Page 45 of The Scald Crow
“What talents?” Breda pounced on Calla, her voice quickening.
“Is Ciarán dead?” My throat ached.
“No. No, Ciarán isn’t dead, Saoirse. He was there.” Her eyes were bright.
“How did he look?” I clenched my elbows, my heart bursting.
“Well, he wore dirty sneakers, blue jeans, and the craziest-looking cape, purple with silver stars. Was he happy? No. I don’t think so. He said everything was his fault.” She paused, then exhaled a long, silvery breath. “I’m having a real hard time with this Good People thing. I left Canada because of my gift because I scared people. Colm thinks I’m one of Them because I saw his father’s death and because, at the same moment, aBean Sidhevisited his mother.”
“The wizard costume?” My knees wobbled. There’s no way she could have made that up.
“The Banshee? Yes, it was the weirdest thing. A howling cry came across the meadow, rising in pitch. I thought the damn dog got caught in a gopher trap.” Breda’s eyes widened.
“Yeah? Colm is convinced I’m aBean Sidhe, and those keening cries were me. But I don’t remember any of it. And let’s double down, yeah? I met a guy at the wake who everyone thinks is dead. Well, let me tell you. He’s not dead.” She shook her head, convincing everyone.
“What do you mean, you see death?” Breda prodded deeper.
I sucked one breath after another into my lungs.
“It started when I was young. If I touched someone, I would see death, not theirs…someone close to them. But that was scary enough. My mother did her best to keep me away from kids my age and from people in general.” Her eyes shadowed, and she shrugged. “I was homeschooled until I went to university. I was a loner. Kept to myself. Friends were not part of the deal. But the truth comes out, eventually. My gift raised its ugly head one too many times.”
“You’re clairvoyant, which is likely why you can see Ciarán. There’s power in this land, and your abilities have grown since arriving here.” Breda nodded her head. Her wide smile told Calla she believed in all things.
“You’re not afraid of me?” Calla’s voice cracked. She gaped at us.
I gazed into her shimmering eyes. Faerie or mortal made no difference to me.
“Afraid of you? No way, girl. We call itdá silleadh. It means two looks. You see spirits, ghosts. You see the past, the present, and the future. We won’t banish you from our island for having the sight.” She laughed, then sighed happily.
“I don’t know what to say.” Calla’s gaze cut toward me, unsure.
“Being ‘different’ is almost expected. Look, we’re all different. Saoirse’s a witch. I’m an empath. You’ll fit in just grand.” Breda offered her another candy.
“We’re friends, Calla, and Breda is a friend.” I piped up, adding my two cents worth.
“You mean that, don’t you?” Calla’s eyes glowed.
“Yes. Oh my God. Yes.” I wrapped my arms around her, and Breda hugged the two of us. Calla flinched, her every muscle turning to stone.
“Breathe, Calla. You’re one of us,” Breda murmured.
What she said made sense, except for one thing. Sympathetic souls exuded the energy of the world, but Calla’s aura was something else entirely. The crystals hinted at the truth, and the flames confirmed it.
“We have to find him, Calla. Somehow. There must be a way.” I placed my hand on the green velvet covering her upper arm.
“I don’t know, Saoirse.” She flinched and then circled her lips, blowing a cool, calming breath. “I can see him, I guess, when he wants to be seen.”
“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.” Hope tore through me.
“And you’re a witch?” The corners of her mouth lifted into a small smile.
Her furrowed brow told me she remained unconvinced. What would happen when she learned the Otherworld does exist? I dallied there once and almost got burned.
“She’s not just a witch. She’s a high priestess. Tell her the news, Saoirse.” Breda nodded.
“It’s not important right now.” I hugged my arms around my chest, my heart full.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Saoirse. When will you learn to blow your own horn? She’s now licensed to reside over wedding ceremonies.” Breda clapped her hands.
