Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
SELENE
The abbey appeared much as I remembered it, with its crumbling arches, ivy-eaten stone, and the low cemetery wall close by, with its leaning headstones worn smooth by centuries of rain.
In full daylight, the ancient structure looked less like something from a nightmare and more like something from a painting. Beautiful, even broken.
Maeve released my arm and turned in a circle. “Oh,” she said softly.
I stood beside her and gave the structure the same attention she did. “Right?”
“How old is it?”
“Bren said hundreds of years. Originally a Franciscan friary.”
My friend strode forward, stepping carefully into the open space of the nave, and looked up through the roofless arch to the pale blue sky. “Were you scared? Last night, when he brought you here.”
“Terrified. Especially after I sensed the wraith. But Bren was patient and let me take my time.” A soft, embarrassed snort slipped from me. “I made him hold my hand.”
Maeve snorted. “And he was okay with that?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t give him much choice. I’m sure he knew it was the only way I’d approach the creature.”
She arched a brow but said nothing as she turned away. But I glimpsed her smile and allowed myself a brief one too. Though I quickly erased it in case she looked back.
When we reached the cemetery, I glanced more closely at the headstones. None were still perfectly upright, and some had tipped completely. “It’s sad that we can’t read the names on most of these.”
Maeve let out a soft sigh. “True. The stones remain, but the carvings fade.”
People who loved and laughed, with no one left to remember them. “Maybe Bren has a record of who’s buried here. He seems to have many documents from the past.”
Her eyes flashed with interest. “Does he now? That’s lucky. If he lets you take a peek, I want to join you. I love old history and the stories that go along with it.”
I offered her a warm smile, grateful for her friendship and our shared passion. Back in the States, I’d never found a friend who loved restoration and old things the way I did.
“So,” she said eventually, not looking at me. “Bren held your hand in a graveyard at midnight. That sounds romantic.”
I lifted a hand to stop her. “Don’t make it more than it was. It’s his job to protect the Veil between worlds, and my abilities surprise him. That’s where his interest lies.”
She tilted her head. “And what about your interest?”
I dropped my gaze to the graves, noting how the headstones caught the morning light. “He is attractive,” I said finally. “I’m not blind.”
She made a soft, satisfied sound. “There it is.”
I flicked an amused glance at her. “There nothing is. He seems genuinely confused about who and what I am. Same as me.”
Maeve didn’t seem convinced, but she let it go as she crouched down near the base of the wall and examined a section of the floor, the stone tiles still faintly visible beneath the soil and moss.
When she spoke, her voice took on a careful tone. “I rang Gran last night while I was waiting for you.”
My interest sprang to life. “Did you mention the ward witch thing?”
“I asked her what she knew about them, if there was anything from the old stories.” She stood and dusted her hands on her coat. “She seemed surprised that I’d asked.”
I fought back the tension rising inside me. “What did she say?”
Maeve came to stand beside me, piercing me with a curious gaze.
“She said there were women who could sense when places were wrong. Not cursed or haunted necessarily. More like out of alignment. Like a door hung crooked.” She paused.
“She said some of them could settle a house just by touching the walls.”
I froze. The morning birds continued overhead, and I let her words sit.
What she’d said was all too familiar, but her gran naming it hit a nerve I hadn’t known was there. With just a few sentences, Maeve had shone a bright light on all the things my Aunt Kit had easily dismissed, even to the point that I had stopped speaking about my intuition.
“Gran called them ward witches, as expected,” Maeve continued as though she hadn’t rocked my world.
“Not as a tease, the way I always did with you. She said they didn’t cast spells to make things happen.
Instead, they corrected things. Set boundaries.
Reinforced the edges of places that were starting to fail. ”
Maeve took my hand, holding it tenderly between hers. “She said they protected thresholds. That the work happened in the structure of a place, not through force. She described you perfectly, Selene.”
My throat closed up as I blinked back tears. The emotions appeared unexpectedly, and I didn’t know what to do with them.
My friend huffed softly and wrapped her arms around me. “Ah, here now. It’s okay.”
I nodded and sniffed. “I know. I just—”
She patted my back. “No need to explain. I know you well enough to understand.”
I required only a few minutes to compose myself before I sniffed and pulled back. “Did your gran say anything else?”
A smile slid across her lips. “She asked why I was so interested, and I told her I had a friend who might be one. She said ward witches are rare and cautioned that we shouldn’t tell the world about it. Also, that I should hold on to you tightly. I told her I intended to.”
Ah, Maeve. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
I glanced toward the castle, suddenly needing to be in a more familiar space. “Except maybe to work. We should get going. We can come back here whenever we want.”
She gave me a knowing nod. “And we will. Many times, I suspect. There’s much hidden here, buried by time and weather, and I’d love to uncover it. Maybe after work hours are over?”
Warmth bubbled inside me. “I would love that too. Bren owns much of the property around here. I’ll see if this belongs to him. Then I’m sure he’d give his permission.”
Maeve linked her arm with mine, as we’d done when we entered the abbey. “That sounds like a grand idea to me. Ask him today, okay?”
I pressed my lips together and gave her a firm nod. “Will do.”