Fate's Hand: Book One of The Celtic Prophecy (4 page)

Chapter 5

Alex liked walking into The Rising Moon on an ordinary day. He liked the dichotomy of the commercial quartz stone necklaces and love and fortune spell books juxtaposed against the beeswax candles and the sage and lavender bundles lovingly made by the proprietress. There was an authenticity to the shop, once one moved beyond the first two aisles. It was well-masked, and to the untrained eye, it fit in with the dozens of other shops within the city limits, but the walls resonated power which had nothing to do with the location.

Today when he walked in, he was instantly pleased with his timing. A pair of long shapely legs and a fine ass belonging to a woman on a step ladder were just inside the entranceway. She was clad in a pair of denim shorts, and a snug black tee shirt emblazoned with the shop’s logo showed off the rest of her figure well. Her ebony hair hid most of her face, but he glimpsed the rosy cheeks and pert nose of Brenawyn, as she glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll be right with you. Just let me get this box down.” She said as she struggled with the box.

Stepping forward, “Do ye need help?” Alex asked.

“No, it’s not heavy. It’s just a bit… awkward,” she huffed out as she renewed her efforts to wrestle the box off the shelf. “Take a look around and be sure to let me know if you see anything you like.”

Alex smiled at her comment and decided to keep his thoughts to himself. She would find them sexist and chauvinistic—not complimentary as he intended them.

He glanced around but his attention was almost immediately brought back to her legs as she raising herself on her toes—complimentary indeed. It did luscious things for her and he itched to run his hand up her leg. She gave a little grunt of satisfaction, which was enough to pull him deeper into his fantasy, but to his disappointment, it only meant that she had the box in hand.

“Ahem.”

Alex looked toward the source of the noise and was met with a look of disapproval from Maggie, who stood behind the counter. He sauntered over and gave her a wink, but what he saw sobered him immediately. He caught her chin just before she shied away and angled her head to get a better look. The harshness of the fluorescent light cut through the heavy concealer to reveal the shadow of a faint bruise under her right eye.

“Who dae I need ta ha’ a conversation with?” as he touched her cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

Maggie bolted upright and broke contact. She cowered back in the confined space leaning down to brush her hair to cover the telltale contusion, whispering, “No one. I…I fell…fell at home.”

Alex followed her gaze to Leo, who was approaching. The weight of her hand on his arm refocused his attention, and with a slight panicked shake of her head, she mouthed, “Don’t. She’ll worry.”

He’d listen, at least until he investigated further. So when Leo hobbled up to join them, he showed no outward sign of concern, but she was no one’s fool.

“Something the matter?”

Maggie didn’t look her in the face so it was up to Alex to divert Leo’s attention. He leaned against the counter and admitted, “Oops, she caught me,” hitching a thumb back at Brenawyn, “appreciating beauty. I’m so ashamed.”

Maggie attempted to play along but her laugh was stiff and hollow. Leo furrowed her brow, glancing at her, but Maggie didn’t give her any answer. With a ragged sigh, Maggie’s shoulders relaxed and she unfolded herself from the corner, a ghost of a smile on her lips. She leaned over the counter, poked him in the chest, and said, “What’s wrong with you? Behave yourself! You’re acting like a teenager. You’re a little old for that, aren’t you? That’s Brenawyn, Leo’s granddaughter, for heaven’s sake!”

Alex turned around and now that he could see her face, he recognized the family resemblance. She had her grandmother’s big expressive eyes and her dark hair, which was twisted up haphazardly and held by two pens. Tendrils fell about her face attractively. He tore his eyes away from her at last and looked back at Leo, “I met yer granddaughter and her dog this morning at th’ bakery. I doonae ken why I didna recognize her then, she resembles ye quite strongly.”

“Huh, she didn’t mention meeting anyone. Well, anyway, she’s staying indefinitely, or so she says. She even quit her job and sold the house.”

