Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four

by RAE STAPLETON

  “Did you get him counseling?” Da looked down, ashamed, and shook his head. “I should have. Lucille always wanted to. She said he wasn’t right, but I just thought the boys were jealous of each other.”

  I couldn’t help but think of the angry, yet sad, photo I’d seen on the wall. Da must have been blind not to have noticed, but I didn’t say that. He looked like a broken man.

  “I didn’t know anything was amiss until he was chucked from the Garda. There were complaints about his brutality. Liam was always rough, even with Cullen, but I thought that was normal. I was a rough young lad once, too. Then some lass accused him of stalkin’ and rapin’ her. That was the last straw. I couldn’t allow them to put my son in jail. I spoke to the girl and her family and they withdrew the complaint as long as we got him help. I pulled some strings and got him into the institution. We smothered the rumors and no one ever knew the truth. Call me an old fool, but maybe I wanted to believe it was all a misunderstandin’ and when he came out two years later, he was a man of faith. He even treated Lucille nice, calling her Ma, which he’d never done before.”

  “What did Cullen think of Liam being in there?”

  “Cullen didn’t know until a couple of years ago. We told him Liam was studyin’ abroad, as we told everyone.”

  “Didn’t you visit him?”

  He cast his eyes back down. “Only once or twice. He refused to see Lucille and that angered me somethin’ fierce.” He raised his eyes to the sky. “Pride goeth before destruction.” He looked back at me. “The doctor at the Institution thought it better if I didn’t agitate him, so I stayed away. We knew how he was, though; Móraí visited him regularly.”

  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the boy they’d ignored and the man they’d dumped into a hospital. No wonder he’d been bitter.

  The doors of the hospital opened and a tired-looking Móraí came out to face us. She had deep circles under her eyes, and it was only when she moved forward that I noticed she looked happy.

  Da looked up, his expression confused. “Well…?”

  I stood motionless, staring up at her. My throat felt tight, almost too tight to speak.

  “He’s in recovery,” she whispered, tears welling. I dropped my head to my hands and began to cry, releasing all the tension.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  T he sky was dark and cloudy, filling the horizon with gray bleakness that mirrored my own feelings. Funerals were meant to honor the dead, so it didn’t seem right to hold Liam’s and Lucille’s together, but that’s what the family wanted. As much as Liam was a disappointment, everyone felt a little guilty and a little responsible for how things turned out.

  Cullen was deemed well enough to attend the funeral, but he’d needed to pop a few more pain pills to get through the service. Lucille and Liam were being buried in the graveyard outside the chapel. Móraí owned the property as well as the building. This now made sense to me, since I’d never really seen or heard Liam speak of holding service there. This seemed a justice as well as an injustice to those murdered and buried alongside him. I assumed there were probably more bodies than any of us knew about. The police had only begun to piece things together and Loni Switzer, Penelope, and Lucille were only the tip of the iceberg.

  We’d walked away a little; the funeral had been restricted to immediate family. I leaned sideways and put my head on Cullen’s shoulder. He’d been quiet since we left the hospital. The cut on his head looked nasty and the skin around both eyes was now a yellowish green. In addition to the internal swelling in his head from the beating and the knife wound, whatever Liam had given his brother to drug him at the house had nearly poisoned him. I closed my eyes, pretending everything was all right.

  “Cullen,” I said at last, very softly. “I am so sorry for your mother and Liam’s death. It seems like you’re angry with me and I don’t blame you, but I wish you’d just yell at me and let it out. The silence is worse.”

  I stared down as he took my hand, squeezing it in his own.

  “I’m not mad at ye, Aeval.”

  I stole a sideways glance at Móraí, who was standing over Liam’s grave. Every now and then she looked over at us and I wondered if she was listening.

  “I’m mad at myself for bein’ so blind, for not protecting ye, or Ma, or the girls.”

  “Oh, Cullen. How could you have known? I don’t blame you and I know your mother wouldn’t either.”

