The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) (27 page)

Glenna sat, running a finger over one of the knots in the wood that had been carefully sanded down. When she had visited Brigid as a young woman, without a clue how to survive in this world on her own, the nuns had taught her to read and to cook. They taught her how to make bread, how to harvest herbs, how to store groceries so they kept the longest shelf life.

She knew early on that she could not be one of them, that her own beliefs aligned with the pagan religions of Ireland—ones that worshipped the goddess and the cycles of the earth. But they had never held that against her. They’d welcomed her, as they would their own daughter.

“Glenna?” Sister Evelyn’s voice was laced with worry as she rushed back into the kitchen.

Glenna hurried to her feet, the wooden legs of the stool scraping against the cement floor. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s not here.”

“What do you mean, she’s not here?” Glenna followed Sister Evelyn into Brigid’s empty room. Her bed was made with perfect folds and tightly tucked corners. The floor was spotless, save the pair of black shoes aligned with the edge of the door.

“She was here last night,” Sister Evelyn said. “I helped put her to bed.”

Glenna strode to the open window. She could hear the river, the song of the water rushing over the rocks. “Where would she go?”

Sister Evelyn’s skirt swished as she joined Glenna by the window. She gazed down at the moon sparkling over the bubbling water. “Sometimes she goes down to the river at night.”

NEIL LEARY YAWNED,
forcing his eyes open as the white lines blurred on the road. He rolled down the window and cranked up the radio to drown out the slabs of slate rattling around in the back. He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the bed of the lorry. He probably should have tied them down better. But he’d been driving all night picking up shipments for his client, and he couldn’t wait to get home.

He slowed the truck as the road curved through a stretch of pines and he came to a wooden bridge traversing a river. He blinked when he saw a woman running alongside it, her black hair and dress streaming out behind her.
What the hell?
His rusty brakes squealed as he pulled onto the shoulder and peered down at the rushing water.

He waited for her to appear on the other side of the bridge and when she didn’t, he rolled his eyes heavenward. He was probably seeing things. There was nothing but hills and farmland along this road. But he better have a look anyway. He clambered out of the truck. “Hello, there,” he called, his deep voice echoing through the silent woods.

There was no answer, but he could hear a faint wheezing. He picked his way down the slope of ferns to the stream bed. Tendrils of fog clung to the pine needles and an icy blue dawn sparkled through the long branches.

Peering under the bridge, he spotted the woman in black cowering behind a metal support beam. “Hello,” he said, lifting his hands in a sign of peace. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

She scrambled to her feet and tried to run away, but she slipped on the wet rocks and fell. Neil hurried to her side and knelt. He could see the whites of her eyes when she tried to pull away from him.

“It’s okay,” he said again, looking down at her bloody feet, raw from running barefoot along the river for God knows how long. “I’m not going to hurt you. Let me give you a lift home.”

She shook her head, and he saw that her whole body was trembling. Her long black hair was knotted with river grasses, and mud streaked across her pale cheeks. She was probably about fifty years old—the same age as him. His gaze dropped to her dress and he stilled. “You’re a nun.”

She swallowed, her gaze darting over her shoulder to the river. She clutched the top portion of her habit in her hands. River water dripped from the black material.

Neil glanced up at the hills through the trees, as the lightening sky in the east shone over a few houses in the distance. “Where’s your home?”

Her voice was raspy, like dried seaweed scraping over sand. “I need to get to the ocean.”

He stared at her and that uneasy feeling started to spread. “The…ocean?”

She nodded, and wide penetrating eyes—the color of stormy seas—locked on his. He felt a strange pull, like threads spinning around him and tugging him to her. He coughed when the fog thickened and his lungs constricted. Every sip of air was like swallowing a mouthful of salt water. He staggered back, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. “This river,” he gasped, “it won’t take you to the ocean.”

A robin flitted through the forest, landing on the guardrail of the bridge. The woman’s gaze lifted and the spell broke. The fog evaporated and Neil pulled dry air into his lungs, pressing his palms to the ground and leaning forward to catch his breath.

“Where will it take me?” the woman asked, watching the robin puff out its orange belly and warble out a solitary song.

“To a system of broken canals,” Neil explained. “They used to lead west to the River Shannon, but they got shut down years ago.”

“Why?”

“Flooding…through the bogs.”

Her gray eyes slid back to his face. “I need to get to the ocean.

