Magic Unborn - Red Moon

Chapter 3

3

Cold reality slapped at Orla’s face as she ran aimlessly into the woods. She had left Lorcan at the riverbank with a strange woman. The scene of him holding the woman had ripped at her heart. She knew infidelity wasn’t in Lorcan’s blood, but she had underestimated how much it would hurt her to see him with another woman.

They had been through so many life and death situations. She recalled the many times she’d held him in her arms, knowing that life was drifting away from him and having no clue how she’d ever survive if he died. But nothing compared to this!

The pain knocked the wits out of her. She ran until her legs began to cramp and her breath hissed in and out of her lungs in painful spurts. She finally collapsed onto her knees. When she looked up, the entrance of a graveyard loomed over her. She pulled herself up to her feet, using the low stone wall for support. She looked over the wall at the moss-covered gravestones, letting the misty fog and slight breeze soothe her broken heart.

The magic that her family possessed made it easy to keep private cemeteries looking scary enough so that they were left alone. She knew that the fog wasn’t the ghosts of the dead, aimlessly wandering around their burial places. She finally caught her breath enough to stand up straight and limp her way down the gravel walkway toward the back of the cemetery where her aunt’s grave was.

Aunt Siobhan had been more than just her mother’s sister. Since her parents had died when she was five, she had known Aunt Siobhan as her mother. She had been a mentor in more than just magic, and she had been the one to give Orla hope that love was still attainable.

She set her feet on the familiar path, letting them carry her to the very back of the cemetery where the wild trees and grasses of the Irish moors began to creep up over the walls. She loved that her aunt’s grave was here. Siobhan had been more of an elemental, using nature itself in her magic and spells. Now it almost seemed like nature was coming to be a part of her again, even after she was dead. As the fog rolled back, the grave marker came into view through the mist. The wild grasses and moss had started to grow up the stone, and Orla did her best to peel them off with her bare hands. She knelt down in front of it when she’d finished clearing the vegetation.

Then she thought of Lorcan again, and the fresh wound opened. She let her tears flow freely now, watering the grass at the foot of the stone.

“Don’t go watering the weeds! There’s no point in me coming here every month to do the weeding if you’re just going to encourage them to grow.”

Orla’s head jerked up, her heart racing as she turned around slowly. “Maeve! Oh boy, am I glad to see you!”

Maeve was Siobhan’s daughter, and she and Orla had grown up together. Maeve smiled at her and helped her up for a welcome hug. Orla stumbled a little, as her legs had cramped up from kneeling down on the uneven paving stones.

“You should be glad it’s me instead of someone else. There’s a bit of a storm brewing. You’ll be in trouble if they find you. You should stop by Mom’s old house. It’s empty and abandoned. You should be safe there for a while.” Orla gave Maeve a hug and an extra squeeze.

“Thank you. Your psychic read has gotten much better over the years, I can tell.”

The smile faded from Maeve’s face. “I saw clouds, Orla. You didn’t come back by yourself. A storm is following you, and this one is bad.”

The pain had crept up on Orla again, and she teared up.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Maeve asked.

Orla nodded and wiped her tears away.

“It’s poor timing, Orla. Couldn’t you have waited another two weeks to return?”

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s a full moon in two weeks, and Bradan will become the leader of the clan.”

“Bradan?”

“Your distant cousin, Orla!”

Orla squinted. “Oh . . . oh . . . Who would have thought!” Orla exclaimed remembering the skinny, freckle-faced, red-haired boy that all the girls, including her, had picked on all the time. She cleared her throat. “So I guess he’d grown up a strong candidate for the leadership. But what does that have to do with my timing? I broke my promise with the ancestors. If they catch me, they’ll burn me. And so what?”

“The position has always been yours until replaced by the newly chosen. So that’s Bradan, and that will be in two weeks’ time. Unless you really want to . . .”

“Hell no.”

“If you don’t want to take up that post with the clan, why come back now?”

Orla had no answer. She had left and had been gone for years. She’d sworn to never set foot in the village again. There had been many times she’d wanted to come back to visit Aunt Siobhan’s grave and Maeve, but her haunting past had put her off. She couldn’t live the emotionless life of black magic again.

And then came Lorcan. He had found her in the city after she’d run off for a few years. He’d left everything behind for her. Before she knew it, he had become a part of her life that was more important than anything else.

Then came this trip. Bricius had cursed his parents, and he’d had to come back to Ireland. He’d thought he could get away and leave Orla in Eudaiz. But she had followed him anyway. Ciaran had helped her, warning that her trip was against Lorcan’s wishes. Her thought circled back to the scene at the riverbank. Who was that woman? she wondered.

“Orla!” Maeve called out.

“Huh?”

“What’s the matter?”

The image of Maeve became blurry and flickering in front of Orla. Oh crap! Someone was using black magic on her.