The Selkie Enchantress (24 page)

Dominic thought back to the times he’d walked in on his brother this weekend in his room, bent over his laptop, searching through his things. He’d said he had writer’s block. But maybe he’d been lying, trying to cover up the memory loss. How had he missed all the signs? Dominic searched his wife’s eyes. But Nuala? A selkie? His brother, caught in a spell? There was only supposed to be one curse on this island, and they had broken it this summer. “Caitlin said that he told her… that he lost this document?”

Tara nodded. “It was all he’d talked about before coming here this weekend. He was going to tell her about it on their date. Apparently, he discovered a new fairy tale in the Trinity Library in Dublin. I went to ask Sam earlier if he’d heard anything about it—”

“Sam?” Dominic stared at her. “You talked to Sam about this?”

“I thought I was being ridiculous. I wanted to run it by someone first.”

“And you didn’t think to run it by me?”

“I was afraid you might not be able to listen objectively. With Liam being your brother and Caitlin your best friend. I didn’t know enough. I just had some suspicions. I didn’t want to worry you…”

“You didn’t want to worry me?” A muscle in his jaw started to tick. “Tara, I’m your husband. If there’s anyone you should be willing to worry, it’s me!”

She put a hand on his arm. “Dom…”

Dominic ground his teeth. “Is that why Sam was here earlier?”

Tara nodded. “He wanted to talk to Owen.”

“Owen? What’s Owen got to do with it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. If Nuala’s only here for Liam, then who is Owen? Is he even really her son?”

“Now hold on a minute. You were in here earlier asking me if I was descended from selkies. What’s that got to do with anything?”

The front door swung open and Dominic bit back his next question as Ashling and her parents walked in.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping by.” Mary Roark shook the rain off her sleeves and started to peel off her jacket. “With everyone up at the Dooley’s we thought you all might want some company during the storm.”

Dominic watched the door swing shut behind Ashling. “Where’s Kelsey?”

“What do you mean?”

“She was supposed to be with you.”

Mary glanced up at him, puzzled. “She stopped by for a little while earlier. Just to say hi. But she left soon after.”

“I thought you were making candles tonight?”

“Candles? No.” Mary shook her head. “I haven’t a clue how to make candles. Where’d you get that idea?”

Caitlin spotted the glow of candlelight through the gauzy curtains, the shadow of two figures moving around inside Nuala’s cottage. She took a deep breath and knocked, listening for the murmur of voices through the door. She stepped back when Liam’s broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Gone was the shimmer of blue on his skin, the ice in his hair, the frost on his clothes. Even his eyes were back to their normal color.

But there was no recognition in them, no apology for walking out on their kiss. No explanation for where he’d gone or how he’d ended up back at Nuala’s. He gazed down at her curiously. “What are you doing out in this storm?”

“I need to talk to you.”

He stepped back. “Come inside, then.”

“No,” she said. “I need to talk to you alone.”

“About what?”

Her gaze darted over his shoulder into the cottage. “About Nuala.”

“What about her?”

“Would you walk with me to the pub? I need to… discuss something with you.”

“Discuss something?” Liam lifted an eyebrow. “I think you better tell me what’s on your mind now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin spotted a flash of white. Nuala turned from the kitchen, cradling two drinks in her hand. “Liam,” Caitlin said quickly. “I think Nuala’s put a spell on you.”

He blinked. Then smiled. Then started to laugh. “
That’s
what you came here to tell me?”

“I’m serious,” she hissed as Nuala started toward them.

“Alright, then,” he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What sort of spell is it?”

“I don’t know yet, but it has to do with the fairy tale you found in Dublin. I found a file on your computer—”

Liam’s smile faded. “What were you doing on my computer?”

“Looking for the story.” Caitlin let the words come out in a rush. “I found one about a white selkie.” She searched his eyes for something, anything that would give her a clue. “Does that ring any bells?”

Liam’s dark brows snapped together. His puzzled gaze combed down her rain-soaked sweater, flickering back up to where her wet hair was plastered to her head. “How long have you been wandering around in the rain looking for me?”

Nuala sidled up to him and handed him a glass of whiskey. “Hello, Caitlin.” Her lips curved. “What brings you here tonight?”

Liam took a sip of whiskey, looking at Caitlin over his glass. “I’m afraid Caitlin’s been a bit shaken up by this storm. She’s not feeling well.”

Caitlin’s mouth fell open. “I feel fine!”

“Come on,” he scoffed, lowering the glass. “Even you have to admit that what you’re suggesting is pretty ridiculous.” He swirled the liquor around the glass. “
Especially
coming from you.”

“You’ve forgotten,” Caitlin breathed. “You’ve forgotten everything all over again.”

“Forgotten what?” Liam frowned and the worst possible expression crossed his face—one of sympathy. He looked over at Nuala. “I think we better get her to Tara’s. I think the storm’s taken her ill.”

“Tara was there when I found the document!” Caitlin snapped. “She believes me!”

“Nuala,” he said, draping his arm around the blonde’s shoulders. “I’m afraid there’s been some talk.”

She leaned into him. “What kind of talk?”

“Apparently, some of the villagers think you’ve cast a spell on me.”

“Have they? Well, then.” She looked up at him, lowering her lashes. “I think
you’re
the one who’s cast a spell on
me
.”

“Liam!” Caitlin cried. “Can’t you see what’s happening? She’s trying to steal you away from me!”

Nuala clucked her tongue against her cheek. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Caitlin.”

“I’m not jealous! She’s erased your memories, Liam. She’s trapped you in some kind of awful spell! You have to believe me!”

He looked down at her, his eyes still filled with sympathy. His words, when he spoke, were as condescending as if he was talking to a child. “Did you happen to bring it with you? This story you found on my computer?”

