Crescent Legacy by Nicole Taylor (interesting books to read for teens txt) 📕

hasn’t come forth… I worried the words in my mind, trying to understand the meaning. Reincarnation? No, that was absurd even after all the weird things Boone and I had seen. Maybe she expected a link to the hawthorns? They had forced memories into my mind. It was possible Carman expected the tree to link me to the Crescent who’d cursed her and closed the way to the fae realm. I was the last of my coven. It stood to reason…but the hawthorn hadn’t linked me to anything.

“Maybe she expected to be facin’ Aileen.”

“Maybe…”

Peering over his shoulder, I caught sight of Mairead coming out of Mary’s with a paper bag in her hand. Those better be cookies…

“Are you feelin’ a bit better?” Boone asked, sensing her approach.

I nodded as he let me go. “For now. Will you come over tonight?”

“Aye,” he said. “I wanted to ask for your help.”

“With?”

He frowned and shrugged. “With me wolf shape…”

“Oh…” My heart twisted as the door opened.

“Is it safe?” Mairead called out. “I brought cookies. Chocolate ones.”

“Outta my way!” I exclaimed shoving Boone aside.

“You’ve got a real problem with sugar,” he said, shaking his head. “A real problem.”

Chapter 4

The memory of Boone’s wolf shape haunted my thoughts for the rest of the day.

The white and silver of his coat were beautiful, but his snapping jaws and burning eyes were a stark reminder of the beast hidden underneath the sweet Irishman I’d come to love. Who knew what kind of person he’d been before his memory had been taken?

It didn’t matter. Who he was now was more important to him than what he’d been before. Besides, a person’s core didn’t change when you took away their memories.

After locking up Irish Moon, Mairead went off to work on her painting, and I went over to Molly McCreedy’s.

I crossed the street, passing under the hawthorn tree as I went. Her branches tickled the top of my head, spreading warmth through my frosty fingers. Old Fergus’s donkey was tied up out the front of the pub, her nose in a feedbag. Her big brown eyes found mine as I approached, and her ears flicked forward.

“Hey, girl,” I murmured, rubbing the swirl of chestnut hair between her eyes. “Fergus doesn’t go anywhere without you, does he?”

The donkey lowered her head and resumed eating, the promise of food better value than talking to me. Leaving her to the bliss her oats were giving her, I pushed into the pub.

Maggie was pulling a beer when I approached the bar. Sitting on my usual stool, I peered out the back and saw Boone elbows deep in the sink, scrubbing a large cast-iron pot. With all the troubles we’d had lately, it was a rather normal thing to be doing. I hated doing the dishes, but it was strange how even the most mundane tasks had become cherished items on the to-do list in the wake of having my arms sliced from wrist to elbow.

Maggie let out a loud laugh at old Fergus, who’d told her one of his dirty jokes by the sounds of it. His Jack Russell terrier was sitting under his feet, curled up on the floorboards and never made a peep.

Thankfully, Sean McKinnon hadn’t arrived for his nightly vigil over a pint glass, so I was spared his smartass commentary. For tonight at least.

“Skye,” Maggie said, leaning against the bar when she was done. “Where’s your kid?”

I scowled. “She’s not my kid.”

“I’m just jokin’. Calm your farm. It’s a good thing what you’ve done for her.”

“Tell that to her parents.” I rolled my eyes. “I saw Beth at the Topaz yesterday, and she looked at me like I was possessed with the devil or something. I was surprised she didn’t cross herself before she ran away.”

“With a daughter like Mairead? I cannae believe it.” She clucked her tongue. “If Mairead wasn’t happy at Trinity, then she wasn’t happy. Best she finds out now than in three years when it’s time to start repayin’ the student loans.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Did you go to university back in Australia?”

I nodded. “I did a Bachelor of Arts.”

Maggie laughed, her eyes sparkling. “The most useless degree in the world.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. Life works in mysterious ways. Mairead tells me she wants to be an artist.”

“Really?” The barmaid’s ears pricked up. “Is she any good? Maybe she can paint us a new portrait of Molly McCreedy.”

I glanced at the painting hanging over the open fireplace. “That one? It’s an original, isn’t it?”

“An original paint by numbers from the Internet.” Maggie winked.

I gasped dramatically. “Are you saying there’s no such thing as a Molly McCreedy?”

She tapped her nose. “Mum’s the word.”

“Nooo…”

“The tourists love the story,” she said. “The pub’s as old as the hills, but Molly McCreedy was just a name they made up. There was never any Molly. No one ever told you?”

“The whole village knows? Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

“Well, you were new even though your mam was Aileen. Then they probably figured Boone’d tell you.”

“I’m shattered. Absolutely shattered.”

Maggie nodded toward the taps of beer. “Can I get you somethin’ to drink to soothe your broken heart?”

“Nah. I’m waiting for Boone.”

“We’ll let him go in a few,” she said. “How’ve you been keepin’? You haven’t been around in a while.”

“I’ve been busy, I guess,” I said with a shrug. I couldn’t exactly tell her about the time I almost became a human sacrifice, so busy it was. “Tourist season is winding down, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to keep things going over the winter.” It was a half-truth but the truth nonetheless.

“It does get quiet here over the chilly months, to be sure. Aileen used to have shortened openin’ hours and close down over the Christmas and New Year holidays.”

“Mairead said.”

“Hey, have you thought about openin’ an online shop? There’s good money in the Internet.”

“The thought has crossed my mind…” But now I knew why Aileen never did. The whole Crescent thing was time-consuming, to say