Page 23 of Heart of the Wren (Haunted Hearts: Season of the Witch #2)

DARA

THE NEXT morning, I left the farm early, before the time Lorcan usually got up.

I’d moved most of my clothes into the house so I made do with two checked shirts — one worn over the other — and my scruffiest, warmest jeans.

With my rucksack over my shoulder, I walked the frosty lane into the village and waited at the snow-capped bus stop.

The bus driver was a nice big man from Belfast with a glint in his eye and a flirtatious tone to his voice.

I chatted to him for most of the journey.

Two hours later, I was in Tralee and following signposts for the library.

A collection of sickly brown prefabs, the library wasn’t even open yet.

I sat on the wall and waited for a good half an hour or more.

Eventually, a woman in her forties arrived, wearing a pink and blue homemade woollen cardigan.

She hesitated before fishing a ring of keys from her handbag and unlocking the door. “You can’t sleep in here, you know.”

It took me a moment to understand. “I’m not… I don’t need to sleep in there. I’m not homeless, merely a keen reader.” I gave her what I hoped was my friendliest smile.

She stepped inside and quickly closed the door over. “We don’t open for another twenty minutes.”

I returned to the wall to wait. A number of cars trundled past, belching out fumes. A bus carried teenage schoolchildren to the secondary school down the road. They disembarked, screaming and shouting and jostling amongst themselves. Some ran around for no discernible reason.

I would have been a good father, I think.

I have a lot to teach, a lot of knowledge about the land, about plants, about how to live on the move.

I’d never have any children, of course. Fatherhood wasn’t in my tea leaves.

And I’d made my peace with it a long time ago.

And as the shrieking from the school grew louder, I have to admit I was fine with it.

The lady in the cardigan opened the door to the library.

Not wanting to scare her by rushing in, I forced myself to wait another few minutes.

When I did finally saunter inside, I found it less stocked than I’d hoped.

The librarian sat at her tiny reception desk, stamping books.

She didn’t acknowledge me. At that time of the morning, I suspected I’d be the only visitor .

I located the section for Mythology, and after passing over the Greek and Norse shelves, I found the ones marked Irish.

I gathered an armful and took them to the tables.

The chairs were low and uncomfortable but I managed to squeeze into one.

Over the next couple of hours, I poured through book after book, desperate to scratch the itch in the back of my brain.

Something about the happenings at Lorcan’s farm were familiar to me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place it.

I skimmed passages on the magical Tuatha dé Dannan , on the giant Firbolgs , on immortal fairies, and on headless phantoms. I paused at the Far Darrig — the red man — a crimson trickster spirit known to play practical jokes, sometimes gruesome ones.

But no. It didn’t feel right. I sighed heavily enough for the librarian to glance over at me.

It didn’t help that I was finding it hard to focus.

I kept thinking of Lorcan, of the time we’d spent together at Ross Castle, of how much more I wanted.

And of the “vociferous disagreement” we’d had.

I like to think I’m even-tempered and I don’t usually fly off the handle.

On the bus journey into Tralee, I’d meditated on my actions and, of course, the reason became abundantly clear.

Lorcan incited a passion within me and I was unprepared for it.

I didn’t just fancy him, we didn’t just have great sex — being around him made me happier than I’d been in a long, long time.

I hung on his every word, I wanted to know all there was to know about him.

I cared for him. He was starting to feel like… home.

And it scared me. Terrified me, even. Which was no excuse for how I had reacted, of course.

And I vowed to never let it happen again for my remaining time at the farm.

And I knew however long it turned out to be, it wouldn’t be long enough.

Lorcan was clearly lonely but it wasn’t in my nature to stay in one place for too long.

Still, there was no reason the two of us couldn’t enjoy each other’s company for a while, was there?

I’d have to sit down with Lorcan and talk things out with him, make sure we both knew where we stood.

The last thing I wanted to do was cause him any more pain. I shouldn’t have shouted at him.

Being so entrenched in magic I was wont to forget how, for the average person, this was all nonsense.

Or, at the very most, nothing more than a few habitual superstitions.

I wished I could show him the world through my eyes, wished he could see the magic, the energy, the connections, the beauty of it all.

But I had long ago accepted the path I walked was a lonely one. Such was my life. Such was my fate.

My search was getting me nowhere. I went back to the Mythology section, calmed my breathing, centred myself, and closed my eyes.

In my mind’s eye, I rooted myself to the earth, let the energy from deep underground move its way up through my feet, my legs, my stomach, my head, and out through my hands.

I lay one finger on a book spine at the start of the shelf and slowly walked forward.

My finger slid across book after book, until I stopped.

One spine was warmer than the rest. Hot, even.

I opened my eyes and slid the book from the shelf.

The cover featured a complicated Celtic knot design with an 18th century etching of a banshee flying around a castle.

I took the book to the table and started to read. I flipped page after page, tracing my finger down each one, half reading and half listening to the voice inside my head. I flicked a page and leapt from my chair. Gathering the book in my arms, I made a beeline for the door.

The woman behind the desk stopped, mid-stamp. “Wait, I need to see your library card!” She sprang from her chair and pointed. “Excuse me?”

I quickly tapped my thumb and fingertips together and whispered: “Halt, halt, halt.”

She caught her cardigan on the drawer of her desk, stopping her in her tracks.

I used my shoulder to push open the door. “I’ll get it back to you after Christmas, I promise!” With that, I ran out of the library and headed for the bus stop.