The Wand, The Madigan Chronciles #3

PROLOGUE
NEW ORLEANS ALMOST 10 YEARS AGO
Maeve can’t contain her excitement. Her parents are gone for the weekend,
her younger brother is staying with a friend, and she has the whole house
to herself! Kesha’s Your love is my drug is blasting in the house while she dances
to the beat. With a snap of her fingers, she lights a hundred candles. Her long
curls bounce against her back and her light summer dress hugs her body. Owen,
Owen, Owen, he will be staying tonight! Nervous butterflies escape from her
belly and flutter around her.
Maeve has always been a stunning beauty and has never lacked attention
from boys. None of them had caught her attention though. This one is different.
Owen is sensitive, funny, and insightful. A gentle soul, no grandstanding
or machismo; he’s just someone you can have deep discussions with that last
all night. His mother is one of the famous New Orleans Voodoo Priestesses.
He doesn’t display much talent in that area, but he’s used to magic, and hopefully,
she will be able to reveal to him what she really is. For the very first time
since her twin sister Bridget has left, she is happy. The future is looking up.
It has been such a stressful year. It is unimaginable to her that Bridget doesn’t
even want to talk to her. Her own twin. Maeve had tried everything, but after
one heartbreaking attempt after another, she had finally given up. There would
always be a hole inside her. Maybe Owen could fill that hole. Maybe, just a
little bit.
The oven pings and she quickly rushes over to look at her quiche. Perfect.
The doorbell rings and her heart skips a beat. One last time, she checks her
image in the mirror in the hallway. With one touch of her forefinger, she touches
up her plum-red lips. A giddy laugh escapes her. One final check of the room.
Is this romantic enough? This could be THE night and she wants it to be amazing.
The doorbell rings again, and with a long exhale, she tries to calm herself,
blows away the butterflies, and opens the door.
Owen looks up and blushes—the sight of Maeve can do that to you.
Luckily, on his dark skin, it doesn’t show much, and he tries desperately to play
it cool. Not his strong point. In his jeans and T-shirt, he feels sorely underdressed.
“Hi,” he finally manages to say.
“Come in.” Maeve pulls him towards her into the house, and gives him a
clumsy kiss.
“Wow,” Owen utters, overwhelmed by the romantic setting. “You did all
this?”
“You like it?” Maeve wants to know, desperate for approval.
“It’s… it’s romantic.” He swallows.
The awkward silence stretches, the air filled with anticipation of what they
both hope is coming.
Maeve clears her throat, “Do you want something to drink?”
“Yes, great.” Owen is relieved to be doing something and follows Maeve
into the kitchen.
This is blissfully normal, and Owen finally can breathe again, away from
the pressure of romance. “What is that? It smells incredible!” He focuses on the
steaming quiche on the countertop. This is rewarded by a full-watt smile from
Maeve.
“Would you like to try a piece?”
“Would love to!”
“Why don’t you sit down and open the bubbles?” Maeve points to the
kitchen table where fresh picked wildflowers and a bottle of Prosecco await him.
“Bubbles?”
Maeve was under the impression that champagne was the most romantic
thing you could drink. After searching the pantry, a bottle of Prosecco was the
best she could come up with. Legally, they’re not allowed to drink, but secretly
they have been drinking beer. So, for tonight, she thought to get the best.
Perfection was her mantra. “You don’t like it?” she asks, unable to hide her
disappointment.
“No. Of course I do.” Owen reaches for the bottle and starts to fidget with
the muselet, pretending to know what he’s doing. Little drops of sweat start to
form on his forehead.
Maeve swiftly fills two plates with a piece of the quiche, some salad, and
places them on the table on opposite sides, while she tries not to stare at Owen
struggling with the Prosecco bottle.
Finally, he manages to wiggle the wire off and without warning the cork
pops. Prosecco sprays all over the table, hitting Maeve right in the face.
“Oh God.” He runs to the counter and puts the bottle in the sink while he
grabs the dish cloth,
and starts dabbing at her clothes and face. Any earlier awkwardness about
touching her forgotten. “I’m so sorry. Your dress!” Frantically he tries to clean
it up.
Gently Maeve takes the towel from his hand and laughs. “Don’t worry.”
She giggles, which turns into a laughing fit. It’s hard not to join in. For several
seconds, they hang onto each other while they laugh. When their laughter
dies down, they stand close, their bodies touching, his face only inches from
hers. Hesitantly they close the distance and a careful kiss is followed by one
with more passion, and as their defenses fall away, their hands start to explore
each other.
When Maeve comes up for air, she grabs Owen’s hand and leads him to her
bedroom.
An hour later, the two plates are still on the table with the food gone cold.
Maeve stretches herself next to Owen, enjoying the euphoria of her first love
making, her hand teasingly exploring his warm skin. This was so much better
than she imagined. He gives her a lovely smile.
“Shall we take a bath? My parents’ room has a big jacuzzi.” Maeve’s eyes
beam.
“Hmmm,” Owen replies while he nuzzles her breasts. She takes that as a
yes.
