The Selkie Sorceress (Seal Island Trilogy, Book 3) by Sophie Moss Read Free Book Online Page A

in that empty white palace, surrounded by tall locked gates. He remembered how sometimes they would hide for days in one room, and she wouldn’t let him come out. “It was really dangerous for Nuala and me to be banished from the safe haven, wasn’t it?”
    “Aye.” Brennan said quietly. “I’m amazed you survived as long as you did.”
     

     
    “HEY,” CAITLIN WHISPERED as soon as the kitchen door swung shut behind Fiona. “What’s going on with you? You hardly said two words the whole time she was out here.”
    “It’s nothing.” Glenna picked up a napkin, wiping at a nonexistent spot on the bar. “I guess I’m curious…why isn’t Owen reading selkie stories? The legends of our islands, our culture? He should be reading those, not mermaid stories.”
    “Is that all?” Caitlin said, gathering up her magazines. “I don’t care what story he reads as long as he’s reading.”
    Glenna turned, catching a glimpse of Owen out of the corner of her eye. Caitlin’s hands stilled on the magazines when she saw the look on her friend’s face. “Glenna,” Caitlin said quietly. “Is there some reason he shouldn’t be reading that book?”
    “Of course, not.” Glenna lifted a shoulder lightly. “Owen should read whatever book he wants.”

 
     
     
     

     
     
    T he working class neighborhoods on the outskirts of Dublin were a jumble of gray stone buildings and winding streets. Remnants of Christmas still clung to some of the homes; tattered garlands drooped from metal railings and dried-out trees lay across the gritty sidewalk, waiting for the weekly trash pickup.
    Sam pulled onto a narrow street and parked, cutting the engine. He took in the squat row house at the end of the block. Green shoots sprouted out of the tidy beds flanking a brick stoop and a stack of colorful pots leaned against a bag of soil.
    Someone was hoping to get a jump start on spring.
    Unfolding himself from the car, Sam ignored the dog barking at him from behind a barred window of one of the neighboring houses. He strode up to the cherry red door and rapped lightly.
    “Mr. Holt.” Eileen McKenna said, her smile warm and friendly as she opened the door. “You’re right on time.” She dusted her hands on a pink flower-printed apron tied around her ample waist. “I just pulled a batch of lemon cookies out of the oven.”
    “How did you know lemon cookies were my favorite?” Sam asked. The laugh lines around Eileen’s eyes deepened as he shook her hand. Her skin felt smooth and papery, like a grandmother’s should. “Please, call me Sam.”
    “Alright, Sam.” She waved him inside. “I’m sorry it took us so long to get back to you. We never expected to be gone so long.”
    Sam scrubbed the soles of his boots over the welcome mat and ducked under the doorway, eyeing the brochures, souvenirs and chocolates spread out on the coffee table. “Belgium?”
    She nodded. “Tom’s been wanting to go for years.” She looked over her shoulder, her green eyes twinkling. “My husband has a weakness for Belgian beers.”
    “Let me guess…” Sam held up a basket of truffles. “You have a weakness for their chocolate?”
    “Guilty as charged.” She grinned, nodding toward the spiral staircase and the faint sound of a radio announcing a local sports game. “But don’t tell Tom that half of those aren’t actually gifts for anyone.”
    Sam chuckled as he followed her through a cozy sitting room with a plaid sofa and a worn armchair. A small TV was propped up in the corner. The front windows were open and he could hear the cars passing by on the street.
    “How do you take your tea?” Eileen asked.
    Sam leaned against the doorway of a kitchen that smelled of melted butter and sugar. “Black. And I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”
    She poured tea into two mugs and added a dollop of cream to hers. She handed him the darker mug and snagged a spatula from the drawer beside the oven. “To be honest, Sam,” she