“Really, she didn’t tell me that!” Maggie exclaimed as she bolted from behind the counter and skipped around the two of them.

“Child, you didn’t give her a chance.” Leo called out as Maggie ran past. “That girl never gives anyone a chance to say anything. Always talking, talking, talking.”

Alex admired Maggie’s youthful exuberance even though he knew that at this moment it was contrived to avoid a very serious matter. He’d look into that later today. His smile deepened when he heard her squeal as she ambushed Brenawyn. Turning back to Leo, he put his hands on the counter, “Well, it was just a few words over coffee.”

Assessing Alex’s qualifications with the keen eye of a grandmother, Leo mused, “Perhaps she can find someone else and build a life.”

Amused and interested that she would even find him suitable for her only grandchild, he asked, “Wha’ makes ye say tha’ she wants tha’?”

Shrugging her shoulders, Leo guessed, “Hope?” She looked in the direction of her granddaughter and sighed. “She tells me that she wants to move on with her life. Maybe now she can find one.”

Her eyes misted with tears and Alex covered her folded hands with his own, giving them a slight squeeze. Trying to lighten the mood, he suggested, “Well, let’s see if I can help,” then flashing a big smile, “Formally introduce me ta yer granddaughter, Mrs. Callahan.”

“You are too handsome for your own good. And you know it.” This response made him grin, and he relaxed to put an elbow on the counter.

“Ah, my charm is working.” Grabbing her hands, Alex looked playfully in her eyes, “Unless…tell me noo. Will ye run away with me instead?”

Slipping her hands from his and slapping at the air in front of him, “Tcha.” Leo shook her head in exasperation, and raising her voice to be heard above the instrumental music piped through the store’s speakers, “Brenawyn, could you please come over here?”

“Sure, Nana. Be right there.”

Leo turned to Alex, “Irreverent clod. No respect for your elders,” as she fussed with his collar. “Remember, be good.”

“I promise—my verra best, charming self,” he playfully answered as he stood up to his full height of 6’5 with blatant exaggeration.

Brenawyn came over, put the box on the counter, and wiped her hands on the back of her denim shorts. “These are the beeswax candles. Are they the ones for the ritual?”

“Yes, they are. Thank you for getting them for me.” Drawing Brenawyn’s attention to the man standing next to her, Leo made the introductions. “Brenawyn, this is Alexander Sinclair. Alex, this is my granddaughter, Brenawyn McAllister. I believe you two have already met.”

She had a strong handshake, confident and self-assured, contradictory to the dainty appearance of her tiny hand in his much larger one. She glanced away, letting her long lashes fall against her rose-kissed cheeks.

“Well, I didna ha’ ta wait long ta see ye again.”

She smiled genuinely but didn’t meet his eyes, “Nana, I met Alex this morning over coffee across the street at the bakery.”

“Yes, I know, he told me. He’s the one that works at the community college that I told you about this morning.”

“Hmm, talking about me already, Leo? Yer granddaughter hasna even fully settled in yet, though I cannae say tha’ I’m disappointed,” Alex said smugly.

“Away with you and your teasing! I merely mentioned you in case Brenawyn wants to apply for a teaching position at the school. I thought perhaps you could forward her resumé.”

More serious now, Alex turned his full attention to Brenawyn. “I could dae tha’ for ye if ye wish. Wha’ dae ye teach?”

“I taught English literature and composition for seven years, but I’m taking a break from it for the time being to help Nana with the store, especially now that she’s in a cast. Of course that is if she can ever be convinced to stop micromanaging and allow me to pick up the slack.”

Alex peered over the counter to look at the aforementioned cast and shook his head. “Does this ha’ anything ta dae with th’ kerfuffle?” Confirmation of his question was reflected in Leo’s face. “I think she has ye, woman. Ye cannae participate wi’ a cast on yer foot. Gi’ o’er ta Brenawyn. Ye have two weeks, more than enough time ta rehearse it with her.”

