The Cat's Paw (The Celtic Witch Mysteries Book 6) by Molly Milligan

Author:Molly Milligan [Milligan, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Molly Milligan
Published: 2018-02-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Maddie gazed out across the water. Her head was tipped back and her chin jutted confidently forward. Her curly hair was restrained with a bright red silk band around her forehead and ears, but it bloomed out behind her head with unfettered joy. She had my green eyes, which reflected the green of the hills all around us. She was a Californian but right now she was exactly where she had to be. She was part of the landscape, and it had accepted her. Her mixed blood was of no consequence to a place that had seen waves of people come and go for thousands upon thousands of years.

“You’re not the sidekick anymore,” I said.

“I never was. I was always ever mistress of my own life. You just mistook me while I was still in training.”

She had never spoken so confidently before and my heart expanded for her. “You are so different to the nervous, scared person who arrived in February.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” But her eyes never left the island, and she was thinking of other things. I let her fall into her measured silence because this time, she was in charge.

When she spoke again, we both listened.

“I can get us over there,” she said. “I am fey, remember – and this island is a Faerie one, of a sort. I am going to need your help, though, guys. Um, do you know anyone with a goat?”

“Not off the top of my head,” I said. “Why? We could possibly get one but I am really not happy with that sort of thing.”

“Goats?”

“Animal sacrifice.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, no. The traditional way to get to a place like this is by neither walking nor riding. So, usually, that means going with one foot on a goat’s back.”

“Ri-ight,” said Adam. “We’d need three goats then. Three really placid goats that are happy to let us hop along beside them. Short ones, too. This is going to be difficult.”

“Difficult? Impossible,” I said. “But let’s think. Neither walking nor riding. Surely that means we can go by boat?”

“Maybe. I dunno. I mean, are we crossing water here, or some very wet land?” Maddie said, pointing to the places in the ford that were only covered with a few inches of water. When did a puddle become a pond, and a pond a lake? Were the strict definitions? I suddenly felt as if I didn’t know as much about the landscape as I thought I did.

Maddie walked to the very edge of the ford and spread her arms wide. She began to sing. It was a haunting song and, in places, a chilling one. She had pitch-perfect tone and the melody repeated itself. On the third time around, I knew which parts were going to rise up and the hairs on the back of my neck went up in anticipation of her soaring crescendo.

And on the fourth repeat, the waters faded away to the left and the right.

A causeway was revealed, giving us a direct path right across to the island.

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