Page 30 of Heart of the Wren (Haunted Hearts: Season of the Witch #2)

LORCAN

“I’VE A favour to ask.” I popped up the collar of my shirt and put my tie around my neck. “Will you come to mass this morning?”

Dara finished tying his boot laces. “I don’t really—”

“I know. I know you don’t.” I fixed the knot at my throat. “But… I don’t feel right. I had funny dreams all night about crowds of people with sticks. I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Wearing my best trousers and shirt, I found my good tweed blazer at the back of the wardrobe. “You might be fine but I don’t know if I will.”

“What will Father McDonagh do if he sees us there together?” The tip of Dara’s tongue stuck out a bit. “I don’t know if he’ll appreciate seeing me again after our chat.”

I slipped my arm into the sleeve of my blazer. “When did you talk to him?”

“After Bullseye left yesterday, I took myself into the village and went to the church.”

I fixed my collar in the mirror. “What for?”

He scratched at his neck. “I wanted to make it clear to Father McDonagh how I wasn’t going to be around long enough to be a problem for him or for the village. And how he should stop spreading rumours about you.” He fetched a tin box from his rucksack. “In fact, I made—”

“Hang on, why didn’t you tell me you’d spoken to him?”

The tip of his tongue made another appearance. “I didn’t think I had to. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“No, you seem fine, alright.”

I didn’t know how I felt, at first. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

He sat on the bed again. “I was trying to help.”

My stomach dropped. “I… I know you were. I’m sorry. It took me by surprise. I don’t trust him and I don’t like having him in my life.”

“Which is why—” He opened the tin box. “—I made this.” He held up a small wax doll with a prominent nose and a cross carved into the chest. Crude it may have been but I could tell right away who it represented.

“A voodoo doll?”

Dara’s eyes shot open as if I’d slapped him across the mouth. “It’s not a voodoo doll. It’s a poppet! Witches use them in sympathetic magic. We create an effigy of a person and use it to cast spells.”

“Like a voodoo doll,” I said.

“You’re being very offensive to my people.” He closed his eyes in mock indignation but his grin gave him away. He took a length of twine and shimmied his shoulders. I’d seen him do it a few times before and knew he was getting ready for magic.

“I bind you, Father McDonagh, from speaking of Lorcan Fitzgerald.” He repeated the line three times, once for each turn of twine around the poppet’s mouth.

“Will it work?” I wasn’t entirely sure I liked the idea of him doing magic on my parish priest.

“If my will is stronger than his, it should.” He put the doll back into the tin. “Mind you, it would work better if I could hide it in the church…”

I took the tin and set it on my chest of drawers. “Ah, no, I don’t think so. Imagine what would happen if you’re caught?”

“I can be subtle.” He stood close to me and wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re coming, then?”

Dara lay his hand on my arm. “I’ll get my coat.”

???

The church car park was already full when we arrived so I parked at the side of the road.

Hurrying quickly to avoid the light snow ruining their hair, the parishioners — all dressed in their finery — filed into the brutal, Gothic Revival-style parish church.

Some stopped at the castellated tower entrance to shake hands and wish each other a happy Christmas.

A plume of smoke coming from around the corner spoke of people getting a quick puff in before the service which could easily last more than an hour.

I popped my head around to find Bullseye sheltering from the snow and chatting with some of the pub’s hurling team.

Tayto, the huge goalie from Cillian O’Driscoll’s team, had his hand in a bag of cheese and onion crisps.

“How’s the leg?” asked Cormac.

“Grand, yeah.” I lifted it and bent it a few times to prove my point. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

Bullseye drew on his cigarette.

“Come on, lads, we’d better get in before it starts.” Cormac led the pack of men to the front of the church, leaving us alone with Bullseye.

“Carol told me she’s spending Christmas with you,” he said. “I suppose Eddie will be there as well.”

“Michael’s taking the day off so he’s sending Eddie up to me for an hour or so. I’ve told him he’s welcome to stay for dinner if he wants to.”

“Sure of course he wants to. Carol will be there.”

“Will ye not invite the fella around for dinner? On Christmas Day, of all days?”

“I will not. He’s set on taking her away. You know they’re not coming this morning? Eddie’s Church of England, apparently. He doesn’t want to go so she’s not going either. First Christmas mass she’s ever missed and it’s because of some lanky English bollocks.”

“He’s a nice man, Bullseye,” I said.

