Mystic Luck (Mystic Tides Book 2) Page 7

  “We’ll talk again in June,” Aiden said with a wink.

  That look came over them both again, the one that said they were close to hurling. Tabby scooted her chair a bit farther from Mason’s, just in case.

  “Show me,” she said.

  Startled, Aiden drew back. “You want me to show you my leprechaun?”

  Tabby nodded and glanced at her brothers, who both looked horrified now. Mason was shaking his head, and Braden had his eyes squeezed shut.

  “You might as well watch, boys,” Emily said. “We probably should have explained this to you when we explained to Alex.”

  “You’re saying Alex is a leprechaun?” Mason stared at their mother as though she’d lost her mind.

  “Huh. It explains a lot,” Braden said.

  “Here goes nothing.” Aiden stood up and reached into the pocket of his robe. He withdrew a golden token of some sort and held it up.

  “Let me guess,” Tabby said. “It came from your pot of gold.”

  “It did actually.” Aiden flipped the coin through his fingers. “My first coin after my eighteenth birthday. My father handed it to me, and it drew my leprechaun right out. It’s magical.” He rubbed it between his fingers, laid it in his palm, and blew across the surface.

  A light flickered in the kitchen and then burst bright like a supernova. For a moment, Tabby closed her eyes against the blinding glare. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a small green man. His fiery red hair bobbed around his face in curls, and his dark eyes flashed with ruby streaks. He gave them all a bright, manic smile and then waddled across the floor on stubby legs and bent down to run his fingers under the stove.

  “Aha!” The little creature held up a quarter, his pointy ears twitching like a rabbit’s. “Aiden lost that yesterday. Rolled away and he didn’t even seem to care.” He rocked his head from side to side. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. To imagine a fortune just rolled away.”

  Emily smiled with pride. “Daddy’s leprechaun can always find money. It doesn’t have to be gold.”

  “But gold be good!” the little man crowed as he dropped the coin into the pocket of the robe that now trailed behind him like a wedding train. He began to circle the room, sniffing high and low and picking up several coins along the way. Suddenly, he froze, and his head swiveled toward Tabby. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes brightened and glimmered with unshed tears.

  “Your Highness,” he whispered. He bent at the waist, his arm gesturing outward in a flourish. “’Tis deeply honored I be to come into thy presence.” He scurried toward her and lifted her hand toward his lips. “Me beautiful princess.” He kissed her fingertips and bowed again.

  Tabby gaped, her glance ticking between her mother and brothers. When she finally brought it back to the little man before her, he bobbed his head.

  “Such glory. Such beauty. Such splendor.”

  “Such bullshit,” Braden muttered.

  Mason coughed into his hand. “Horse hockey.”

  The little man sent them each a withering glare and then brought his mesmerized gaze back to Tabby. “Eight more days before the change. Eight more days before the choice. We await the choice of thy magnificent glory in the kingdom of the leprechauns.” He winked.

  “Thank you,” Tabby murmured. “I think.”

  The little man resumed his exploration of the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and peeking under appliances, hopping to look on countertops and picking up dishtowels. He soon had a pocket that jingled with coins. Tabby watched him in awe.

  Braden leaned back and squeezed his head. “This can’t be happening. Seriously. It can’t be happening.” He shot a glance to Tabby. “Especially the princess part.”

  Mason stared at the little man and ran his hands over his thighs, hard, as though trying to contain something. “I can’t go to college looking like that. I just can’t.”

  “Oh, guys,” Tabby whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

  “What are you sorry about?” Mason said. “You’re apparently a freakin’ princess. Look at him!”

  “You didn’t see Rionach.” Tabby shuddered.

  Emily crouched between the chairs and wrapped her arms around the boys’ shoulders, giving them both a hug. “Shh. It’s okay. Dad called the leprechaun with his coin, but just as fast, he can push him away. Watch.” She locked gazes with the little green man. “Aiden, tell him to go now.”

  “Not going!” The little man stomped his foot.

  “Oh, you are,” Emily said sternly. “Aiden, tell him to go. He’s scaring the kids.”

