Chapter Ten: Tamsin

"No!" Valaky banged his hand down on the bar.

"I thought you just said it was a good idea," Tamsin reminded the vampire.

"No," Valaky replied. "I stated it was a good idea for Mason to seek this…assailant."

"He's right," Mason said, begrudgingly. "You'll be safer here."

"Really?" Tamsin shook her head. "You do know that the DuskWood Pack and the DawnLight Coven all want me dead because of that stupid prophecy. I'd be safer if I did never come back down those stairs."

"That prophecy which you still need to share with us," Stan reminded her.

"Definitely." Harry placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "We could try to decipher the prophecy while you are gone. Or at least, give you some pointers."

"She is not going," Valaky said firmly.

"I don't think you have any say in that, old pal," Burt told him.

"Who solicited thy opinion?" Valaky shot back at Burt.

"And who asked yours?" Harry asked, backing up his friend.

She had to admit, these guys were feisty. And maybe sharing the prophecy with them might not be a bad idea. If they were widely read on prophecies, they might just find a get-out-of-being-killed clause. One she had missed.

And goodness knows, she had read the thing over and over so many times and looked at it from so many angles to the point where the words shifted and seemed to no longer hold meaning. She was sure she had exhausted all potential get-out-of-being-killed clauses. A fresh pair of eyes, or three, might reveal something she had missed.

"I am the only one with an opinion that counts," Morwenna said, wading into the debate. "You did hear my various and numerous warnings that if you go up those stairs, there's no telling what you might find. As I'm sure we're all aware that the tavern is a sentimental old thing that has a tendency to attract things to it. Well, we keep it mostly free of clutter down here…but that clutter has got to go somewhere, if you get what I'm saying."

"I'm sure we can manage some dusty old Bric-à-brac," Tamsin said.

Morwenna shot her a look. "I think I need to stress that when I say ‘things,' it has a much broader definition than what you might find in a thrift store."

"What are we talking about, then?" The Regulars leaned in close, obviously eager to hear more about their beloved drinking hole.

Morwenna shrugged. "You know. Things. Items, places…hypothetical constructs and philosophical ideas."

"You what?" Stan raised an eyebrow.

Morwenna waved him off. "Oh, you know. Thoughts that have stayed with someone a long time, but they've never really been able to put into words, private ideas that once held importance but were discarded for one reason or another. The tavern loves those things almost as much as first dates."

"That doesn't sound too bad…but I'm not even sure what to imagine that looking like." Mason's brows tugged together as he thought Morwenna's words over.

"Oh no, don't do that in here!" Morwenna jabbed a finger at him. "No imagining. You'll only add to the clutter."

"So, what's so dangerous up there?" Stan eyed the bottom of the stairs, not trying to look directly at them as if it would invite something down.

"You simply have no idea what you might find up there. There are plenty of hazards, sure, but the most serious thing is to find something, and never leave." Morwenna's eyes flashed as she finished her sentence.

"What's something?" Tamsin asked after a moment of silence.

"Who knows?" Morwenna grabbed Stan's empty tankard and tucked it onto a shelf behind the bar before pulling out another completely filled tankard and placing it in front of him. "It's probably something to do with ‘deepest darkest desires,' something sinister, I'm sure. But people who find their something never come back down to tell us about it. So who knows?"

"See, it is dangerous," Valaky said poignantly to Tamsin.

"Any more dangerous than roaming Wishing Moon Bay with both a wolf pack and a coven of witches hunting me down?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Well…perhaps there is a solution…" Valaky looked thoughtful.

"Surely there is." Burt nodded.

"Some misinterpretation, maybe?" Harry chimed in. "A get-out clause."

"How about…" The vampire was cut off.

"A waiver, perhaps?" Morwenna asked.

"Either way, we'll figure something out." Stan made a beckoning gesture. "Hit us."

Tamsin cleared her throat and began,

"When finned stars dost tumble through the scorching firmament, and Venus doth waltz moonward high, a night of devastation shall descend. Cauldrons shall boil over, howls become wails, brooms shatter, and wolves flee in terror. This fateful night shall be foretold by a witch born beneath a troubled sign, chosen by a rooster's crow and the coven leader's spilt tea leaves. But should the witch's beating heart stop and her mate get the chop, if this is the way fate is paved, the coven and pack will be saved.