“All right, fine. You got it, and you’ve seen me do this for years. There’s nothing to it. I’ll make a list of the items you’ll need for the program,” Leo added helpfully and hobbled back to the office, leaving Brenawyn and Alex standing at the counter staring at each other. Brenawyn made a face, and Alex realized she was looking over his shoulder. He turned to find Maggie rearranging a shelf to no purpose close by, whistling in tune with the Celtic music that was playing on the sound system. Looking back, Brenawyn’s face was now devoid of emotion, whatever had passed between them was undecipherable to him.

“So, what can I help you with today, Alex?”

“Leo called me yesterday morn and told me tha’ two books tha’ I ordered finally arrived.”

“Hmm, let’s see,” she circled the counter and after a short search found a pile of ordered items waiting to be picked up. She squatted down to rummage through it. “So, you’re a teacher at the community college? What do you teach?”

“I’m an anthropology professor but I also teach a class on Celtic lore and mythology.” He answered, looking over the counter at her.

Brenawyn found the books and handed them to him. She stood up to find Alex digging in his back pocket for his wallet. “How much dae I owe ye?”

Brenawyn crossed to the register and rang up the sale, “The total is $56.79. That’s interesting, anthropology and mythology. I bet you’re a great storyteller.” She stopped and looked away, the blush creeping back up her neck, but then continued. “Especially with your accent. Where are you from?”

“Yes, I ha’ been told tha’.” He leaned on the counter. “If ye ever have an evening to spare, I could tell ye one or…” he moved closer to her, “two.”

Brenawyn let out a giggle. “Well, I might have taken you up on that, but something tells me I’d be getting more than a story.”

Smiling, he handed his credit card to Brenawyn. “Yer loss, then. As to whaur I call home, Scotland, a wee place near Roslyn, around sixteen kilometers from Edinburgh.”

Her quest to complete the transaction came to a halt when she couldn’t locate a pen. She looked on the shelves underneath the register and on the floor, coming up to ask him to wait until she retrieved one from the back.

“May I?” Alex asked, reaching over. A puzzled look washed over her face. Her mouth opening slightly, to voice a protest perhaps, but nothing came out. She leaned closer.

He reached behind her and pulled out the scissored pens holding her hair. Waves of raven hair fell about her shoulders, and she smoothed the errant strands away from her face. “Ye should leave yer hair doon. ‘Tis beautiful.” He reverently reached for a wayward tendril with a knuckle and gently tucked it behind her ear.

“Um. Thank you. I appreciate that.” Brenawyn blushed again.

Alex signed the receipt and looked at the clock on the wall behind her, then verified the time with his own watch. “Och, I ha’ ta go, but I will see ye again.”

“Oh?”

“Aye, ye may have just volunteered for this thing on Thursday next, but many o’ us were corralled and beaten inta submission by yer wee grandmother in thaur.” he admitted, gesturing to the back room.

A mysterious sparkle in his eye had Brenawyn changing postures. Coming out from behind the counter, she took the time to slowly look him over with a playful half-smile on her lips, “Beaten into submission is it? And here I was thinking that you were a strong, braw lad, well capable to fending off the sting of a small woman.” Brenawyn leaned back on the counter and crossed her arms, “Tsk. Too bad.”

Alex registered her deliberate perusal and broke out in laughter. “Ah aye, I see wha’s happening haur. Ye’ve decided ta flirt with th’ master. Verra guid.” He spread his arms wide and took a few steps backward. “Ta th’ victor go th’ spoils.”

As he exited the store, he shared a look with Maggie, who hovered by the door. Knowing she’d find an excuse to follow him out, he stopped in front of the window of the next shop. He heard the faint chime of the Rising Moon’s door and turned in time to meet her. Her eyes were brimming with tears, “Please, Alex. Don’t do anything. It was my fault… I made him mad.”

“Maggie, was it yer jakey knob, Buchanan?”

