Luck of the Irish (3 page)

“What the hell?” Maggie murmured. She leaned closer, as though she wasn’t sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. “Everything looks... ”

Maggie released the amulet and pressed her shaking fingers against the smooth surface. She expected it to be cold and lifeless, but it was neither. If she didn’t know better she’d say the damn thing was actually alive.

She gasped as a buzzing sensation shimmied up her arm like lightning and stole her breath. It didn’t hurt, in fact, quite the contrary. Delicious warmth spread over her skin in a swift, rippling wave and she heard a man’s voice.

A guttural, gruff whisper filled her head...
Scaoileadh Me
.

Maggie yanked her hand away and the words faded as quickly as they’d come. She snapped her head toward Darby, who was stuffing his handkerchief back in his pocket, and she fought a wave of dizziness, confusion, and a hint of nausea. She’d heard that phrase before. Every time Aunt Lizzie told the story she would whisper that exact phrase.

It was what the leprechaun said as he begged to be freed.

“W-what did you say?” Maggie fiddled with the amulet again. “That was Gaelic wasn’t it? My Aunt Lizzie spoke Gaelic sometimes.”

Alex was texting on her phone and seemed oblivious to the entire situation. It definitely wasn’t her who’d spoken. Aside from the fact that she wasn’t paying attention, the only language Alex spoke was Bronx-ease.

“Huh?” The old man frowned and looked at Maggie like she’d lost her mind. “I didn’t say a word and definitely nothing in Gaelic. English is about all I can muster and that’s questionable sometimes.” His scraggly, white eyebrows knitted together. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Maggie said absently. She turned back to the mirror and wondered if she was starting to lose it. Hearing voices was not exactly the sign of a sane person. Maybe all the time she spent alone was beginning to get to her, or perhaps she wanted to hear it so badly she imagined it. “I just thought I heard you say something, that’s all.”

“Okay. I texted Lisa and Steph, you remember them from my neighborhood, right? Anyway, I told them we’re running late, but it’s cool because they already snagged a booth.” She slipped the iPhone into her purse and her mouth fell open in genuine shock. “Girl, you have got to buy that mirror! Look at you.” Alex’s voice cut through the room with her loud Bronx accent. “You’re gorgeous, but damn. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the hottest bitch of all?”

Maggie caught her friend’s gaze in the mirror and the two of them burst out laughing, but Darby seemed unamused. The familiar laugh of her friend also made her feel less crazy. She must have imagined what she heard, or maybe it was someone in the apartments upstairs? Yes. That
had
to be it because any other answer put her back on the crazy train.

The older gentleman tugged a handkerchief out of his back pocket and blew his nose loudly. The action silenced both of them and elicited a grimace from Alex.

“Rude much?” Alex said so only Maggie would hear her.

“Shh.” Maggie elbowed her.

“You want it?” He asked abruptly while hitching up his pants and shooting an annoyed glance at Alex, who obviously wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” Maggie nodded enthusiastically and ran her fingertips carefully over the ornate, gilded frame, but avoided touching the glass again. Hope, excitement, and giddiness bubbled up making her feel like she did that Christmas when her parents surprised her with a brand new bike. “Absolutely. This is definitely it.”

“It’s two hundred dollars.”

“Holy crap,” Alex blurted out. “For a
used
mirror?”

“Sold.” Maggie shot Alex a look to silence her, knowing her friend probably wanted her to bargain with the guy. “The price is more than fair for an
antique
like this. Thank you, Darby. Should I take it down for you?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you think you can manage.” Darby let out a raspy chuckle. “I ain’t as young, or as tall, as I used to be. Bring it on up to the register and we’ll get you squared away, young lady.”

Maggie stepped around a couple of small end tables and gingerly removed the mirror from its spot on the wall. It wasn’t as heavy as she thought it would be and as she held it out in front of her she knew exactly where she was going to put it.

“This is gonna hang in my bedroom right above my little dresser and will be a hell of a lot nicer than the old Ansell Adams print I got from the flea market.”