“I’m heading to Clifden,” Neil said slowly. “It’s a town on the west coast, near the Atlantic. I can give you a ride…”

She looked up at his truck, and Neil imagined how it must look through her eyes: the peeling blue paint, the faded
Clifden Construction
logo, the rusted muffler and bumper hanging loose on one side. “It’s not much to look at,” Neil added quickly, “but it’s faster than walking.”

“You’ll take me to the ocean.”

It was a command, not a question. He nodded.

She stood, gathering up her wet skirt. Neil pushed to his feet and offered to help her up the hill, but she edged away from him. At the road, he opened the passenger door. “Sorry,” he said, shoving the clutter piled on the seat onto the floor. “It’s a bit of a mess.”

She put a hand on his arm and he felt the strangest sensation, like water sliding over his skin. He stepped back as she climbed into the cabin. She gathered up the clutter and set it in her lap, sorting through the items and stacking them in tidy little piles.

Neil hesitated for a long moment before shutting the door. He’d gotten a good glimpse of her feet when she climbed into the truck, and he’d seen the thin translucent webbing between her toes. He took a deep breath. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride home?”

She lifted her eyes to his. “I
am
going home.”

L
ight streamed in through the window and Sam opened one eye groggily. He stretched, reaching across the large bed for Glenna. Two small objects rolled out of his hand, clinking together as they fell to the sheets.

He peered down at the two stones—one black, one amber—and he sat up. “Glenna?” he called, his voice echoing through the empty apartment. The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. A neighbor’s door opened and closed as someone left for the day.

Pushing to his feet, he snagged his jeans from the floor and stepped into them. He edged the heavy curtain aside. Traffic flowed along the road by the river and a bright sun shone down on the city, at least four fingers above the tallest building. It had to be close to noon.

Snatching his T-shirt from the floor, he shoved his arms through the sleeves. He’d never slept through a sunrise, even if he hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep the night before. He’d always been a light sleeper, haunted by insomnia. The slightest bit of light would jolt him awake.

He glanced at the bed, and saw the stones lying on the sheets. He had a fleeting thought that maybe she’d gone out to get coffee, that maybe they’d both overslept and she was coming right back.

But a quick scan of the counters and table by the door confirmed that she hadn’t bothered to leave a note. Her purse and keys were gone. And so was his computer. He spotted the red silk robe on the floor.

“I think we should go to Kildare tonight.”

“I’ve been there a dozen times, Sam. She’s not there.”

“Maybe you missed something. It’s not too late. We might be able to catch a few of the nuns before they leave the church for the late service.”

“I didn’t miss anything.”

Sam dug in his pockets for his cell phone. It was gone. Of course it was. Glenna had seduced him and then she’d put a spell on him—a
sleeping
spell so he wouldn’t hear her when she left!

He strode to the door. How much of what she said yesterday had even been true? Was it all lies to get him back to her flat so she could get a head start? He stalked out the door and slammed it behind him.
You can run, Glenna. But you can’t hide.

THE VILLAGERS GATHERED
at the pub—those who were left anyway. Dominic didn’t blame his neighbors for leaving. They had children to look out for, families to protect. He would have put his own family in the first boat out this morning if they’d let him. But Tara and Kelsey were determined to stay.

Mary Gallagher paused in the doorway, clutching her suitcase and her daughter’s hand. Ashling hugged her stuffed bear to her chest, and their family’s sheepdog leaned against her legs. Ashling looked across the room at Kelsey. “There’s room for one more in the boat.”

Kelsey stood and walked over to Ashling. She gave her best friend a hug and then pulled back. “I’ll see you soon.”

Ashling’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

Kelsey patted Clover’s furry head and wrapped the leash tighter around Ashling’s forearm. “You’ll be back in a few days.”

“Fiona,” Dominic implored, laying his hand on his grandmother’s arm. “I beg you to reconsider.”

“I’m not leaving this island, Dom.” Fiona pulled her arm out from under his. “Stop asking me to leave my home.”

Dominic looked across the bar at Brennan.

Brennan turned the crinkly page in the newspaper he was reading, shaking his head. “I won’t abandon my animals.”

Liam reached across the table for his fiancée’s hand. “Caitlin, I’m sure Jack would make room for both of you. Take Owen to the mainland. Stay in our apartment in Galway for a few days until we get this settled.”

Caitlin lifted her chin. “We’re
not
leaving, Liam. We’re a family. We stay together.”