Chapter One
| Brianna |
Bri darted a worried glance at her grandmother. “I think we’re nearly there.”
Gran’s smile was faint, but her voice strong. “It’s not far. These old bones can feel it — they’ve come home.”
Old bones. Bri wanted to laugh but couldn’t manage it. It would be easier to cry. The long years were finally catching up to Gran.
“You feel it, yes? That pull deep inside your belly is magic. True magic runs all through this land.” Gran held up her hand in dismissal. “I know you haven’t my trust in it, but we were called here, the both of us.”
“Gran —”
“Wheesht. I’ll not hear it. We were meant to come.”
Bri pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and focused on safely maneuvering their rented Volkswagen off the M9. Over an hour outside of Dublin and she still wasn’t used to driving on the left side of the road.
Bri dared another glance at Gran. Traveling had taken a toll. The older woman’s face was worn and weary. “We’ll go straight to the B&B. We can explore the churchyard tomorrow, after you’ve gotten some rest.”
“The day’s not yet come when I’m unable to handle jet lag, lass. We’ll go to St. James’ now.”
“Be reasonable. It’s been a long day and we’re both worn out.” Bri stifled a yawn. She hadn’t slept on the plane.
“Aye, but if we go now the lighting will be right — you can take pictures with that wee camera of yours.” Gran’s eyes glinted. “Sure and your magazine wants a variety of pictures. You can’t take them all at midday.”
Bri caught her breath. The sun was sinking toward the horizon. If they made it to the church as the sun set, the lighting would be perfect. She should insist Gran rest, but a short wander through the churchyard might do them both good. “I suppose we can stop at the church on our way.”
As she drove through Castledermot, Bri tried to ignore the way everything about the old town felt perfect. Her grandmother was a superstitious woman who’d left Ireland when she was young, but Bri was smart enough to recognize the idea of a magical land for the load of malarkey it was — even if the setting sun cast the town in a magical glow. Buildings sat close up to the road, but even without the large front gardens Bri had always imagined, the town wasn’t lacking in greenery or nature. Trees offered patches of shade while planters boasted gorgeous displays, adding to the charm of the older buildings.
Navigating through the light traffic, Bri noticed a couple of signs proclaiming the buildings were To Let. She hoped Gran wouldn’t notice. She was likely to decide she wanted to open some kind of shop.
A month in Ireland wasn’t enough time to start a new business.
Gran was focused and seemed not to notice much about the town as she directed Bri to turn. Following her instructions, they drove to the old church on the east edge of town. There were no other cars around as Bri pulled to a stop at the side of the road.
Bri stepped out of the car and stretched her travel-weary muscles. The sweet scent of blossoms and cut grass filled her lungs. Across the street a house boasted a lush front garden similar to what Bri had anticipated seeing. She smiled and moved to help Gran step into the fresh Irish air she always talked about.
Before Bri could even get around the car, Gran was climbing out. She swayed, steadying herself against the car door. Bri moved faster. If Gran fell and broke something Bri would never forgive herself. “Gran, take my arm.”
Gran ignored her wobble, waving Bri away with a glare. “Don’t coddle me. It doesn’t matter I’ve not been here in years, these old bones know the lay of the land.”
Bri stifled a groan. Gran’s Irish lilt was getting stronger. Gran always called it “getting her Irish up” but Bri could have sworn it was just an excuse to let her stubborn streak run free. “Fine. Fine, then, I’ll just get my camera.”
Once the beloved Nikon hung around her neck, Bri started snapping pictures. The beautiful tunnel of trees across the street would photograph better with more light — she could imagine how the walkway would look lit with dappled sunlight — but she took a few shots now anyway. She’d come back another day to take pictures from the other end, coming toward St. James’.
She turned to face the church and caught her breath. Past the gate an impressive arch spanned the walkway. It was ancient. The upper half of it was beautifully carved, and long, narrow stones set on the outside made it look rather like rays coming from a half-sun. “Gran? What did this used to be?”
Gran paused by the entry of the churchyard and looked back over her shoulder. “You’ve heard the stories since you were a wee lass. Give it time, you’ll place it.”
Couldn’t Gran just answer the question? Bri closed her eyes a moment, wondering how she’d let Gran weasel her way into coming on this trip. As much as she loved the woman who’d raised her, she needed to focus on her photography. She’d been trying to land a big break for years. Now she finally had it she couldn’t afford to throw it away.
Grumbling under her breath, Bri followed Gran through the pedestrian access to the left of the gate and entered the churchyard.
She’d never been spooked in graveyards before, even in full dark on Halloween night, but as soon as both her feet touched the ground inside her heart felt like it was being squeezed. Could it be something about the church? The age, or something in its history?
Bri looked at the round tower directly in front of her and tipped her head back, her gaze following its length. The conical top had long since been replaced with crenels, but it was the oldest thing around — Gran’s stories claimed it was a thousand years old. Perhaps the feeling in her chest came from the energy of the stars some claimed Ireland’s round towers were built to harness.
