Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy Page 3

  Modern woman, indeed, but at least she was aware of potential danger, even if she wasn’t conscious of that fact. She felt his power, even if she’d likely define it as the ability to command a room; Alex had his work cut out for him. “I’ll leave ye to yer breakfast,” and entered the bakery. When he emerged, she was still there, half concealed by the trellised vines, hair down now, spilling in glossy thickness over her shoulder as she bent to scratch behind the dog’s ear.

  He stopped with his back toward her and took a careful sip of the coffee, savoring its richness, then took a bigger swig. She cleared her throat, and he looked in her direction as she brought her cup halfway to her lips, “It’s good here. You should try the croissants too.”

  He held up the bag.

  She took a fortifying sip of her coffee, “Um…if you’re not in a hurry, would you like to share the table?”

  He looked around the courtyard at the six other empty tables. “Certainly,” he pulled out the chair opposite her. The dog cried to get closer to him. Alex asked, “So wha’ kind o’ dog is he?”

  Brenawyn looked down, and leaned over to untangle the leash from the table legs, giving him an unobstructed view of her ample cleavage. “Oh, Spencer’s a pit bull mix that I rescued from a shelter two years ago. I walked in and he jumped in my arms from a desk in the middle of the room. The clerk had been trying to put him in a cage when I walked in. I fell in love instantly. I didn’t listen to the man try to talk me out of adopting him even while I was signing the papers.” Rubbing Spencer’s head, “The best dog I have ever had. Looks ferocious, but he’s all mush. Aren’t you boy?”

  Alexander took another sip of his coffee, “Seems friendly. Ye made a good choice. Are ye haur on vacation or just passing through?”

  “Neither. I’m relocating here. I’m going to stay with family until I can find a suitable place to live, but I’m in no rush.” Brenawyn answered. “It is a little too early to announce my arrival, but then I remembered this place. It’s much better than any franchised coffee shop.”

  “And definitely better than any rest stop.”

  At the mention of rest stops, Brenawyn straightened a fraction. Fear, anxiety, and curiosity flashed in turn on her face and she shook her head.

  Eyebrows raised, Alex asked, “Wha’s th’ trouble, lass?”

  “Oh, noth…” She stopped and cocked her head to the side, considering him with slightly squinted eyes. “It’s nothing...just, that’s the second time tonight that I’ve been called lass.”

  Alex sat, schooling his face to show no emotion, no reaction to what she said.

  “Huh,” shaking her head, “The imagination is working overtime. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

  Noting the time it took for her features to change from wary to relaxed, he assessed her to be a product of contemporary society, where everything has a logical explanation. She was confident, not one to over-deliberate on issues, albeit drawing the wrong conclusions, making his task all the more complicated. Her naiveté would make her an easy target, and quite possibly by the time she was convinced that not everything neatly conformed to her expectation of logic, it might be too late for intervention.

  He drank the last of his coffee and stood up, leaving the bag untouched. “It was nice talking with ye, and welcome ta th’ neighborhood.”

  Brenawyn stood up and held her hand out. Alexander took it and curled her fingers around his own, brought it to his lips. “My friends call me Alex. I hope I can count ye among them.”

