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

on the tree, and it showed me a vision.” I snorted and flung the face washer into the bath. “It wasn’t the first time.”

“What did it show you?”

“Lucy was a Nightshade Witch,” I said. “Her family… The people she was trying to save by taking me… They were responsible for murdering the last of the Crescent Witches. They took Aileen’s family, and that’s why she was called back to Derrydun, leaving me behind with my dad.”

“They were your family, too, Skye,” Boone murmured.

“The hawthorn was trying to tell me something,” I said.

“It was warnin’ you about Lucy,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, but why did it shove me into the ground like that?”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I was Aileen. Aileen was me. In the visions. Nineteen eighties Derrydun was weird.”

Boone tensed and turned off the shower. He still didn’t like it when I brought up how Aileen had died as he was carrying around misplaced guilt that he was to blame. She’d forgiven him in her last moments, and so had I once I’d learned the truth. We lived in troubled times.

“You…” he began, but I threw a clean towel, and it hit him in the face, stopping him from saying any more.

“It doesn’t matter.”

I held up my arms and studied the pink lines. Whatever Boone had done, it hadn’t worked entirely. I was still stuck with a physical reminder of what had happened in that clearing.

“I’m going to get tattooed,” I declared.

“To cover those little things?” he asked.

“Boone, I need to go back to the hawthorn,” I said as he wrapped himself in the towel. “I need to make sure.”

“Sure of what?” He stepped out of the bath and gestured for me to undress so I could wash off the night’s escapades.

“The ancient hawthorn in the forest holds the memories of the Crescent Witches,” I said. “Or at least, I think it does. They’re trying to tell me something. Something important. I think it could help with what’s coming.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m afraid we didn’t stop the ritual in time,” I went on, my words beginning to run into each other. “If that’s true…”

“Shh,” Boone murmured, grasping my shoulders. “We’ll go back, but not tonight. Tonight we rest, okay?”

I nodded, knowing I was on the verge of hysterics. I’d kept it together so well… Boone was a wolf, I was the key to breaking an ancient curse, my family had been burned alive, I’d had a taste of Aileen’s demise, Lucy had betrayed us all, I’d almost died, and I’d come face-to-face with Carman herself.

Talk about an eventful evening.

“Mairead’s downstairs making tea,” I said. “There’s whiskey.”

Boone smiled, but he couldn’t hide the worry in his black eyes. He’d discovered more than he wanted to about himself tonight…and what he was capable of. It wasn’t just about me. Not anymore.

“I’ll wait for you,” he whispered. “Always.”

Chapter 21A Little More…

The next morning, we woke to a thick fog that had lain over Derrydun during the night.

Boone said it was just the time of year, and it wasn’t an omen, but I’d been rattled to my core. Every shadow had a pair of eyes, every black cat was bad luck—not that I’d seen any cats other than Father O’Donegal’s tabby—and every natural wonder of the land was a precursor of doom.

I wrapped myself in my coat, donned my beanie and scarf, and dragged Boone to the hawthorn. Mairead stayed behind at the cottage, promising to open the shop at ten.

After last night, we were all on a knife’s edge.

Trees loomed out of the mist, the damp air making everything feel closer than it ought to. My toes were numb despite the extra pair of socks I’d put on, and my gaze darted to-and-fro.

Boone wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me close. His touch was comforting, as I was sure mine was for him. We both had demons to face and questions that had been answered with more questions. Hopefully, the hawthorn would be able to shed some light on the situation.

The clearing was free of the thick tendrils of fog when we arrived. Much like the tower house on the hill, this place had a bubble of protection around it that seemed to muffle all sound and give me a false sense of safety. It hadn’t protected me from Lucy, after all. Maybe the bubble was to do with what had happened here.

Mary Byrne had been burned at the stake at the tower house, and now I knew three Crescents had been burned here as well. Both places had been marked by tragedy, so maybe that was what the bubble was for.

“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Boone asked, his voice sounding loud in the eerie silence.

“I have to,” I replied, kissing him on the lips. “There is no perfect time to commune with a tree. Not when Ireland might be open for the taking.”

He nodded and glanced up at the hawthorn.

“We have to know,” I murmured, more to reassure myself than him.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’ll watch over you until you come back.”

I nodded and turned back to the tree as Boone stepped back, giving me a little room to breathe. Placing my hands on the trunk, I closed my eyes and focused.

The last two times—and the only two times—I’d done this, the hawthorn had forced its way into my mind. This time, it was a little harder. It was silent for a long time as if it had used all its power to try to contact me in the first place. Magic took a toll, after all. Seemed logical.

Gently prodding it with my own magic, I called out. To who, I wasn’t quite sure.

Light burst in my mind’s eye, and I gasped. Wrenching my hands away from the hawthorn, I turned and shielded my eyes from the sun.

My toes curled, digging into the warm sand, and I breathed deeply. The salty smell of the ocean washed over me, and the soothing hiss and crash