“Please…”

“Margaret, ye doonae ha’ to be afeart. I’ll take care o’ him.”

Chapter 6

Brenawyn looked over the list her grandmother had made last night and counted two things that were actually specified—the candles, which she had retrieved from the shelf yesterday, and the ceremonial robes, which she knew were boxed in the office closet. She went into the office and located the robes which were, surprisingly, hung up and pressed in a garment bag. Every year, she would take these full length robes out for her grandmother, luxuriating in the cool, smooth feel of the white and green silk. Emerald and silver embroidery in a Celtic knot design decorated the lapels, back placket, and the cuffs of the wide bell sleeves. The sleeves were further lined with an emerald silk dyed to match the embroidery. The bottom eighteen inches of the white silk was vertically cut every six inches and embroidered to reveal six inches of the green, cut in a similar fashion. It was the most beautiful garment that she had ever seen.

Brenawyn didn’t hear her grandmother approach, absorbed as she was. Leo hobbled into the room and joined her at the closet to admire the robe. “It’s an antique, you know. I never knew whether to believe the provenance, but I bought it from a woman who told me quite a story about it. In the back of my mind, the place that no reality or logic resides, I want it to be true because it’s romantic,” Leo mused.

Drawn out of her ruminations and interested by the promise of a romantic story, Brenawyn turned. “I can’t believe you never told me this one. Here, sit down and I’ll pull up a chair. Tell me everything. You know I love this stuff. Wait, first, do you need anything?”

“No, honey I’m fine,” Leo answered as she carefully sat down in the office chair.

Considering whether her grandmother needed anything she wouldn’t ask for, and deciding the answer was no, Brenawyn settled down in the chair opposite the desk, “Ok, spill,” she urged.

“Let’s see. I bought the robe back, hmm, over thirty-five years ago, well before I had this place. I bought it from a woman named Rosalyn Feegan when I went to Ireland with your grandfather. We had been on an extended vacation, staying with his family and mine alternately. During the first week I wandered into a shop and I bought a few items of no consequence. Weeks later, I found myself back at the same shop on one of my many solitary walks to escape the family bickering. Rosalyn was the owner, and we got to talking. I thought she was odd, more than odd, the way I would catch her looking at me periodically, like she expected some great surprise at any moment. It really was strange. But she was a fantastic storyteller, and before long I was caught up in her tales, eager for another when she had finished the last.”

“Sounds interesting,” Brenawyn agreed.

“It was. She told me the legends. I had heard them all before, but the way she told them, it was like she had been there. She made it believable, that if I walked out and over the next hill I would be carried off by the Faerie themselves. So at last, she tells me that she has something for me and she takes me in the back of the store and thrusts this robe into my arms, blathering on about waiting so long for the next guardian.”

Brenawyn made a face, “What?”

“Well, I guess you had to be there. So, she takes me out to the front again, and switches the sign that was hanging on the front door to ‘closed.’ Then she tells me, hushed-like, that it is the ceremonial robe of the last Druid high priestess.”

Laughter bubbled out of Brenawyn’s throat, as she looked at the robe behind her grandmother, “That’s a fancy story. You should let the reporters that cover the event tomorrow have that story. The tourists would love it.”

“Well, no, I’ve never been tempted to tell anyone until now, but that’s not the end of it, though. Rosalyn waited for some reaction from me, but she looked confused that I didn’t give her one.”

“Good story, Nana.” Brenawyn said.

“Oh, I’m not done. There’s more. I guess because Lughnasadh is just a few days away, it has put what she said in my mind. Well, according to the story, on Beltane, after the rituals had been performed and the eternal fire relit, the high priestess and the Shaman of the Order would humm mmm. You know.”

“What? You mean have sex?” Brenawyn asked astonished. “I thought that only a part of the King Arthur legend. Though, if my memory serves, it was the high priestess and the King of England that did the deed.”

