Emerald Isle Crimson Curse (Love Among the Runes Book 1) Read online

  LOVE AMONG THE RUNES

  – BOOK ONE –

  “Emerald Isle, Crimson Curse”

  By: A. Carr & Polly Amori

  Copyright © 2019 A. Carr & Polly Amori Cover Illustration by Wictoria Nordgård All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic form without the express, written permission of the authors. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to any organization, event, or person, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Mom & Dad if you are reading this PLEASE skip over the sex scenes.

  A. Carr: Polly, you shameless hussy you, thank you for stroking my flame of imagination.

  Polly: I dedicate this book to the Iditarod.

  Contents

  LOVE AMONG THE RUNES

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  The Call On The House Phone

  Jet Lagging

  Misleading Information

  Welcome To Westhaven

  Why We Need Coffee

  Information Overload

  Not at the End of the Rainbow

  A Girl Walks Into a Bar...

  Men of Magic

  Meet the Morrigan

  Wake Up and Shape Up

  I Do Believe In Fairies

  Knowledge is Power

  Feeling the Magic

  Scratch and Sniff

  Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Fettuccini

  Unintentional Brain Mush

  Just Weylyn

  This is How You Magic

  House of McDonough

  You Say It’s Your Birthday

  Time to Paaaar-taaaay

  Enter The McGuffin

  B and E, Times Three

  Catch of the Day

  A Three Hour Cruise...

  Grabbing for That Bone

  Bye Bye Blackbird

  Lycanthropy

  Red Sky at Morning

  About the Authors

  PROLOGUE

  Three men, shrouded in sinister hoods, huddle around a scarred wooden table, conspiring in furtive whispers.

  “I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for her to surface,” a sepulchral voice scrapes, deep and frightful. “Over twenty years hunting, and not a single sighting. It’s time we took some action.”

  “I agree. It’s pointless to sit and wait any longer.”

  The others turn to face the largest figure in the center. It’s clear he dominates this cabal. Quietly they await his verdict. Slowly, he pours wine into his silver goblet. Enjoying a long slow sip, not for the flavor, but for the exercise of control this displays, making them wait like eager hounds.

  “Our Mother was never very patient,” he says to the first. He left that hanging a moment. “Maybe that is where your eagerness comes from, Brother.”

  The first – youngest of the three – pipes up assertively. “We have been patient, just as you asked. And what has it gotten us... Brother?”

  The eldest brother sets his goblet down carefully, then slowly turns his head in the youngest brother’s direction. Inside his hood, no face is visible. But slowly, two red orbs glow and they burn sharper, brighter, as a choking sound gurgles from inside the youngest brother’s cowl. Slowly, his figure begins to rise, gagging, as if hoisted by an invisible noose. His choking retch grows desperate, and beneath his long-hooded robe, he kicks his feet, as his body jerks in spasms of helpless agony.

  Finally, the second brother speaks up quietly. “He is young, brother, and still foolish.”

  The eldest continues to focus his power. The life gurgles out of his impatient youngest sibling, whose body has risen to the rafters by now. The middle brother keeps his tone reasonable, but deferential as he spoke, “You are a wise teacher, brother. But he will only keep the lesson if he survives your instruction.”

  “So? You think this has gone on long enough, then?”

  “I do.”

  The burning eyes inside the eldest brother’s hood suddenly go dark. The youngest brother drops fifteen feet like a stone and he slams down on their table hard enough to put a crack in the inch thick oak, knocking over the wine goblets. He gags and sputters, gasping for air as he pushes back into his chair.

  The eldest ignores him, turns to the middle brother now.

  “What you both fail to appreciate is that the longer she stays out of sight, the weaker she grows. And, in her absence, our power grows.” He turns to the youngest brother, slumped in his chair, sucking wind. He gives an almost imperceptible nod, a mere flick of the chin. The young one’s chair flies back like a shot and he hammers against a stone column and crashes to the floor.