“Are you gonna lug that thing around Manhattan all day?” Alex followed her to the front of the store, her impatience emerging. “It’s gonna get broken and you’re probably gonna have to stand on the train ride home because of the people heading out after the parade. Maybe you should come pick it up tomorrow or something?”

“No,” Maggie said more quickly than she’d intended. “It’s fine, really.”

“I’ll wrap it up real good for you with bubble wrap and brown paper.” Darby bent over with a groan and retrieved rolls of both from behind the counter. “It’ll be safe and sound.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

Maggie set the mirror gently onto the long glass counter as Alex’s phone buzzed in her purse yet again. She answered it and hustled to the front door of the store while Darby started talking more to himself than Maggie about where in the world he put the tape. The old man shuffled to the back of the store, presumably in search of tape, and Maggie stared at the mirrored surface.

Would it happen again? Maybe what she heard had been a fluke.

She nibbled her lower lip and glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and with shaking fingers touched the glass one more time.

Scaoileadh Me.

Nope. Not a fluke.

The instant her flesh hit the smooth surface a rush of warmth whisked up her arms and her blood seemed to hum. Her breath came faster and her tongue flicked out over her dry lips. Maggie leaned over and pressed her palm harder against the glass. She stared at her reflection, which started to shimmer as though underwater. Her green eyes, edged with pale, blonde lashes, widened as a man’s voice, gruff and filled with urgency, drifted into her head again...
Scaoileadh Me.

She yanked her hand away and swallowed the hysterical giggled that threatened to bubble up and boil over. Darby was still in the back and Alex was chatting on the phone. Neither of them had heard what she did, but she definitely heard it.

‘Release me’. That was what he said. No doubt about it. It was in Gaelic, but that was what the voice said.

Holy. Crap.

What the hell was happening? Was she going crazy or could the legend actually be true? Maggie shook her head and laughed softly at her foolishness. There was no such thing as leprechauns or enchanted mirrors. That was ridiculous.

Nope. Definitely not.

But even as the denials raced through her head and Darby wrapped up her purchase, Maggie couldn’t deny what she’d heard. She also couldn’t deny that the little girl inside of her was dying to explore the possibility that her newly found treasure was indeed magic.

“I’m losing it,” she muttered under her breath.

Crazy or not, one fact was certain. Her evening of drinks with the girls would be short-lived. She was going to take this mirror back to her apartment and get some answers. Maggie had a sinking suspicion that those stories her Aunt Lizzie told her, the ones that sent her to bed with her head full of leprechauns and fairies, may be more than fairytales after all.

D
eclan Aherne had been trapped in the mirrored world, alone and tormented; for centuries and he’d begun to believe he would never be freed.

The only notion that kept him from going completely insane was one of returning to his daughter—and taking revenge. If he ever did get out of this hellish place he would find the warlock who had sent him here and shove a spell right up his arse. Witches and fae lived far longer than humans and he knew there was a chance that the old warlock still lived.

Malachi McGregor’s dark magic was no more powerful than Declan’s own. If he hadn’t been blinded by grief and worried for his daughter’s safety he might have attempted to avoid this fate. He’d brought Anastasia’s body back to her parents out of respect for them and because it was her dying wish to return home. The last word she had whispered before taking her final breath was
home
. Declan never could deny her in life and he sure as hell wouldn’t deny her in death.

He hadn’t realized what the old bastard was doing until it was too late.

Declan could still hear the warlock laughing when he walked away, and a black cloth covered the glass leaving him truly alone. That was how he’d existed for countless years.

All he had was time.

Time to think about what he’d lost.

Alone. Silence. Darkness.

When the cloth was finally lifted and his window to the human world was returned, Declan had been blinded by glaring light and overwhelming sounds. The society on the other side of the glass was nothing like he remembered. At first, it seemed like a nightmare, but it didn’t take long for him to realize it was the human world.

At least he thought it was the human world.