  Brenawyn nodded as he walked away. Alex could feel her eyes upon him. He never had difficulty attracting women. It seemed a bit hollow to use his appeal to lead her on, but time was against him. Looking back over his shoulder, he gave her his sexiest smile, “I will see you again, a chuisle.[1]”

  ~~~

  Alex trudged up the stairs, entered his second floor apartment, and slammed the door closed. Something was wrong. The wards protecting his place were shattered and the defensive spells nullified.

  “Ye ken, someone could slip a knife between yer ribs or slit yer throat while ye try ta piece togeth’r facts. No’ me, of course, but someone.”

  Alex sprang to face the intruder, knowing the safety of his home was compromised. The man sat reclining in a cushioned chair with feet up, crossed at the ankle on the coffee table. Cormac was several inches shorter than Alex. While lithe and fairly capable of handling himself in a fight, he could never take Alex. He wore his shoulder length blonde hair clubbed at the nape, as usual. There was that usual smug look set into his wide brow and jaw that Alex thought a good beating would wipe away.

  “Cormac.” Alex relaxed slightly and turned his back, reaching for the kitchen towel on the counter to wipe his face. “To wha’ dae I owe th’ pleasure o’ yer company?” He leaned back against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living space and tossed the towel into the sink.

  “Th’ Oracle needs ye ta deal with certain…difficulties, as we try ta obtain th’ target.”

  “Obtain th’ target? Hm. I doona care for yer word choice, Cormac. Get oot o’ my house.”

  Cormac stood, dusting off his trousers, “Doonae ye want ta ken th’ particulars?”

  Instinct told Alex to throw him out, but reason stayed his hand. He had to know what they knew, what they suspected. “Aye. Wha’ does she want me ta dae?”

  “Closing in on th’ target tonight, someone intervened on behalf o’ th’ woman, allowing her ta escape. Th’ Oracle wants ye ta find th’ source o’ tha’ interference and silence it.”

  “I’m no’ a soldier ta be commanded, Cormac. I will leuk inta it, but as for intervening, I make th’ decisions. Wha’ form did this interference take?”

  “Nothing overt. The veil dropped, for a moment. But it ha’ th’ finesse o’ one of us.”

  “Ye think thaur’s a traitor in our midst?”

  Cormac crossed to the room and opened the unlatched door, “Tha’ is yers ta figure out. I doona ha’ ta tell ye how important it is.”

  “Still touched with impertinence I see. When this is over, I’d love th’ chance ta meet ye on th’ Hunting Grounds ta teach ye proper respect.”

  Cormac chuckled, “Alas, my friend, tha’ will ne’er be possible,” as he closed the door behind him.

  Chapter 3

  By the time she had finished her cup of coffee, two lighted windows shone from the floors above the Rising Moon. She called, and by the time she had untied Spencer and walked across the street, her grandmother was waiting at the door.

  “Pussy Cat, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Nana.” The dog pranced around them, binding them together with his leash, “Spencer, stop! Be a good boy.”

  The dog knew the routine and lost interest the moment the leash was relinquished. He bounded into the foyer and up the stairs, clawing and whining at the upper door. “How was your ride? I guess you hit traffic. I was expecting you last night.”

  “The traffic was terrible, a never-ending crawl, thanks to construction all the way through New York and into Connecticut. I’m glad I won’t be traveling that way again soon. What a nightmare!”

  “Ugh, well at least it’s over and you’re here. Come in and get settled.”

  Brenawyn climbed the stairs after her grandmother, noting the brace on her right foot. “Nana, what happened?”

  Stopping at the landing to open the door to let Spencer in, Leo looked down and held her foot out, “Oh, nothing really. The body is not what it used to be. I tripped over a box and landed wrong on my ankle. It will be better in a few days. I have a doctor’s appointment later on today to get it checked out. Would you be able to drive me there?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  Leoncha Callahan was a striking woman. Soft brown hair, which never saw the contents of a Clairol box, flowed over her shoulders. Bright blue eyes stared out of a face almost devoid of wrinkles. God, Brenawyn thought, please let me have her genes. />
  Her grandmother’s age showed in subtle ways, though. Originally a tall woman, Leo’s shoulders slumped, making the slight hump on her back more prominent. Her velour bed jacket and cotton nightgown hung on her. Had she lost more weight? Or was it just the perceived vulnerability of catching her in pajamas?

