Page 66 of The Scald Crow
“I’m sorry, Orlaith. I didn’t want to intrude. I just…I have to know who she is.” I placed my teacup on the table.
“Ériu is your mother. She’s gone, luv. She’s with the angels.” She crossed her chest in mourning and then rose. She walked across the shining floor, her flat shoes soundless.
“She’s gone?” I absorbed the weight of her words, the finality in her voice. My heart sank. I had clung to a thread of hope that my mother was alive.
“Would you like a scone, luv? Fresh made this morning.” She returned with an oval platter overflowing with golden puffs dotted with plump raisins.
“Thank you.” I placed the scone on a napkin, leaving it untouched.
“Colm, luv, you must be famished.” She offered him a scone before setting the platter on the glass table. “I have had a sense of things since that day.” She placed her palm over mine for a brief second.
What I would have given to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
“What day, Orlaith?” The silence deafened me, and then she spoke.
“The day you were born, child.” She tilted her chin, recognition shimmering in her eyes.
“The day I was born?” I repeated her words.
“Aye, would you like a spot more tae, luv?” She lifted the pot and raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, thank you.” I gazed into my empty cup, not remembering drinking the fragrant tea.
“You’re so like her, you are. In every way.” Orlaith filled mine and then Colm’s. “You are so.”
“What became of her?” I sipped the hot liquid and scalded my tongue.
“You shouldn’t be here, child. For the life of me, I don’t know why Dermot did what he did—leaving the croft to you and bringing you back to this place. She didn’t want this.” Orlaith frowned.
“What does that mean?” I dared to ask. I needed the truth, all of it, every last bit.
“You were safe and away, but now here you are. Himself knows, don’t think he doesn’t.” She twined her hands together. “This land belongs to Themselves. What happens, they know.”
“Are you talking about Finvarra?” I asked, confused by her nervous ticks.
“Don’t speak his name, child.” She lifted the teapot, filling her cup.
Darkness spread along the floor, a dark mist creeping closer and closer. A hollow moaning filled my ears.
Orlaith placed the teapot on the table but failed to set it down properly. It teetered precariously on the table's edge.
The dragons’ scales glistened rose gold. Three of them pondered my existence through slitted yellow eyes and then, in unison, lifted their spidery wings—iridescent pink and boned with blue. I willed my heart to keep beating when they turned their horned heads and spewed fiery orange flames in my direction.
Colm reached forward, spilling the cat from his lap.
“Don’t touch it.” I knocked his hand away and caught one dragon by its tail, subduing the rest and saving the teapot from crashing onto the floor. Searing heat blistered my fingers. I lifted them to my mouth, easing the burning sensations.
“Calla? Calla? Are you all right?” He squeezed my forearm, calling my attention to him. His concerned gaze calmed my erratic thoughts.
I licked my lips and stared at the teapot, wondering what the vision meant. Flying dragons. Orange flames.
“Ach. Be gone with ye, crazy woman.” Orlaith placed her hands on her cheeks. “Forgive me, luv. ’Tis the medication throwing me off.”
“Orlaith, what can you tell us about Ériu?” Colm interjected, his voice low and soothing. None the wiser after my escapade with the flying dragons.
“Himself took her the day of her wedding.” She dropped one spoonful of sugar after another into her cup.
“Took her?” I stared at the teapot and saw nothing but a fairytale scene.
