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“Has he been sued by the band for copyright infringement?”

I narrowed my gaze before giving him a light shove. “Oh, ye of little faith. You’ll change your mind once you see him in action.”

Tristan followed me out of the pub, and honestly, I was glad for the distraction. He might have finally come close to remembering me, and this little adventure might occupy him long enough to forget. It was only as we were leaving that Zach noticed us, his eyes landing on me. I gave him a small nod, which he returned before his focus went to Tristan, and a faint hint of curiosity shaped his features. A moment later, we were outside, where Lisa, Samara, Lou, Barry and Katy were waiting.

“Off we go, then,” Lisa said, leading the way.

We walked the short distance to the Maguire house, and I could sense Tristan’s amusement the entire time. He probably thought we were silly believing in such old timey folklore, and yes, I’d been sceptical myself until Aunt Nessa went to see him, but as soon as her ailment was gone, I’d become a believer.

We reached the ordinary, grey townhouse, and there was already a queue of three people lined up outside.

“See?” I said to Tristan. “He wouldn’t be in such high demand if it were fake.”

His lips twitched. “Evidently.”

We joined those waiting, and the walk had sobered me up a little, which meant I was starting to replay all I’d said to Tristan back at the pub and regretting most of it. Why did it feel so good to reveal personal information in the moment, but then later you always regretted it? I mean, having an ex who was part of the local BDSM community wasn’t exactly a crime, but sex talk was kind of inappropriate when the person you were discussing it with was your boss. And the way he’d looked at me when I’d told him about the sadism part, like he wished he could travel back in time and whisk me away before my youthful self could ever agree to such an arrangement. I shivered remembering the protectiveness in his eyes.

Lou and Lisa were busy regaling everyone with stories of all the friends and family members who’d been cured of their ailments within the walls of the very house we stood outside. I hovered quietly in the background, my worries increasing the more the alcohol left my system. By the time we got to the front of the queue, I was ready to make my excuses and leave, but then Tristan placed his warm, firm hand to the small of my neck and murmured, “Guess it’s time for me to eat my words,” and I lost all form of thought.

For someone who’d sworn off sex years ago, I was having an awful lot of inappropriate thoughts about my employer and his big, strong hands and sexy forearms tonight.

A short woman in her sixties greeted us and informed us it was forty euros per healing and that they didn’t take cards. Barry, clearly keen to have his skin condition gone, readily handed over the cash. The woman led us into the house, and we walked down a narrow hallway where there wasn’t much furniture aside from a framed picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus with a red lamp beneath it.

We arrived in a small dining room where an older man sat alone by a long, antique wooden table. I presumed this was Jarlath, though I’d never actually met him in person, only heard about him through stories. He wore a black shirt with gold embroidery. Were those ducks or swans? His dark hair was peppered with grey and tied back with one of those thin strips of leather. His eyes, wrinkled with age, were that rare icy blue, the shade so pale it was almost silver. His eyes alone gave the impression of magic, of something the natural world couldn’t explain. My attention went to the dated fleur de lis-patterned wallpaper and matching carpet in a deep red colour when he spoke.

“Ah, quite the large group we have tonight. How can I help you all?”

“Barry here has been suffering with a touch of eczema,” Lisa said, pushing the quiet, bespectacled man forward. Barry had worked for Tristan at his Dublin hotel for several years before coming to the Astor Cove, though I didn’t know much about him yet.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Barry,” said the Cure. “Come take a seat, and I should be able to clear that up for you. Where on your body is the rash?”

“On my arms,” Barry replied, rolling up his shirt sleeves to reveal the red, scabby skin.

Ouch.

The Cure made a sympathetic noise when he saw it then began waving his hand over the affected area. Under his breath, he recited a prayer, though it was too fast for me to hear properly.

Less than a minute later, he finished the prayer, then took Barry’s hands into his. “Your skin will start getting better in a few days,” he said with such confidence a part of me wondered for a moment if he was, in fact, a conman. No one was that sure of themselves. But no, there were too many stories about him curing people. It had to be at least a little bit true.

We were all getting ready to leave when suddenly the Cure’s attention fell on me. “You have the eyes of the hare,” he said. “You must have a little of the Sight.”

“The Sight?” I asked, stepping forward.

“In our mythology, the hare was a shapeshifter, some even suspected them witches in disguise. They’re strongly connected to the otherworld. Tell me, have you ever thought you saw a ghost?”

“Uh, no, but well …”

The Cure’s eyebrows lifted. “But?”

I swallowed thickly, feeling self-conscious with everyone’s attention on me. “After my dad passed, I thought I saw him sometimes. But then I’d always just brush it away as grief or imagination. I was only a kid at the time so ...”

“I doubt it was imagination,” the Cure said, then lifted his gaze to where Tristan was standing next to me. “I have a little of the sight, too, but not for the deceased. I get glimpses of the past, sometimes the future.” His attention returned to me. “Have you two come to put the past to rest?”

“Us two?” Tristan asked, stepping forward, and my heart leapt all the way into my throat. Okay, maybe he wasn’t a conman because how on earth could he possibly know about me and Tristan?

Before he could answer, the woman who’d led us into the room returned. “Are you ready to see the next client?” she asked. “There are a few waiting, and they’re growing restless.”

“Yes,” said the Cure. “We’re finished here.” He looked back to me. “There’s a strong connection here. Don’t let it slip away.”