  “Ma was an angel, bless her soul but that doesn’t change a thing. It’s my fault she was there. I called her on the way back from Dundrum. I was after rememberin’ why Switzer sounded familiar. Liam dated a girl by that name before he was committed.” Cullen looked down guiltily. “And I did know. That’s the thing, Aeval.” He shivered. “That night you confronted me about the letter in the office. When you mentioned the institution, my gut told me it was Liam. And when Penelope messaged me, I should have gone straight to Liam’s instead of the hospital. I wasted hours drivin’ up there to speak to Liam’s doctor.” He paused abruptly. “I should have gone to Ma and the Gardai straight away but I was afraid of him gettin’ into trouble. His relationship with Da was strained and by the time I rang Garda Lynch, it was too late. Gad, I was so naive. It would have made the difference for poor Penelope. I was just too frightened to see the truth.” He glanced up at his Da standing over Lucille’s casket. “But now ye know.” He sounded wistful. “And ye have every reason to hate me.”

  I turned on him, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, Cullen,” I said. “I love you more than ever. I can’t blame you. I should have told you about Nick’s letter the moment I got back. I should have trusted my instincts that you were no killer. If I had just told you, then Penelope never would have come to dinner and taken that letter from me. Her death is just as much my fault, if not more. And maybe, just maybe, if we had talked more about the dreams—about the book and the Delhi Sapphire, the time travel and your brother's crazy past—maybe if we had been honest with each other, then none of this would have happened.”

  “Sophia, love.” Cullen pulled me near, burying his face in my hair. “Let it go.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but sternly he put his fingers to my lips.

  “The Delhi Sapphire. Do you really think we should bury it here?” He glanced at Liam’s casket where Móraí stood.

  I lowered my voice, hesitating. “Why wouldn’t we? Rochus said the curse was broken if Liam died.” I visualized the dagger inside the casket where I’d placed it, in Liam’s hands. “For at least three lifetimes, he lived and died for those cursed jewels. I think they belong with him. Plus I prefer to bury the curse with him, don’t you?”

  He frowned.

  The wind picked up, stirring my hair.

  “Are there any other secrets I need to know about? Any other murderous members of your family bearing a long-time grudge against me?” I asked, shifting my gaze to Móraí, who was now sobbing into the arms of one of Cullen’s cousins. She was so close with Liam. I expected she partly blamed me—like she’d blamed Lucille before. Cullen wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in to shield me against the chill, as much as he could, anyway; the bandage on his ribs restricted his movement.

  “One or two, maybe.” He smiled.

  “You seem hesitant. Don’t you think it’s all over now? Don’t you think we beat the curse?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Only time will tell, Ms. Marcil. Hmm, that just doesn’t sound right, does it? You should be Mrs. O’Kelley by now.”

  My heart sank. “Oh no, I’m not interested in a big wedding now, especially without Lucille. What do you say we just run off to Vegas instead?”

  “Ah, that’s bleedin’ brilliant.”

  I followed Cullen’s gaze upward. Huge clouds had amassed, blotting out the sun completely. We’d reached the limo just in time.

  “I’m not serious, Cullen. Móaí would have a fit,” I said, climbing into the car just as the rain began to fall in huge, sparse drops.

  “Well, let’s not tell her
then. We’ll just go. I’m ready for another adventure, aren’t ye? We could stop by India on the way.”

  I turned to look at him as he closed the door, puzzled by his suggestion.

  The rain was growing stronger now, releasing the warm scent of wet earth that reached us even through the closed windows.

  He reached into his coat and pulled out the dagger which now held the Delhi Sapphire, or rather what was left of it.

  I bit my lip. “Cullen, what are you doing with that?”

  He leaned back against the seat and pulled me close. “I just thought we couldn’t be too safe.”

  He nodded to the driver who was awaiting instructions. “Take us home. We’ve got packing to do. The O’Kelley’s are going on an adventure.”