“No.” Caitlin kicked at the water. “It disappeared the second we brought it up.”

“Isn’t that convenient,” Nuala suggested.

“I’m telling the truth!”

“I’m afraid Nuala’s right, Caitlin. You do sound jealous. And I am sorry things didn’t work out between us the other night. But I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding.” He stepped back, guiding Nuala into the shelter of the candlelit cottage. “Why don’t you come back when you have actual proof of this story? And until then, stop spreading rumors about Nuala.”

He closed the door. Caitlin stared at the rain dripping from the gold claddagh knocker, inches from her face. “Since when have you ever needed proof?”

***

Caitlin turned when she heard footsteps splashing through the puddles behind her. Voices called out to her, shouting her name. She spotted Dominic and Tara running up to the house. “What’s wrong?” She sloshed through the flooded streets to meet them. “What happened?”

“Is Kelsey in there?” Tara asked, breathless.

“Kelsey? I don’t think so. Why?”

Tara’s eyes were wild with worry. “She’s missing.”

Dominic strode past her, pounding on the door.

“What do you mean,
missing
? Since when?”

“She was supposed to be at Ashling’s all night.” Tara’s gaze darted over Caitlin’s shoulder to the door. “But her parents just came into the pub and she hasn’t been there for at least an hour. We checked Sarah’s. And Fiona’s. But she wasn’t there. No one’s seen her.”

Caitlin spun around as the door opened and Dominic came face to face with his brother casually nursing a glass of whiskey without a care in the world. Dominic growled, shoving him aside and striding into the cottage. “Where’s Owen?” he barked at Nuala.

“He’s in his room.” Nuala set her drink down on the table, her eyes flashing. “Do you make a practice of barging into others’ homes without an invitation?”

“This isn’t your home,” Dominic retorted. “And I think I’ll have a look myself if you don’t mind.” He headed for the back rooms when Liam stepped in his path.

“What if she does mind?”

“Your niece is
missing
.” Dominic grabbed his brother by his shirt, shoving him hard against the wall. “If you’re not going to do anything about it, get the hell out of my way!” He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t bother glancing back when Liam’s glass fell from his hand, shattering over the floor. When a strange look crossed his face when he spotted the gold liquid seeping into the ivory carpet. Dominic slipped into the back rooms, coming back out only moments later, his face grim as his eyes met Tara’s. “He’s not back there.”

“What do you mean he’s not back there?” Nuala snapped. She brushed past him, her heels crunching over the broken glass. “He was in there a moment ago.”

Caitlin edged into the cottage, snagging a candle from one of the tables. She ran into the room after Nuala. The candle cast a small circle of light and her eyes swept over the sparse furnishings, searching for clues.

“We were in the cottage the whole time,” Nuala protested, throwing back her son’s sheets. “We would have seen if he’d gone out…” But her voice trailed off, her hands stilling on the covers when she spotted the three rocks stacked up on the sheets.

Caitlin shone the light over the rocks and spotted the white paint chippings scattered over the foot of the bed. She crawled across the bed to the window, running her fingers over the sill. “It’s still wet.”

***

“Here,” Kelsey shouted over the rain, pointing to a spot under the rose. “Shine the light here.”

Owen aimed the beam of the flashlight at the base of the rose. A web of roots—ice white and glittering like diamonds—snaked deep into the soil. Kelsey jabbed the tip of the trowel into the roots. It bounced off the surface. The hollow sound of metal clanging against rock rang in the night.

Kelsey sat back, blowing out a breath. “I don’t remember it being this hard.”

Owen leaned closer, peering down into the hole. “How much deeper could they go?”

“I don’t know.” Kelsey pushed her dripping hair out of her eyes, smearing mud across her forehead. Her arms ached from digging. She had soil caked in her fingernails. The cold was starting to seep into her bones, making her teeth chatter. This had seemed like such a good idea before. But now that they’d started digging, she was starting to get a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling. “Maybe we should stop.”

Owen shook his head, reaching into the hole and digging out more wet soil with his free hand. Kelsey looked over at the bogs. They felt restless tonight—dark and restless and menacing. She heard something splash in one of the pools and jumped. She wasn’t afraid of the dark. She’d never been afraid of the dark. The ocean thundered against the northern shore and she huddled under the hood of her jacket. Okay. Maybe just this once, she might be a little afraid. “Owen, I think we should stop.”

“We can’t stop!” he shouted, dropping the flashlight and digging with both hands. “I think I feel something.”

Kelsey crawled over him, fumbling for the flashlight and shining it into the hole. Owen scooped out more soil, and they both stared when the rain washed the dirt off a web of roots twisting out in every direction.

“It looks like they’re wrapped around something,” Owen said, tracing the rectangular outline of where each root disappeared, curving back down into the earth.

“But how are we going to get it out of there?”

Owen felt around the spongy earth for the trowel. “I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not saying we should give up.” She ran her hands up her arms, trying to warm them. “But maybe we should get help. Or at least a bigger shovel.”

“I don’t want a bigger shovel.” Owen wrapped both hands around the wooden handle. He forced it down as hard as he could, ramming it into one of the roots. The trowel slipped out of his wet hands, the curved metal clattering over the roots. He bit his lip, picking it back up and jamming it down into the hole.

They scrambled back as a flash of white light shot into the night, blinding them. Kelsey slipped, skidding over a patch of mud, groping for Owen’s hand as she fell. At the first sound of ice cracking, she covered her eyes. The scent of the rose and the bogs swirled up around them. She gasped when she heard the stabbing. She peeked through her fingers, and saw Owen bent back over the gap in the earth, crushing the roots with the trowel.