Cresent Prophecy Axelle Chandler (beach read .txt) 📖

“I don’t want to be a psychologist,” Mairead blurted.

I smiled. “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me!”

“It’s not about me,” I said. “Anyway, it wouldn’t have been your choice if I told you.” And just like that, all this witchy business about the journey, not the destination, smacked me directly in the face. Looked like we both had a lightbulb moment.

Damn, I was growing up and being all responsible and stuff.

“What do you like doing?” I went on. “You must have some idea you’ve disregarded because it’s frivolous. Don’t forget, we live in the age of the Internet. It’s a good time for small business. Just look at Irish Moon.”

“You should open an online shop.”

“Hey, now there’s… Mairead! Don’t change the subject.”

She thought, her forehead screwing up.

“It’s two a.m.,” I complained, winding her up. “Let’s go back to sleep…”

“I like to draw, okay,” she declared.

“You draw?” I raised my eyebrows. “Cool.”

“Who ever made a job out of drawing?” She pouted.

“Plenty of people. Ever hear of the comic book industry?”

Her scowl deepened. It looked like she’d already forgotten about the lesson The Fool presented. Luckily, she had me to give her a kick up the rear end.

“Then I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “Tomorrow, start working on your drawings, and I’ll help you brainstorm.”

“Brainstorm?”

“Time to hustle, Mairead. We’ve both got destinies to fulfill.” I gave her a look, then reached for the lamp. “Can I go to sleep now? I get angry when I’m tired.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

The room was plunged into darkness, and I nestled back into bed, my head finding the groove in my pillow.

“Hey, Skye?” Mairead whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Are you scared?”

I hesitated and looked inward for my truth. Lucy was right about my arrogance, but I was beginning to believe it was to do with fear more than ego, especially after Mairead’s near miss. Which meant, I still had time to learn how to be humble. With great power comes great responsibility, or so the saying from Spiderman went.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t a little afraid.”

And so life went on much the same way for the next few weeks.

The days shortened, the temperature dropped, rain drizzled, and the mornings were fraught with fog and vaporizing breath. I’d begun wearing a gray knit beanie—another of Cheese Wheel Aoife’s creations—with my fingerless gloves twenty-four seven. Those babies only came off my mitts when I went to take a whiz.

Boone had warned me about snow and sub-zero temperatures, and while I was looking forward to a real wintery Christmas, I was hoping I would still have toes by then.

Despite the cold, Irish Moon was buzzing with customers. Mairead and Lucy alternated their working schedule, fitting around each other with minimum fuss. The tourist season was beginning to wind down, and the buses were less frequent, which gave me some breathing room when it came to practicing my magic. I wasn’t at the grand-master level yet, but things were starting to make a lot more sense than when I was just stabbing in the dark.

The clearing underneath the branches of the hawthorn tree was one of the most familiar places in the whole of Derrydun. Even more than the cottage was if you could believe it. I knew every rise and fall of the earth, every twist of the hawthorn’s roots, every snarl in her bark, every wisp of fern around the edges of the forest, and every shadow that played across the entire scene.

I’d fought against this place for so long even after I found out I was destined to protect it. Now… Well, I don’t know when it happened, but it had become home.

“So, tree,” I said, gazing up at the branches. “You’re the largest hawthorn there ever was and will be. You must’ve seen some screwed-up shite in your time, hey?” I made a face. “You must be laughing at my lackluster attempts at practicing magic. Ready for another round?”

Standing before the tree, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, centering my mind and magic just like Lucy had taught me. I felt my power bubbling in my belly and focused on shaping it. Warmth spread to my chest, down through my legs, and then along my arms until I could feel the Crescent legacy in my entire body.

Okay, hold it there, I thought, concentrating on keeping it contained.

I held as long as I could before letting my magic go. Instead of pushing it outward, like I imagined when I was doing a spell, I let it deflate and simmer back into a dormant state. I was totally getting better at this. Control was ninety-five percent of being a witch, Lucy said.

Reaching out, I lay my palm against the trunk of the hawthorn. Another thing Lucy had confirmed was that witches had an ability to connect with the plants and earth, which explained why I could sense the spring winding its way through the ground at Croagh Patrick. Remembering the cool sensation of something rushing past me, I shivered.

“We really need to build you a greenhouse or something,” I said, almost expecting the tree to answer.

Well, it had before, hadn’t it?

“When I touched you last time, you tried to tell something, didn’t you?” I asked, then snorted as I realized I was talking to a tree. A magical tree, but still… “And that didn’t sound half dirty. Touching a tree. Pfft.”

Squaring my shoulders, I decided there was no harm in trying. This place had been my ancestral home for over a thousand years. I had nothing to worry about even though underneath her roots, lay the hawthorn’s original purpose. Guarding a doorway to the fae realm.

I’d never really thought about it that way, and now I was pondering the notion, a prickling sensation scratched at the back of my neck, then shivered down my spine and back up again. There was a portal to another world under the tree outside Irish Moon. Brrr!

Shaking my head, I focused my mind and reached out