Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
SELENE
Istood in the center of the drawing room of the old townhouse on the north side of Dublin and swept my gaze across the space, looking for the source of the hum. Yesterday, the house had settled. It hadn’t quieted exactly, but something inside the structure had finally eased into place.
Today, something had shifted again.
The air carried a faint tension, like it had right before we’d finished. I felt it in the floor beneath my shoes and in the space behind the walls. Something was off-balance, leaving the house feeling unsettled, and until I found it, I would be too.
My co-workers, Maeve and Clara, stood near the window looking onto the residential street, a sense of completion and excitement coloring their voices. This was our first big project working together, and I wished I could share the feeling.
No, I would join them in celebrating. I just needed to find what had slipped out of place and correct it before my boss arrived.
The Harrington Townhouse had been stubborn from the beginning. Like many buildings in historic cities, renovations had been layered over the original structure again and again. Good bones often hid beneath decades of cosmetic decisions. Uncovering them took patience.
Apparently, this house required a bit more attention before it would allow us to leave in peace.
Clara stepped out of the room to answer a phone call, and Maeve wandered over to join me. “I don’t care what Clara says. You can’t tell me this place doesn’t feel different.”
Maeve, with her cascade of red curls reaching halfway down her back and eyes the color of Ireland’s rain-soaked hills, never failed to make me smile.
Her bright outlook on life had charmed me from the moment my boss had introduced us.
I had no doubt why he’d hired her to manage client relations and act as my creative assistant.
I nodded slightly as I studied the room. “It definitely feels better, but still not exactly right.”
Maeve winked. “And you claim you’re not a ward witch.”
I shot her a sideways glance that made her smile, but I no longer argued with her. She enjoyed romanticizing the world with her bits of fae lore, and I knew I couldn’t change her. Nor did I want to.
She turned in a slow circle, surveying the room with deliberate care. “Well, you do have that way about you. I’ll see if I can help. Any idea what it might be?”
Maeve was more open than Clara about things a person could feel instead of see, and I didn’t want to dismiss her offer. “I believe it must be an object, not something structural.”
She accepted that immediately and wandered away, examining everything from the sofa to the paintings we’d hung.
A loose wave of auburn hair tickled my cheek, annoying me.
I’d barely noticed when it had slipped free from the low knot at my nape hours ago, and I’d been too focused to bother fixing it.
Now, I paused to wrap the stray strand around my finger and stuff the distraction back into the knot, hoping it would stay.
Clara, the most serious of us three, strode back into the room, focused on her phone. “Mr. Murphy is highly pleased with our work, and as long as the client’s happy, I am.”
Her ash-blonde hair, which she’d smoothed into a sleek ponytail, left her looking far more composed than Maeve and I did. Her personality matched, and it was no surprise she handled project budgets, schedules, and permits with ease. All the things my creative mind thumbed its nose at.
When neither of us responded to her comment, Clara glanced up, her gray eyes lit with confidence.
“Just so you know, Selene, Mr. Murphy gushed when I walked him out earlier this morning. He’s about to leave us a glowing review and wire the final payment.
Cillian will be here momentarily, and I’d like to take a moment to say, well done us. We make a great team.”
My pulse quickened at the mention of our boss. Momentarily didn’t leave me much time to discover what was out of place. I fingered the silver pendant hanging from my neck and hoped it would bring me luck.
Maeve beamed and crossed the room to hug Clara. “See Selene. There’s nothing to worry about. I’d say the gods approve of our partnership.”
Clara stiffened and blinked at me in silent appeal, while Maeve squeezed her enthusiastically.
I smiled despite myself. We’d worked hard. All the early mornings, late nights, supplier delays, and last-minute design changes had slowly shaped the townhouse into something whole. Something beautiful.
Yet the drawing room still felt slightly wrong.
I took another slow look around, trusting my instincts. This time my gaze caught on the old stone fireplace. Yesterday, I admired the way the mantel finally sat in proportion to the ceiling height.
Today it felt…slightly off-balance. Just enough that my skin prickled as I stepped toward it.
“Selene?” Clara said.
My frown deepened. “Just—give me a second.”
The placement of the pearlescent white vase resting on the mantel caught my attention. It was one of the treasured family heirlooms Mr. Murphy wanted to keep on display. When Maeve had placed it, the arrangement looked perfect.
Now it didn’t. Maybe the lighting had shifted.
I scanned the room for a more suitable spot. Perhaps it belonged on the pedestal table next to the restored long sofa. “I just need to move one thing.”
My comment earned me a groan from Clara. “We already staged it. The house is finished.”
“I know.” But I’d move the vase anyway. “It’ll take thirty seconds.”
The moment I wrapped my fingers around the antique vase, a sharp chill shot through my palm. The room went still, and for a split second, everything changed.
It was as if clouds had rolled across the sun. The sage walls dulled into an older shade, and the floorboards were still darkened with age. The candles atop the soot-stained fireplace were alive with dancing flames, though the room itself was empty.
The cold came in from everywhere at once, and the silence had a weight to it, thick and pressing. The vase I thought I held sat at the opposite end of the mantel.
My heart tightened.
Then everything snapped back.
The late afternoon light returned in a rush, and for a moment the sage walls were too bright, the room too loud. Maeve and Clara’s voices came back as if a door had opened between us.
I stood very still with both hands around the vase, waiting for my pulse to calm.
I swore the cold had been real. My fingers were still chilled.
But how could it be?
It wasn’t the first time I’d imagined glimpses of the past like that.
My Aunt Kit believed my mind liked to reconstruct spaces the way they might once have been, filling in historical details the way other people filled in crossword puzzles.
She called it an occupational hazard of spending too much time in old buildings. That was probably all this was.
Though something had compelled me to move the vase.
I gently cradled the vessel as I turned, taking a few steps toward the opposite side of the mantel. I placed the vase in the spot I’d pictured in my mind. The room didn’t react strongly. It simply settled, as if it had found its position.
The hum I’d felt since morning quieted. The light sat differently on the walls, and the proportions of the space felt even and correct in a way they hadn’t an hour ago.
Relief eased out of me in a sigh. Maeve turned toward me, her eyes bright. “Everything came together so easily.”
I snorted. “I would say it’s more like we barely survived. Seriously, though, I couldn’t have done it without you both.”
Clara stepped away from Maeve, pretending to study an antique table we’d refurbished. “Either way, we finished on schedule and under budget.”
The sound of a car door closing echoed through the new windows, and I glanced out to see my boss’s fancy sedan parked along the sidewalk. Excitement tightened in my chest.
Cillian Ashcroft had taken a chance on me based on approximately one conversation and what I could only assume was either excellent instinct or a very low bar. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.
And I couldn’t wait to show him what we’d accomplished.