Page 62 of Pints & Potions

Father and daughter grimaced, and it lit Cian’s nerves afire. It was no secret they’d been through things like this before. Perhaps he should take heed of their warnings.

“You can go to bed, Cian,” Hoyt said. “Pip and I will take care of what needs to be done. We’ve found it’s best not to delay.”

Cian gave them a tired smile. “Then I’ll stay and help, or at least see what I should do if the gods decide to grace us with abilities in the future.”

23

“The first rule of casting is to protect yourself and others. We do this by creating a protective circle and setting enchanted candles around the perimeter on five points of the drawn pentacle,” Piper instructed.

“Drawn, as in chalk or paint?” Cian asked.

She laughed lightly. “Youcan, but we don’t. In our attic, we have it routed into the wooden floorboards. But if you’re in the open or in a non-designated spell-casting area, you can just use your hand and create one using elemental magic.”

“There’s a room here at the inn. I’ve been in it once or twice, but never explored it to see all it offers.” Cian shrugged. “Never saw the point without the abilities.”

Piper shot a quick look at her father and when he gave a small nod, she asked, “Will you show us the room, Cian?”

“This way.” He led them to the built-in shelving unit that held the O’Malley grimoire, and he instinctively grabbed it. His hands began to tingle and he almost dropped the book in his surprise. A quick glance at the cover showed it had woken at his touch.

“It seems to like you, son,” Hoyt said with a deep chuckle.

“It’s similar to a woman and easily charmed by the holder. Shutting down when it doesn’t get what it wants, and flirting with possibility when it does.”

Piper swatted his arm. “That’s a piss-poor view you have of women.”

She didn’t appear to be truly offended.

He grinned and couldn’t resist stealing a kiss from her beguiling lips. “Of course, I didn’t mean you, love. You’re the exception to the rule.”

With a snort and an eye roll, she said, “Right, player.”

“The room?” Hoyt reminded them, breaking the flirty, seductive spell around Cian and Piper.

Wordlessly, Cian ran the flat of his hand under the lowest shelf until he felt the lever. After pressing it into the wall, he heard the lock disengage, and the shelf parted about an inch. The secret entrance was designed to part only enough to allow a finger hold, and let a person swing the door outward. Another latch on the opposite side would allow them to exit.

As soon as Cian crossed the threshold, he started down the stairs. There was no electricity, but the lights flared to life illuminating the way.

“Interesting,” Piper murmured. “Are they on a motion sensor?”

He shook his head. “It’s always been this way. It’s the only magic, along with the grimoire, that still exists for my family.” He held out a hand to her. “Mind the steps. The way gets narrower through here.”

Her delicate hand felt right in his, so he kept hold of it even after they reached the bottom of the stairs. As they entered the cavernous chamber under the inn, the wall sconces flared to life and the dancing flame revealed a ten-foot-wide pentacle on the stone floor. In the center stood a wooden altar with runes burned into its surrounding panels.

The moment Piper stepped into the circle, those runes woke and pulsed with a low light. “This is incredible,” she breathed. Her awe-filled gaze swept the entire space. “It makes me want to perform ceremonies. Can you believe it?”

Cian had always felt uncomfortable here, as if it didn’t quite belong to him. Maybe it was because he didn’t have magic and the room intimidated him, or perhaps he felt a greater power here and it made him feel small. But he’d avoided the place whenever possible in the past.

Seeing it through Piper’s eyes gave him a new appreciation. “Should I join you?”

Her wide, welcoming smile was all the answer he needed. With a deep breath and a silent prayer to the gods he wouldn’t blow up the inn with his novice attempts, he stepped into the circle.

An electrical current ran the length of his body, much stronger than when he’d first picked up the grimoire. “I feel strange,” he confessed. “Like my cells are waking up and a charge is chasing through me.”

“It’s the magic of the place,” Hoyt informed him. “Unless I miss my guess, your home was built on a ley line.”

“As in one of the mythical ancient sites that channels the earth’s energy?”

“Yes. And not so mythical.” Hoyt crossed to a tapestry hanging prominently on the rock wall at the far side of the room. “Look here. It’s a map of Ireland, and there’s a network of lines.” He snapped his fingers and produced a small flame. Holding it close to the tapestry, but far enough away not to set it on fire, he examined the map. Using a finger on his other hand, he tapped a spot. “If I’m not mistaken, this is your home. All the lines intersect here.”

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