  “Get up,” the eldest commands. “You spilled my wine. Fetch more.”

  The chastened youngest drags himself up. As he staggers off toward the bar, the eldest turns again to the middle brother. “I take it you have had little luck with our prisoner?”

  The middle brother hesitates. Holding back will only further enrage the eldest, he knows. He shakes his head no. “Unfortunately, no.” As he speaks, a thin black smoke tendril swirls around the top of his goblet. “But I think I may have a plan that even you, my evil brother, will find tempting.”

  A flash of silver makes the middle brother flinch, nearly toppling his own chair backwards. The eldest begins to clean dirt from under his nails with the tip of a small, nasty dagger. “Go on.”

  “The old lady, the crone. It’s not like she has moved recently. Why don’t we pay her a little visit?”

  “You think you can be more effective, carving the truth from her?”

  “Even if we can’t... her suffering may draw the other one out.”

  From the black void of his hood, the eldest brother allows himself a tired sigh. “I would prefer to kill two birds with one stone, but for now... we shall settle for the one old bird.” Then he turns to bellow at the youngest brother, scurrying back with three new goblets of wine.

  “Hurry, if you’re still so eager for action! We have a new plan. Let us drink to it!”

  The Call On The House Phone

  - Keira -

  The shrill BURRR! of my alarm snatched me rudely from an anxious dream, which slipped from memory as my eyes opened. I rubbed them in circles, decrusting the lids and struggling to pull my fingers through the bird’s nest of bed head that was once my shiny black hair. I tried to stretch, but every movement felt like I was filled with glue, and it was hardening. I might have shaken off the grogginess if I grabbed onto a high voltage power line, but short of that, my only hope was to gulp a scalding, bitter, black potion. Only coffee could prevent my heart from stopping altogether.

  Shadowy filaments of my dream teased me, but without clarity or full recall. It hovered just beyond reach, diffusing an indistinct uneasiness. I love the smell of cryptic bullshit dreams in the morning, I mused. Maybe it’s just test anxiety.

  That made the most sense, as today was my last final exam. I’d spent the last several weeks grinding for my Hospitality Law Finals, but I’d always had shit confidence taking tests, study or no study.

  Nevertheless, I stumbled into the bathroom, with my bitter, black poison in hand. My mirror had been replaced with an opening in the wall, and there lurked a hideous, sub-human gargoyle, instead of my own pleasant reflection. Or... Maybe the mirror was perfect, and I just looked like shit.

  Still, I went through the motions of my morning grooming rituals, crowning the travesty on my head with my signature messy bun. The bird’s nest sticking to my scalp was now reasonably disguised, thanks to
the familiarity of minimal effort. With the adept skill of a four-year-old, I slathered on enough makeup to conceal the iron black circles under my eyes that my dreams had so generously bestowed upon me. Then, I gagged down the mug of disgusting ‘Re-Heato’, (i.e. leftover dregs of black coffee sludge heated to the temperature of molten lava), grabbed my bag, and made my way to campus.

  The walk to class was something I’d learned to love over the last five years (yes, I am on the five-year plan). There was an old-fashioned charm to the University of Georgia, with its beautiful gardens and green grass, setting off buildings of aged red brick. Tradition and tranquility lined these streets of Athens, home of the Georgia Bulldogs. But today, flocks of black birds cluttered my path. Crows. Upon reflection, I realized that the crows had been a recurring fixture lately. I’d been seeing them all over, wherever I went. Their increasingly creepy apparition stirred some vague premonition of… well, I wasn’t sure what, exactly. I assumed it was just an amorphous negative outcome approaching the horizon, like my anxiety dreams – just more cryptic bullshit. Chalk it up to a morbid imagination.

  Stopping at the last crosswalk I glanced back, to find that the entire murder of crows had trailed me like an avenging posse. How many crows are in a murder, anyway? I thought. I’m glad that’s not going to be on my test. One of these crows flapped past me, fat and feathery, landing directly in front of me with a startling caw.