Heed the signs, and guard thy hearts, for doom approacheth when love doth impart."

"Hmmm. I'm sure I've heard that before somewhere." Morwenna drummed her fingers on the bar and stared up into the rafters.

"Really?" Tamsin asked hopefully. If Morwenna and The Lonely Tavern had traveled all over the world and met lots of people, then she might be the one to shed new light on it. Before it was too late.

"Morwenna's quite the witch. If anyone would have heard of something like that in passing, it would probably be her." Burt sipped his beer.

"Are you sure that's it?" Morwenna frowned.

"What? Sure? Of course, I'm sure! Do you know how many times I've heard this?" Tamsin scoffed. "It's the whole reason I was an outcast for five years. This prophecy is part of our rich history and is passed down orally from generation to generation to generation whenever a new witch is venerated into the coven."

"It's passed down verbally?" Stan asked. "How can you know it's the same as it was when it was created? It's easy for things to get a little mixed up when it's not written down."

"Well, that's the thing…" Tamsin glanced at Valaky, who grimaced and looked away. "It has been changed a little. We know because we found the original."

"Really?" Harry's eyes widened. "An original prophecy text. Now that's a rare thing. Do you have it?"

Tamsin shook her head. "No, it's in the coven's reliquary, which is closely guarded. But it was after we found that text that everyone realized I was the person who was supposed to fulfill it." She rested her arms on the bar and stared at the wall. "I was so excited to find something of such value to the coven, but now I wish we hadn't found it at all."

"Is it signed?" Morwenna asked.

"Signed?" Tamsin asked.

"Yes. Does it have a little squiggly mark at the bottom written by the author?"

"What prophecy is signed?" Burt asked.

"Every good prophecy should be signed." Morwenna wagged her finger. "It denotes quality and legitimacy. And who knows where to take the pitchforks and torches when things go awry."

"I've never seen a signature on a prophecy," Valaky mumbled.

"Every prophecy writer I've ever known has made sure to make a big spectacle of signing their work." Morwenna placed her hands on her hips.

"Do you know many ‘prophecy writers'?" Mason raised an eyebrow.

"You'd be surprised," Morwenna said.

Mason pursed his lips. "I don't think I would."

"I can't remember if it was signed or not, but it was marked with the original seal of the coven." Tamsin nodded. "Valaky checked it for me when I found it. It's authentic."

"It's just…" She gave a crooked smile and placed her hands on the bar. "Right on the tip of my tongue. There's just something not right about it."

"Is it the fact that I'm supposed to bring about the end of my own coven, and so I've been made a pariah?"

Morwenna tapped her finger on her chin before she shook her head. "No, that's not it."

"Is it all those cliches, perhaps?" Harry asked.

"Cliches?" Morwenna shot him a look.

"Well, yes, um." Harry hid his face by taking a large swig from his tankard.

"It does have a lot of the classic ‘prophecy' stuff. Like the conjunction and the warning of impending doom." Burt came to his rescue.

"Just like any good prophecy should." Morwenna folded her arms. "There's no good prophecy without a good conjunction."

"What about Elara's prophecy? That didn't have any of that. Just short, to the point."

Morwenna tutted. "And I thought you had good taste. That was a terrible prophecy. It didn't even have a specific meaning, just bad things will happen. The attention is in the detail of these things."

"Have you ever writ…" Burt was cut off abruptly.

"It doesn't matter what the prophecy says." Mason slammed his hand down on the bar. "People's actions are their own, and someone sent that person to attack Tamsin. Someone who I'm going to make pay once I find out who they are."

Tamsin looked up at the determination on his chiseled features, the anger that simmered behind his eyes. He might have looked a little shaggy with his ruffled hair and simple clothes, but she was quickly learning that Mason wasn't the mangy wolf she had thought him to be. He might just be the alpha his pack needed. Perhaps if he had replaced his father, things would have been different between both of them and the coven and the pack.

"I'm with Mason," she announced. "We need to find whoever attacked me and start getting some answers."

