21. Aurora
Aurora
S everal days had passed in our search to find something—anything—that would lead us to the Cure. Mac, Conall, and Declan often spoke in hushed tones, conspiring with each other on where to look next, hoping to locate any information about the descendants of Donovan O’Cillian among the centuries of documents at the manor. Isla, the same one Mac had texted from Kentucky, scoured the county archives trying to find where Donovan’s family may have lived besides America, hoping to pick up the family line in another location, but it was as though they had disappeared.
Lyra rarely left our room unless it was to eat. Instead, she watched television and complained about being in a house full of vampires. I reminded her several times that she was free to leave, but she would scoff and vow to me that her mother insisted she stay. She didn’t even want to join when Conall had shown me the cottage on the grounds, the original home of the Clan O’Cillian.
Periodically, Mac would bring me a journal or a document and ask if I could use it to dowse. My attempts always ended in disappointment, the air saturated with magic—an unrelenting hum that pressed against my senses no matter where I went. The ring on my finger sometimes burned, a sharp, fleeting pain that offered no explanation, only deepening my frustration. And even worse, Mac and I hadn’t discussed nor repeated our after-dinner walk, though his eyes would sparkle each time they met mine with unexplored emotions.
I pushed it from my head as I made my way to the drawing room where we had been gathering for our meals. Conall sat in his usual spot, nursing a warm beverage. In the middle of the table were empty mugs and a silver carafe. I approached and pointed at a chair.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
He looked up as though his abilities allowed him access to my spinning thoughts. His brow relaxed, and he had a gentle stillness about him. His lips held the faintest hint of a curl—a kindness I would never associate with an O’Cillian. “Not at all. It would be my pleasure. I had Joshua make some coffee for the Americans. Would you like that or tea?” He held his teacup up a little higher.
“Thank you.” I poured myself a cup of coffee from the silver carafe he pointed at. A sharp, acidic aroma rose with the steam, a reminder that it was a new day, and I vowed to be a part of locating the Cure. I hadn’t come here for vacation.
“Does everyone always sleep so late around here?” I asked. I had noticed it was practically noon by the time I had come downstairs.
Conall gave me a smirk. “You’re in a house full of vampires. We might walk in the sun, but we still prefer the night.”
I smiled and raised the cup to my lips, his words immersing me in the truth. The first sip emitted a warmth that settled the chill that had crept into my bones—a gentle hopefulness that my logical mind didn’t want to indulge. I stared into the glass, my fingers running along the rim.
Conall tilted his head, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow. “So what’s got you so contemplative?”
I shook my head, trying to dispel my insecurities about what was going on with Mac. “Probably nothing that would interest you.” The truth was, I wasn’t sure how much I could confide in him. He knew Mac and I were close, but how much did he know about the conflict swirling inside me? Still, I could feel his gaze on me, waiting for more.
“Mac told me he’s a dhampir,” I said slowly, testing the waters, “but he also mentioned that Aine isn’t a vampire. So does that make your family dhampirs too?”
Conall tilted his head, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. Why would being a dhampir be amusing? “You could say that,” he said, sipping his drink.
I stared down at my cup, fiddling with the handle. The two families were so similar. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I already knew why, but I didn’t want to admit it. There was so much about the O’Cillians that I didn’t understand, and Mac kept so many details from me.
Conall leaned forward, his voice dropping to a soft, steady tone. “One thing about Mac—you can always count on him to protect the people he loves. Give him time.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. Protect the people he loves. Was I one of them? I forced a smile, though I could feel the tension behind it, unsure if I was ready to be one of those people. “Time for what exactly?”
Conall took a sip of his coffee, studying me with a bemused expression—silent—a silence that screamed the answer neither of us would speak.
I shook my head, careful not to acknowledge the truth.
“I’ll remember that,” I said, pushing my chair back so I could stand.
“It’ll all work out,” he replied with a grin.
I nodded before I turned and walked out of the room, passing through the butler’s pantry and into the solarium. I fought a smile as I realized Conall had never bristled at the idea of Mac and me together over the past few days, even if I was a witch.
I entered the solarium, the peacefulness of the room engulfing me. It was a larger version of the drawing room, with floor-to-ceiling windows breaking up the white walls. A large white marble fireplace dominated the wall separating this room from the great hall. The overstuffed cream couches and faint aroma of the harbor gave the room the air of being the waiting room in a high-end spa—an ambience I embraced at the moment.
My stomach twisted as I recalled Mac’s story about the curse on my family. How could we be together if the consequences were so dire? But were they even true? There was only one person I trusted to tell me the truth.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Aunt Amara’s number. After a few rings, her familiar voice greeted me. “Hello?”
