Page 88 of Her Irish Treasures
Vivi spent the next few minutes regaling me about the weekend she’d spent with Hammer. They’d ridden long hours through the day and night, just the two of them on his bike. When they got tired or hungry they pulled off the road. Quaint diners. Rustic cabins. No change of clothes until she bought something new.
“And not designer stores, either.” She gave the beefy man behind the wheel a playful growl. “Only thrift stores. That was the rule.”
I gasped and clutched invisible pearls. “Oh my. However did you survive without Prada or Versace?”
She nodded. “I know. It was quite the challenge. But it was fun. Besides, I was out of my clothes more than I was in them.”
I plugged my ears and sang loudly, “La la la, I’m not listening to the gory details of your sex life.”
Laughing, she snuggled up against him, peeking back at me over his shoulder. Her eyes glowed with happiness. Her hair was loose and casually tousled, rather than her normally smooth and perfect waves. No makeup. And she’d never looked more beautiful.
“Love looks good on you,” I whispered, grinning.
“You too, honey. Even if they’re assholes. Want to see what I brought?”
Sniffing, I nodded. She jerked her head toward the other passenger door. “Lucky for you I’ve been using my largest tote.”
Gucci, of course, with plenty roomy for even the sketchpad. I pulled out my artist supplies. “You don’t have any water by chance?”
“Check the rear cargo section,” Hammer replied. “They loaded a ton of shit in the back. I’m guessing they would’ve thought to send water and snacks because they didn’t want us to stop anywhere.”
Dangling over the backseat to reach—cursing my short arms—I found a large case of bottled water, along with an arsenal of what looked like farming equipment in the back. Old, rusted spikes, the ends of spades and hoes, even a few crowbars. A case of cheap salt. My duffle bag. Of course, Aidan would have made sure I had something to wear.
Blinking back round two of waterworks, I focused on getting my paints ready. “You’re going to have to pull over once I start painting.”
Hammer groaned. “You heard the man. I can’t—”
“Sure you can, babe.” Vivi leaned up and whispered in his ear. I didn’t look up but from the sounds I was pretty sure she was using her tongue more than her words to convince him.
I pulled out my phone. “What do you know about Roanoke Park?”
“Not much,” she replied. “Is that where the action is going down?”
“Yeah. Evidently there’s a cave in the park that had some kind of break in.”
“Oh, I heard about that on the news,” Hammer said. “The cave was walled off over fifty years ago because some kids got lost inside. At least that was the excuse. Now the concrete blocking the entrance was knocked down overnight. Some joggers noticed and called the police. I’m guessing it’s being guarded to keep people out.”
With the current news story, I found several images online. A rocky cliff jutted up from the ground, covered in moss and vines. A large tree grew to the side, branches stretching out over the hole like a leafy roof. Though in this picture, the hole was covered in cement. I’d have to do some modifications based on the time of year. The tree wouldn’t have any leaves, and there’d probably be some ice and snow gathered in the ridges. Especially along the ground. Which way did the cliff face? Would the sun have melted everything already?
I’ll have to guess. Trust the magic. Let my brush find the answers as I go.
“Okay, I’m ready to start painting. Can you pull off the road?”
He blew out a sigh. “I’ll take the next exit. Though Aidan’ll have my hide.”
My lips quirked, my cheeks heating at the thought of what Aidan would do when he found out what I’d done. It wouldn’t only be my face burning. “Let me worry about him.”
“Are you hoping to paint a clue?” Vivi asked.
I shook my head as I lightly sketched out the cliff and tree. “Not exactly. I’m not even sure this is going to work. Give me a few minutes and then I’ll tell you what I’m hoping to do. These aren’t my normal mediums but I didn’t want to worry about cleaning my brushes. Besides, even in that giant tote, you wouldn’t have had room for my smallest canvas.”
They let me work in silence. The sound of the charcoal gliding over the paper was soothing. Familiar. The smell of paper. The pigments that flowed across the page. My nape prickled and goosebumps rose on my arms. My fingers tingled. I could feel the magic filling me as I breathed, flowing in and out of me, pulling me closer to the picture beneath my brush. I painted a tiny blue bird sitting on a limb and I could almost hear its song. A yellow butterfly floated like a delicate leaf. The sun showered the cliff in golden sparkles that spun in a slow dance that I choreographed with my brush.
My heart thudded heavily. I set the brush aside, letting the last strokes of pigmented water settle deeper into the paper. “I’m not sure that this will work, but I’m going to try and travel like the fae do. If I understood Warwick correctly, then fae can fold locations together without moving at all. If I had time, I’d experiment and see if I could take you to the Summer Isle first. Though I’m not sure that I could enter it without him.”
:My home is always open to you,mo stór.No ward could keep you out, even if that be my intention.:
I laughed in my head, relieved that he could still hear my thoughts.:Don’t tell Aidan what I’m going to try and do.:
