Wild Irish Dreamer - Tricia O'Malley

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