“Uh huh, to ensure the continued fruitfulness of the nation. Yes, where do you think the authors got the idea? Only in their literary vision it was more dramatic to have it be the King for the superstitious blessing for the continued health and wealth of the nation instead of two devoted followers of a religion to ensure the continuation of their dogma.”

“Wow, you were right, though. It is barbaric and yet… um, romantic is the word, I guess, to have two people so devoted, if not to each other, but to a similar cause.”

Glancing at the robe with new interest, Brenawyn turned to leave, then remembered, “Oh Nana, I have a few questions about the rest of this list.” Unfolding the list from her back pocket Brenawyn approached her grandmother. “What specific stones do I need for each of the positions in the circle?”

“Oh, that’s up to you. The stones used are unique to each person that casts. Go out and pick any five that appeal to you,” shooing her out the door. “Go take them off the shelves.”

“How will I know if I pick the right ones?”

“Dear, whichever you pick will be the correct stones for you.”

With that, Brenawyn exited the office and walked into the showroom of the store. She first stopped at the sectioned bin piled with a variety of polished stones. She loved to touch them; many felt warm, as if alive, while others were cold. Running her hands across each, she closed her eyes, but hadn’t a clue as to which ones to pick. She walked toward the case against the far wall that housed the larger stones and geodes; each was displayed with a card listing their properties, with variations of cleansing and balancing energies on each marker.  She knew instinctively that the descriptions would do her no good. She opened the cabinet, feeling drawn to touch them. She handled each in a reverent way, but discarded most immediately, placing them back with care. Others she placed on the velvet covered countertop, unsure as to her final choices. She narrowed it down to seven, and stood back and considered them.

Reaching for the amethyst first, she ran her fingers along the smooth edges, mesmerized by the crystals within. She placed it as the first in a new configuration at the top of the velvet mat, knowing in her mind that she would pair it with air. She then turned to place the blue tourmaline with water on the left, bloodstone with earth on the right, obsidian with fire towards the bottom, and finally placing the tiger’s eye with spirit in the center of the mat.

She was startled when her grandmother gasped behind her. Turning around, she noted Leo staring at the stones. “What’s the matter?”

Leo shook her head mutely.

“What? You’re worrying me. What’s the matter?” Brenawyn ran to her side but Leo brushed her off and stumbled toward the counter.

“These stones. Why did you pick these stones? And why did you arrange them in this way?”

“Nana, calm down. You’re scaring me. You told me to pick any stones that I wanted, right? These just felt right. The amethyst, I think would be obvious, it’s my birthstone. The tiger’s eye—I remember Grandpa having a tie tack with a tiger’s eye stone. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do.” Leo said hesitantly.

“Wasn’t he buried with it?

“Yes, he was.”

“All right then, the blue tourmaline and obsidian—I liked the colors, they are soothing. The blue is calming, and the black is so deep, I just find myself wanting to touch it, to stroke its smoothness. And then last, bloodstone. I guess it’s my way of tipping a hat to the pagan in this endeavor.” Brenawyn finished. “So now, do you want to tell me what this is all about?” Brenawyn asked as she abandoned the stones on the counter and pulled Leo away.

Leo looked back and shook her head slowly with the echo of fear in her eyes.

“All right, this is not funny. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Leo replied unconvincingly. “It’s probably nothing,” she grabbed Brenawyn’s chin and gently forced it down so she could look into her eyes. “Maggie, can you mind the store,” she called.

Maggie responded, “Sure thing, Leo. B, do you want me to wrap these up and put them with the other things to go down to the park while you’re—

“No leave them there,” Leo interrupted, splaying her hand on the center tiger’s eye. Leave them exactly how they are right now.”

“Ok. You’re the boss,” Maggie meekly replied. Confused at the sudden mood change, she looked at Brenawyn to get a hint at the cause, but seeing no answer registered in her face, she turned to resume her inventory.

“We will be upstairs awhile. Do not disturb us.”

