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

woman I hired to help at Irish Moon. I want to see if I can test her to make sure she’s not a fae.”

“Skye, I think you’re makin’ too much out of this. Hundreds of tourists come through the village every week, and none of them have been fae. Not everyone is out to get you. Besides, the hawthorns…”

“We can’t be too careful,” I argued. “Look at what happened with that Hannah chick. She turned out to be a spriggan, and Aileen didn’t even know. The hawthorns didn’t help then, and we can’t rely on the trees all the time.” Boone stiffened at my offhanded comment about the fae that had killed my mother. She was trying to save him at the time, and it had once been a sore point between us, but now there were bigger fish to fry. “After everything that happened with the craglorn and everything that will happen with Carman eventually, I can’t take any chances.”

“I don’t think—”

“If she’s a spy, then I want to know.”

He grunted, and I set the spell book aside. Nestling closer, I laid my hand over his and squeezed.

“Boone, I’m the last Crescent. And if I believe everything you’ve told me and all the shite in this book, then I’m the only one who can kick Carman’s ass. I’m pretty sure it was my ancestors who banished her from Ireland and locked the doors to the fae realm. I may not be the Crescent who did those things, but I’m the only one around for her to take revenge on. If I’m out of the picture, nothing will stand in her way. She’ll crawl back in and unleash whatever power lingers on the other side.” I sighed. And if she succeeded, magic would be extinct, and the world would be defenseless in the face of the fae realm. “It’s so dramatic, but you know. Priorities.”

What was on the other side of the doors, anyway? Why did the Crescents lock them for good? Knowing my luck, it was to protect Earth from being invaded by a mystical army of fairies. That was usually how those stories went. The desire for ultimate power and chaos weren’t an exclusively human trait.

“Aye, well, just be careful. Don’t go turnin’ her into a toad.”

My eyes widened. “I can turn people into toads?”

Boone frowned and cupped my face. Leaning forward, he kissed me. His touch was soft at first, but when tongue was added to the mix, the heat level rose. Just when things were borderline indecent, he pulled away.

“What would you like for dinner?” he asked, dumping a proverbial bucket of ice water on my head.

“A cock sandwich,” I retorted, completely frustrated.

“A what?”

“A cooked sandwich,” I said, scowling and picking up the spell book. “Like a nice slab of satisfying meat slapped between some bread.”

It was a metaphor that went right over Boone’s clueless head, and he shrugged. Ever since I’d woken from my post-healing three-day sleep and we’d fallen into our romantic relationship, it had been awkward as hell. It was like he didn’t even know how to be affectionate or act normal around me. In the wake of me discovering my magic and his shapeshifter-ness, our easy friendship had stalled. Something wasn’t right, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

It didn’t help that I was still trying to understand the new world I was thrown into, manage a business with zero book smarts, and find a new employee. I was building a new life from scratch, and it hadn’t been that long since I was dumped by my last boyfriend and lost my job in a supernatural conspiracy to get me back to the ancestral home of the Crescents.

I needed Boone. Honestly, I needed him in more ways than a pillar of strength in the chaos. I needed him all night long, but he didn’t seem to get it. Considering it was the one thing men always knew everything about, it was way more annoying than the entire population of Derrydun planning our supposed spring wedding.

Boone disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to wonder if I should be studying the spell book or going online to order myself a dildo.

And when he reappeared half an hour later, guess what he had made me for dinner?

A lamb sandwich.

Chapter 3

Fiddling absently with my tarot cards, I watched Lucy from behind the counter.

After a morning of showing her the ins and outs of Irish Moon, I was happy to see her busying herself with tidying the shop and familiarizing herself with the stock. At least she was showing more enthusiasm than I had when I first arrived, but I suppose she’d come here wanting the job in the first place. Unlike me.

She’d been early, too. It was like a vortex where everything was reversed. Lucy was the complete opposite of me, which was probably a good thing considering I liked to sleep in and laze about behind the counter.

“Do you read tarot cards?” she asked, watching me shuffle.

“I’ve been learning,” I replied. “They were my mother’s cards.”

“Were?” Lucy crossed the shop floor and stood on the other side of the counter.

“She died a few months ago.” I shrugged. “I inherited the shop and her house.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She shook out her hair to hide her reddening cheeks. “Way to go askin’ the personal questions on me first day.”

“It’s fine. We weren’t really close. Meaning, I never really knew her when she was here. She left my dad and me when I was little and…”

Realizing I was babbling to a suspected spy, I closed my mouth and shrugged. I was becoming really paranoid. Didn’t help that Lucy was easy to talk to. She had one of those faces, which could be a trick or a spell or anything.

“So you and your dad lived in Australia?”

I nodded.

“How long have you been in Ireland for? Do you like it here?”

“I’ve been here about five months now, I think. A lot has happened. A lot