Page 46 of Heart of the Wren
Chapter 28
DARA
THERE HAD been no more strange phone calls for almost a week. In fact, there had been no strange goings-on whatsoever. Which made me nervous. With no obvious reason for the activity to cease, I was left with a sense of the energy quietly building up to something spectacular.
I took a crate of bottles from my van and a chair from the kitchen up to the top field, and placed them both beneath the holly tree. In the hour before dawn, without a sound or a breeze, I sat in the eerie quiet as the world around me slept. Slowly, the snow grew bluer, revealinga patchwork of fields on the undulating hills around me. Here and there a great lump of grey rock pierced the snow like a whale breaching the surface of the sea. As the sun broke the horizon, the sky turned first orange, then pink. Clouds ignited and the tabular sky became a roiling ocean of pastel ripples.
The winter solstice was one of the most important times in the year for a witch. We regard it as one of our eight great sabbaths. Celebrating these sacred days is calledturning the wheel of the year. They are most effective when celebrated in groups but since I rarely have such a pleasure, I’ve taken to marking them in my own quiet way.
As the solstice sun rose, bringing with it the promise of rebirth, it revealed the Slieve Mish mountains on the horizon, standing like the walls of a castle. I made a promise to my goddess to protect Lorcan and his farm, to be his castle walls, and asked for her help and guidance.
From the basket at my feet, I took a hoop of willow, a ball of twine, and began lashing together cuttings from the holly tree. Within each branch, I bound my hopes for the year ahead. Health. Happiness. Safety. Love. Around and around I ran the twine, tying up those who would do harm to me and my friends. I picked through some of my bottles until I found the right one. A blend of patchouli, lavender, mugwort, and hyssop. I rubbed a dot of it on my protection spell tattoo and others on the spiky holly leaves. A final flourish of berries — to drive away unwanted spirits and because they were pretty — and the wreath was done. And just in time, too, as my fingers were going numb.
Returning to the house, I hung the wreath on the front door and clasped another of my tattoos. In my mind’s eye, I saw the house clad inwalls as high as those around Ross Castle, protecting it from all harm. A shudder down my spine, and the spell was cast.
???
Though I had expected things to come to a head at the solstice, the day proved uneventful. Chalking it up to my protection spells, and wanting to celebrate that most sacred night of the year, I brought Lorcan to Casey’s pub.
“It’s not very special, “ he said.
“The place isn’t as important as the people.”
Pat Lynch was already there when we arrived and he waved us over to his corner table. He introduced me to his daughter, Rosie, and her husband. Pat’s aura flashed a comforting and welcoming yellow and green. I wasn’t sure how much Lorcan had told Pat about me so I kept things light.
At the bar, by the red triangle sign for Bass beer, I waited to be served. Maurice the Monk sat in his usual spot but instead of staring at the counter, he watched everyone around him, occasionally nodding, though still hardly speaking. I suppose it was a tough habit to break. I caught his eye and indicated I’d be over for a chat later. He raised his glass to me.
Big Tom took my order and while I waited for him to pull the pints, I let the rest of the pub fill the silence. A group of women chatted about Carol and Eddie. I think one of them was her mother and made a note to ask Lorcan. Sergeant Cormac MacShane, the local guard, told Bullseye entirely too many details about an arrest he’d made earlier in the day.
“Bollock naked, he was. And covered in stew. Bits of meat and potatoes stuck to his meat and potatoes.” Sergeant MacShane cackled as hetold the story. “Sure wasn’t she after throwing the whole pot at him? Now, lucky for him the stew was still heating up; he’d have had some nasty burns otherwise. She threw him out of the house and he was ranting and raving and banging on the doors. But that’s what he gets for messing around with her sister, I suppose.”
It would have been nice to meet someone else who observed the winter solstice but the chances of it in such a small village were slim. I had hoped Carol would show some interest in the ways of the craft but I wasn’t going to push it on her. She was young and she had other concerns. Perhaps she’d come to it later in life. I had asked her if she’d come with us but she reminded me she drank in the Long Bridle Lounge because her dad drank here in Casey’s.
As the night wore on, the crowd thinned until only myself, Lorcan, and Pat remained. Even Maurice the Monk had left but not before coming over to say goodbye to us.
“I can’t believe it,” Pat said. “All my years coming here and he’s never spoken a single word. You must be magic.”
Lorcan’s eyes widened but I deflected Pat’s comment. “Maybe it’s because I’m a stranger.”
“Ach, go on outta that; you’re not a stranger anymore.” Pat clinked his glass against mine. “Are you still planning to leave?”
I cleared my throat, uncertain what to say.
Luckily, I didn’t have to say anything as Big Tom chirped up in his usual subtle way: “Will yis get the feck outta here, for Christ’s sake! It’s late.”
We took our coats and gathered by the stone Celtic cross outside.
“Right, I’ll say goodnight, so.” Pat had trouble finding one arm of his coat and spun around and around until I helped him. “Ah, you’re a good man. He’s a good man, Lorcan. You’ve done well there.” He took us both by our elbows, as much to steady himself as anything. “You’re good lads, the pair of yis. Do you know that? Good lads.” He held us for a few moments before finally letting go and walking towards the cottages, waving all the while.
“Will he be alright getting home?”
“Ah yeah,” Lorcan said. “It’s only down the road. He’ll be home in ten minutes. And I’ve seen him do it far drunker than this.”
We made for the steep laneway home. The moon was waxing gibbous and it bathed the snow-covered fields, lighting our way
“I thought he was going to kiss you,” I said.
“So did I.” Lorcan took a few steps and stopped. “Would it have upset you if he did?”
