Chapter 1
You almost lost him.
Fi awoke in a sweaty mess of sheets, her heart hammering in her chest, her mind stuck in the boggy ground between waking and sleep. Having shot upright at the voice that raged in her dream, she now plopped back to her pillows, gasping, and attempted to sift through the images that threatened to slip from her mind. It was the cove, she was sure of that, for no dreams ever spoke to her as vividly as the ones that came from the enchanted waters in the cove. The problem was, this wasn’t her first time – and likely not her last – having prophetic dreams involving her hometown.
It was her bloodline that had enchanted the waters there, after all.
It was probably just another dumb tourist who refused to listen to the advice of the locals. Fi sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, willing her breathing to calm down. Every year, someone was seriously injured at the cove. Despite the posted warnings, despite the local people educating visitors about the vicious undertow, someone always insisted on trying to venture down the steep trail to the deceptively tranquil beach in the cove. They quickly learned their mistake, they always did, but sometimes at a steep price.
The cove was magickal, as was her blood, a gift which Fi often did her best to suppress. It wasn’t that she detested what had been passed down to her through her bloodline – it was more that Fi just wanted to do everything on her own. She’d been like that since she came screaming from her mother’s womb, ready to take on the world, and nobody could tell her differently. Sometimes the gifts of magick that had been passed down from the great Grace O’Malley herself came in useful for Fi, but for the most part, she tried to ignore them; it was vitally important to her that she conquer the world without any extra help.
The dreams, though – those were another story.
“Who am I losing?” Fi demanded out loud, closing her eyes and willing herself to see. Of course, the one time she did want her gifts to work, all she could get was vague snatches of the cove and someone in incredible pain. Worried it could be someone close, Fi checked the time and picked up her phone.
“Aye, and to what do I owe this pleasure? Me own wayward daughter, running about the world with not a moment to call her mum.”
Fi grinned at Cait’s words through the phone, having just spoken with her two days ago.
“I’m positively a stranger these days, I am. ’Tis a right shame I bring to the family,” Fi agreed.
“Your father is convinced you’ve become a groupie to a band and have gone to drugs now.”
“A groupie? That’s insulting. I’d start me own band, that’s the truth of it,” Fi scoffed, offended that her father would think she’d just blindly follow some deadbeat musicians around the world.
“Ah, so it’s just the drugs then,” Cait said.
“Naturally. But I just sell them. It’s how I fund this fancy lifestyle of mine. But I don’t use. Never get high on your own supply, as they say,” Fi said, stretching her legs out and letting her mum’s voice soothe her pounding heart.
“’Tis the smartest way. It’s why I’ve only a nip or two of the whiskey when I’m working,” Cait agreed.
“Is… everything okay?” Fi asked, closing her eyes so she could read her mother’s voice.
“I believe it to be. Have you had a dream then?”
“Aye, about the cove. Maybe have someone give it a check and make sure another tourist hasn’t ended up down there?”
“Shane, your daughter says check the cove. Have a call over there, will ye?”
“Tell her to come home.”
“She’ll come when she’s ready.”
“Tell him I’ll be home for Grace’s hen party soon,” Fi promised.
“Oh, right. Have you ideas for it then?”
“I do…”
Fi spent the next half hour chatting comfortably with her mum while the anxiety drifted from her neck and shoulders. All seemed to be well at the cove, so Fi shrugged it off as an odd dream and left it at that. No need to search for more troubles – she already had enough on her plate. Speaking of which, she needed to finish her project for today so she could spend the rest of the day shopping for supplies for Grace’s party. But first, coffee.
In the time since she’d been living on the Amalfi Coast, Fi had learned to love strong coffee like her Italian neighbors, though she preferred to linger over it on her small terrace overlooking the water if the weather was nice instead of taking it like a shot at the counter of the coffee shop below. Try as she might, Fi had never mastered the art of waking quickly, and she’d learned to build time into her mornings to ease into the day and wake her brain up. Fi now took this routine to sit by her window where she could read the paper – yes, the actual paper – and savor her morning espresso.
As a translator specializing in Italian, Spanish, and French, Fi thought it necessary to immerse herself where she worked. Hence the Italian paper, which she read every morning, front to back. It helped to loosen her mind and get her thinking in Italian, after which she could sit down to whatever contract she was translating and work with confidence.
Today, though, her brain struggled to focus. Inexplicably, she was drawn back to the memory of a man whose image periodically drifted through her mind. Liam Mulder. She wondered where he was these days.
She hadn’t been long out of university when she’d first met him. Fi thought back, closing her eyes and tipping her face up to the sun that struggled to shine through the clouds.
She’d been green, eager for work, and ready to take on the world. Sean Burke, Margaret’s husband and kin to Fi, had hired her to translate a contract for his shipping company up in Dublin. Fi still remembered her first day: Dressed in a smart black suit and wearing sky-high red heels, she’d walked into the meeting and realized just how egregiously overdressed she was. Scattered around the table were a slew of men in denim pants and button-down shirts, sleeves casually rolled to their elbows. Immediately recognizing her dismay, Sean had welcomed her and put her at ease, a warning look in his eyes for the others. Only Liam had smiled widely at her, including her in on the joke she’d made of herself. She’d immediately taken to him.
Through their negotiations – Sean was acquiring two new ships from an Italian shipping company – Fi had found herself laughing and chatting with Liam. There was something about the careless confidence he’d exuded that had pulled Fi in.
When he’d invited her for a drink after work, Fi had eagerly accepted. But when she arrived back at Sean’s house, where she’d been staying the night to catch up with him and Margaret, he had called to cancel.
“Work conflicts,” Liam had said, apologizing gracefully.
“It’s not our time,” Fi had replied, then pulled the phone away to look at it in shock. Where had that come from?
“Is that so? Well, you’ll have to let me know when it is,” Liam had said, and Fi had hung up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What was wrong with her?
“That Liam?” Sean had asked, watching her carefully from across the table.
“Aye, that was. He called off meeting up tonight.” Fi shrugged.
“That’s a lad. Wouldn’t want to mix business and pleasure,” Sean had said, and then gruffly changed the subject. That was when Fi had realized Sean had scared Liam off.