She just read my mind. I guess this means we’re not the only witches in Crookshollow.
Why wasn’t Clara part of our coven?
“This place iswild.” Flynn held up a book with a lurid cover of a woman being kissed and fondled by two men under the full moon. The cover readSacred Polyamory. “Check it out, Maeve.”
My cheeks flared as last night’s dream flickered across my memory. “Ssssh. Are youtryingto get turned into a toad?”
“Live dangerously or not at all.” But I noticed Flynn put the book down.
“Hey Princess, look at this.” Blake thrust another book under my nose.
I glanced down at the image, expecting to see another woodcut of an orgy.
Instead, my mother’s eyes stared back at me from the page.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MAEVE
“Whatisthis?” I breathed, taking the book from Blake and holding it up to the light. How could my mother’s face be inside a book?
The page was a colour plate of a painting, done in a similar style to the one at the castle, but instead of sitting in the library, her chair had been placed in the meadow beside Briarwood. The darkened background behind her suggested the castle’s turrets and ramparts. Her white gown brought out the luminous quality of her skin. Her hand rested against her breast, fingers turned to display the citrine ring in its full glory. The identical pendant and circlet adorned her neck and forehead.
“Isn’t it enchanting?” Clara’s tiny head appeared at my elbow. “She’s so commanding, like an ancient Celtic goddess. I can see why Smithers painted her several times, although she always used to say sitting still for hours was a frightful bore.”
I jerked my head up to face the old woman. “You knew Aline Moore?”
“We were friends of a sort, as much as anyone was friends with Aline. She was a force of nature, slave to none but her whims. I happen to know that about five minutes into thissitting she compelled a flock of jaybirds to settle on the artist’s shoulders.” Clara tapped the page near the edge of the canvas. “See that smudge? That’s where one jaybird pooped on the canvas. Smithers never bothered to fix it properly.”
I laughed. Something about this sprightly old lady put me at ease. I found myself saying. “Aline Moore was my mother.”
I expected Clara to react with surprise. Instead, she just stared at me with those intelligent eyes. “I know, dear. I knew it as soon as you entered the shop.”
“How?”
“That face, those eyes…you’re pure Aline,” she studied me intently. “But there’s something else…something I haven’t seen before…”
“A handsome Irish fella?” Flynn popped up hopefully.
She laughed. “No, something about you, Maeve. Your father wasn’t human, was he?”
My mouth hung open. What was going on here? “How did you know that? And how do you know my name?”
“Oh, that isn’t such a mystery. I’m friends with Sheryl Brownley, who was in here yesterday bursting with the latest gossip. ‘The Forsythe girl went to see the vicar and she had the pink-haired girl who owns Briarwood with her.’ I’m guessing that’s you and that you’re now twenty-one years old.”
Something occurred to me. “You know about me inheriting Briarwood?”
“Of course. In a small village like this, it’s all anyone can talk about. Why, I was at the pub the other night and Dora Roberts was shooting her mouth off about your lovely boys being Satanists and you some kind of demonic Jezebel.” Clara cackled. “It’s nice to hear some young witches shaking things up around here again.”
“Did you ever meet my father? What was he like?” I pictured Daigh sitting atop his throne, wondering if he used some kind of glamour to trap my Aline.
“I never knew your father. I don’t think anyone in the village did. I think your mother ran with several men, so there was always a scandal. My son Ryan owns the estate bordering Briarwood, so we had dealings with the coven about the sidhe and the woods. Aline fetched their supplies from my shop. On several occasions, they even called me up to the castle to help them with some of their rituals.” Clara studied my face again. “There was much talk of what happened to her daughter after she died. Judging by that accent, you’ve been a long way from home.”
“I’m back where I belong now.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’d love to talk to you more about my mother, if you would be okay with that?”
“Of course, dear. I’m an old lady. I have nought to do but talk.” Clara’s eyes sparkled, and I found myself liking her instantly. “Now, was there anything else you wanted me to ring up?”
I held up the biography of Smithers. “I’ll take this, please.”