  “Yeah, whatever!” I muttered. “Fuck off, you jinx! I’m not failing my final because of you!”

  I crossed the street and climbed the steps into Hale Hall. With each step, I felt like I was getting closer to my demise, mounting a scaffold for my certain fate - execution by exam.

  This feeling was more than just the finals; I felt unusually ill at ease, riddled with a disturbing level of distress, more heightened than ordinary test anxiety. I had nothing to pin the sensation on directly, just a free-floating general worry. A fretful apprehension wrapped around my core, one I could not seem to shake. This eeriness was on a whole other level of screwed up.

  However, three elaborately strenuous hours later, I finished my very last final exam without incident. Thank goodness I pushed my malaise aside as soon as those little blue books were being passed around. As I walked out of the room, slapping that blue book on the desk in stride with my exit, the realization began to sink in; I was finished. I was a B.A. now. Let the bachelorette party commence!

  I left the old bricks of Hale behind me, and made a beeline to meet up with Katie. My remarkably amazing, brilliant but slightly ridiculous, only-late-on-the-rent-occasionally, best friend/roommate. Reliable as she was, I knew she’d be ready, as always, to slap some badass on me. As the bricks grew smaller behind me, my head began to clear, and as that silly grin spread across my face, I could feel myself beaming as I turned the corner into the quad.

  Just ahead of me, I saw Katie in the shade of a grand old magnolia, glued to her fucking phone as usual. I was just about to yell out her name, but my body had other plans.

  Suddenly a powerful rushing burst loose inside me, sparking through my veins like a charged current at lightning speed. I felt a burning, buzzing heat on the inside of my skin. My very bloodstream felt carbonated, my heart pumping out fizzy bubbles. The world around me began to spin like dry leaves, caught in a whirlwind. A wave of vertigo staggered me, and I stumbled a few steps backwards, despite my feet feeling like they had nothing to stand on. Like Wiley Coyote running past the edge of a cliff for a few steps, I stumbled again before looking down and finally finding my footing. I collapsed to my knees and wrapped my arms around my chest, rocking, moaning, staring vacantly at the blurring world around me. This fitful episode wasn’t painful per se, but it was disorienting on multiple levels.

  I tried to get moving. No dice. I couldn’t even stand up just yet. I’d need at least a minute or two, or maybe I’d just say “fuck it” and take a few weeks to recover from the shock of what had just happened.

  Things went gray.

  Then they went black…

  … I heard Katie’s muffled voice penetrate the ball of cotton my brain was marooned inside. The sound of her voice alone was reassuring, a thin rope tethered to a world that was still tangible and solid. I could always count on Katie, even when my body betrayed me. When it left me on my own to wring myself dry; menstrual cramps, hangovers, and now, it appeared, the after-effect of residual test anxiety. (Though I have to confess, usually such a physical collapse bore a causal link to a self-induced drug or booze fubar.) Slowly, my disorienting delirium ebbed away, and the world around grew semi-coherent.

  Katie placed a steady hand on my shoulder. Her reassuring squeeze was the healing touch of a merciful Goddess. My feet were back on solid, red Georgia clay again.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. I was a little embarrassed over this unbidden fainting spell.

  “Thank God, Cupcake,” Katie exhaled. “I was ready to call 9-1-1.” She took my hand and pulled me up slowly. “Are you okay? Mostly okay? Do you know which motherfucker sold you bad shit?”

  “No, it wasn’t... I only wish…”

  “Well, this was no ordinary brain fart, sis. You totally fitched a pit.” (That’s how Katie and I said pitched a fit.) I brushed the dirt off my knees. When I stood up, I saw a gathering of google-eyed rubes staring at me.

  “Why is everyone looking at me like I just bit the head off a chicken?” I whispered to Katie. I was embarrassed, and even more embarrassed over my cheeks being flushed with embarrassment.