  Book Three: Mysterious is the Temple PROLOGUE

  Northern Ireland, 1552

  Laasya Lovari closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, relishing the sting of the salty sea air. The sapphire was close by—she could feel it. She’d been hiking her way through the Glens of Antrim in Northern Ireland for days, searching for the spell room she had seen in her visions. She had seen it again last night, clearly this time, and knew her niece, Alexandra, had hidden it in a cave beneath the castle of Dunlace. She need only locate the entrance.

  Gasping, she wiped the sweat from her brow and listened to the sounds of the coast. If she didn’t hurry, she would be too late to save the girl, Sive McQuillan, as she was called now. She opened her eyes, continuing in the direction of the cliffs where a flock of birds made a cacophony of sounds. There seemed to be more of them than usual this morning. Laasya turned toward the sound. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the raven circling. Then she heard its classic gurgling croak, rising in pitch from the back of its throat. She recognized that call and hoped the raven hadn’t recognized her back.

  She ambled up the hill to the edge of the cliff, while the raven continued to circle and flapped noisily above. This morning’s breakfast of berries threatened to emerge, and her mind teetered between excitement and worry, as she approached the point of land where the dark omen lingered. Suddenly she saw it—the Castle sat high up on the cliff above her just as she’d seen in the vision. The cursed stone was out there somewhere. She needed to find it, and escape with it to the small Indian village—her Romani ancestor’s origin of birth. Not an easy task with Alexandra guarding it night and day. But once she stole it, she could hide it. In the temple, her spell would take hold and it would be safe. If she kept Sive from touching the sapphire in this life then the curse would be broken. She owed it to her friend Elena, to save her daughter as she hadn’t been able to before.

  After that, she would figure out what to do with her problematic niece—the so-called Witch of Dunlace.

  ONE

  Northern Ireland, Present Day

  “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!”

  I jumped at the booming sound of my fiancé’s voice. I’d been in the deepest of sleeps—the only logical thing to do while blindfolded in a car.

  “Sophia, love, did I wake ye?” Cullen asked. “I apologize, lass, I missed the bloody turn.”

  He yanked the car around.

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you woke me,” I whispered, reaching blindly for my water bottle.

  I’d been hopelessly mired in the same horrible nightmare for weeks; the one where I fled down the dark, deserted corridor of a nineteenth-century palace attempting to outrun death.

  No matter how hard I tried to control the dream, I was never able to escape. Inevitably, just when I reached the door to safety the dream would change and I would be jumped forward in time to the nineteen-twenties, where I was chased through the halls of an old Victorian mansion. Eventually I’d jump again and find myself cornered in the abandoned church on Cullen’s family’s estate in Carbury County. These dreams were symbolic of the reality I’d lived through the last couple years, only in the nightmare my stalker was alive.

  Cullen O’Kelley’s large hand squeezed my own. “Same dream as before?”

  I nodded, and wiped away a bead of sweat that ran down the side of my face.

  “Gah. Yer safe and sound now, Aeval. Liam’s dead and the only one stealin’ ye today is me.”

  I looked in the direction of Cullen’s voice and lifted my blindfold an inch. “Where are you taking Leslie and me anyway, and why can’t we see?”

  “Only a minute more and ye’ll have yer answer.”

  It had been three hours since we left Dublin. I could hear my best friend’s soft snores coming from the backseat of the Landrover even as it came to a halt. She’d been smart enough to wear earplugs. A second later my door opened and I was gently lifted from my seat.

  “Out we go, Aeval.”

  “What about Leslie? Shouldn’t we help her out?”

  “We’ll come back for her. Let her rest a moment longer.”

  “Alright. Get on with it then, you big lug.”

  He walked a few feet before setting me down and I could feel a spray of water coming in on the breeze.

  “Have off with the blindfold, will ye now, and take a gander.”

  I obediently removed the cover and gazed out at the serene coastline before me. “It’s practically a postcard.”

  “’Tis so, it is. These rocks have been carved through centuries into labyrinths of caves and arches. I’ll take ye to the beach later if we’ve time and show ye the Wishing Arch and the Elephant Rock. Now come over here for the real surprise.”

