Read Drink Down the Moon for Free Online

could be made out and recognized. It was a gruagagh’s window; an enchantment born of Faerie.
    The Tower itself stood on a criss-crossing of leys, the moonroads that the fiaina sidhe followed in their rade to replenish their luck. In this Seelie Court, it was the Gruagagh who had been the heart of the realm, gathering luck from the leys and spreading it through the Laird’s land of Kinrowan. As Jacky had taken his place, she was now Kinrowan’s heart as well as its Court Jack. The realm that the window looked out upon was all under her care.
    Her attention was focused on a house in the Glebe, an area just north of Ottawa South that the faerie called Cockle Tom’s Garve. Earlier in the evening she had noticed a greyish discolouration about the house— a vague aura of fogging that emanated from every part of the building. As that house also stood on a crossing of a number of leys— though not so many as the Jack’s Tower— it was a matter of some concern.
    Jacky looked down at the book she had propped up on the windowsill beside her, running her finger down half a page as she read, then returned her gaze to the house.
    “Basically,” she said, “it just says it’s some kind of depression.”
    “How so?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Jacky said, feeling frustrated.
    She turned and sat on the sill to look at her friend.
    Kate Hazel was sitting on a tall stool by the worktable, a number of other books and one of the Gruagagh’s journals spread out in front of her. She was Jacky’s age, a slim woman with dark brown curly hair that was tied back in a short ponytail. Jacky envied Kate’s natural curls. Jacky’s own hair, if she let it grow out, tended to just hang there.
    “Well, according to this,” Kate said, tapping one of her books, “a grey hue on a building or place— especially one situated on one or more lines of power— means something’s interrupting the flow.”
    “And that means?”
    “That it needs to be fixed, or we’ll have a problem. If the flow of the leys gets too disrupted, or if it spreads out through their networking lines
    Dum da dum dum.”
    Jacky sighed. “How can a house be depressed?”
    “I think your book’s referring to the flow rate of the current being depressed,” Kate said. “Not that the house is bumming out.”
    “Does your book say how to fix it?”
    Kate shook her head, then grinned and waved at the wall of books. “But I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.”
    “Oh, lovely. One day we really should take the time and index them.”
    “I’ll bet one of the wallystanes would do the trick.”
    “We’ve only got six left,” Jacky replied. “I think we should save them for something important.”
    Jacky had won the wallystanes in a bargain with another Jack— nine of them, all told. They were spellstones, the proverbial wishes of fairy tales, though unfortunately, they weren’t quite as all-encompassing as in the stories.
    They’d wasted their first one trying to wish Jacky into being a gruagagh. All that had happened was that she’d walked around for a few weeks in Bhruic Dearg’s shape until they found a hob skillyman who could take the charm off. The next two had been used for them each to gain a working knowledge of the languages of Faerie so that they could read the books that the Gruagagh had left them. After that, Jacky had hoarded the remaining six stones like a miser might her gold.
    “I think an index is of prime importance,” Kate said, looking at the wall of books.
    She stood up from her stool, stuffed a loose tail from the white shirt she was wearing back into the waist of her skirt, and walked over to where Jacky stood.
    “Show me the house again,” she said.
    Jacky started to point it out when the doorbell sounded downstairs.
    “Who’s that?” Jacky muttered.
    “That was the back door,” Kate said.
    She had a better ear for that sort of thing than Jacky did. Only faerie came visiting at the back door.
    “Maybe it’s Finn,” Jacky said as