  “Well...? Maybe because you dropped like a bag of wet sand, then screamed like we just whooped Auburn.” Katie laughed now. “I mean, Jesus bobbing on a bungee cord, Keira. You even made all the birds fly away.”

  Katie turned on the crowd and began shooing them away. I’ve always loved her for this reason. She was always doing something just the right way, reinforcing the fact that she not only held herself in the highest regard, but she deserved to be held there. Katie’s tight, bouncy, brown curls framed her oval face, and at the same time, they strayed in every direction at once. Still, somehow she pulled it off. Charming one and all with the sparkle in her light green eyes, edged with a ring of gold, she was the kind of girl guys drool over, but other women love to hate. She was always the lead actress in her own movie, with a three-picture deal and points. Katie was the star of the show, and in all honesty, she was the star of my show, too.

  Her café au lait skin glowed with life. Tall and willowy, but not overly. Curvier, buff without bulk. She was brash-talking, bawdy, an almost burlesque kind of fun-naughty. But Katie wasn’t just a pretty face. She was also a genius. Beautiful and brilliant, as if that’s not intimidating enough, she was a fucking math genius. I mean, come on.

  I saw her running back to me, her green eyes brimming with confusion and worry. I found myself-muttering “...and here I thought I would have a good day...” I wanted to shake it off, like a wet dog, but settled for adjusting the bag on my shoulder.

  “Let’s go back to the house, Cupcake,” Katie said, gently. “Then you can pass out in privacy. That sound like a kick-ass plan?”

  “Depends why I pass out. Will you be passing out, too?” I teased back, but internally, I was begging for this.

  “Girlfriend, that’s what I’m talking about,” she said as I attempted to laugh off the whole damn thing. As we got going Katie seemed to bounce as we walked toward the house, leaving me to exert a little extra effort to keep up with her.

  ◆◆◆

  As we approached our little off campus rental, Katie pointed. “That is a fuck load of crows.” The black birds lined every surface they could roost on.

  “Gal, you ain’t lyin’,” I agreed in my best faux Georgia twang. The crows blanketed the little bungalow we called home. What am I, Tippy fucking Hedrin from ‘The Birds?’ I wondered, and glanced around to make sure Alfred Hitchcock wasn’t walking past in a cameo.

  “This is creepy weird, Katie.”

  “Weird seems to be gum on your sho
e today, missy,” Katie shrugged. “Maybe something died.”

  “Let’s hope not.” I retorted. Visions of trying to fish a dead possum out from under the house flickered in my head.

  “That’s all we need, a good whiff of Eau’ d Varmint.” Katie shuddered.

  “Well... Crows are harmless. I think.”

  “They better be. I notice they kind of follow you a lot,” she said, her observation followed by a cackling avalanche of caws.

  I dug out my house keys quickly, pulling out a chapstick and a five-year-old receipt from Target before I finally found them. “Let’s just get inside so we don’t have to hear them.”

  “Or play Dodge the Birdshit.” She always had a way of making everything into a joke. Personally, I thought it was her best quality.

  I shut the door behind us with more emphasis than necessary. Nice try – but the Goddamn crows didn’t even flinch when I slammed the door, and I resisted the urge to tell Katie they must be unflappable. We dropped our bags on the living room floor with a good, solid thud - the kind you can only get from dropping something on a hardwood floor.

  “I am so glad we’re finally done with school,” I sighed, allowing my body to fall, pelvis first, into the hand-me-down sofa and feeling how truly exhausted I was.

  Katie grabbed the remote and flipped the TV on. “You’re telling me. Been a long time coming.”

  I placed my cell phone on the table. “Can you picture a cap and gown in this heat?”

  “Only if I’m butt ass naked underneath it,” Katie smirked.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

  “When I was a child, I studied as a child should,” Katie intoned, “but now I am a woman, and I will lay aside childish things. Also lay a couple frat boys while I’m at it.”

  “Jesus, Katie, really? Right now I feel more like hibernating through the winter.”