Cresent Prophecy by Axelle Chandler (great reads TXT) 📕

“So awkward,” Mairead said, standing by the window.

“Shut up.” I made a face.

“Seriously, I think I dodged a bullet.”

Yeah, right.

“Hey, before I forget…” I reached under the counter and found the box I’d put there that morning. “Here. Something to remember us by.” Offering her the box, she glanced at me warily, and I shook it. “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Crossing the shop floor, she took the little red box from my fingers and cracked open the lid. I watched her with a smile as she saw the little golden quartz crystal pendant inside.

“It’s just like yours,” she said.

“Sure. They’re best friend charms.”

It was really a talisman I’d spelled for protection, hence the golden flecks in the once clear piece of quartz. This time, I’d gone to the hawthorn in the forest to cast the spell rather than sit out in the open. My little crystal was the beginning of all our problems with the craglorn. By casting the spell outside the protection of the hawthorn, I’d sent up a flare, which attracted any wayward fae in the area, that I was a juicy buffet of magic just waiting to be sucked dry. Starving fae and tender, ripe witch equaled disaster. There was no way I was making that mistake again.

Anyway, it was a much smoother cast this time. I was more experienced and only used a little of my witch juju. I totally felt like a spring lamb afterward rather than having to take a nap among the rhododendron at the tower house.

“They so aren’t,” Mairead complained.

“No, not really. It’s a talisman,” I said, smiling. “It’s a special quartz crystal for protection.”

“Cool.” She tried to sound nonchalant about it, but immediately put the chain over her head.

“We’ll miss you, Mairead,” I said. “You’re welcome to come back anytime.”

“Yeah, right. You’ll replace me the second I’m gone.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” I quipped.

Chapter 2

Irish Moon was deathly quiet.

Sitting behind the counter, my shoulders sagged as I surveyed the empty shop. Crystals glittered under the lights, the rack of wind chimes was still, the bookcase was dusted and rearranged, the tumbled stones were tumbled, the jewelry cabinet was dusted and reorganized, and still, I was bored out of my mind.

I’d gotten used to having Mairead around in the shop. After a summer with her pouty Goth face and smartass one-liners, I was starting to become lonely with just myself for company. Not even Boone’s daily visit chased away all of the doldrums. I was also starting to realize how much she actually did around the place. Her employee handbook was coming in real handy.

So, after a week without any help, and almost driving both Boone and myself mad, I finally scheduled some job interviews.

Sitting among the crystals in Irish Moon, I felt their energy shining on me like a heat lamp. Glancing at the stack of resumes in my lap, I knew I was going to need every good vibe that came my way. I’d drawn the Knight of Cups that morning, but so far, my knight in shining armor hadn’t appeared.

After seeing a woman who was clearly drunk, a guy who clearly had a flair for woman’s clothing, a farmer’s wife who tracked mud through the shop, and a girl who needed a job for brownie points with her parole officer, I was beginning to lose hope. The whole day was like a hilarious montage from a movie until finally, the perfect person showed up.

Lucy Sutton had one hell of a resume, and I was more interested in finding out why she wanted a job as my sidekick. Granted, she didn’t know about the witch stuff, so on paper, I was just the owner of a New Age shop in the middle of nowhere. No one in their right mind would willingly ditch a big city to come here…unless they wanted to get away from something.

When she arrived, I was expecting her to be dressed in a mixture of camo gear with a safari hat and a rifle slung over her shoulder for shooting lions, but she was the epitome of boho sheik.

Her long strawberry-blonde hair was loose and wavy, her green eyes were made all the more brilliant by the mass of freckles over her entire face—she gave Maggie over at Molly McCreedy’s a run for her money—and her outfit was a layered tie-dye dress over blue jeans and boots. She totally had a seventies flower child vibe but didn’t look a day over thirty.

“Hi, are you Skye?” she asked with a thick Irish accent.

“The one and the same. You must be Lucy?”

“Aye, that’s me. I hope I’m not too early.”

“We like early around here,” I said, smiling. “Have a seat.”

She slid onto the chair beside mine, her gaze darting around Irish Moon with unmasked curiosity.

“Tell me about yourself,” I began.

“Well… I studied archaeology, anthropology, and folklore at Trinity College in Dublin,” she said. “Since graduatin’, I’ve worked on a few exhibitions around the country and a couple of excavations, but nothing long-term. I’ve been workin’ at Debenhams in Galway.”

“You’re Indiana Jones, and you’ve been working in a department store?” I asked, making a face.

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s not like that, though, it would be a thrill. Paid work is hard to come by, and when somethin’ does come up, it’s rather competitive. There’s only so much volunteerin’ I can do before the rent is due.”

“Galway is a fair way to come for a job,” I mused.

“Oh, I know. I don’t mind movin’. Been doin’ it me whole life.”

I peered at her resume again and frowned. There was no logical reason why she would want to take a job selling New Age knickknacks to tourists when she could do a hundred other things. Like work in a museum or dig up ancient burial sites like Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. Seriously, why wasn’t she in the Amazon looking for El Dorado?

“Why do you want to work at a crystal shop