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

Dominic gazed out at the fields. “If our mother never went back for her pelt, that means she’s still on land.”

“But why wouldn’t she go back for her pelt?” Liam asked. “Doesn’t every selkie need to return to the sea?” His gaze met Tara’s across the table. “Isn’t that what they are desperate for?”

“Unless she couldn’t go back for it,” Tara said slowly, “because she was in some kind of trouble.”

Sam looked at Glenna. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet, her gaze never leaving the pelt. Her hands were clasped calmly in her lap, but Sam could tell something was wrong. “Glenna, what do you think?”

“I think,” she said, lifting her amber eyes to his, “that you have a knack for finding people who don’t want to be found.”

D
ominic watched Glenna rise, excusing herself. Their eyes met across the room. They were both thinking the same thing…
Tara
. Sam had led Tara’s psychotic ex-husband to this island. Sam had almost gotten Tara killed.

When Dominic voiced his concerns at the beginning of this investigation, Glenna was the only one who’d sided with him. She was the only one who’d understood that if Brigid
wanted
to be found, she’d have tracked
them
down.

But that was before he’d seen the pelt.

Dominic’s gaze shifted to the battered seal-skin. It was easier to blame someone for abandoning you as a child when you couldn’t picture her anymore, when you didn’t know anything about her.

He’d had his doubts—even after everything that happened in November—that his mother was really a selkie. That somehow she’d been forced onto land by his father and trapped against her will.

But the moment Sam pulled that pelt from the satchel, she became real. She became one of them. It didn’t change the fact that she’d left them. But it did make him
feel
something toward her for the first time. And he didn’t know what to do about that.

The heavy cobalt blue door clicked shut behind Glenna, and Dominic dipped his hands in his pockets, strolling back to join the others.

“Last fall,” Liam said, breaking the silence, “when I asked the librarians at the Trinity College Library to research the white selkie legend, it took them weeks to track down the only story they had in their database. When they finally found it, it was shelved in an odd section, far away from the selkie legends.”

“And your mother was listed as the last person to sign for it,” Caitlin added. “That was the first thing that made you wonder if she could be involved.”

“I’ve been to the library,” Sam said. “But none of the staff remembers your mother. I have the name of a retired librarian who managed the place in the eighties, but she’s been out of the country traveling for weeks.”

Liam drummed his fingers over the table. “If we can find out why her name was connected to that book, I’m sure we’ll know something.”

“Do you still think she might have moved it on purpose?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Liam admitted. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. If she was hiding it so I wouldn’t find it, why hide it somewhere in the library? Why not destroy it? Why leave it in a place where it could be found at all?”

“Maybe she moved the book to leave you a clue so you would look for her,” Tara suggested as Dominic settled into the chair beside her. “Maybe she wanted you to find the story, but in a strange way that would raise your suspicions.”

Caitlin frowned. “That’s pretty far-fetched.”

Liam nodded. “I agree with Cait. How could she have known I’d be a professor, that my line of work would take me on a path of uncovering ancient fairy tales?”

“She couldn’t,” Sam said. “And we won’t know anything until that librarian gets back.” He stood, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He needed a shower, and about thirty-six hours of sleep. “If you think of anything else, tell me tonight. I’m heading back to Dublin first thing in the morning.”

TARA SQUEEZED DOMINIC’S
hand and rose, following Sam outside. The sun sparkled over the ocean and the ebbing tide lapped at the shoreline, but it was strange not to see the waves breaking against the cliffs and the seagulls diving in and out of the jagged crevasses. And it was even stranger not to be wearing a sweater in January.

“Sam, wait,” she called after him as he strode across the road, shouldering his satchel. “Don’t you want to stay for lunch? You can’t possibly have anything in your fridge at home.”

“I’ll pick up something at the market.” He nodded to Sarah Dooley’s shop on the other side of the street.

Tara trailed after him. “I’m worried about you,” she said, when he stopped and turned to face her. She took in the thin lines at the corners of his mouth, the puffy rims around his eyes and the stress marks etched between them. “I don’t like how this case is affecting your health.”

“I’m fine, Tara.”

“You said you were done,” she said gently. “That you didn’t want to do anymore investigations. It was wrong of me to ask you to do this.” She shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him. “We can hire someone else—”

“No.” He cut her off, more sharply than he intended. Dragging a hand through his hair, he gazed out at the ocean. “Things aren’t clicking like they used to, Tara. I’m not finding the clues I need to get the job done. It’s harder this time, like something’s stopping me from what I need to do.”

