Marina
Murphy’s Pub interior lies in permanent gloom, the oak-paneled walls sucking all the light from the low-watt bulbs recessed into the timber beams overhead. Marina and her assistants sit in the far corner of the establishment, away from the last of the lunchtime crowd packed near the front door.
The glass case sat in the middle of the table, the top unlatched and open. Marina reached inside and removed the journal, gently caressing the raised letter on the front. Lifting the book to her face, she closed her eyes as she breathed in the leather. “This is the real thing,” she sighed.
“It looks like something you would get at Office Depot,” James said as he looked down the length of the bar and tried to get the attention of the server.
Gently placing the journal back in its case, Marina latched it up and dropped it back in the brown paper bag, which she kept by her side, against the wall and away from potential grabbing hands. “It’s real.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, with Bethany and James suddenly interested in all the Irish artifacts lining the shelves and walls along the length of the pub. They had both been in service to Marina long enough to know when to question her and when to let her be.
Just as James was about to run off to search for a server, a young man arrived at their table. “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Brian, and I will be your server today. Can I get you started with a beverage?”
Sliding across her bench seat, Marina moved closer to Brian and said, “Let me see your hand.” Looking confused, he held out his right hand, palm up, and angled it in Marina’s direction. Handing over a one hundred dollar bill, Marina clasped his fingers into a fist and said, “You will not be our server today. I want Catriona, please.”
Brian quickly pulled his hand away as though burned and took a quick peek at the denomination of the bill in his hand. “I’ll send her right over,” he said, shuffling off quickly and tucking the money into his pocket.
“What was that about?” James asked.
“I told you already; I have one more item that I want to pick up.”
The dark-haired girl arrived at the table, her brow knitted in concern. “I’m not sure what you said to Brian, but I’m going to catch hell for working in this section.”
“Relax,” Marina said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Sighing heavily, Catriona pulled a notepad and pen out of her apron pocket. “What can I get you then?”
Nervous and on edge at the start, Catriona began to relax with each visit to the table. Marina took more of a background role, allowing her assistants to do most of the talking, all designed to put the girl at ease.
When Marina finally asked for the check, Catriona looked a little disappointed. “Are you sure there is nothing else I can get you?”
Motioning for Bethany and James to leave, Marina waited until they were out of sight. “You have been wonderful, but I do need to be getting back to my hotel. I do, though, have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“Are you happy in this job?”
Turning to look at the old man behind the bar, who was glaring over in their direction, Catriona gave a little shake of her head. “No,” she replied quietly.
“Then why stay in it?”
“I’m not here legally. The man who runs this place is a friend of my dad’s from his days in Ireland. He pays me under the table, but he makes my life miserable in the process.”
Marina took the girl’s hand in her own, feeling the blood rush through the veins under her delicate skin. She shuddered a little as she spoke. “I can change your life in a heartbeat. All you need do is ask.”
“How could you do that then?”
“You know the big hotel at the end of River Street, the one with the big M out front.”
Catriona nodded. “Sure, I do.”
“Well, that hotel is mine, as are countless more across the country. I could get you a job in any one of them, no questions asked, but I would sooner have you come live with me and be my assistant.”
The girl’s eyes went wide, a flush rising in her cheeks. “It looks as though you already have plenty of help. I assumed that the people with you worked for you.”
“See, you are observant. I like that. Listen, Catriona, I have several people who assist me in my daily life, but I can always use someone as smart as you. I like to surround myself with smart, pretty things. I believe you would fit right in.”
“I, uh, I don’t know.”
Adding a generous tip, Marina signed the bill and handed it back to Catriona. “I understand your reluctance. How about you come and meet me tonight at my hotel, and we can talk more there?”
Glancing around the bar, Catriona seemed to weigh her options before saying, “Yes. I can do that, I suppose.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in the lobby bar at eight if that suits.”
“Yes. Yes, that is fine.”
Marina grabbed up her paper bag, stood, and placed a hand on Catriona’s shoulder. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
***
The pianist’s voice drifted across the lounge to the spot where Marina sat, a glass of red wine in her hand. Swirling the alcohol, she watched as the dim lighting overhead caught the wine, creating a kaleidoscopic effect that she found to be almost hypnotic.
It was still early enough in the evening for the hotel lounge to be relatively free from guests. Yet, Marina had already had to fend off a tipsy businessman-type who she had spied slipping his wedding ring into his pocket before making his move. She had let the man down gently enough, but given her druthers, she would sooner have torn him to ribbons and taught him a lesson in the perils of philandering.
A small ripple of applause filled the air as the pianist finished his latest song and announced that he was taking a short break. The absence of music did not last long, as the sound of smooth jazz soon filtered through the sound system overhead. Closing her eyes, Marina allowed the music to wash over her in mellow waves. She laid her head back in the booth, the soft brown leather conforming to her shape and holding her in a soothing embrace.
Her surroundings’ ambient sound began to slip away as Marina blocked out the world and imagined fountains of blood streaming down behind her eyelids, the taste of old pennies filling her mouth as the crimson flow seeped past her lips. Her heart thumped in her chest as it pumped more and more blood into her imaginary world. Marina moaned as she felt the viscous fluid slide under her clothes and down her body, slipping between her breasts and coursing a lazy trail down to her belly.
“Miss MacCarthy.”
The voice broke through the wall of blood, disrupting the flow and pulling Marina out of her meditative state. Opening her eyes, she blinked furiously, trying to re-adapt to the real world. She pulled herself upright and turned to see Catriona standing by the booth, a look of concern etched on her face.
“I am so sorry. Did I wake you?” Catriona asked.
Sliding across the leather seat, Marina patted the space beside her. “No. I was…I was elsewhere for a moment. Please, have a seat.”