  “Well, I know it’s not what anyone has in mind for the first day of vacation, taking their aged grandmother to the doctor.”

  “Aged grandmother. Please stop. If that’s where you need to go, I’ll take you. Tripping over a box? Let me guess. Inventory?” Not needing confirmation, Brenawyn continued, “Why won’t you let someone else do that for you? You could have ended up really hurting yourself.”

  Leo reached for and patted Brenawyn’s hand, “Well now, dear, that’s what I have you for, now. Don’t I?” Leo let go and walked into her apartment, “I have homemade blueberry muffins for you if you’re still hungry.”

  “Ooh yes, some dog, not mentioning any names, stole my croissant.” The fuzzy culprit chose that moment to reenter the room and settle, after a few revolutions on the hearth rug.

  “Certainly you’re not referring to that cute and properly behaved boy who’s resting so sweetly by the hearth?

  “No, of course not. Not Spencer.”

  Brenawyn walked into the living room and placed her hand on the back of the pale pink floral couch and closed her eyes. She inhaled scents of lavender, sage, and something that was uniquely her grandmother. She was eight again, with corkscrew pig tails, clutching her teddy bear, the first time she ever was here. So many years ago and countless times since, she had stood in this very spot. The familiar smells were a comfort, and the occasional run-in with déjà vu always brought a smile to her lips. She never felt truly happy or completely safe unless she was in this exact spot. Looking around at her grandmother’s collectibles, feeling a sense of wholeness, she knew she had made the right decision to come here for good.

  “Come into the kitchen, when you’re ready. Do you want butter on the muffin?”

  “Plain would be fine.”

  “Are you sure? They are still warm from the oven.”

  “Ooh, on second thought, yes, butter would be great.” She walked into the kitchen with the drink tray from the bakery. The white Battenberg lace placemats had been removed from the table and a muffin, cut in four equal pieces, each buttered, lay on a plate. Brenawyn picked up one of the pieces and took a bite. “Mm. Yummy,” she said with her mouth full. “No one cooks like you, Nana.”

  “Thank you. I gave you the recipe years ago.”

  “True, but you put extra love in them.”

  “You’re sweet.” Putting her hand on Brenawyn’s, “Dear, I’m so glad you’re here, but are you sure you did the right thing, uprooting everything, job, house, friends, and everything in between?”

  “Tell me, how does anyone know if they’ve done the right thing? Friends, my true friends, yes, I will miss them, but it’s not as if I saw them on a regular basis anymore. Husbands, kids, jobs, responsibility…basically life, gets in the way. That goes for everyone. I’ll still keep in contact with them with phone calls, email, birthday and holiday cards, and even the occasional vacation. Believe me, Maria will be here with her family before too long. Her kids are so big. Did I tell you she’s pregnant again?”

  “She is? How wonderful!”

  Brenawyn nodded. “This move will be good for me. Getting away from Jersey, I feel like it’s time to finally start over without constant reminders. Passing it every day on my way into work… how could anyone not remember? But I tried, you know I did. You helped me go through the house and his belongings, but there was still a sense of him; the chair that he would sit in after a long day and fall asleep, how he arranged his tools in the toolbox, and the hundreds of other things that all the rearranging of furniture wouldn’t take away.

  “I know what you mean. It’s the reason I don’t spend much time at the farmhouse.”

  “I’m sorry, Nana. Here I am going on as if I’m the only one who’s ever lost a husband.”

  “That’s all right, Pussy Cat.”

  “It’s funny what sticks in your mind after someone dies: the name of the shade of lipstick that Mom wore, how Aunt Mary would roll down her knee-high stockings and bunch her pants about the knee when it was hot, or Liam’s faded cut-off sweatpants, complete with a hole in the right leg.”

  Leo smiled slightly and looked out the window, “Memory is a strange thing,” her mind clearly wrapped up in one of a thousand memories of her own.

  Chapter 4

  At 9:30, Leo retrieved the shop keys and headed to the connecting stairs beyond the kitchen. The front entrances to the store and the apartment above were separate, but the back stairs gave access to both spaces without having to go outside.

  “Hold on, Nana. I’ll come with you,” Brenawyn called from the kitchen.

  “Bah! Old age—can’t do anything anymore! It’s not necessary. I just have to go down to open the shop; Maggie will be coming shortly. She normally doesn’t work until later on in the afternoon, but I asked her to come early today to mind the shop for me when we go to the doctor.

  “But on second thought, come down. She’ll see your car and won’t stop pestering me with questions until she sees you.”

  Brenawyn came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on the back of her shorts, “Hold on, let me go first, these stairs are treacherous.”

  Leo knew where the concern came from, but it still rankled. How many years had she plowed down these stairs with no concern? Now, rickety stairs meant hazard to brittle bones. Brenawyn slowly descended the stairs, carefully attuned to Leo’s steps, and they reached the bottom just as Maggie approached.

  Brenawyn took the keys, and Leo could see through the full glass door that Maggie was bouncing on the balls of her feet in eager anticipation of being granted entrance. No sooner did Brenawyn get the keys out of the door than Maggie launched herself at her. “Oof”

  “Ha, you’re finally here. I never thought today would get here. This week dragged. How was your trip? Are you staying for the whole summer again? When can we hang out? Where is Spencer? Did you bring him? Of course you brought him. Where is he? There is a new flavor of iced cappuccino next door, we should get one later, then you can tell me everything that happened during the past year. Leave nothing out. Promise?”

  Brenawyn hugged her back. “Whoa, easy, one question at a time.” Holding the 19-year-old girl at arm’s length, she shook her head and laughed. “You asked me so many questions that you lost me. It’s good to see you too. I’ve missed you.” She let her go and stepped back, “Let’s see, you went back to your natural hair color,” pulling at the ends playfully, “except for the green tips. I like it.”

  “And I got a new piercing,” sticking out her tongue, “See?”

  “Hm, yes, I see. I like the hair much better though.”

  Leo hobbled up to them. “Yes, though why she feels the need to accessorize herself to that extent, I’ll never know. You have more metal on you than you weigh. Touching Maggie’s cheek gently, “You have such a pretty face. Doesn’t she Brenawyn?”

  “Of course she does, Nana. Hey, since we have a few minutes before we have to leave for the doctor, Maggie, why don’t you show me the new merchandise? I haven’t asked Nana about it yet. I’m dying to see it.” Brenawyn hooked Maggie’s arm and dragged her away into the depths of the store.

  Leo’s bones may have been brittle, but her ears worked just fine. She smiled as before they moved out of earshot she heard, “You know she doesn’t mean anything by that, right?”

  Leo busied herself with adjusting the placement of candles and housewares on the shelves nearest the door when Brenawyn called, “Nana, I’m going to run up and take Spencer out for a quick walk, and then I’ll be ready to take you to the doctor. Are you all ready?”

  “I will be by the time you come back.” Hearing the retreating footsteps on the stairs, and then the quickened patter of dog paws on the
floor upstairs, Leo put the duster behind the counter and asked Maggie to run upstairs to retrieve her purse from the kitchen counter. By the time Maggie had returned, Leo had her crutches by the front door, waiting for Brenawyn. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone, Maggie?”

  “I’ll have given all the merchandise to wandering strangers before you get back,” Maggie rolled her eyes with exaggeration and quickly added, “No problem. Of course I will,” before Leo’s lips shriveled like a prune in response to her sarcasm.

  By the time Brenawyn laid the crutches on the backseat and slid behind the steering wheel, Leo was seat-belted in and fingering the claw marks on the dashboard. “What happened?”

  “Oh, I had a bit of a problem with the dog on the way here; seemed he didn’t like people walking so close to the car while I was in the bathroom.”

  “He’s never been destructive before. I wonder what got into him. Do you think he’ll be okay in the house all by himself?”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s back to his old goofy self now.”

  ~ ~ ~

  At the doctor’s office, Leo held up her foot and grimaced; “Now it hurts more. They always seem to want you to put your body in a way it doesn’t to want to bend,” she said as she rubbed her foot.

  “We’ll know more when the doctor’s looked at the films.” Brenawyn answered, just as the doctor walked in carrying the x-rays. He smiled as he clipped them to the light box mounted on the opposite wall. “Hello, Mrs. Callahan. I’m Dr. Miller.” Leo accepted his extended hand and he turned to face Brenawyn, “And you are?”

  “I’m her granddaughter, Brenawyn McAllister.”

  Looking from one woman to the other, he said, “Ah, I see the resemblance,” then quickly got down to business. “All right, let’s see what we have.”