“I know he is; that’s not the point. She could do far worse than someone like him. It’s the way they’ve been sneaking around behind my back for months, making plans to sneak off to England, and getting up to God knows what.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Getting up to the same things you were getting up to at their age.”

He pointed his cigarette. “I wasn’t learning witchcraft from some tubby—”

“Steady,” I said.

“Sorry. It just slipped out. She told me about him.” He nodded to Dara. “About the stuff he’s been telling her.”

“You don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here.”

“I suppose you don’t believe any of it,” Dara said.

Bullseye laughed. “Oh, I believe in it, alright. My nana warned me, when Aine was pregnant with Carol. She told me what a seventh daughter could do. She’d seen it for herself.

There used to be a woman on the other side of the village, a seventh daughter.

She had healing hands, Nana told me. People would come from miles around to be cured of all sorts of things, and to have their tea leaves read.

I thought Carol would escape all that but here you are, teaching her how to do it. ”

“Is it such a bad thing?” Dara asked.

“I don’t want my daughter to be some mad spinster living in a shack on the edge of the village. She said she won’t come home until I accept that she and Eddie are together.”

I put my hands in my pockets for warmth. “And you won’t even do it now, for the day that’s in it?”

“She’ll see right through me if I pretend and it’ll lead to another row. If she wants to spend the day at yours, so be it. But promise me you’ll keep her and Eddie away from each other.”

“Come on, Bullseye, how am I—?”

“Promise me here and now you won’t let them do anything stupid.”

“Fine, fine. I promise.”

He took one last drag of his cigarette and dropped it to the ground. The tip fizzled in the snow.

???

The squared limestone walls and diamond-paned windows of the church made for a chilly welcome, despite the general air of joviality. Young children showed off the toys brought to them by “Santy” while the adults shared knowing glances and whispered stories of early starts and forgotten batteries.

With every pew filled, we joined the throng at the very back of the church, finding a space to lean against the cold wall. I spotted Pat a few rows from the front. Bullseye, Aine, and four of their daughters sat behind him. Big Tom leaned on the opposite wall to us and nodded hello.

“You know I wanted to be a priest, once,” I said.

“Go on outta that. Really?” Dara nudged me. “I bet you were an altar boy. ”

“I was,” I said with a laugh. “I thought I was so important.” I nodded to the front of the church.

“Up there, every Sunday morning, the whole village watching me. I remember kneeling at the altar, with a big feckin’ crucifix looming over me, the glint of gold from the eucharist chalice, and the incense stinging my nostrils, and it all felt so…

heavy and important. So holy, I suppose. ”

“What put you off joining the priesthood?”

I lowered my voice. “I discovered sex.”

We both giggled, drawing stern looks from the other people at the back of the church. Big Tom cleared his throat.

The service went as it usually did and the choir sang beautifully, the weight of the day adding clout to their voices. Only during his final remarks did Father McDonagh stick the knife in.

“Before I send you all off to your turkey and ham.” He spoke from the diaphragm, every syllable preciously intoned.

“I’d like to take a moment to remind you of the beauty and sanctity of God’s creation.

Of the perfection of his design. Of how he created man and how he created woman, and how he meant for man and woman to come together as one.

There are many these days who seek to pervert the intention of God, who are intrinsically disordered in their thinking and in their actions.

These sinful men would have us believe their perversions are justified, are rightful, are acceptable.

Men in our midst. Men like…” He blinked hard, then frowned.

“Like…” He coughed and turned away from the congregation for a moment.

“My apologies. Men in our midst, such as…” He winced, unable to get his next words out.

Dara nudged me again and winked .

“Well, I’m sure you can all think of someone,” Father McDonagh said. “Do not let these men pull the wool over your eyes. Remember always they are illegal in the eyes of the law, and worse, they are sinners in the eyes of God.”

He fixed me with a baleful stare, obvious enough for several heads in the crowd to turn to the back of the church.

I held firm.

“Go now, to love and serve the Lord.” Still staring, Father McDonagh drew the sign of the cross and the people began to gather their belongings and file out of the church.

We were the first out. I steamed along the road to my car, slamming the door when I got in. I revved the engine and tore along the road.

“He’s a slimy feckin’ bastard,” I said. “But your poppet did the trick.”

“Don’t let him get to you.” Dara grabbed the handle above his head. “Small minds think small thoughts. He can't see the world beyond his church doors.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I’ve heard worse. Sure I’ve had worse shouted at me. Some people don’t know any better. It’s hard to see from here but the world is changing.” He set his free hand on my knee. “It won't always be like this.”