“You lived here,” I complained. “You never saw Aileen with a dagger?”
“The most I ever saw was a steak knife. I doubt she left a dagger layin’ about the cottage. I never saw her with any ritual objects.”
“So no cauldrons?” I pouted.
“No broomsticks, either.”
“Hang on…” An idea began to form in my mind. “Does it have to be a dagger? Or can we improvise?”
Boone shook his head, clearly not a fan of where I was going with my lightbulb moment. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to try to stab a craglorn with a butter knife.”
“Duh, of course, not. There’s a big knife block in the kitchen. Lots of pointy things good for hacking.”
“You’re startin’ to scare me.”
“Says the naked Irishman.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m never goin’ to live that down, am I?”
“Nope, and I’m going to take great pleasure in reminding you.”
Turning back to the book, I thought about the logistics of using a carving knife. Was stainless steel hardy enough to store enough magical energy from the spring at Croagh Patrick to defeat the craglorn? Ugh, it probably had to be silver or something even rarer. Knowing my luck, it would have to be made from the metal from a comet and dusted with particles from its icy tail during the smithing process. It would have to have a flawless ruby set into the hilt that had to first be swallowed whole by a pregnant deer, roasted in its stomach acid, then shat out on a full moon. Where was I going to get something like that on a day’s notice?
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. The feeling of certainty that smacked me in the face was so strong I almost puked out of both ends in excitement. This must be the intuition thing Boone was telling me about.
“The tower house,” I declared. “It feels weird up there. Like it’s in a bubble… That’s why I went to the meadow to cast the talisman spell in the first place. I felt protected there.” I leaped to my feet. “Mary Byrne was a Crescent Witch!”
Boone stood. “You think somethin’ is buried up there?”
“You said to follow my intuition, and it’s telling me the answer is there.” I shivered, shaking out my arms and legs and blowing a raspberry. “I’m all tingly.”
“The ruined tower house?” He didn’t seem convinced, but it didn’t matter. I was sold.
“I’m going to need a shovel!” I declared. “Post haste!”
* * *
Wandering outside in the dark had never worried me. Not until tonight.
We found a shovel in Aileen’s garden shed. Boone changed into a gyrfalcon—while my back was turned, and my fingers were in my ears—and now we were making a silent dash toward the tower house on the hill.
The moment we hit the small arm of woodland that separated the back of the cottage from the hill, Boone settled on my shoulder, wanting to be near until we reached the tower house.
It was the first time I’d seen him in his falcon shape, and he was rather handsome. His feathers were all white with dark speckles, his beak was hooked and razor sharp, and his eyes were golden and bright. His talons were poking painfully into my flesh but not hard enough he broke the skin.
I snorted, causing him to swivel his head toward me. This was totally weird. A man, who was a bird, was sitting on the shoulder of a witch as they climbed a hill, armed with a shovel so they could look for buried treasure. I was living in a strange reality—that was for sure.
When we broke through the tree line and stepped out into the open, Boone leaped off my shoulder and wheeled overhead, securing the perimeter.
Staring up at the outline of the ruins against the star-studded sky, I stepped forward, sensing the same strange bubble of protection that had drawn me here in the first place. It was Crescent magic that had marked this place, so was that why I could feel it so strongly? Made sense.
Standing in front of the iron door that separated me from the interior, I picked up the rusty padlock and shook it. It didn’t budge, which came with zero surprises, so I dropped it and peered into the darkness. My gut was telling me to go inside the scary dark ruins. Hopefully, it wasn’t the same as when people ran up the stairs in horror movies. Always a bad move.
Taking a deep breath, I blew it out and cracked my knuckles. Just a little bit of magic to bust the lock. No biggie. Light as a feather.
“Doorus unlockyus,” I whispered, blurting the first thing that came to mind. Doorus unlockyus? I’d said stupider things in my lifetime.
The lock popped open, and I fist pumped the air in triumph. Bam! Who was stupid now?
Tossing the rusted padlock aside, I opened the gate, the hinges squeaking loudly in the silence. Wincing, I turned and scanned the hillside, but nothing stirred. Overhead, Boone chirped softly, giving me the all clear.
The first room was pitch black. Stepping through the darkness, the scent of damp earth filtered up my nose as I felt my way with my free hand out in front and the shovel tucked under the other. I bashed into a wall and cried out, rubbing my nose. Feeling along the stone, I found an opening, my gut guiding me through.
Then I was outside again. The roof of this room had caved in at some point, leaving rubble strewn on the ground. I picked my way over it, glad for some moonlight to guide me instead of my clumsy fumbling.
Above, a shadow flicked through my peripheral vision, and I yelped, but it turned out to be Boone settling on the wall overhead. He ruffled his feathers and moved from foot to foot, finding a comfortable position where he could watch the hillside and me at the same time.
“Have you ever seen the movie Predator?”