Pausing to glance around the lounge for a moment, Catriona finally slid into the booth, maintaining a safe distance between herself and Marina.
“I don’t bite,” Marina said.
The woman smiled nervously, the corners of her mouth twitching as they moved upward. “I’m sure you don’t.”
“You don’t trust me at all, yet here you are. I knew you were a curious one the moment I set eyes on you,” Marina said, lifting her wine glass and taking a sip, never once taking her eyes off Catriona.
Catriona shrugged, picking at a napkin sitting on the table. “You scare me and intrigue me, all at the same time.”
Continuing to stare her guest down, Marina motioned for the server and said, “What can I get you to drink?”
“I don’t suppose a place as fancy as this would have Guinness.”
“You would suppose wrong,” Marina replied, ordering the beer and another glass of wine for herself.
The women sat in silence until the drinks arrived. Raising her glass and moving it in Catriona’s direction, Marina said, “Slainte.”
“Slainte.” Catriona chugged down half of the beer in a single gulp, licking away the foamy mustache from her top lip in an almost seductive way. Placing the pint glass on the napkin, she turned to face Marina, seemingly emboldened by the beverage. “So, why am I here?”
“You tell me.”
“Are we to play games then, Miss MacCarthy? You asked me here.”
“Call me Marina.” Running her middle finger slowly around the rim of her glass, Marina took a moment to take in the woman sitting by her side. She wore her black hair short and tucked it behind her ears, which were free from jewelry, although Marina could see holes for earrings. She wore no make-up, but her pale skin shone, as though illuminated by her emerald eyes, which blazed brightly, even in the dimly lit space. “You are a beautiful woman, Catriona, but I see something more underneath.”
“Oh, you do? What do you see?”
“Magic.”
Flinching at the word, Catriona reached out for her glass and almost knocked it over. Finally getting a grip, she lifted it and downed the rest of the Guinness.
“Can I get you another?” Marina asked with a smirk.
“Please.”
“So tell me, why did you make as though to bless yourself when we first met today?”
“I don’t know what—”
“Of course you know. You covered it quite well, but I can tell you were going to do it.”
Catriona waited until the server took her empty glass and replaced it with a full pint. She frowned for a moment, wondering how it could have come so quickly. With a shake of her head, she lifted the glass and took a sip. “I see things sometimes.”
“Magic,” Marina whispered.
“I don’t know if I would call it magic. My old gran called it sealladh, which is essentially the Gaelic word for sight. She had it strong. I only get glimpses now and again. It’s stronger in places like Savannah. Old places with blood in the cobbles.”
“Interesting.” Marina fought to control her emotions, but she could feel every nerve end in her body tingling. Balling her fists in her lap, she smiled coolly. “Let me ask you something. Forget about what you saw when we met, just for a moment. Look at me now and tell me how old you think I am. I want to know why you believe me to be the age you guess.”
The soft tinkling of piano keys filled the air again as the pianist began his next set. Catriona moved closer to Marina, her eyes unblinking as they took in every detail. “Your hair is naturally red, not from some bottle. I see no sign of gray. Your skin is smooth and free from wrinkles. You wear make-up, but you do so to accentuate your beauty rather than hide blemishes or lines. Your hands are perfectly manicured and have the look of someone who has never had to work hard.” Catriona turned and looked around the lounge. “No hard work, yet you are a woman of wealth, which leads me to believe that you are from money rather than being self-made. Your eyes are what throw me off. They have seen things that no one in their late twenties should have seen.”
“The eyes are the window to the soul,” Marina said, annoyed that her voice carried a slight tremor.
“So, how close did I get?”
Ignoring the question, Marina reached under the table, removed the journal from the bag, and placed it on the table. “What do you see here?” she asked, pushing the book in Catriona’s direction.
Catriona picked up the journal and leafed quickly through it, pausing for a moment to stare at the blank pages. Placing it back on the table, she closed her eyes and put her right hand on the cover. “Power,” she said quietly.
“What did you say?”
“There is strength within these pages. Something buried deep.”
“Would you like to see?” Marina asked excitedly.
“Yes.”
“Give me your hand.”
A jolt of electricity passed between them as Marina reached out and took Catriona’s hand. She caressed the smooth skin with the tip of a sharpened fingernail, tracing along the lifeline on the palm before moving up to the meat of her thumb. “Do you trust me?”
“I don’t think I should, but yes.” Catriona hissed as the fingernail pierced the flesh of her thumb. A small droplet of blood bubbled up from the wound. “What are you doing?”
Marina pressed the woman’s thumb onto the journal’s cover without saying a word, moving it around the letter inscribed on the front. Squeezing as she guided the digit, blood seeped out and quickly disappeared, as though sucked in by the leather. Marina reached out with her free hand and grabbed a napkin, which she wrapped around Catriona’s thumb as she moved it away from the book. “Open it,” she panted.
As Catriona flipped open the journal, they both watched as words began to appear on the previously empty page, as though scribbled by some invisible hand. Fear gripped her, but she found the courage to reach out and begin turning the pages, looking on in horror as the words continued to fill the book.
Heads turned to look in their direction as Marina yelled, “She speaks.”
The words continued to flow, written in a language unfamiliar to Catriona. “Who?”
“Elizabeth.”
Confused, Catriona shook her head and pushed the book across the table. “Who is Elizabeth, and what language is that?”
“Hungarian. Let me read to you.”
Throwing back another huge chug of Guinness, Catriona sat back and listened as Marina read from the journal.
Hungarian blood magic meeting Gaelic second sight in the body of a woman who was never supposed to be more than a waitress Marina noticed It actually works. Loved it