Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
SELENE
Maeve and I emerged from the thick sessile oaks, leaving the trail to the abbey and the emotional upheaval I’d experienced behind as we headed for the castle’s front door. The entire way back, we’d taken turns tossing out ideas for things we could do to clear out and preserve the abbey.
My creative interest was in full swing as we entered the castle, and I barely noted the now familiar scents of mineral dust and old smoke. We were several feet inside the great hall when Maeve grabbed my forearm, causing me to halt.
She turned to me with an odd look. “The place feels different from yesterday, doesn’t it? Do you sense that?”
I’d been so engrossed in our conversation that it took me a split second to understand what she meant, and I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten the restless inlay. I expelled a knowing breath and nodded. “Indeed, it does, and I know why. Come here.”
The light through the warped glass windows came in strips, bending slightly as I crossed the stone floor. I shrugged off my coat as I walked, until we towered over the Celtic knot design.
I cast a quick glance over it and immediately spotted the rogue stone. My coat and purse landed with a soft thud next to me as I dropped them and knelt on the cold stone floor. “See this? The little piece that’s out of place?”
Maeve bent and knelt beside me. “I do, yeah.” She turned her gaze to me. “Are you saying that tiny stone is causing it?”
I huffed softly. “Yes, and you may or may not be surprised that I discover a stone out of place every morning when I arrive, with no explanation why.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, glancing first at me and then around the castle. “Are you sure someone’s not messing with you? That seems more likely.”
I considered her thought for a long moment.
“I would probably think the same if there hadn’t been other oddities that have occurred over this very spot.
” I stared at the beautiful, intricate design for a long moment.
“This is the heart of this castle, and as crazy as it sounds, I believe this place is aware, at least on some level, of what goes on inside.”
She nodded slowly as if she was actually testing out my wild theory.
I placed my hands on my cheeks, trying to ground myself in reality, or whatever version this was of it.
“I’d been working here only a few days when Bren and I argued.
Or had words is probably a better description.
This grand lady didn’t approve. The floor rumbled in response, and I immediately thought it was an earthquake. ”
Maeve shook her head. “Unlikely. They’re extremely rare in Ireland.”
“Nora told me the same.” I exhaled a breath that still carried disbelief. “It’s crazy to say this, but I think the castle responds to me, Maeve. Watch what happens as soon as I fix this tiny stone.”
She remained quiet while I gathered the supplies I’d need and returned to the floor. It took no time to pry out the one-inch piece and cement it back in place.
Instantly, the pressure shifted inside the castle, and I pinned her with a look, saying nothing. Maeve blinked, hesitated, and then nodded. “Well, that’s interesting. It certainly fixed it, but Selene, that doesn’t mean the castle is sentient.”
I gave her a small shrug. “No, at least not like we are. But hang around here long enough, and you’ll see more.” I leaned in close to whisper. “I think that’s why Bren insists on having some conversations outside.”
Her expression turned curious. “He thinks it listens too?”
“He’s never said that, but I’m almost certain he does.”
Maeve returned her gaze to the circular inlay and studied it for several moments. Then she clapped her hands together. “Shall we get to work then? We’re starting the finishing stage of the fireplace today?”
I nodded firmly. “That’s the plan. I’ve half started a bunch of things waiting for you to arrive, so it’ll be good to have one part of the project completed.”
She removed her coat, and we got to work as if we’d never spoken of the strange inlay. Though I supposed there wasn’t a lot left to be said on the matter. At least not until the grand lady made herself known again.
And she would.
The great hearth dominated the far end of the hall, its stones darker near the base from centuries of peat smoke. I’d been monitoring the crack above the fireplace since my first survey. It hadn’t changed, which was encouraging, but I wanted one last check before we started repairs.
“Hold this.” I handed Maeve one end of the measuring tape and stretched it across the fireplace before crouching to read the measurement.
It matched the last three checks.
“Still behaving itself?” Maeve asked.
“Looks that way.”
She patted a stone along the edge of the fireplace. “That’s grand.”
I smiled. “I saved the fun, repointing part for you.”
Her face lit up with a grin. “That’s my favorite.” She returned to me, the measuring tape sliding back into its home. “This is why we’re such good friends. You have my back, and I have yours.”
“Absolutely.” I’d not experienced a friendship quite like ours, one that came easily. And I never wondered if I shouldn’t trust her. We just clicked, and it was delightful.
We worked for a while in companionable silence. While I finished cleaning around the crack, Maeve opened a window before she mixed a small batch of lime mortar.
Fresh air came in off the lake, cool and sharp with the smell of moss. Maeve made a small sound of satisfaction, and I smiled. Dust motes lifted in the cross-draft and caught in the light, turning briefly gold before settling.
We’d barely started smoothing the lime mortar into the newly cleaned cracks of the fireplace when the sound of a car’s engine drifted in with the breeze, followed by a door closing. “I bet that’s Bren. He’s usually here earlier unless he has something else going on.”
She arched a curious brow. “Like hunting down a wraith?”
An unexpected chill raced through me. I’d never considered that might be what he was doing when he wasn’t at the castle. “Maybe. I honestly couldn’t say.”
My heart clenched in anticipation, highlighting how much I waited to see Bren every day. But when the door opened, he wasn’t the one who paused at the threshold.
I immediately recognized the older woman, with her silver hair swept into a precise knot and her expensive-looking black wool coat. Margaret Halbrook, the chairperson of the restoration committee.
An uneasy feeling washed over me. I hadn’t particularly liked the woman when I’d first met her, but a professional couldn’t expect she’d always love her clients. I was aware I wasn’t her first choice for a restoration specialist either, but she’d been outvoted.
With that vote, she reluctantly allowed Bren access to the castle that once belonged to his family. But it wasn’t until that moment that it fully sank in. She may have approved his entering Mystwood and our work, but she’d been the person, or at least one of them, who’d kept him from it for years.
Now that I’d witnessed the actual state of the tower house, anger rose inside me on behalf of Bren and the entire country of Ireland. It would have been such a shame to allow this beautiful building to become too dilapidated to repair, all because…
I blinked, realizing I had no idea why she’d punished him in that way.
“Brace yourself,” Maeve whispered as she covered the bucket of mortar with its lid.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that my friend could assess the woman with one glance. She’d called me a ward witch before either of us knew the truth.
Margaret stepped inside, ignoring us, though we stared at her. Instead, she slowly examined the great hall as if she was taking inventory. The pressure inside tightened unexpectedly, feeling much the same as it had when Bren and I had struggled to communicate several weeks prior.
The smile she aimed at me when she finally looked my way was thin and measured.
I set my trowel down and stood, determined to remain polite. “Mrs. Halbrook. It’s lovely to see you.”
“Ms. Sullivan.” She stepped forward, her low heels clicking on the stone. Her gaze went briefly to the fireplace, then to the inlay, and then back to me. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
I shrugged as if not bothered by her presence in the least. “Not at all. We’re in the middle of the lintel work. I can show you what we’ve completed, if you’d like.”
She moved toward the center of the hall, her gaze drifting toward the decorative inlay again before she subtly stepped to avoid it. “I’d like to speak with you first. This is your assistant?”
I shot a quick glance at my friend, who remained where she was, trowel in hand. “This is Maeve. She’s the creative assistant for the project.” Among other things.
“Mm.” Mrs. Halbrook did not look at Maeve again, but she pierced me with a sharp, assessing gaze. “The committee has been following your progress reports with interest. It seems you may finish faster than the original timeline projected.”
Bren was the only one who could have given her that information, but my gut argued otherwise. “The structural work was in better condition than the initial survey suggested. Though the full extent of the damage isn’t always noticeable. We may uncover something unexpected as we progress.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” She tilted her head, the motion precise and birdlike. “How do you determine where to begin on a project like this?”
It wasn’t an uncommon question, but from someone who headed a restoration committee, it landed wrong.
I maintained my professional composure. “Survey first, always. Identify what’s failing versus what just looks failed. Then, address structural stability before anything cosmetic.”
She gave me a curt nod. “And your process for identifying what’s failing? You rely on standard survey tools?”
Her questions seemed to be ones she should have asked before hiring me.
I suddenly wondered if she was looking for reasons to dismiss me.
“Those and experience. People in my profession develop a sense for what a building is doing.” I kept my voice even.
“Older structures communicate a lot through their materials, if you know how to read them.”
“True, but you seem unusually intuitive about the structure,” Mrs. Halbrook said, as though that were a neutral observation.
I paused for half a second. Was she literally referring to my ability to read a space?
Because that wasn’t something I’d ever stated publicly.
Only a handful of people were aware. Bren, Cillian, and Maeve.
Clara was mildly aware but didn’t quite believe it.
“That’s gained with experience, I believe.
Intuition comes from pattern recognition. ”
“Of course.” She sniffed as she walked a slow arc toward the fireplace, examining it from a distance. “Do you often sense deterioration before it becomes visible? In your experience?”
A shiver moved along my skin, warning me to tread carefully.
It was nearly impossible that she knew anything about my unusual ward witch instincts.
But she seemed to know…something. I’d stick with scientific facts.
“Old stone gives warning signs if you know what to look for. Damp, fine cracks, mineral deposits, changes in surface temperature. Things you only notice after working with enough historic buildings.”
“Temperature?” She said the word back to me as if it were a detail that needed to be scrutinized. “You check surface temperature by touch?”
I blinked at the oddness of her questions, unable to understand her intentions. “Usually by hand at first. If something feels unusual, we use the proper tools to confirm it.”
Margaret moved to stand near the east wall, running one gloved finger along a section of the masonry. I wanted to point out that she couldn’t make an accurate assessment with her fingers covered, but I kept my expression neutral and watched.
“How do you decide what requires correction versus what should be left as it is?” she asked without turning.
I shared an uneasy look with Maeve. “You fix what’s causing damage and leave the honest signs of age alone. Not every worn stone needs to look new. A building that’s lasted six hundred years has earned its marks.”
“And when something seems wrong,” Mrs. Halbrook said, turning now, fixing me with a discerning gaze, “but you can’t immediately explain why. Do you trust that?”
Maeve stiffened, narrowing her eyes as she studied Mrs. Halbrook.
My instincts warned me to be careful. Had Bren mentioned my abilities to the woman? I highly doubted it, since their cordiality had seemed forced at best when the council first interviewed me.
My breath grew shallow, but I forced a smile. “My education and experience taught me what to look for in restoration. My opinion is that no changes should be made until the data has been verified. If you’re having second thoughts about hiring me, I hope that calms your unease.”
She held my gaze for a moment before her expression settled back into a thin, polite smile. “I have no issue with you. Call it curiosity. You appear very attuned to the property, Ms. Sullivan. It’s quite impressive.”
Somehow, that sounded more like an accusation than a compliment. And it certainly wasn’t something she’d spent enough time around me to assess.
The door opened again, and Cillian filled the frame. Instant relief flowed through me as he swept his gaze across the great hall, pausing for a brief second when he noticed Margaret. Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
I had a feeling Margaret’s interrogation would come to an abrupt stop.