The Witching Moon: The Witches of Redwood Falls - Book 1 (3 page)

“Drake, you need to go. Now,” she said,
looking everywhere but him.

He notched her chin up with one finger,
forcing her to look at him. “I’m not leaving.”

“I can’t meet him if you’re here.”

“No one else is coming.”

She pushed away in frustration and kicked
the grass. “That’s because you’re here. You changed things. You
messed this up. Maybe he came but saw you and decided to leave. Did
you think of that?”

His jaw clenched. “No one’s been here.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been here all afternoon.”

Her mouth dropped open, whatever she was
going to say died away. He’d been here for hours? Why? What was he
trying to accomplish?

Her mate hadn’t come. She sunk to one of the
fallen stones on the ground. This wasn’t how it was supposed to
happen. He should be here. They should be happy.

What did you
expect?
She hadn’t planned on love right
away, but she’d planned on being happy at least.

She glanced at the moon. Six days. She only
had six days to find her mate and accept him. Could he accept her
that quickly?

It was hopeless. “You don’t know what you’ve
done,” she whispered.

He crouched in front of her. “Yes I do. I’m
him, Poppy. I know it.” She shook her head, but he stopped her. “I
am.”

She finally looked at him, truly looked. He
believed that, and she wished he was right. But he wasn’t. No magic
flowed through his veins, the Fates didn’t obey him, and he hadn’t
been marked by the moon. Whatever that meant.

“Let’s go.” She couldn’t stay here. Not even
for another second. The empty woods only reminded her of her
loss.

He helped her up. “We can stay, if you
want.”

Brushing off her pants she said, “There’s no
point. He should have been here by now.”

“Poppy—”

She held up a hand. “No. Don’t say it.”

He took her hand in his. She didn’t even try
to pull it away. It would only hurt him, and after it all, she
still couldn’t bear to do that.

Him showing up was the worst thing that
could’ve happened to her. It’d been hard enough that afternoon, but
to see him here, to have her heart’s desire within reaching
distance, mocking her, it shredded her. “I want to go home.”

“All right. Can I walk with you?”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything. There
wasn’t anything else to say.

When he left her at her front door, after
forcing a promise from her that they’d talk in the morning, she
went inside and sunk to the floor.

And cried.

Nothing would ever be right again.

When the sun rose the next morning after a
long, sleepless night, Poppy knew what she had to do. She packed an
overnight bag and loaded her car, heading out of town before the
town awoke.

In morning light, the emerald hills off the
California coast were dramatic. She could see why her ancestors had
settled here after leaving their home in Ireland. This land echoed
Cork’s green fields, the changeable ocean, the magic in the air. It
surrounded her, was a part of her.

Her grandmother grew up in the house
bordering the forest by Cloch Chroí, but passed it on to her
daughter once her husband died. And when Poppy’s own parents
decided to retire in Ireland, they’d given it to her.

She loved her parents and spoke with them
often, but the bond she shared with her grandmother surpassed all
other familial ties. Nana said it had something to do with their
former lives, and Poppy believed her. Her grandmother was the
wisest woman she’d ever known. If anyone could help her figure out
how to fix this mess, it was her.

She pulled into her grandma’s driveway an
hour later. From the bamboo shutters on the windows to the straw
umbrellas shading lounge chairs sunk in the sand, the modest house
on the beach fit her.

“Right on time, Honey. Breakfast is ready,”
her grandma said.

“Nana.” The relief poured through her.
Leaving the bags in her car, she sprinted up the porch and into her
grandmother’s arms.

“There, there.” She rubbed Poppy’s back
briskly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Poppy wasn’t surprised by her grandma’s
words. Nana was wise in ways that Poppy didn’t understand. She
hadn’t been gifted with sight like Nana.

“We’ll get your bags later. Let’s get some
food into our bellies while we talk it over.”

The house was relatively small compared to
the other homes along this stretch of beach, but it was just enough
for her. It was bright, airy, and once inside, it felt bigger than
it appeared. The kitchen was quaint, but welcoming, its bright
paint reflecting light from a large bay window in the breakfast
nook.

Her grandma topped french toast with syrup
before adding two strips of bacon from a pile cooling next to the
oven. “Better eat up while it’s hot.” She winked.

“How did you know I was coming?”

“Oh, well. The same way I always know.” She
smiled.

Poppy cut her food into bite-sized pieces,
but didn’t start eating until her grandma sat across from her. The
warmed syrup pricked her taste buds. She moaned at her first bite
of heaven. “Why are these so good?”

“Because I added a little magic.”

Poppy raised a brow before inspecting her
food. “You did? Want to share that ingredient?”

A secret smile crested her wrinkled cheek.
“Maybe someday.”

They’d had this conversation more times than
she could count. Someday she’d figure out the extra ingredient.
“Thanks for making these.”

“It’s my pleasure, Sweeting. I don’t get to
cook for others very often.”

“You aren’t lonely here are you?” Why hadn’t
she asked that before now? Was she so selfish, so wrapped up in her
own life that she wasn’t able to see the needs of someone she
loved?