  Tabby closed her eyes against the bright flash, and once again, her father stood in the kitchen. He pulled a collection of coins from his pocket and tossed them on the table where they scattered and spun and rolled in a shimmer of light. When the musical sounds of the coins echoed away and the coins lay flat on the table, all of them—quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies—had turned into gold coins.

  “Are those real?” Tabby asked.

  Emily scooped them up and removed the top from a canister marked Compost. The coins made plinking sounds as they hit the ceramic bottom. “They’re real now.”

  “What the hell just happened?” Tabby said. “Who was that? It wasn’t you, Dad. Not at all.”

  “No, it’s not me. His name is Oryn. We share space in this consciousness, but I’m in control of the body. As you saw, Oryn loves his money. He can ferret it out of anywhere, and any coin he touches turns to gold.”

  “Is that going to happen to us, Dad?” Braden asked.

  “Well, yeah, but it’s not that bad. Really. You don’t change. You just kind of…share. When you turn eighteen, your other half will wake up. I guess what he really does is cross the realms to visit. He’ll start talking to you. It gets a bit crowded in your head sometimes, but over time, you’ll learn to control him. He can be a handful, but he’s fun to have around sometimes.” Aiden winked. “And he does know how to find money.”

  “Then why aren’t we richer?” Mason asked, looking around their cozy but serviceable kitchen.

  “That would draw a bit of attention to us,” Emily said, “which we want to avoid. We do pretty okay.”

  “So can we ask Oryn for some extra for that senior trip we wanted to take?” Braden asked, suddenly smiling.

  “Sure,” Aiden said, “we’ll see what he can do.”

  “Where does Oryn go when he’s not here?” Mason asked.

  “Elsewhere,” Aiden said. “The other realm. Somewhere I can’t go. Somewhere he has a life. A happy one I hope. He can share my life a bit, but I can never share his.”

  “Would you want to?” Mason muttered.

  “I would,” Aiden said. “He’s nothing to fear, boys. He’s part of me. We’re one, but still separate.”

  “Sounds psychotic,” Braden said. “No wonder no one talks about it.”

  “It’s not psychotic.” Emily chuckled. “It’s perfectly normal for the Whitlock family.” She ruffled two heads of burnished hair. “Why don’t you two get back to bed? We’ll talk about this more after school tomorrow.”

  As the boys trudged out of the kitchen, Tabby sat quietly, waiting until she heard their footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of their door closing.

  “What about me?” she asked quietly. “I’m over eighteen.”

  Aiden shook his head. “I don’t know anything about the girls, sweetie. It never even crossed my mind you were anything other than human like your mom. I can ask your grandpa, and mine, but I have a feeling they’re not going to know either. What did Rionach tell you about this princess thing?”

  “Just what Oryn said. Eight more days, something about a change and a choice. The problem is I don’t know what any of that means.”

  “Neither do I,” Aiden said. “But I’ll talk to my dad and see what he knows.” He kissed the top of Tabby’s head. “Don’t worry. Whatever happens, you’re always my little princess.”

  “I’m afraid it won’t stay that simple,” Tabby muttered.

>   Chapter 4

  Thursday Afternoon, March 9

  Max kept finding excuses to drive past the elementary school. Not that he expected to see Tabby just standing there waiting for him, but for some reason, he just liked knowing she was inside the building. So far, he’d passed it three times today. Stalker? Maybe. He hoped she wouldn’t view it that way.

  He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never caught himself with a silly smile on his face or heard a chuckle rumble in his chest, and yet even now, he felt that smile hovering on his mouth. When he heard his phone ding, that smile burst into a full-blown grin.

  He pulled his truck to the side of the road and glanced at the screen.

  Tabby: Hey, Max, how’s it going? It’s Tabby. Guess you can probably tell that from my number, huh?

  I can, he answered. He added a smiley face. He figured that was appropriate. He rarely texted, except professionally with suppliers and contractors. Sometimes his sisters included him in their texts, but he got lost almost immediately and just answered once or twice to let them know he was alive. His parents usually called because they were as lost as he was.

  She sent him a smiley face back, along with a little slice of pizza.

  He shook his head. Maybe they were having pizza in the cafeteria. That sounded pretty good. He should think about lunch. When a little pitcher of beer showed up on his screen, he was totally lost—as usual.

  Max: ?

  Tabby: LOL.

  LOL. He’d seen it before on his sisters’ texts but had never asked what it meant. He’d assumed lots of love, but it was too soon for that. Lots of luck? Maybe it was a reference to the clover. Did she mean it had already sprouted? It certainly seemed too soon for that, even with his magical infusion. Hell…

  Max: LOL. What does that mean?

  Tabby: It means laughing out loud, doofus. But she must have been happy and just teasing him because she sent another smiley face.

  Max: Oh. I’m an idiot.

  Tabby: No, not an idiot. Just an inexperienced texter. So what do you think?

  He scrubbed his forehead. He needed to get so much better at this really fast. What did he think? Well, that covered a lot of ground, and he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be thinking about or what she wanted to know.

  Max: Think about what?

  Tabby: Pizza and beer.

  Max: I like both.

  Tabby: Would you like both…with me? She added another smiley face, this one with its tongue sticking out and one eye winking. He thought maybe she was making fun of him again but probably doing it in a nice way. He sat there stupidly staring at his phone.

  Tabby: Max.

  Max: Yes?

  Tabby: I’m totally asking you on a date. For pizza and beer.

  Complete idiot. Yes, Max Gallagher, the biggest fool in Blansett, possibly in the entire state. Five-year-olds knew how to text and understand all this shorthand. He stared at the screen and realized he hadn’t answered.

  Max: Oh. Oh! Yes, I’d love to do that.

  Tabby: Great. How about Enzio’s around 7? I can meet you there.

  Max: I will be there. And Tabby…

  Tabby: Yes?

  His finger hovered over the little icons. He almost tapped a heart. He wanted to, but he curled his fingers and resisted. Instead he typed, Maybe ice cream after?

  A little red heart appeared on his screen, followed by CU later.

  “A heart. She sent me a heart.” He would have shouted with joy had he been prone to such displays, but of course, he wasn’t. Instead he leaned back against the seat and stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile on his face.

  “I have a date.” He looked in the rearview mirror, and his reflection grinned at him. “You have a date, my man. And after that, you have some research to do on how to understand texting.”

  He put the truck into gear and pulled onto the road, headed out to take some measurements at Sydney’s beach cottage, whistling along with the radio.

  * * * *

  His phone dinged with an incoming text at six fifteen. Thinking it might be Tabby, Max glanced at the screen and groaned. A group text to him, one including all five sisters and his parents from his oldest sister, Meredith, married with five kids now and the pride of the Gallagher clan. All of his family lived in New York, scattered through the five boroughs.

  Oldest sister, Meri: Hey, gang! What’s up?

  Twelve-year-old Daphne: Doin’ homework. School sucks.

  Seventh grade did suck. Max agreed.

  Sixteen-year-old Verity: Leaving cheer practice. A smiley face was added to prove her statement. Verity had fun wherever she went.

  Second oldest sister, Celeste: Still at work. This place sucks. I told Joe I’m ready to quit and be a full-time mom.

  Meri: You should. It’s a blast.

  Third oldest sister, Sybil: She’d be bored out of her skull, like me. I can’t wait until Jeremy can walk and talk. Then I’ll at least have some company besides Ellen.

  Meri: You just need to get out more. Come across the bridge once in a while.

  Sybil: Can’t stand all that traffic.

  Celeste: Do you think Todd would stop biting if I stayed home full time? Kathleen never bit anyone. I stayed home with her longer.

  Gallagher parents: Glad everyone is good. They’d obviously missed a few texts, but they would now sit back and watch the drama unfold. They couldn’t keep up, didn’t even try.

  Max: Hi. Duty fulfilled, Max would now continue getting ready for his date, trying his best to ignore the onslaught of happy little text noises.

  He was buttoning his shirt when the texts began to come in a flurry. He reluctantly picked up his phone and scrolled backward until he saw, I’m pregnant!

