Page 170 of Releasing 10
“Oh, oh, oh!” Gibsie yelped, holding a hand up. “I almost forgot!”
“What?” we all demanded in unison.
“There’s something else. Something even worse,” he whispered in an eerie tone. “Because, according to town records, one of the five of us is a direct descendant of Grainne Ní hÓigáin.” He flashed the torch on and off for spook factor. “In fact, one of our houses is built on the very spot the witch’s house used to sit.”
“Who?” Claire demanded. “Oh no! Am I related to a witch?”
“No, Claire, we’re not related to any witches,” Hugh drawled. “Although, Aunt Sarah is questionable.”
“Shut up, Hughie,” Claire whimpered. “I’m really freaked out.”
“It’s me, isn’t it?” Patrick laughed. “I’m a descendant of the fucking banshee.”
“Actually,” Gibsie mused, shining the torch on all of us until settling it on me. “It’s the resident viper.”
“Omigod!” Claire screeched, trying and failing to pull her brother to safety. “She’s a witch, Hughie.”
Meanwhile, I bent over snickering. “That is so cool. I’ve always wanted to be a witch.”
“Because of Stevie?” Hugh mused, offering me a wolfish smile. “Fleetwood Mac, right?”
“Right,” I agreed, still laughing. “I love her witchy vibes.”
“‘Silver Springs’?”
Grinning, I nodded. “You remembered.”
Hugh winked. “I remember everything about you, Liz.”
“Why are you guys laughing?” Claire demanded, sounding genuinely petrified. “This isterriblenews.”
“Relax, Claire,” Hugh chuckled. “It’s complete bullshit.”
“And if it’s not?” his sister demanded.
“Then I promise not to hex you,” I teased.
“Oh God,” Claire groaned, making the sign of the cross on her chest. “I need to take mass in the morning.”
“Guys, I’m scared,” Claire declared several hours later when she sprang up in her sleeping bag. “I want to go inside.”
“Quit being a baby,” Hugh groaned, draping an arm over his face. “You’re perfectly safe.”
“But what if the Banshee of Ballylaggin gets us?”
“She can’t,” Gibsie soothed. “She’s not due around for another four years.”
“You swear?”
“Hand on my heart, Claire-Bear.”
“Okay, but what if Lizzie gets us?”
“I won’t,” I laughed.
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart, hope to die.”
