“Oh, well, at least that’s something.” Maura sat down in the pastel chair next to the table. “I can’t handle another apocalyptic battle. I don’t remember the bog witches ever wanting to take over the world, just collect a few souls.”
“How did ya escape the bog witch when ya were in Ireland?” Bruce asked.
Rory averted his eyes.
Jim started digging at the comforter, trying to bunch it up. He walked in a tight circle several times before plopping down in the nest he’d tried to make for himself.
“Tell me ya didn’t seduce her.” Maura silently gagged. She held up her hand toward Jennifer. “Sorry. I know the two of ya are…something.”
“In love,” Rory answered.
Jennifer’s mouth opened in surprise at how easily he claimed to be in love with her.
“Uh, I think maybe that’s a conversation ya should have with your girlfriend when we’re not around. It seems to be news to her,” Bruce said.
Rory looked at her and gave a light shrug. “I’m not ashamed of my feelings.”
“I…” Jennifer wasn’t used to talking about these things, especially not in front of an audience. Jim was the only one in the room not staring at her. She slowly sat on the foot of the bed, bending one leg so she could face them while keeping one foot on the floor. “I want to know what happened with the bog witch in Ireland.”
“It was what…?” Rory looked at his brother.
“Mid-1600s, maybe?” Bruce guessed.
“Aye, something like that.” Rory sighed. “I can’t recall how I escaped. I remember seeing someone who I thought needed help. She lured me into the bog. Or maybe I’m remembering stories I’ve heard told over the years. It all happened such a long time ago.”
Four hundred years ago.
Jennifer looked at Rory anew, studying his face.
Maura laughed. “Look, she’s calculating how old ya are.”
“No, I…” Jennifer chuckled. “Yeah, I was.”
“A woman lured ya into the bog,” Bruce prompted his twin to keep telling his story.
“I must have been stuck at that point. I’m guessing my magick didn’t work to get me out of there and…” Rory scrunched up his face.
“Remember.” Maura gestured to her brother with both hands. A light pink trailed from her fingers like smoke-snakes.
The trails entered into Rory’s eyes. He inhaled sharply.
“Aye, I was stuck in an enchanted bog. My magick wouldn’t work, and I couldn’t save the woman I followed,” he said, his accent becoming a little thicker. “A child circled me, not falling in, and then pushed me deeper so that I was trapped.”
Rory rubbed his eyes and shook his head.
“A child?” Bruce frowned.
“From a nearby village, maybe?” Rory stroked Jim’s head. “The rest of the memory is blank. Though, it does make sense in a way. Each time Jennifer has been compelled to harm me, I’ve been restrained and without magick. It’s that same trapped feeling. Plus, she comes after me with an ancient blade from that part of the world. No matter how many times we lock it in the vault, the weapon finds its way back to her like it belongs to her.”
“It’s not much, but it’s a start.” Maura pushed up from the chair. “I’m going to go to the office and call Ma. I’ll tell her what ya told me. She’ll probably want ya back at the house.”
“I’m not going up there,” Jennifer denied. “Not after that cheese.”
“Cheese?” Maura frowned. “Did Ma…?”
“No. She didn’t try to human cook,” Rory answered. “She laced a cheese ball with some kind of discovery potion, and Jennifer reacted with hallucinations—”
“It was like being on an acid trip,” Jennifer put forth. “A bad one, too. Instead of unicorns and bunnies, I choked out balls of mud and cried dirty water.”
“I’ve never seen unicorns when I was on acid,” Bruce mused. “Though I did see a herd of albino buffalos chasing a naked leprechaun.”
Rory and Maura turned to look at their brother.
“It was the sixties. I’m an artist. Free love and all that,” Bruce said. “Not to dismiss what ya were telling us, Jennifer. I’m sorry my ma slipped a spell on ya.”
“Just when we think the elders are finally catching up with the times, they pull some of that authoritarian medieval magick crap,” Maura grumbled.
“For the good of the family,” Bruce said with an exaggerated tip of his head.
Jennifer couldn’t tell whether or not he believed the words.
“Keep the family secret at all costs. Mortals can’t know about magick. They can’t handle the truth. Take their memories.” Maura waved her hands as if she could erase all she just said. “Ugh. Just ugh. I don’t know how ya stay around all that, Rory. I wouldn’t move back into the family home if ya promised me a thousand granted wishes.”
“Because they’re family,” Rory said. “I know ya have had your issue with some of the old ways, but family is family. We’re always there for ya if ya like it or not.”
Jennifer stared at her trembling hands. She didn’t have that. There was no family safety net waiting for her with open arms to help her through this bog witch thing.
“Ya would take issue with the old ways too if ya were a lady,” Maura said. “Ask our cousin. She knows. Why do ya think Malina ran off to live in Vegas with a luck demon? It’s not easy being a young MacGregor woman.”
Jennifer coughed to hide her sudden laugh at Maura’s use of the word young. Considering most of them were hundreds of years old, it’s not a word that would apply.
“Ya all right, love?” Rory asked.
“Just a little dust,” Jennifer dismissed.
“The men acting like we’re delicate flowers to be protected,” Maura continued, ignoring the interruption. “Our mothers telling us to act like ladies with pearls and white gloves so that it’s impossible to throw a proper fireball at a troll horde. Have ya ever tried to hold magick through dainty white gloves? Bloody things stain so badly. And forget running when your corset is laced so tight—”
“Tirade, sister,” Bruce interrupted.
“Aye, wee rant,” Rory agreed, his attention more on the puppy than his sister.
“Well, it sucks is all I’m saying,” Maura finished.
“Stepping away from my sister’s seventeenth-century undergarment trauma for a moment,” Bruce said. “Jennifer, I welcome ya to stay at this motel as long as ya like, especially until we get this bog witch mystery figured out.”
“Thank you,” she answered.
“I’m staying too,” Rory said. “And Jim.”
“Maura, how about I call ma to tell her what’s happening, and ya can go to the grocery store and pick up provisions,” Bruce suggested.
“Why do I have to do the shopping?” Maura crossed her arms over her chest.
“Aye, ya are woman, and I hear ya roaring or whatever, but do we want me in the lady parts aisle getting the feminine whatnots?” Bruce asked. “Or do ya think maybe this once ya can do the shopping?”