Concentric Circles

| Overview |

We've all seen it. The fragmented family line. It usually spells disaster. What does this have to do with Shayla Brinawell? Magic. Fearful of the dangers Shayla could face, her mother taught denial of anything magical with fierce, maternal protection. There are always consequences. What you don't know
can
hurt you.

Shayla's world will be turned upside down and every which way.
Witch
way that is. Hyper drive doesn't begin to explain the casting of events that will shift her world.

Meet Meekal Chilkwell, bloodline guardian of the Chalice Well.

The magical waters have been threatened by evil before. Thanks to the Chilkwell family you have remained safe. However, in our shrinking world, today's new danger is global.

Look out, non-magical world. Syther the Quitch is hell bent on wicked domination.

The only thing standing between you and Syther's sadistic ambition are Meekal and Shayla.

Why not take a peek between their shoulders?

This novel is a work of fiction. Names and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Published by Aithne Jarretta

Copyright — (c) 2011
No part of this story may be used or reproduced without written permission of the author.
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Deepest Gratitude

Thank You

Lisa MacDonald

Bookplate

"The most powerful symptom of

Love is a tenderness,

which becomes at times

almost insupportable."

~ Victor Hugo

[1] Circle’s Threshold:
Hawthorn & Heart

Nothing ever happened on Monday afternoons.

Bored with work, Shayla opened the newest email from best friend Barb. "Whoa."

The artistic vision of muscular shoulders dominated her computer screen.

A quick look around. There was no one passing by her work station. But still, she winced. It was a good thing the blue wall behind her desk meant no one could sneak a peek.

Beauty was definitely in the eye of the beholder.

The male model stood with his back toward the camera. That was pretty basic, but what really grabbed Shayla was the rushing waterfall he stood under. Exquisite sensuality. From the curve of his wet, black hair to the blending tan line around his ankles... Bare skin and tight buns extraordinary.

Mesmerized by the sexy image, Shayla Brinawell breathed deeply.

Beneath the picture Barb had typed:

“Just because you meet your soul mate, doesn’t mean your life will be a bed of roses. Or maybe it does—thorns and all. Don’t forget, that’s what you told me when I met Jeff.
We just broke up
.”

Shayla stared at the red letters, stunned.

Barb, her best friend since they were six years old, truly believed in love. Now, she was out of it.

Shayla wondered briefly about life’s circumstances. Only face to face conversation could soothe this type of pain.

She gnawed her lip and thought about skipping out on work. “Better not,” she muttered.

A shiver raced down her spine. Was that a portent of things to come?

She decided what she needed right now was a good dose of humor. That could help chase away the doldrums.

She clicked the favorites file and scrolled down her personalized list.

Tap the keys and move forward. Forget about love. Do what you are compelled to do for the sake of a good life.

Answer questions,
she thought.
Laugh when you get the chance. Go for adventure and inner joy.

That’s what she must do.
Forget love.

She needed something, a good laugh. She would think about Barb later.

Maybe they would get dinner after work and Barb might be willing to talk about it. The Italian Garden, Barb's favorite, might be the key to helping get through this heartbreak. At least it could be a start.

In the race of thoughts, she almost missed the link, but it grabbed her in an unexpected way and with mystical insistence.

Shayla leaned forward for a better look. Something from the list caught her attention. It tickled a deep-seated, wonky sense of humor.

Birl?

Shayla laughed at the word. The online Scottish vernacular dictionary always proved irresistible and amusing—in a lifting of the spirits sort of way. Exploring language inspired her creativity to magical heights.

Birl: To twirl or spin, particularly to the point of dizziness.

Laughing, she clicked the back button. For quite some time she had postponed a longed for fantasy trip. She saved and pinched pennies, but had not taken action.

Today, on a typical 'nothing ever happens Monday,' she made her decision.

She would go on her dream vacation across the pond. The Atlantic Ocean beckoned her on a mission of personal adventure with the potential for self-discovery. At least that’s what she hoped it would be.

Compelled toward destiny’s call, she opened a new Internet window to place her reservation for the tour.

A portal to the future? Step through the threshold
. The thought made her smile with anticipation.

First stop would be Glastonbury, England where the history that fascinated her began.

* * * * * *

“It’ll be fun,” Barb coaxed. “Come on, Shay.”

Coercion.
Shayla stared at the shop window adorned with an assortment of oddments; green glass bottles, candles of various colors and ancient, well-worn books. “It isn’t really my forte. How’d you find out about this place?”

“Gary. And besides, no one will know—about you.”

“Figures it'd be Gary.”

Barb snorted. “You don’t like Gary because he has a pink Mohawk and numerous piercings.”

“No,” Shayla said, while trying to push the subject of personal, mysterious origins and funky happenings away. “I don’t like Gary because he tried to get me to drink a love potion. Who knows what was in that thing—maybe GHB.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Right,” she growled, and shook off a sense of déjà vu that had blanketed her since parking the car. “As for no one knowing about me, it isn’t that simple, you know. My senses always go funky in these places. Is Gary's love potion the reason you wanted to come here? To buy one?”

Tears threatened to spill over Barb's thick black lashes. She dabbed the corner of one eye, and blinked to keep the moisture at bay. “It wouldn’t do any good. Jeff’s history.”

“You’re better off,” Shayla said. “He’s a cheating louse. A slug under a rock.”

“Yeah, I realize that,” Barb said low voiced. “Come on. You'll be okay. You're strong. I really need this. Something to take my mind off Jeff. Let’s go in. Please?”

“If you're sure this is what you
really
want,” Shayla replied, and tucked her cell phone into a pocket. “I can suck it up. Anything for my best friend. Hey, it's an adventure, right?”

Barb's effort at a smile strengthened Shayla's resolve to help.

When Shayla pushed the door open, delicate tinkles sounded from a chime. A welcoming atmosphere hugged them inside the small shop. Celtic music played softly and brushed the senses.

A circular fountain dominated the center of the floor. Ancient Celtic symbols artfully embellished stone crafted sides, and moving water added musical harmony to the room.

“Good evening,” a man said, and moved from behind the glass counter. “Welcome to Circle’s Threshold into Ancient Journeys. I am Connell. Is there something I can help you find?”

 “Elixir of Witch’s Grass,” Barb grumbled under her breath.

“We’re just looking. Thank you,” Shayla said, while elbowing Barb.

“Take pleasure then.” Connell gave them a friendly nod and returned to his station behind the glass case. He began placing new items on the shelves that ran the breadth of the store.

“Witch’s grass won’t lower libido,” Shayla whispered while eyeing one of the many candles on a table. There were also several ritual books and tools for every purpose. “I was just kidding about that.”

“I know. Just wishful thinking.”

“Find something else to take your mind off him,” Shayla said.

It would take Barb awhile to get over Jeff.

Shayla knew that because of her own twice broken heart. “Lots of books.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Barb disappeared toward the back into the small library  where neatly stacked shelves hid her.