun. How did I get here?

Overhead, the sun was shining, and I felt sweat prickling across my forehead. It was the middle of summer, which was completely confusing. A moment ago, I’d been in the midst of the deep and dark Irish autumn.

Glancing up at the sky, I frowned at the yellowish hue that was laid over the blue. It was like I was looking through a filter labeled sepia. Turning around, I scratched my head when I saw how different the village looked.

Mary’s Teahouse was still neon pink, but the Virginia creeper that grew all over Molly McCreedy’s wasn’t as wild. The handicrafts store had been replaced with a shop called Lush Lavender - Irish Arts & Crafts, the hawthorn tree in the middle of the road was two-thirds of the size, and Irish Moon wasn’t there at all.

Crossing the street, I cupped my hands against the window and peered inside at the empty building. Without all the crystals and shop fittings, it looked so big. And empty. Did I say that already?

Where the fudge was I? Had the hawthorn transported me into another vision, or had I taken a ride in a DeLorean at eighty-eight miles per hour?

“You must be Aileen.”

Turning, I gasped as I came face-to-face with Mary Donnelly. A really young looking Mary Donnelly. I mean, she was still older, but not as…ah, forget it.

“I’m sorry to startle you, dear,” she said. “I saw you standin’ there, and I wanted to offer my condolences. It’s a terrible shock. Just terrible.”

“That’s…okay?” I replied, giving her the once-over. Eyeing her shoulder pads and sequin embellished T-shirt, I held onto my brewing giggle. And she gave Mairead grief over her fashion choices? Hello, nineteen eighty-nine.

“Are you interested?” Mary went on, nodding toward the shop. “It’s been empty for so long. Robert thinks the tourist industry is about to boom. It could be a good investment for the right sort of person.”

“Robert?” I tilted my head to the side.

“O’Keeffe,” she replied. “He was at the funeral. Did you meet him?”

“The funeral?”

Mary placed her hand on my shoulder and gave me a concerned look. “Oh, dear, you’ve really been through the wars. It must be just awful comin’ home after so long to all of this.”

I was beginning to feel rather sick the longer she spoke to me. It was eerily similar to my calling. Aileen had left Dad and me when I was two. I knew the Crescent legacy was to blame, and something terrible had happened, but no one had ever spoken about it. It was almost thirty years ago.

It seemed Aileen and I were more similar than I’d ever known.

“What happened to them?” I asked.

She gave me a curious look. I was supposed to know, being in my mother’s body and all, so to her, I was acting out of character even for someone overcome with grief.

“Why, they were found in the woods,” she said. “Aileen, darlin’. Are you feelin’ okay? Would you like to come to the teahouse for a cup of tea and a scone? My treat.”

“Mary, what happened to them? Who were they?”

Her frown deepened, but she began to speak, her words gentle and considered.

“Your grandmother, mother, and aunt were found in the woods behind the village. They’d been bound…” She coughed, looking uncomfortable as the bile began rising in the back of my throat. “They were burned.”

Skye.

A cold blast of air blew on the back of my neck, and I turned, my body plunging deep into the darkness of the forest.

Something rough was digging into my wrists, and I couldn’t move. Struggling, I turned my head, my gaze locking with a woman my age. Black hair, green eyes, pale skin.

Movement drew my attention forward, and I swallowed a scream as I saw nothing but wild, curly hair and anger. Anger and…flame.

“Crescent bitch.”

“Don’t listen to her,” the woman beside