The manner of dress and language spoken had been altered beyond anything he could ever have imagined. His mirrored prison had traveled across the sea and had been passed from one home to another. He watched families love, children grow up and eventually those children had children of their own. There were deaths and births and watching it all unfold, knowing he wouldn’t share any of that with Anastasia, was indeed torture. Thoughts of his daughter occupied much of his time. Wondering where she was and if she was happy. Was Dyanna, the old fae he’d left her with, teaching her magic in the fae dimension as he’d requested, or was she being raised with mortals?

Was she still living? Not knowing what became of his daughter was torment.

Malachi had succeeded and trapped Declan in an eternal Hell.

He existed in a space where all he could do was watch, observe the world going on without him or his love. However, it wasn’t only the humans who changed, but the world they lived in grew more foreign with each passing century.

After some time, years or months he was never sure which, the mirror would be covered and he would be once again left alone in darkness and silence. The last time the light went away seemed to last far longer than before, and when it finally returned once again Declan found himself in the most unusual place of all.

There were no families or homes filled with laughter. There were no longer horses, fields of green and skies of blue, but crowds and massive metal beasts, which roared like dragons, as they swept past. Hell, he would have preferred dragons to the monstrosities that roamed the streets of the massive city.

At first he’d been relieved to have the light return, but it didn’t take long for him to wish the shopkeeper would put the cloth back and leave him in blessed silence. But he didn’t. The shop that the mirror now resided in hung there for several years and Declan eventually resigned himself to his current fate.

Until today.

Countless people had stared at the mirror and inspected it with a passing glance, but none had sensed him or the magic that the blasted contraption possessed. They would look it over but it always ended the same way, with them walking away and leaving him alone.

All of that changed when the blonde beauty with the haunting, emerald green eyes gazed into the mirror. Though Declan had never seen the lass before that moment she had a familiar look, as though he did indeed know her from another time or place. When her quivering fingers pressed against the glass a humming sound filled his head and echoed through his dark, dank prison. Then, when she leaned closer he spotted it.

The amulet. There were only two like it in the world. The green one that Malachi had stolen and a gold one that he’d left with his daughter.

This woman was wearing the necklace he’d given to Anastasia, the very one Malachi stole, and for the first time in several millennia Declan knew he would be freed. That amulet possessed the power to free him from his prison, so why didn’t the damned woman use it as it was meant to be?

If she was in possession of it she must be aware of its power.

When she pressed her fingers to the glass he called to her, and begged her to release him. A flicker of recognition and a hint of fear filled her beautiful face and yet she did not respond. His excitement was swiftly set aside by confusion.

He could tell that she recognized it, the amulet, as a match for the mirror. Why did she not release him? Was she a witch? A descendent of Malachi? Perhaps this woman had been sent to assure Declan’s destruction, or to be certain he had remained imprisoned?

He attempted one more time to call to her, but before she could respond the mirror was covered and Declan was left alone in the dark. Rage and frustration fired through him, but he stuffed it back down. Pacing back and forth within the lightless space, Declan did what he’d done for thousands of years.

He waited.

***

M
aggie and Alex had been planning their St. Patrick’s Day festivities for months, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the package next to her on the bench. After a couple of beers, she feigned a headache and hightailed it to Grand Central Station. Her life since college graduation had become one big blur of blah and the discovery of the mirror was the single most exciting moment in years. Her brow knitted together and she rolled her eyes at how eager they’d all been to graduate and get out in to the
real world
.

What a rude, fucking awakening that was.

Wake up. Go to work all day. Go home. Sleep. Repeat.

She adjusted her grip on the mirror and punched the button on the old elevator with her elbow. Why did this damn elevator always take
forever
?

As far as Maggie was concerned the real world sucked ass. Her job at the ad agency sounded glamorous, but in reality she was a glorified gopher with no real responsibility or voice. It paid well enough for her to afford the one bedroom apartment in this old building, but one day blended into the next. There was no joy, no adventure or excitement and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was it.