Mason turned to her, the distance between them suddenly feeling very small. "I'll get them for you."

Tamsin smiled wryly. "No, you won't. We'll get them. I'm not leaving this to you."

"But it's not safe."

Tamsin shook her head. "And it won't be any less safe if I'm not there."

"Tamsin." Valaky stepped toward her. "Mason is…right." His lip only curled slightly as he said that. "You should remain here with me."

"I know you mean well, Valaky. You've always tried to protect me, but I've had to look after myself for a long time now." She side-eyed Mason. "Besides, you're supposed to keep your enemies close, right?"

"Hm." Mason kept a stoic, unreadable expression.

Valaky opened his mouth to say something, but a steely look from Tamsin silenced him. He pursed his thin lips in disapproval, and his porcelain skin wrinkled with what looked like concern, though it had always been hard to read him.

"Do you think we might be able to tag along?" Stan asked. "I've always wondered what's up there…"

"Absolutely not," Morwenna said. "You've already found your something right here." She placed down a fresh bread beer in front of him.

Stan sighed before taking a long draught, his face screwing up in a pained expression. "Oh, that's the good stuff."

"Besides, I can't get caught up with ‘never returning to tell the tale.' I'm taking Ash's boy fishing this afternoon," Harry said.

"Let's just see if we can't crack that prophecy, eh?" Burt nudged Stan.

"Yes…the prophecy…" Morwenna rubbed her chin before launching herself over the bar and grabbing Burt by his coat, rummaging through his pockets.

"Hey! What the—!"

"I need…your cellular device." Morwenna sprang back, triumphantly holding up Burt's mobile phone.

"We can just pay for our drinks! You don't have to rob the poor chap." Harry laughed nervously.

"I just need to call my bartender." Morwenna held out the phone with a studious expression. "I've got some paperwork that needs attention."

"How about some parting advice first?" Tamsin asked.

"Oh, yes, advice." Morwenna frowned and looked at the Regulars. "I thought we handed all that out already."

They shrugged in unison.

"Perhaps there's a few scraps still lying about?" Harry turned to the others.

Stan shook his head. "Fresh out, I think."

"Is there not any way to navigate upstairs?" Mason asked, his tone portraying his waning patience.

Morwenna paused, pressing Burt's screen seemingly at random. "How about…let the tavern guide you, and do not fight a flowing river. That wasn't too bad, was it?"

The Regulars nodded, with murmurs of agreement.

"There isn't a spell, or a talisman, or anything to make sure we don't get lost?" Tamsin asked, eying the numerous charms on Morwenna's dress.

"If there was, I would take guided tours up there, but alas, there is no such thing." Morwenna didn't look up from the phone she was fiddling with.

"You better not be messing with my keyboard settings." Burt chided.

"We'll just have to manage," Tamsin said to Mason.

Mason watched her for a moment. "You somehow found your way back here after all these years. I'm sure we'll be fine."

Tamsin held his gaze. She felt her skin flush. Although they hadn't even started up the stairs yet, she could feel herself becoming lost, though instead of whatever the tavern had in store, it was her own swirling emotions that threatened to trip her over and she felt more confused about how she felt about Mason than ever.

"That be your decision, then?" The dry, disapproving tone of Valaky brought her back to the moment.

"It is. I'm going up those stairs, I'm going to start piecing together what is going on, and with any luck, I'll beat that prophecy." She glanced over at the Regulars, who raised their drinks in salute. "Now, wolf, it's time to find out what's happened between your pack and my coven."

"It is." Mason looked for a moment like he was going to protest before he sucked in a breath and nodded. "Let's go. But stay close."

"I know you mean well, but please don't belittle me." She stepped past him and headed for the stairs. "Besides, aren't dogs the ones normally at heel?"

Mason gave her an irritated grunt as he followed behind her, the voices of Morwenna and the Regulars seeing them out.

"Do you even know how to work one of those?"

"I'm sure it can't be any more complicated than a messenger pigeon."

"I don't know. I heard that those were quite intuitive…"

Could anything up the tavern stairs really be worse than the wilderness she had survived in? Surely not.