“Thank you kindly, councilman,” he says. “Gwyn, are you working extra hours at the store?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a busy day.” My shoulders fall. I didn’t expect to find another incantation to close the portal, but the letdown is real.

“I’m going, too,” Trinity says. “Charlie is cooking brunch as I speak. Merry Yule.”

Our coven leader, Shane, and Elijah exit the library. Skye, Tanner, and Spence follow them out, saying, “Merry Yule, everyone.”

“Merry Yule,” we reply.

“Gwyn, why don’t we go?” Archie asks, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll make lunch before you have to go to work. Seamus, we can give you a ride back.”

“Thank you,” he replies. “I’ll retrieve my coat.”

“Lunch would be great,” I say. “Leslie, I’ll be in and out this week to move my clothes and other belongings. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Perhaps I can prepare dinner one more time at the house. Tyler and Zoe could join us.”

“How about I make dinner?” Zoe asks. “I should get used to the stove.”

“Outstanding,” the Elder replies. “I’ll contact you later in the week.”

“Sounds great.” Tyler lifts a tome from a shelf and blows dust off its edges. “Wait. Why didn’t we go through this grimoire?”

Agnes shuffles over to my son and examines the tome. “Because it isn’t a grimoire.”

Tyler sets the worn leather-bound book on the table and flips through a few pages. “Looks like a journal of some kind. Where did you find it?”

“I don’t fucking know. I’m old. Picked it up somewhere in the last fifty years.” She scratches her head. “Oh, I remember. The ancient crone I studied with gave it to me on her deathbed. Gwyn, the same witch who gave me the amethyst geode. I had no use for it since it was written in a foreign language, but I kept it, anyway.”

My son sits down and turns a few more pages. Zoe plops into the seat next to him.

“This is so cool,” she says. “If I’m remembering my Irish class correctly, this is old Irish Gaelic.”

Leslie approaches them to view the tome. “Very perceptive, Zoe. You were always an excellent student.”

Seamus appears intrigued and limps on his cane to where they are sitting. Tyler flips through a few more pages.

“We really need to go soon, Gwyn,” Archie says.

“OK,” I reply as I zip my jacket. “Tyler, can you take the professor home?”

My son lifts his head, his eyes as big and white as billiards cue balls, and his jaw drops. Zoe covers her mouth with a hand. Seamus motions to me.

“You may want to examine this, Gwynedd.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, darting to them.

I stare down at the frayed pages, which display a hand-drawn sketch—a giant with massive muscles and one bulging eye. My skin crawls with immediate recognition. “Fuck. It’s my monster.” I gesture to Archie to join us at the table.

Seamus examines the writing under the drawing. “Zoe is correct. Kudos to your excellent memory of your studies. It is, in fact, old Irish Gaelic.”

“Can you translate the description?” Archie asks, staring at the image.

He reads the hand-written words and nods. “It says it’s a Fomorian.”

Agnes leans over the book. “What the fuck is a Fomorian?”

“It’s written they were the enemy of the first Irish settlers. Monstrous giants. A violent supernatural race in the Otherworld. But I don’t recall paintings depicting them like this. If I had, I would have told you, Gwynedd.”

“But why would I have a vision of one crossing over through the portal in the Celestial Gardens?” My heart pounds in my chest, and I grasp Archie’s hand.

Leslie locks eyes with Seamus, and he nods at her. The Elder touches my shoulder.

“Because Fomorians are also the enemy of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

“Fawk,” Archie says, squeezing my hand.

My hands tremble as aura rushes over me like a tidal wave. I clutch my abdomen, and a sudden sureness fills my chest. I stare into Archie’s anxious eyes.

“They’re already here.”

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Acknowledgments

Thank you to my son for all the tech support and setting up my online book shop.

Thank you to my daughter for her continued consultation on Welsh pronunciations.

To my book cover designer Charles Clark. My books would be naked without you.

Special thanks to my editor Sarah Faeth Sanders. You took my book and smoothed out all the wrinkles!

To my ARC Team. I can't thank you enough for your continued devotion to my books.

About the Author

J.C. YEAMANS is an author of paranormal women’s fiction and other fantasy. A former public school teacher based in Lewes, Delaware, she writes about all things witchy to find the inherent magic in life’s journey of discovery and love—all while making blunders along the way. As the owner of Reed Shore Press, she also publishes fiction and nonfiction works for others. Her prior career revolved around the performing arts. She is married and has two adult children. When she’s not putting pen to paper (or more aptly, fingertips to keys), she spends time biking, hiking, and weightlifting.

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