“Oh, now. None of that,” Nana scolded. “You
have enough on your mind without adding misplaced guilt to the mix.
I’m perfectly happy here. I have friends. I have a life. I could
use a great grandchild or two, but first we need to fix the matter
of their father.” Poppy’s fork clattered on her plate. “Deep
breath, Dear.”

Poppy’s hand shook as she reached for a
glass of orange juice. “So, you know?”

Her lips pinched. “It’s not hard to tell.
You’re up here after All Hallows Eve on your 28th year. I’d have to
know something went wrong.”

“But I think you know more than that.”

“Perhaps,” she nodded thoughtfully.

“Did you see it? What happened?”

“Of course.”

Her hand shook as she set down the cup. “How
could this have happened? It wasn’t meant to be this way. The
prophecy—”

“Prophecies turn out the way they’re
supposed to.”

“I don’t understand.”

Her grandma dabbed her lips with a white
napkin before pushing out of her chair. “Come with me. There’s
something I want you to see.”

Poppy didn’t question her. She rose,
immediately following her grandmother into one of the small spare
bedrooms that doubled as an office.

Her grandma opened the door to the tiny
closet, the hinges squeaking from misuse, before she pulled out a
large leather-bound book.

She couldn’t remember ever seeing it, but
for some reason, it felt familiar to her. “What is that?”

A wrinkled hand caressed the front. “This
book holds all the important visions I’ve had in my life.”

Poppy’s eyes latched on to the cover. That
book not only held secrets of her grandmother’s life and every one
in her family, but could easily hold secrets the world wasn’t ready
for. Her grandmother was the most powerful seer of her time. No
one, not even in her mother’s generation, nor hers, compared. “Why
have I never seen it before?”

“Because you weren’t ready.”

Her eyes slid to her grandmother’s, the
light green color identical. “I don’t know if I’m ready now.”

A chuckle eased from her lips. “You aren’t.
At least not for most of it. I don’t know if you ever will be. But
your prophecy, the one about last night, is in here.”

The page was bookmarked, and Poppy wondered
how long her grandma knew she’d be coming.

Poppy scanned the familiar words, written in
the looping script. She read it slowly the second time through, but
there wasn’t anything new here. It was the same exact prophecy
she’d memorized. The one she’d been thinking of her whole life.

“I don’t understand.” She looked up
questioningly. “There’s nothing new there.”

“Read it one more time.”

Her eyes slipped over the words, instead of
reading them, she felt them. Deep within her.

‘
Til the next full moon is all the time
you have together to forge your union or lose it forever. If hearts
aren’t joined by the bright circle’s light, then surrender your
love to the dark of night.

The words sent chills through her. The full
moon was five days away. She had five days to find her mate, to
make him accept her. Or else all was lost.

“There’s not enough time,” she
whispered.

“For?”

“To find him.”

“What makes you think you haven’t
already?”

She pushed away from the wall. “Drake’s not
the one. He’s not magic. He hasn’t been marked by the moon.”

Her grandmother’s head cocked. “Are you
sure?”

“I’ve known him for years. I think that’s
something I’d know. Besides, I told him the same thing. He didn’t
admit to having magic.”

“Only you will know who it is. You have to
decide.”

Her lips firmed. “It’s not that simple.”

Her grandma’s mouth opened, but she closed
it slowly, shaking her head.

“What?”

Her grandma tapped her lips, hesitating. “I
can’t say more. This is for you to decide, for you to work through.
Go home. See what happens. Nothing can be accomplished while you’re
here. Time is going by, and you don’t want to waste it. I love you.
You’ll figure this out.”

Her grandmother’s faith in her did little to
sooth her worry. She didn’t know if she could figure this out.
Didn’t know if there was enough time.

But what else could she do? She couldn’t run
from this, couldn’t hide. If her mate was out there, he was around
her home, and that’s where she needed to be as well.

If Drake screwed up her fate, she needed to
trust that fate would step in once again to fix the mess.

All hope was not lost.

Drake liked to think that if another man had
shown up last night, he’d have stepped aside and given Poppy what
she’d needed. He was grateful that theory hadn’t been tested. She
mattered to him, more than anything, and he wanted her to be
happy.

He didn’t know much about the prophecy. Only
that she was supposed to meet her mate at the circle that night,
and that there was some sort of time limit. He needed to know what
the rest of it said and clear away any lingering doubt she may
have.

She hadn’t taken his appearance at the
stones well, but he’d prepared for that. He had to make her come
around. And he would, he promised himself. He’d be patient, he’d
wait, he'd do whatever it took to win her. Because she was it for
him.

With a deep breath, he knocked on her door.
It was late morning, the dew not completely evaporated off the
burgundy mums in the front planter, but Poppy was an early riser.
When she didn’t answer, he knocked again before checking her
windows for movement. Nothing.

He went around the side and peaked into her
garage, frowning at the empty space. Panic fluttered in his chest,
but he tamped it down. She was safe, she had to be. He’d walked her
home last night and made sure she was secure in her house before
leaving. Plus, he knew she protected her house with more than the
shotgun she kept loaded above the china cabinet.

Where could she have gone? Had she ran away?
No, he discarded the idea almost immediately. It wasn’t like her to
run away from something. She was strong, a fighter. When things
didn’t work out, she pushed through. It was a trait he loved about
her, something they had in common. Neither of them ever quit.