Tara frowned when Sam continued to scan the horizon, almost like he was looking for an answer in the sea.

“I’ll find her,” he said. “Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

“Sam—”

“No. I mean it, Tara.” He looked back down at her. “I owe you, and I won’t let you down.”

“We’ve forgotten it.” Tara waved him off. “It’s over.”

“Has Dominic forgotten it?”

“He will,” Tara said stubbornly. But she stole a glance back at the pub and sighed. “This investigation is hard on him. He’s still not completely sold on the idea.”

“How could he be?” Sam rolled his shoulders, relieving some of the tension. “Brigid left him with a father who beat him for years until he and Liam escaped. I wouldn’t have warm feelings toward the woman either.”

Snatches of Dominic and Liam’s conversation drifted into the street. Sam lowered his voice. “You know when you came to me in November, after Nuala and Owen arrived? You said you didn’t know what was going on, but you felt something was off?”

Tara nodded.

“I’ve got that feeling now.”

“So do I.”

An alley cat tiptoed across the street, winding itself around Sam’s ankle. Tara pulled something out of her pocket and held it out to him.

Sam took the small glass vial wrapped in blue and silver ribbon. “What’s this?”

“I’ve been working with herbs lately,” Tara explained. “Trying different combinations to see what works and what doesn’t work. This one has sage, bergamot, rose petals, and oil. It’s supposed to have protective powers in it.”

Sam tested the weight of the tiny vial in his hand. “Do you think I need protecting?”

“I don’t know. Those are the herbs that worked their way into your tincture. I follow their lead and research the combinations later to see what they mean.” Tara eyed the small tincture dwarfed in Sam’s broad palm. “I know it seems silly. How could something so small protect anyone? But I’d feel better if you kept it on you.”

“I don’t think it’s silly.” Sam tucked it in his shirt pocket. “But I might take the ribbon off later.” His lips twitched. “It could hurt my reputation.”

Tara rolled her eyes. At least he still had his sense of humor. “You can take the bow off. It was only on there because it was supposed to be a Christmas present.”

Sam lowered his hand to his side, his expression suddenly guarded. “You made me a Christmas present?”

Tara nodded. “I thought you’d come back for Christmas.”

“Why?”

Tara held his gaze. “I figured we were your closest friends, your family.” When Sam looked away, Tara angled her head. “Who did you spend Christmas with, Sam?”

Sam lifted a shoulder. “It’s just another day of the year.”

It was as she’d suspected; he’d spent Christmas alone. He’d probably spent a lot of Christmases alone. She knew what it was like to be alone, to not have anyone. “You could have come back, Sam. You could have spent the holidays with us.”

Sam slipped his sunglasses back on. “Thank you for the present, Tara.” He tipped his head at her. “I’ll be on my way.”

GLENNA STOOD AT
her window, scanning the fields leading back to the village to see if she’d been followed, but there were only a few blonde cows grazing in the sunlight. Yanking her scarlet curtains closed, she strode to the hearth. She didn’t have time for matches and sod.

She threw out her arms. Sparks hissed from her fingertips. Flames sizzled and crackled to life. They rose, licking at the paint around the hearth, stretching up to the mantle where a dozen black candles were lit. Heat filled the cottage, and fingers of smoke curled into the room.

The flames shifted, grabbing at the air with greedy hands. The black candles flickered erratically. The red curtains flapped, reaching toward her mother as she stepped out of the flames. Moira’s green-gold eyes met Glenna’s. “Hello, darling.”

“Mother,” Glenna said, taking in the waves of gold silk that formed to her mother’s lush figure. Blond waves tumbled to Moira’s waist, where her dress gathered before pooling down from a glittering topaz clasp.

Her mother’s hair had lightened over the years, as her magic grew. But when Moira had stolen Nuala’s powers in November, her hair had warmed to the color of pale corn silk. It didn’t help that Moira had also obtained Nuala’s incomparable beauty. Her skin was smooth, her lips full, her eyes wide and luminous.

She looked almost the same age as Glenna now.

Teacups quivered, clattering in the cupboard as Moira sashayed into the room. She lifted one of Glenna’s orange pillar candles, tipping it and letting the hot wax drip onto the bronze plate. “What have they found so far?”

“They found Brigid’s pelt.”

“Did they?” Moira didn’t even bother to look up. “How nice.”

“It wasn’t in very good shape.”

“What a pity.” Moira set the candle down and wandered over to the window facing the sea. Beneath the sill, Glenna’s altar was covered in herbs, satchels, stones and spells. “You’ve been working hard, my dear.”