Upstairs, Leo told Brenawyn to sit at the kitchen table and wait while she haltingly went into her bedroom and pulled a brown storage box from under her bed. Fumbling with the plastic latch, she opened it to reveal her daughter, Margaret’s, belongings. She found the journal she sought and went to join Brenawyn in the pantry.

Brenawyn eyed the journal Leo put on the counter but didn’t say a word. Leo glanced at her granddaughter, knowing that she was expecting an explanation, and from the slight smile on her face probably thought Leo had finally lost her mind.

She took a fortifying breath and began, “The reason for my reaction to your choice is that I used those stones in that configuration, that exact configuration, many years ago—twenty-nine years to be exact.” stressing the last part of the declaration. Pausing for any sign of recognition but receiving none, she asked, “Had your mother told you anything about it?”

“Nana, what’s all of this about? I told you I chose the stones because I thought they were pretty. What does this have to do with something that happened before I was born? And why would my mother, of all people, tell me about it?”

“I didn’t think she did, but I had to make sure. Your mother wouldn’t have told you because your father ardently opposed her religion, and your mother loved him. So she abandoned the beliefs in which she was raised to be with him. Then she was pregnant and she found out how far she would go to protect the one she loved more than her husband, more than her life.” Touching Brenawyn’s cheek, “She made the right choice. I would have done the same, even though her actions ruined her marriage.”

Sitting up in apparent indignation, Brenawyn did what any good daughter would do, she rushed to the aid of her deceased father, a loving, albeit strict, man.

“Shhh. Wait, don’t say anything.” Leo interrupted her, “Hear me out, then you can scream and rant and tell me to go the devil, but you must listen to me. I have kept the secret for too long because your mother begged me to as long as your father was alive. Then after he died, I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Through tight lips, Brenawyn mumbled, “Go on,” as she turned away from Leo a bit. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and looked at the wall of cabinets.

“Your mother met your father when she just turned nineteen and he was twenty-four. He was handsome and charming and swept your mother off her feet. Their relationship and courting was tumultuous. She would be in high spirits, humming and singing, dancing with Grandpa in the kitchen and then she would be depressed and weeping. She’d lie in bed until late morning and drag through the day. We tried to talk to her about her relationship, but she refused to listen. She wouldn’t confide in either of us about what troubled her. She was secretive. Then one day, she ran off to get married. It broke our hearts, Grandpa’s especially.

“They returned, and after our shock faded, we found out the reason for her mood swings. Brian was a fundamentalist and would not tolerate any other belief in his household. Later, he wouldn’t tolerate even us for our beliefs, even though Margaret had renounced them. It was a strain on our relationship. Seeing us even for an afternoon was enough to cause vicious arguments that lasted days. The strain, I guess, became too much to bear and they moved away.” Leo paused to sniff and wipe her eyes.

Brenawyn turned in her chair to face her. Having been deprived of her mother at nine, Leo knew she had only vague memories—a fragment of a song her mother used to sing at bedtime and the scent of her perfume. The rest, over time, had blurred.

Leo had mixed feelings about giving Brenawyn something tangible of Margaret’s to hold onto. What would Brenawyn think of her when she told her that she’d held onto her mother’s journals? Kept them from her? Would she understand? No, not yet, and perhaps she never would.

“She was pregnant with you when Grandpa died. Somehow, she talked Brian into letting her come to stay with me for a month by herself. She insisted that we stay at the farm, shunning anything to do with my religious beliefs and the shop, here. We buried Grandpa and she helped me go through his things; it was a relief to have her there. Despite her choice, she was like she always had been—the happy Margaret, humming and singing.

“As the days passed, though, I could see her becoming more introverted. I would catch her daydreaming, I suppose, but with a concentrated look on her face. She told me on the third day after that she couldn’t feel you move anymore. At first, she told, me she thought that it was normal, but after the third day, she was sure that something was wrong. She was seven months along and three days of little movement. Yes, we both thought something was wrong.