“Ugh. Do we have to hike back on the trail through the bog? With the higher temp, gnats will cover the area. I’m not in the mood for wiping black insect dots off my face.”
Ronnie sports a fake pout. “Please? Returning on the same trail bores me. The pests may not be so bad.”
“You win. But let’s definitely leave the bog side for our return.”
“Thanks, Gwyn. I’m so big now, I feel like a whale and waddle like a duck. I don’t know how Derek gets it up.”
“Oh, stop.” I laugh, and my amusement resounds through the forest. “You look radiant. You were always gorgeous, but you’re positively glowing during this pregnancy.”
“I guess,” she says. “Have you had any luck with your search for the monster from your vision?”
“No, but I keep looking. I don’t have a lot of time between school and work. And then there’s the question of the mound. The coven hasn’t met at Agnes’s house to finish sifting through the remaining grimoires yet. I doubt we will now. The Celtic Studies department took a hit when the College of Arts and Sciences cut the additional full-time professor position. The single person they added was Dr. Ashley Lewis, and she’s an instructor. Leslie, Archie, and Seamus all had to overload their schedules. That leaves very few hours to complete the spell database. I think Leslie has given up on finding an incantation to close the portal.”
“I wish I could help, but I’m a little…you know.” She points to her bump.
“Don’t you dare worry about it. You have plenty on your plate. We may not get to the last of the grimoires until the semester is over. If we can’t find a spell by then, Archie says we’ll ask his family for suggestions when we visit. Aunt Gorawen couldn’t help. She thinks the ancestral witch who wrote the incantation in my family’s tome must have left out a step or an ingredient. That’s her best guess, anyway.”
“Meanwhile, we all worry every day about what could cross over from the Otherworld. Keep looking for that gray-skinned dude.”
“I will. Seamus gave me a reference book yesterday at his house.”
“That was nice of him,” she says, her tone accusatory.
I hesitate to share what happened, but I need to tell someone. Sharing the revelation about the Irish professor with Archie is out of the question for now. He’ll say I should limit my interactions with him. If I’m going to have any chance in hell of discovering what the being is, I must have access to all the resources.
“Something happened while I was there. I tripped over his cane, and he caught me. He stared into my eyes like his entire life depends on my existence. I think he’s in love with me.”
“Oh, I was joking,” Ronnie says with a wave of her hand. “We know he is devoted to protecting you. He promised your aunt. You’re reading into his reaction.”
“No, I’m not. He said, and I quote, ‘I am so incredibly grateful to you for reigniting my soul.’ Those were his exact words.”
Ronnie’s jaw drops. “Wow. How beautiful.”
“That’s your response? What am I gonna do?”
“How should I know, Gwyn? Don’t spend more time alone with him than needed, I guess.”
“Well, a lot of help you are.”
She cackles. “I’m here to please.”
We’ve arrived at the road that connects the trails and walk to catch the path back. I hate hiking in this section because the bog overflows and creates muddy patches when it rains. I haven’t been through here for months. The gnats are so thick in the summer evenings, they cover the area like a veil, and I end up inhaling the pests. Not my idea of a leisurely stroll. When we approach the tiny pond, the gnats are, in fact, in residence. However, they are sparse, and we bat at them as we pass the pond full of lily pads. Ronnie gestures at the floating plants.
“I love when the water lilies bloom in the summer. They’re so pretty—like white stars on a bed of green.”
“Seen through a veil of black gnats. Hard to enjoy the blooms when you’re waving your hands all around to keep them out of your eyes, nose, and mouth.”
“True. Use bug spray in the future. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
The snapping of wood echoes in the thicket, and I stop. I examine the area on the other side of the bog, but the trees are still, as if frozen in time. Ronnie turns around, grimacing and rubbing her abdomen.
“What are you staring at?”
“I thought I heard something across the pond. Nothing, I guess.”
We take a few more steps, and a warm aura overwhelms me, grasping at a spot in my core. I clutch my stomach. The rustling of fallen leaves resounds nearby, and I scan the bog. The water between the lily pads reflects like a sheet of glass.
“Did you hear that?” I ask, touching my flushed cheeks.
“Nope. Nothing. Hot flash?”
“No. I haven’t had one for a few weeks.”
“Well, your face looks like you ran a marathon.”
My gut pinches again, and I rub my stomach.
“You should really go to a GI specialist. These gas attacks can’t be good.”
“I think it’s the collagen I’ve been putting in my morning tea. Bloating.” In my peripheral vision, I’m sure I catch someone running through the trees across the bog. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Ronnie scans the area. “There’s nothing in there, Gwyn. Probably deer.”
I take a few steps toward the woods.
“Don’t you dare go in there,” my friend says, squinting. “I’m not in the mood to find another dead body.”
I chuckle. “You’re right. The deer have multiplied like bunny rabbits. Hunting season will be here soon enough. Let’s get back before the rain starts.”