It was just as possible she felt nothing more than the awe of being near something that had seen so many centuries.
Bri shook her head and turned her attention to the task at hand. Snapping as many pictures as she could, Bri forgot her awe and focused on framing each shot. On capturing the beauty and allure of the place. When her light was too far gone for the pictures she was after, Bri turned to look for her grandmother.
Gran stood a little apart from the church with her back to Bri. Her head tilted down and her hand rested on an upright stone. Stepping carefully through the grass, Bri went to her.
The air felt thicker over here, as if a storm threatened. Bri glanced at the sky, expecting to see roiling clouds. Instead, a few wisps of cloud just blurred the edges of the moon. Unable to stop herself, she raised her camera. She took half a dozen pictures before deciding she’d caught the image she wanted.
Stretching her sore feet inside her sandals, she turned to Gran. “I really think we should be going now. We could both use some rest.”
Gran’s only answer was to run her hand across the top of the stone.
“Gran?” Bri reached out and touched Gran’s shoulder. “It’s nearly dark. We should go.”
“Not yet.” Gran turned to smile at Bri. The old woman’s tiredness had sloughed off and playfulness filled her face. “I’ve a job for you. Get those flowers out of the car for me.”
Bri wrinkled her brow. “I thought we were taking those to the B&B.”
“Good plans are flexible. There’s a more pressing need for them here. I’ve some nice chocolates in my bag we can gift to our hosts in place of the flowers.”
Mumbling her frustrations, Bri returned to the rental car. The windows in the home across the street glowed cheerily, illuminating a small portion of the front garden.
Bri hoped her grandmother would finish whatever crazy scheme she was planning quickly. Somewhere in town, a cheery glow would be waiting to welcome them to a comfortable place to sit — and hopefully the kind of mattress that would guarantee Gran a quick recovery from the long flight.
Once Bri got Gran settled she’d find a pub and meet some of the locals. She didn’t want to spend the next month visiting with no one but Gran. She loved the old woman dearly, and hoped the trip would be a good thing for them to share, but Bri would go crazy if she didn’t have other people to hang out with.
Bri grabbed the bouquet of wildflowers and headed back toward Gran. The deeper into the churchyard she got, the more something itched the back of her mind. The place had such an odd feeling. Like she was walking into the past.
Gran had always placed great import on the churchyard in the stories of their ancestors, and so many of those stories had taken place here in Castledermot. That might be why Bri felt such oddness here, but it certainly didn’t explain why Gran was treating the place with such reverence. Gran was the most irreverent person Bri had ever met.
Except when it came to her precious Irish heritage.
“Where did you want the flowers?”
“I’ll take them.” Gran stepped away from the stone she’d been focused on as she reached for them.
The stone rose from a slab base. A worn Celtic cross decorated the ancient relic and a hole was carved through the stone where the lines of the cross intersected.
Bri gasped. “The swearing stone.”
How could she have forgotten the swearing stone was in this churchyard? No wonder Gran wouldn’t leave.
“For generations our family has come to this stone for weddings.” Gran paused. “Of course, as times changed we’ve had to hold other ceremonies as well, but vows spoken here at the stone are the ones that matter.”
So many stories flooded into Bri’s mind. So many memories she’d all but forgotten. “The two couples who chose to be married somewhere else had marriages that didn’t last. You always said that was the reason my parents didn’t stay together.”
“Aye. It was sorry, to be sure. If your mother had listened to me — but that’s over and done with.” She pinned Bri with a stare that felt sharp even in the near-darkness. “You’ll not be making that mistake.”
Bri rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting married any time soon, if I ever do.”
“My ears work just fine, dear one. You’ve been saying the same for years.”
She’d be saying it for a lot longer, from the sound of things. “I have plenty of time.”
“You’re twenty-six years old, dear one. You’d have done well to marry five years ago. You’d have a family and I’d not need to worry over you being alone when I’m gone.” As she spoke, Gran began sprinkling the flowers on the ground around them. Her silver hair caught the pale moonlight as she moved to leave the blooms where she wanted them.
“Things are different now. The world’s changed since you were my age. Women don’t have to get married in order to have a decent life. Besides, I finally have my big break as a photographer. I’m not giving that up.”
Gran grumbled under her breath. When she’d dropped the last flower, she struggled to free her travel-swollen feet from her shoes.
“What are you doing? Put your shoes back on. We need to go.” If Bri didn’t force the issue, Gran would likely spend the entire night dancing barefoot around the nearby headstones — to soak in the magic, or some such nonsense — while their perfectly good beds stood empty.
“Wheesht. We’ll go soon. Humor me, there’s a good lass. Slip off your shoes, just for a wee moment. I want you to feel it.”
Bri shook her head and bit back her retort. She could argue until her breath ran out, but Gran was more stubborn even than Bri. She kicked off her shoes and stood next to Gran, her toes sinking into the cool grass and earth. “What am I supposed to be feeling?”
“You’re always in such a rush. Slow your breathing and close your eyes.”
When did Gran become a yoga instructor? Bri tried to calm her mind and listen. The sooner she did, the sooner she’d be able to get a drink at the pub. After putting up with Gran’s craziness she deserved an extra round. Maybe two.
They stood silently, letting the air still around them. As Bri pressed her feet more firmly into the earth she began to feel subtle shifts in the world around her. The air thickened, slowly at first, then in a rush it filled with the waiting energy she’d noticed earlier. After a few more minutes, an almost imperceptible thrumming began to travel from the earth, through the soles of her feet, and deep inside her.
Bri’s eyes popped open. “What is it?” She whispered the words, sure if she spoke louder she’d lose the feeling.
“I told you,” Gran said, her face splitting into a wider grin. “There’s magic in this land.”
What a ridiculous answer. Bri opened her mouth to say so, but it was pointless. Gran would never listen.
“Now you need to practice,” Gran said, giving her a gentle shove. “I’ll likely not make it to your wedding. These old bones won’t cross the ocean again, I’m thinking. You need to know the words.”
“Excuse me?” Gran couldn’t have meant what Bri thought she did. It was too crazy, even for Gran.
Gran just laughed.
No, it was an evil cackle. She pointed to the swearing stone. “Go on, now. Put your hand in the hole. You have to know the way of it. You’ll not want your marriage to end like your mother’s, will you?”
Bri flinched.
“Come now. It’s a small thing to please your old Gran. Let me remember our history tonight. I’ve the need to pretend I’ll be there when it’s your turn.”
“It’s dark. Let’s come back tomorrow and you can talk me into it then.” That would give her the whole night to come up with another excuse. She didn’t want to pretend she was getting married. It was an absurd idea. “I can hardly see you anymore. We should wait for it to be light.”
“You’ve no need to see me, and I see you just fine.”
Bri glanced down. Her periwinkle blue dress seemed to glow in the moonlight, making her stand out against the night. She sighed.
“Listen to the magic,” Gran said. She cocked her head to the side as if she could actually hear something. “It’s supposed to be tonight.”
Bri sighed. When Gran got like this there was no point in pretending anyone else’s opinion mattered.
Determined to act out the ceremony correctly so she wasn’t made to repeat the embarrassment, Bri dug through her mind for details from the family tales she’d learned by heart as a child – back when she still believed the world held magic. She closed her eyes for a last deep breath.
Letting her eyelids flutter open, Bri stepped up to the stone and reached out her right hand.
She paused. Despite living for the stories when she was young, Bri had no idea if she was supposed to stand or kneel. Gah. If she was going to do this, she wanted to see what she was doing. She dropped to her knees in the grass and peeked through the hole as she slid her fingers, then her entire hand, inside. Blades of grass tickled her bare calves, but she pushed that to the back of her mind.
“I, Brianna Meghan Hughes, do willingly pledge my heart and body to thee. I am yours, as you are mine, throughout all time. I so swear.”
Bri froze. Another voice hung in the air. A whisper of an echo, soft enough Bri wasn’t sure she’d heard anything at all. She was quite sure, however, that she wasn’t imagining the warm, callused hand enveloping hers, or the bright blue, startled eyes staring into hers. She couldn’t be imagining the man with windblown hair who loomed over her from the other side of the stone.
“Brianna,” he said. His voice was deep and rough. The timbre shot through her like a jolt of electricity.
Some part of Bri must have heard him say his name during the vow, because it came unbidden to her lips. “Duncan.”
Her voice was hardly even a whisper, but he heard. His short, rumpled beard twitched and his brows pulled together as a crease appeared between them.
Bri’s heart pounded and she pulled her hand back, knowing only that she had to separate herself from the anger in the man’s face.
The second the touch of his skin was gone, he disappeared. Bri’s breath caught in her throat.
Her hand hovered by the stone, her fingertips just at the opening of the hole. She stared at the empty space across from her. What in all that was —
Duncan’s warm fingers brushed hers again, and he materialized in front of her as he folded her hand securely in his. He still glowered, but more than that, his gaze was curious.
Bri rose to her feet, needing to be closer, drawn to his eyes as she tried to place the other emotions she could see in them.
He drew her hand through the hole. With his other hand, he brushed her fingers open and traced them before pressing something cool and hard into it. He closed her fist around it and murmured, “Come back later tonight, when I’m alone. Please.”
His warmth left her hand as his image faded from view. Bri stared at the place where he’d been. She was relieved he was gone, and more concerned than she’d like to admit that part of her was upset the apparition had vanished.
Bri turned on her beaming grandmother. Her legs trembled, making it difficult to stand. “Did you see — What was that?” she whispered. “What just happened?”
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