Page 77 of The Water Witch (Fairwick Chronicles 2)

“There’s an ancient spell for banishing Nephilim and one person in Fairwick who might know what it is.” Frank exchanged a look with Angus, who nodded. “I’m going to go see her. In the meantime, you should go with the Stewarts to Lura’s and see what you can do about getting Lorelei to go back to Faerie. Then go to the door and open it. The Grove won’t try to close the door until everyone has gone through it and I’ll be there before then. Once those Nephilim bastards have been banished, the Grove will realize they won’t have any Aelvesgold if the door is closed. They won’t dare close it then.”

I started to tell Frank that they wouldn’t be able to close it even if they wanted to because of the link I’d made with my heart, but before I could, I heard Bill’s voice behind me.

“Let me help you.”

He was standing in the doorway to the library with a mop in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. I was about to object—Bill had no idea what he would be getting himself into, but Frank was already extending his hand to shake Bill’s. Bill leaned the mop against the wall, put the teacup down on the foyer table, and grasped Frank’s hand in his. A secret understanding seemed to pass between the two men and I was damned if I knew what it was. For all I knew, they rooted for the same baseball team.

“Glad to have you on board, Bill,” Frank said. “I could use your help.”

There didn’t seem to be anything I could say except a hurried good-bye to Bill. “There might be some things you’ll want explained,” I said.

“Let’s leave the explanations for later,” he said, kissing me hard on the lips. Then he was gone, leaving me to wonder what explanations he might have for me.

I went with the Stewarts to their truck—an enormous vehicle with jacked-up tires. Mac gave me a hand up into the high cab and then squeezed in beside me. The two Stewart men took up so much room I practically had to sit on Mac’s lap, which made him grin until a scowl from his father wiped the smile from his face.

We drove down Elm Street and onto Main, which looked like it was under a foot or two of water. The only thing open was the Village Diner. As we passed, I saw a tired-looking Darla through the window filling sugar canisters. We passed Mama Esta’s Pizzeria and Browne’s Realty. Was Dory with Brock now? I wondered. I hoped so.

A bitter-tasting grief was rising in my throat as fast as the floodwater. “We can’t let them get away with it,” I said. “The town would never be the same.”

“No, it wouldn’t be,” Angus agreed somberly. “The town’s barely been hanging on with the economic downturn. This latest blow might destroy it totally.”

We rode the rest of the way in grim silence, the rain and the slap of the windshield wipers the only sounds. We had to take a detour around the low-water crossing on Trask Road, onto Butt’s Corners Road, which cut through the woods. As we came around a sharp turn, the headlights picked up dark shapes in the road. Angus slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting the deer. The lead stag turned to regard us, his eyes glowing gold in the headlights. He stood facing us while the rest of the herd crossed the road in safety, his gold eyes seeming to look directly into mine. Even the enchanted deer were choosing to leave.

Back on Trask Road, we passed the Olsen farm. All the lights were on at the big house on the hill.

“They’ll be keeping vigil over the woods,” Angus said, “maintaining the wards until the door is closed. All this water disrupts the flow of energy. I imagine they’re having a hard time of it.”

“What about the Norns? Are they leaving?”

Angus shook his head. “The Norns are creatures outside this world and the world of Faerie. They say that when the first fey came to this world the Norns and certain other creatures were already here.”

We drove on in silence for another few minutes, then I asked, “Whatothercreatures?”

Before Angus could answer, Lura’s house came into view.

“Holy cow!” Mac swore.

“Language, son,” Angus admonished, but then muttered something in Gaelic which sounded far worse than what Mac had said.

Lura’s house was bathed in flickering blue and green light. A multihued wall of light surrounded the house. A dozen men, all dressed in plaid shirts, stood in a circle around the house, their arms extended, their broad faces stolid in the pouring rain.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“They’re holding up the plaid,” Angus said proudly. “That’s what we Stewarts do. It’s an ancient power handed down from our ancestors in Scotland. We can use the plaid to protect the innocent and banish the evil.”

I saw now that the wall of light was indeed woven of glowing strands of red, gold, blue, and green—like a luminescent tartan. But I also noticed that water from the rising creek was seeping through it.

“The house looks like it’s going to float away,” I said. “Surely Lura and Lorelei will see they have to get out of there now.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mac said, pointing to the porch.

A figure was sitting in a rocking chair. Waves of blue-green light reflected off the barrel of a shotgun laid across her lap. Lura was so still she might have been a statue of ash, but when the light caught her eyes, the hate in them was very much alive.

“You two stay here,” I said. “I’ll go talk to her.”

I slid out of the truck into calf-deep water. I waded through it, my feet squelching in the mud. When I reached the tartan ward, two of the Stewart men parted it for me to pass. I kept my eyes on Lura the whole time, afraid she’d dart away orshoot me, but she remained perfectly still. When I got to the porch steps—the bottom two of which were underwater—I held out my hands to show her I didn’t have a weapon.

“Can I come up?”

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