  Meredith was pregnant again? The woman was insane. Five kids weren’t enough? Max shook his head. She’d become the Irish-American cliché. Her husband, Austin, was a Brooklyn firefighter, captain of the precinct and a fire witch. Meri worked part-time at home as a children’s book illustrator, but her primary focus was on her five—soon-to-be six—kids, all under the age of ten, a perfect mix of Meri’s Black Irish and Austin’s fair, freckled face and fiery hair, all beautiful little kids. Still, there were far too many in one house, large and sprawling as it was, for Max’s taste.

  Feeling ornery, or perhaps just wanting a bit of attention for himself, Max slowly typed, I have a date tonight.

  The texts came to a sudden halt. Max stared at his phone, wondering for a moment if maybe he’d lost his connection. He was ready to retype his message when his screen began to scroll, messages coming through so fast they were a blur of black streaks.

  Verity: OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!

  Daphne: What does she look like?

  Celeste: Well, bro, it’s about time.

  Gallagher parents: Are you joking? This isn’t funny if you’re joking.

  Meri: Did she ask you or did you ask her?

  Gallagher parents: That doesn’t matter. It’s a date.

  Sybil: What kind of witch is she?

  Leave it to Sybil to get right to the heart of the matter.

  Max hesitated and then typed, Not a witch. I think she might be a pixie.

  He could almost see Sybil’s dark hair swinging as she shook her head in denial.

  Sybil: No, no, no, that won’t work. Pixies are notoriously strong-willed.

  Celeste: Stubborn. Short-tempered.

  Verity: We have a pixie on the team. She’s kind of…a bitch.

  Celeste: True dat.

  Meri: A pixie will eat you alive.

  Gallagher parents: A pixie? A bit behind, and Max could almost feel the disapproval.

  Max: I think I can handle myself with one small woman.

  Meri: Trust me. If she’s a pixie, you can’t.

  Max: Pixies are earth-based, just like earth witches.

  Celeste: Hahahaha!

  Meri: He’s so cute.

  Sybil: And in denial. Remember when I dated that pixie in high school? Not
a good mix. Had to break up. I don’t look good in orange.

  Meri: You look great in orange. You could have pulled it off.

  Sybil: I think you’re missing the point, Meri.

  Verity: Max can make his own choices.

  Daphne: Yeah.

  Meri: We’re just trying to save wear and tear on his patience.

  Sybil: And his psyche. Plus keep him out of prison. Pixies are demented.

  Celeste: Worse than demented. Downright insane.

  Max: Maybe she’s not pixie. She’s small, cute, outgoing, but maybe she’s something else.

  Celeste: Sounds like a pixie to me.

  Sybil: Maybe she’s a leprechaun.

  Silence on the chat line. And then, Meri: LOL!

  Celeste: Crack me up. Leprechaun. HA! That’s hilarious.

  Sybil: Can you imagine?

  Daphne: What’s so funny?

  Verity: They’re just teasing him.

  Daphne: It doesn’t seem very nice.

  Gallagher parents: Leave your brother alone now. Long pause. Hopefully she’s not a pixie. Or a leprechaun. His mother added a smiley face.

  Jeez. He was sorry he’d even mentioned it. Now his sisters were all over his butt and his parents had suddenly figured out how to text. He was doomed. For all he knew, Tabby was just a human.

  Max: She might be human.

  He waited. Everyone ignored that of course. He could see the three older girls texting one another privately at his expense.

  Verity: Ignore them.

  Daphne: Have fun tonight.

  Max: I plan to.

  Whether she was a pixie or not.

  Max: Max out.

  He turned off notifications, finished getting ready, and headed out of the gatehouse to his truck, looking forward to seeing his pixie/human/leprechaun. He laughed as he started the truck and drove out of the driveway.

  Leprechaun. What a ludicrous idea. Everyone knew there was no such thing as a female leprechaun.

  Chapter 5

  Thursday Evening, March 9

  Enzio’s always smelled incredible. Tabby sipped on her light beer and perused the menu, debating between the pizza and the meatballs. She couldn’t resist their meatballs. Maybe she’d have both.