Murder and an Irish Curse: Book 4 in the Book Magic Mystery Series (A Book Magic Mystery 5) by Melissa Bourbon

Author:Melissa Bourbon [Bourbon, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

“And before my Soul took me to task I was hard of hearing; I heard only tumult and uproar. But now I am all ears listening to the silence and its choirs singing the hymns of time, intoning the praises of the firmament, revealing the secrets of the invisible.”

~Khalil Gibran

The briny mist weighed down the air as Pippin left Devil’s Brew, a To Go cup of hot green tea cradled between her hands. The island temperature had swung from freezing to a more average temperate level causing the marine layer to thicken. Pippin felt as though she were walking through a cloud. She had told Grey and Cora and Lily…and Jamie…about Moira. About her theory that Moira’s great-grandmother was the infant thought to have died during Artemis and Siobhan’s voyage to America.

It was sobering for them all. Moira didn’t die in childbirth, but death was tied to the Lanes and the curse. Pippin felt deep in the marrow of her bones that some nefarious force was at play.

It was late afternoon, but the tourists still ambled downtown, holiday shopping in full swing. High season sustained the island businesses, but the holidays brought good revenue, too. Pippin waved to familiar faces. The storm had passed through, leaving a heavy breeze behind. The wreaths hanging from the light posts swayed and the branches of the island’s stalwart loblolly trees danced.

As Pippin started up Main Street in the direction of Rum Runner’s Lane, a figure appeared, as if out of thin air. Recognition hit immediately. Hugh—or his Gaelic name, Aodh, which when pronounced was nothing more than a grunt. He appeared like an apparition, materializing fifty yards ahead of her.

Of course, it was just the heavy fog that made his appearance seem so mystical. He walked out of the mist toward her, a shadow whose outline grew sharper and darker the closer he got. She remembered what Olive had said about Hugh vanishing, as if into thin air. She had the fleeting thought that maybe he wasn’t who he said he was at all but, instead, was one of the Tuatha dé Danann. What if he had come to her in this form to spy on her and Grey, to stop them from breaking the curse? What if he was Dagda, come back to life?

She pushed the thoughts away, dismissing them as crazy. Why would the Irish deities walk among them here on this little island? No, the original explanation made the most sense…that Hugh was a descendant of Aoife.

Pippin stood rooted to ground. She hadn’t seen the man for months now.

Now he was back.

She remained motionless, just watching him, as pedestrians weaved around her. Waiting for him to notice her standing on the sidewalk. Or maybe he already knew she was there. His translucent eyes, nearly glowing in the dusk, sent a shiver down her spine. She imagined his direct ancestor, Aoife, with the same clear eyes. The feeling that it—or he—was supernatural came to her again. But then, she was, too, wasn’t she? She had Morrighan’s blood coursing through her veins via her daughter Aisling.

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