Finn’s mother’s bookshelves could have competed with Faye’s at Say Chi’s. Apparently Ina was interested in all manner of metaphysical topics: auras, occults, chakras, psychic phenomena. I desperately wished to kneel down and riffle through the pages. Judging by the number of New Age bookstores in the world, and the number of websites online, many people were interested in this stuff. Still, I was shocked by the coincidence. Who’d have thought Ina and I would have something like this in common?
I picked up a book on auras and rested it in my hand while I paused to remember what Ina had said to me in the park. There’s something about you. At the time, I had taken it as an insult, a judgment of my appearance or some other deficiency. Now, I wondered if she could see more, and it unsettled me.
Finn and I sat together on a gray velvet chaise. “So, what do your parents think about your coming alone to Ireland?” Ina asked, handing me a mug of tea and a tiny plate of shortbread.
“I was born here,” I said. “This trip was, uh, long overdue.”
She wasn’t satisfied. “But to come alone, at your age?”
Finn shifted next to me. “I traveled to America alone.”
“Regretfully, yes,” she said, smoothing her hair, which she’d pulled into a tight chignon. “Though you were somewhat looked after, Griffin could have done a much better job of it. Who is looking after Cora?”
“I am.” We both said at the same time. I giggled. It was a weary giggle that threatened to turn into a fit of inappropriate hysterics. I pinched the flesh next to my thumb.
“What do your parents do?” Ina asked.
“My father is a scientist.”
She nodded, eyebrows up, perhaps impressed. “And your mother?”
“She is…was…researching…” I took a deep breath and blew it out while she looked at me expectantly. “My mom’s been out of my life for a long time.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Ina said. The smallest hint of a rose amid her thorns.
“Cora’s exhausted, Mom. Can we interrogate her tomorrow?” Finn stood and helped me to my feet. “I’ll show her to her room.”
Ina nodded curtly when I thanked her for letting me stay. Her stare pressed against my back as I left the library.
My guest room was in the old lighthouse tower. “You’re not going to lock me up in the tall, tall tower and throw away the key, are you?” I said, craning my neck to look up at the spiral staircase curling into the soaring ceiling like the inside of a seashell.
Finn kissed my fingertips. “If it’ll keep you from leaving, luv.”
We climbed the many steps circling the tower. Every so often, there’d be a rectangular pane of window above a stone sill, upon which burned a small votive candle. It was a nice touch, and surprising that Ina would do that for my arrival. My hand ran across the bumpy stone as we ascended, around and around, until we reached a door so aged and weathered it looked like it had been scrubbed with sand and bleached by the sun. It creaked when Finn pushed it open.
Broad, whitewashed beams arched across the ceiling. A stone-framed church window stood at one end with a circular pane above and three gothic points below. The walls were painted a calming shade of lavender, and a large white bed rested under the open window, where billowy grape-colored fabric rustled in the night breeze.
“Okay,” I said with my hand over my mouth. “You can throw away the key.”
“Want to know a secret?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
“This is where I learned to play the guitar. Instead of doing my homework, I’d sneak up here where no one could hear me and teach myself to play.”
“I love that. Want to know a secret?”
“Give it to me.”
“I’m scared I’ll find out nothing about what happened to my mother.”
He nodded sympathetically.
“And I’m scared I will.”
“Sleep, críona. We’ll plan and plot in the morning.” I received a very gentlemanly but conflicted hug. Then he left me in the room alone.
I washed my face in the little white basin next to the bed, slipped on my tank top and a pair of girly boxers Janelle had given me for Christmas, and climbed into the soft bed. It was weird to think Finn was somewhere in this sprawling house, maybe lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, too. Would he dare a visit with me in the night?
Yeah. He would.
That thought alone made it hard to fall asleep. But finally, I did.
I dreamed. My mother called out to me from underwater, and I tried to shine the massive spotlight from the lighthouse down on the ocean to find her, but it wouldn’t budge. That dream reel switched to me running through a busy airport. The man with the white aura followed me. I kept trying to convince security he wanted to hurt me, but they didn’t believe me. I ran through the airport and lost him by walking among a crowd of Red Hat ladies.
On the plane, a man sat down next to me, his tall body filling the space. He put his hand on my wrist. Laid it there, almost soothing. Heat swarmed over my skin. Instantly, the tugging started. An invisible knife lashed at my chest, opening it for my aura to be ripped from my body.
The air was sucked out of the atmosphere. I gasped for breath, tried to lift my hand to cover myself like I had before, but he pressed my wrist down hard. I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t move through the heavy air surrounding my numb body. I could do nothing but stare into his eyes and silently beg him not to kill me.
My silver aura flashed in angry lightning strikes, objecting as it left my body to be swallowed up in his expanding white aura. My head fell back and somehow I screamed.
I opened my eyes as his aura exploded in a blast of white.
My depleted energy snapped back into my body. The shadow of Finn’s mother leaned over me, but my eyes still burned with the white flash of my dream, bathing her in its ghost.
“You were screaming,” she whispered, with her hand on my wrist. “Bad dream?”
I couldn’t nod or answer. Weighted down, limbs heavy.
Ina’s fingers slipped from my skin, and she backed away. “Codladh sámh. Sleep well. I’m sorry.”
Thirty-Two
Something tickled my face, and I bolted upright. The plum curtain lifted in the breeze from the window above my headboard. I squinted against the bright room. Unusually bright. The clock said it was past ten. I had slept way too late.
My legs wobbled when I stood, like my muscles hadn’t caught up to the fact that we weren’t sleeping anymore. The awful dream revisited while I showered, the memory of it making me tremble. Had Ina actually been in my room, or was she part of the dream, too? I stood in the hot water an extra couple of minutes to erase the chill.
I wound my way down the spiral stairs, listening for signs of life. A world of green rolled away from every window I passed. I followed the clatter of dishes and the warm, sweet scent of sugary pastries to the kitchen. Ina stood at the sink with her back to me. When I entered, she turned slowly, almost reluctantly, and met my eyes. Her brows furrowed, and she turned back to rinsing her teacup.
I swallowed hard and slid a chair out at the table. “Good morning.”
Ina glanced at the clock. “Travel sure does take it out of a person. I’ll bet you’re hungry.”
“I kinda am. I can make something—”
“Nonsense. I’ve got some scones baking. You’re obviously fond of sweets.”