“Let me go turn on the water,” she mumbles as she slides out of bed and
throws on one of her mother’s sexy negligees. Owen’s eyes are glued to her body.
She leaves the room with what she hopes is a seductive sway of her hips.
Her body is warm and aglow—a new sensation. Why had she waited so
long to do this? It makes her feel so different— more powerful somehow. Her
mother had talked to her sisters sometimes about the magic of sex but Maeve
hadn’t understood what it meant until now. Power is flowing through her in
waves, ebbing and flowing. It’s hard for her to contain the magic—it wants to
pour out of her. Something she could get addicted to. This thought makes her
laugh out loud. In her parents’ room, she has already prepped the bath. The
only thing she needs to do is fill it. This time with one snap, she lights all the
candles. The water flows into the tub and the bath salts she mixed start to spread
a pleasant sensual aroma. Oh, Maeve can’t wait to get into the water. It calls her.
Time to go get Owen.
When they come back into the room, the bath is full. With a kiss, she
distracts Owen while she whispers a spell against his lips to turn off the faucet.
Never in a million years could she have imagined that she would be so sure of
herself. Their love making must have given her confidence an enormous boost.
Her hand travels down and soon she senses Owen growing in her hand. He
moans into her mouth. A laugh escapes her again and this time, it bounces
through the bathroom with a promise of love and sex. It resonates within Owen
and he shudders.
“Let’s get in the water,” she softly says in his ear.
He follows her lead and steps into the tub. After a short minute, their bodies
get used to the warm water and they lower themselves into it. It’s a roomy bath
and Maeve turns the jacuzzi on low, so the bubbles tease their skin. Owen sits
back and he pulls Maeve on top of him.
She has never felt like this before. Her body seems to be at home in the
water. Something very deep inside her starts to unfurl. A tingling sensation
spreads through her while they kiss deeply as if their lives are depending on it.
Owen pulls her up and disappears underwater while she laughs. Her voice
sounds like music. When he comes up for air, the sound of her voice seems to
capture him. His face turns from admiration into worship. She’s the most
beautiful creature he has ever seen and her hair is flowing above him as if she
were underwater. This all seems totally normal to him. Maeve is the only thing
left in the world.
The tingling through Maeve’s body grows more intense and she seems to
explode, this time the orgasm takes her body apart. Fleetingly she wonders if
this is the ultimate sex. Her mind is totally engulfed in her pleasure and she’s
not aware that her body has changed. Her legs have morphed into a mermaid’s
tail, her hair plays in the air and her voice is magical. Owen is completely
enthralled. With a passion she didn’t know exists, she kisses him. Reaching deep
inside him, into the core of his being. The well of his life force tastes like sweet
honey, mixed with love and the complexity of what makes a person. He has no
defenses against her Siren passion. For several long minutes, Maeve rides the
pleasures of being a Siren, Owen willingly surrendering to her demands.
The splashing of her tail somehow draws her back to the surface of reality.
She looks down and Owen is unconscious. With trepidation, she looks back
just as she feels a weird sensation in her legs. Her tail flops in the bath and that
makes her scream. The candles extinguish, the light bulb bursts and the mirror
cracks. As quickly as her first transition has set in, it reverses and with a plop
she squashes Owen. Horrified, Maeve holds onto Owen. Why is he not waking
up? Her Siren screams turn to normal screams and it takes her some time to
snap out of her paralyzing state of horror and shock.
“Owen, Owen! Please, wake up!”

PART 1
NINE OF CUPS “GENEROSITY”
“You make all kinds of mistakes, but as long as you are generous and true and also fierce,
you cannot hurt the world or even seriously distress her.”
—WINSTONS CHURCHILL

NEW ORLEANS
Tara, the Madigan’s matriarch, sits in her favorite spot on the windowsill of
her room, overlooking the garden and waiting for the sun to rise. She’s
still in her night gown with her long, gray hair hanging down, almost brushing
the ground. Dawn is always a magical time, the first sunrays playing through
the leaves, chasing away the dew drops. Birds start to sing, and bees are buzzing
everywhere. A gentle moment in the day when everything is waking up. She
hasn’t slept much. The events of the last few weeks keep replaying in her head.
Jumping from one unnerving experience to the next. Every time she closes her
eyes, she sees the emerald green fairy eyes of her daughter Ceri, full of anger
and hurt. To admit to her that it’s true that Ceri’s real father is a fairy and had
forced himself on Tara was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.
Felaern was his name, and he held a high position at the courts of the land of
Fairy. A realm that Tara used to visit a lot when she was young. Whatever happened
to Ceri in Fairy has changed her. Not only in her looks, but her magical
powers have also grown significantly. Witch and fairy magic are mingled
together, an untamed wildness flows through it. Slightly scary actually.
For a moment, Tara mumbles a spell and a tiny light sparks alive above her
finger; playfully, she lets it bounce from one finger to the next and back again.
Her eyes follow the little light, only half-focused— it’s almost as good as a
meditation. A sense of calm returns, until the image of Bridget in pain pops up.