“Aunt Amara, it’s me,” I said, the softness of my voice betraying more emotion than I intended.
“Rory! It’s good to hear from you. I take it you made it to Ireland safely?” Her question was more of a statement pointing out I hadn’t called her in a few days.
“I’m sorry, I should have called. Dún Na Farraige is gorgeous. It is an entirely different world from Oak Leaf Hallow.” Our plantation was beautiful, a world of its own, but the manor's grandeur dwarfed our home in almost every way.
Aunt Amara’s small chuckle came through the phone. “How is everything else going, child?”
I hesitated. It was like she already knew why I called. I bit my lip, changing my mind. “Have you spoken to Lyra? She’s being a bit… difficult.”
Amara’s tone softened. “How so?”
“She keeps insulting our hosts. She doesn’t have to trust them, but she should at least trust me. Don’t I get some authority as the High Priestess Heir?”
“Lyra has her own ways.”
Her words caused my heartbeat to slow down and the anger to dissipate a little. “I know. I know you raised us like sisters, so I should trust her more…”
“It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Aunt Amara said. If I were sitting in the room with her, I’m sure I would see her eyebrow rising.
I pulled my knees to my chest as I stared out the window. “But sometimes it feels like she wants to take over the coven, not just support me with it.”
Amara chuckled softly. “She’s nervous, Rory. She doesn’t understand everything that’s happening, and her way to handle it is to take control, but that is never the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, as the High Priestess, there will be times when you won’t have all the answers. Your magic will guide you to the path, and you must follow it, regardless of who stands in your way. The true High Priestess guides the coven through any adversity and stands firm in her power.”
My chest tightened. “How can I be certain I know the right path?”
“Uncertainty is part of leadership, and if you can’t navigate that, guiding this coven will be difficult, but you have all of nature and the ancestors to help you.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Uncertainty seems to be all I have right now.”
“There’s another reason you’re uncertain, isn’t there?” she asked gently.
I chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “Have you been talking to your daughter?”
“Maybe,” she teased. “So what is it?”
“Mac told me a story the other night… about a witch in our coven who fell in love with a vampire. Is that true?”
There was a long pause on the other end. “Yes, child. It’s true.”
My voice tightened as my heart fell. “So… witches and vampires can’t be together?”
“I didn’t say that. I said the story was true. It’s something you would have learned in your training.”
“Why did it happen?” I asked, fear tingeing my words. Was I headed down the same path?
“The balance was thrown off, favoring the vampires. The curse was the punishment, reminding each High Priestess that the balance must come first.”
“How can I…” I stopped just shy of admitting my feelings for Mac. I didn’t even want to admit them to myself.
It didn’t matter. Aunt Amara knew. She always did. “Rory, there is no sign that you are anywhere but where you should be. You need to follow your heart.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, forcing my voice to be just louder than a whisper, a small glimmer of hope mixed with the darkness of uncertainty in my stomach.
“Do you think I haven’t been watching? That I haven’t been keeping an eye on your future, making sure you’re on the right path.”
My shoulders relaxed. Of course Aunt Amara had been keeping a supernatural eye on me. I wasn’t just her niece but also the future of the coven, part of her legacy. “So what do you see?” I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
“The future isn’t laid out clearly before me, but I know this. You are where you’re supposed to be, and you’re with who you’re supposed to be with.”
“So are you saying that Mac and I…” A wave of relief washed over me, loosening the knot of fear twisting inside me. Was I free to follow my own heart?
“But what if I choose not to?” I asked, the old uncertainty creeping back in.
“Not to what, dear?”
I sighed. “Not to follow my heart.”
Aunt Amara’s voice softened. “Then that’s something you’ll have to work through. Whatever truth you need to see, let your heart guide you. It knows where you need to be—and who you need to be with. The spirits will guide you and your friend.”
“And what about the coven?” I asked, baring my last fear to her.
“The coven will always support you. You are our High Priestess Heir. There is no one more important to us than you. Find the path you are being led to and walk it.”
I gazed out the window at the harbor, watching the waves roll in, a sense of calm settling over me. The desire to pull Mac into my arms, feel his lips on mine, and never part from him accompanied it. Could I really have the family I had always dreamed of and lead my coven with a vampire at my side?
A small smile spread across my lips. “Thank you, Aunt Amara,” I breathed. “I’ll do my best to make you proud.”
“You always do that, child,” she said with a smile in her voice matching my own and a hint of wistful nostalgia. “This is your moment.”
The call ended, but her words lingered in my mind. It was up to me. Nothing stopped a vampire and a witch from being together except for me.