  I followed Cullen and was presented with a beautiful medieval castle, or rather it’s ruins—half of one side was in shambles. But even crumbling as it was, I could see why Cullen loved this place. It was as lovely a castle as any I’d seen during my travels or even imagined as a child while snuggled in bed with my great-grandmother, reading fairy tales.

  “Welcome to Dunlace Castle,” he said excitedly.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face. “You won the bid to restore it. That’s great!”

  There hadn’t been a lot of smiles lately, what with Lucille, Cullen’s mother, having been murdered. I was grateful for the distraction.

  I looked upon the thick stone walls and counted at least twenty beautiful mullioned windows. The castle sat atop volcanic basalt rock jutting out into the sea with limestone cliffs in the background.

  He took my hand and we walked closer. “The owner, Samuel MacDonnell, a descendant of Sorely Boy MacDonnell wants me to restore things as accurately as can be done with the exception of a few modern updates to make it more functional.”

  “Of course.” I smiled. “Who wants to live without electricity and running water these days?”

  “He plans to make a hotel out of it.”

  Half of it was crumbling and there were a few walls missing but I could almost imagine what the place looked like once upon a time. Restoring it would take work but Cullen was good at his job.

  He reached out and touched my hand. “Ma was from here.”

  “Really? She grew up in a castle that was missing walls?” I questioned.

  “No. No. I mean her family was from this area. Northern Ireland. She used to bring me here as a kid when we visited her family.”

  I felt the tears pushing at the corners of my eyes. Don’t open those faucets, Sophia, if Cullen can grin and bear it, then so can you.

  “I haven’t told ye the best part yet!” Cullen whispered.

  I tilted my head, waiting for him to go on.

  “Ye’ll be workin’ with me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It was one of Sam’s conditions,” He gave my hand a squeeze, “He wants ye on board.”

  “Me? That makes no sense. I’m not a castle architect. Does he want me to read him a good ghost story while you draw up the plans?”

  Cullen chuckled. “A good ghost story. Aye. That’s funny, lass, and very intuitive of ye. There are many ghosts that haunt these crumbling walls. He knows several stories but he wants to know what else happened here—what happened to
his ancestors that make them weep. He thinks if ye take a peek into the past, then maybe we can give them peace and they won’t haunt his hotel come time to open next year.”

  I tripped over a stone, and would have landed on the ground in front of me if Cullen hadn’t been so quick to catch me. I stared into his face, shocked into silence.

  “Aeval, are ye no happy?”

  I paused, remembering what he’d told me about the ongoing feuds between the three clans, and the Mermaid's Cave with its haunting legend of lost souls, smugglers and Spanish treasure. It all sounded very romantic to the twenty-first-century listener but after everything we’d been through—how could he expect me to time travel again and to go there—to such a violent time and place?

  I shook my head. “You’re not saying I should…”

  “I am, Aeval,” Cullen said, beaming down at me. “I’ve been obsessed with the McQuillan-Ó Catháin-MacDonnell feud and the famed castle they fought over since I was a lad. Please. Say ye’ll help me.”

  TWO

  Northern Ireland, November 1551

  To the east of a small seaside village in Northern Ireland, Alexandra Cuza paced the cold damp floor of the cave below the massive Dunlace Castle. The weather was violent, and the waves smashed and tumbled against the sharpened stone of the White Rocks cliffs. Off in the distance, thin clouds sailed across a darkening sky, and the wind swept wildly as if to mirror Alexandra’s own foul and loathsome mood. This medieval castle was her home now, much like the one she’d grown up in and yet so very different. Occasionally she missed the heavily wooded mountains of southwestern Transylvania, but there was nothing like the roar of the mighty waters, as they came rushing and bellowing into the deep cavern of the mermaid’s cave.

  Using her prophetic sight to her advantage, Alexandra had ingratiated herself into the McQuillan Clan over the last ten years, becoming known as Saundra—the Witch of Dunlace—mistress and advisor to Lord Uilliam McQuillan. She’d waited fifty-seven years to exact her revenge on this man.