Her granddaughter was tortured. Who knows what the permanent scars will
be from that? She’s in her mid-twenties, a strong-willed vibrant young woman,
and although she pretends to be fine, they all know something is simmering
underneath. Hopefully Wes, her artist boyfriend, will be able to help her
through that. He has been such a gift to the family. Tara has quickly grown very
fond of him. His upbeat personality reminds her so much of her late husband
Seamus. He even managed to draw Maeve, Bridget’s twin, out of her shell. The
girls seem to have reconnected. The only positive that has come from all this.
Bridget did show an enormous amount of strength and willingness for
sacrifice. Tara is now sure she had made the right choice when she marked her
as the next Guardian of the Wand of Wisdom, the elemental force entrusted to
them. The Wand has been in the Madigan family for generations. Her age aches
in her bones, the Guardian needs to be strong. Especially now, Tara feels weak
and no longer in control of her family. The moment to pass on the Wand has
become urgent, she has waited too long. Tara can feel it, literally. A weight on
her soul. It’s been hard to pin down Bridget and convince her. She can understand
her granddaughter’s hesitation, but nobody wants that kind of responsibility.
It had destroyed her own mother, a sensitive soul. Bridget is the
one—there’s no choice.
When she glances at Seamus’ portrait, there is merely the empty forest. It
had surprised her how much the painting had brought her comfort since
Seamus’ passing. His smile and reassuring eyes were always listening and encouraging
her. Oh Seamus, my love. Wherever you are now, I hope you hear me. Come
back to me.
She blows on the spark at her fingertips, and it drifts into the air, out of the
window, in search of her husband. Resolute she turns away from the window
and gets up, ready for the new day.
Facing her own estranged twin sister, Lucy, has been another shocking
experience. Lucy had always been ambitious and her hunger for power had been
the cause of her being banned from the family. Although they secretly stayed
in touch for a while, over the years, it became less and less frequent. It had been
so long that decades had gone by. Almost forgotten… Until Lucy stole the
Dagger of Consciousness, one of the other elemental objects of power, and set
off their current predicament. With the diversion of a convincing lookalike,
they had managed to reclaim the real Dagger and hide it from everybody inside
the Magical Tarot Deck. However, the Dagger belongs to Gwen’s family, the
Janssons. Gwen has been staying with them ever since the Dagger has been
hidden. So far, Tara has been able to convince her that it’s safe where it is now.
But there is no doubt in her mind that Gwen will demand the Dagger back
soon. Should she return it? Is that family strong enough to protect it? After all,
Lucy had killed Gwen’s sister and stolen the Dagger from her. No—it’s safe
where it is now. Should Gwen confront her, she can always say that only Bridget
and Maeve know where it is and that they don’t want to say for safety reasons.
What has happened to her? To even think about hiding behind her granddaughters!
It’s not like her. Lucy thinks that Mab, the Queen of Fairy, has the
Dagger. When they both find out it’s a fake, it won’t take them long to figure
out that the Madigans have it! Better to start to plan ahead, be pro-active. Not
wait and see what her twin has in store. The things that Lucy, or even worse
Mab, could do with that amount of power are unimaginable. They have to keep
the elemental objects safe and away from them at all costs.
Tara has always been the strong matriarch of the family, but her position
is failing. She had lost the trust of her family. Maybe that’s the most painful
thing that had happened. Can she blame them? Probably not.
Time and again, she has run through her reasoning for keeping a lot of
things secret; if she had to do it again, she would definitely handle it all differently.
That’s all water under the bridge—there is no other choice than following
the path taken.
She might be old; she might be losing her grip, but she’s still the head of
the family.
For a moment she steps into the morning sunbeam and twirls around while
she recites an ancient spell to recharge. This helps to burn away the morning
blues.
Let’s see what she has to look out for. Swiftly, she grabs the Ace of Wands
from her altar and shuffles her regular tarot deck. With her left hand, she chooses
a new card. The Nine of Cups, a dolphin happily looks at her while her pod is
frolicking in the background. A happy card, it’s about being generous but also
being together and enjoying the pleasures in life. A good omen. This lifts her
spirits and helps her to get ready to face her family today. The Magical Tarot
Deck is locked up in the family safe. Not to be used again. This special deck
that Seamus had painted of their family caused enough problems. How could
they ever have anticipated that it would end up in the hands of her malicious
twin? That Lucy would wield it against them. Seamus’ card is still missing
though. They have to work on that.
When she finally makes it to the kitchen, Tara finds a moping Luna at the table
and Bridget at the stove. Luna is her most powerful daughter and rarely out of
sorts. She wonders what has put her in this mood. Another unexpected thing
that has actually happened is that Tara and Luna have found common ground
in how to deal with magical things. It has been a joy to share spells and work
together.
“Where’s Maeve?” her granddaughter is the queen of the kitchen and normally,
she would be cooking up a storm at this time of day.
Bridget’s back stiffens, “Don’t you trust my cooking?” There is clearly
something more going on.
A freshly baked batch of muffins is still steaming on a plate on the table.
Tara reaches for one.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Luna warns her, “It’s not the same.”