“Where did this come from?” His mother sounded as though she were in a daze, her voice low and reverent as she cradled the locket in her hands.
“It was on my shelves with my logbooks. That belongs to the Goddess Clíodhna—the one she used to imprison souls before the Goddess Brid convinced her otherwise. I have seen it before. Clíodhna once showed it to me while telling me of her legends.” He slowly circled his mother as she pressed the golden locket to her chest.
Mother closed her eyes, a studious frown puckering her brow as she tilted her head to one side and appeared to listen to something only she could hear. With a startled jerk, her eyes flew open. She hurried to return the ornament to its pouch, cinch the bag tightly shut, and knot the leather ties. “Did you call to the sea goddess?”
“Aye. Twice. Even used my powers to strengthen the call.” Mother’s reaction worried him. Something he couldn’t quite identify flickered in her eyes.
“What did she tell you once she finally appeared?” She set the pouch on the table in the center of the room, shaking her head at Ronan’s father as he entered with his sword drawn and held between his hands as though ready to cleave the thing in two.
“She ignored me. Didna even send so much as a breeze to flutter my sails.”Ronan raked a hand through his hair while keeping his focus locked on the leather pouch quietly thumping on the table.
“What does it mean, Rachel?” Father circled the pouch with a wariness that betrayed his need to destroy the thing with whatever means it took.
His mother caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nervously chewed it. “The pull of loneliness and sorrow plaguing our Ronan comes from that locket. I don’t know who is trapped within, but their soul cries to be free.”
Ronan drew his dagger, cut the leather ties from the pouch, and dumped the cursed bit of jewelry back into his hand. With a hesitancy born of knowing the sea goddess’s powers, he risked touching the moonstone on its cover. “Why would Clíodhna trap a soul? Surely, she knew the Goddess Brid would imprison her again for doing such?”
His mother dragged a weary hand across her eyes, then massaged her temples as she lowered herself into a chair beside the table. “I don’t have that answer, son. I do know she’s a temperamental one, as changing as the sea itself—and wants no one to believe she fears Brid as much as she does. I also worry that this might be some sort of trap. Perhaps, she used her powers to imprison evil inside that tiny tomb this time.”
“Nay, Mother.” Ronan shook his head and thumped his fist to his chest. “If it was evil, I would feel it. A knowing about this thing has settled deep within me. Loneliness, great sadness, and the desire to be free lie within that wee prison. There is something familiar about that soul, as well.” He shook his head. “I canna explain it, but I know what I know.” He held the locket against his chest, determined to listen to it with his heart this time rather than his head. The longer he held it to his heart, the brighter the moonstone glowed.
“Ronan, stop!” His mother snatched the necklace out of his hands, shoved it back inside the pouch, and returned it to the center of the table. “We must go carefully before we choose a course of action. I also want to hear Emrys’s thoughts.”
“Your mother is right,” his father said as he caught hold of him by the shoulders. His grip tightened and Ronan struggled to free himself and retrieve the bag from the table. “Whatever is inthat locket has been there for some time. One more night of waiting to be freed willna hurt it.”
Ronan stared down at the small pouch. It seemed so lost and forlorn in the center of the table. He could almost hear the soul sobbing—and it sounded like a frightened woman. He swallowed hard and fisted his hands to keep from snatching it up and cradling it close. His parents were correct. They had to take great care with this. One more night of loneliness for that poor soul, and himself too, was a small price to pay if it meant they might solve the mystery tomorrow.
He moved closer to the table and leaned over it, drawing his face close to the locket. “I am here,” he whispered. “Take heart. I willna desert ye. Soon, ye shall be free.”
The moonstone glowed brighter, then the rhythm of the thumping slowed to a calmer beat.
“Never lose hope,” Ronan told it. “Never.”
The sightof her troubled son in the clan’s main gathering room made Rachel shake her head. When she had finally convinced him to delay any action until she talked with Emrys, she’d thought he’d take refuge in his old rooms to get some rest. Instead, he had gone down to the great hall, sat at one of the long trestle tables, and pillowed his head on his arms.
Half the night, she had lain awake, listening to the eerie heartbeat trapped inside that locket. Why had Ronan found himself in possession of the sea goddess’s infamous trap for unwary mortals? And why had the fickle Clíodhna ignored her son’s call?The wily goddess had always come to him. The first time he called her, she showed up as a curious sea lion. Ronan had been a mere six months old at the time, and Clíodhna had harkened to his every call since.
Rachel held tight to the pouch as she climbed the steep stone stairs to Emrys’s library. Perhaps the old druid was awake by now andmight be able to shed some light on this dangerous mystery in their midst.
“Daren’t ye bring that infernal thing in here! Accursed thing kept me awake all night, and I am too old for such nonsense!” Emrys kept the door open no wider than an inch, his bloodshot eye peering at her through the crack.
“Open this door! Our Ronan needs us, and I cannot believe you’re refusing to help him.”She leaned hard against the barrier, determined that he let her in. “I know there has to be something in that massive library of yours that could help him.”
“Druidic lore passes from master to apprentice by rote. We put nothing to the page,” he said while struggling to hold the door shut despite her shoving it.
“Do not stand in there and lie to me, old man. You came to my century and saw the power of the written word. I know you’ve been recording everything you could recall ever since.” She bumped the door with her hip. “How can you be so strong, you withered old dog? Open this door!”
“My strength comes from my connection to the earth,” he said with a growling grunt. “Just because ye are a twenty-first century witch doesna mean ye know everything nor possess the ability to overpower me.”
“Something has to be in your books. I’ve already checked mine and found nothing. Let me search through yours. I will not have my son endangered by some foolish whim stirred by that hard to get along with sea goddess.”
“The boy must do this alone. I have seen it. Now, get that thing away from me.”Emrys stumbled away from the door, brandishing his staff as though trying to protect himself from an evil curse.
“What have you seen?Tell me.”Rachel stalked toward him, waving the pouch at him like a weapon.
“I have seen a potential future, ye ken? One best avoided, if ye ask me. If anyone but Ronan breaks the wee curse upon that locket, then their soul will be sucked inside to replace the soul already there. Whoever worked the spellwork on that necklace knewexactly what they wanted—and that was for Ronan to be the one to open it.” Emrys shielded his face with his arm, peeking at the locket, then hurrying to turn his gaze away from it.
“You are certain of this? You have seen it?” Rachel debated whether to trust the old wizard. Their relationship and trust in one another had never been on solid ground. “What of Ronan’s soul when he opens it? Did you see that likely future as well?” Fear made her heart pound as she envisioned her son trapped inside that golden case.
