by A. C. James
“You’d be bored stiff if you weren’t tagging along with me for the weekend. Then again, you could always let Nathan entertain you,” Felicity teased. “I’m sure he’d love to do a few other things while he’s at it.”
“Really, I wish he’d take a hint, because I’d hate to hurt his feelings.”
Felicity sighed. “What’s wrong with Nathan?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem. I don’t need you to go trying to talk me into that again.”
Cyn always had a thing for hunky, powerful bad boys. They only ended up breaking her heart, but that didn’t stop her friend from falling for them anyway. And Felicity would inevitably be the one getting pissed with her when it all came crashing down. That would never be Felicity’s type. She wasn’t even sure she had a type, but she was bloody well sure it wouldn’t be some alpha badass who needed to be in control. It’d be far too easy to get hurt giving your heart away to someone like that.
“One of these days you’re going to find yourself in a situation you can’t talk yourself out of,” Felicity said.
Cyn huffed. “I highly doubt that.”
“You’re going to fall hard, and I want to be there to see it when you do. One of these days you’re going to meet your match.”
“I’ve never fallen for anyone and I don’t plan on it anytime soon. And you’d be surprised… I can walk away from damn near anything.”
“Come on then. Let’s go get something to eat and see what this priest has to say.”
Chapter 6
Niall hadn’t been on the island in a long time, but it seemed not much had changed since his last visit. Actually, he hadn’t been beyond the veil in fifty years, and it felt odd now that he and Tomas were staying on O’Leary land. Fifty years was like a blink of an eye to him. Immortality could make time feel like nothing, or it could weigh you down and grind you into the dirt. But the thatch-roofed cottage had been in his family forever, and he had a host of childhood memories from a time when the púca were freely accepted—welcomed even—among the humans. A local family that honoured the old traditions had been tending to the property generation after generation. Their family hadn’t died out because púca blood was like the fountain of youth. Literally. And if you were mated to one through the sacred ceremony, you became immortal. His eyes were closed as he rested on the bed. However, the bed was definitely an improvement if his memory wasn’t rusty. And he could tell without even opening his eyes that Tomas was staring at him.
“You going to tell me what it is you’re thinking or shall I guess?” Niall asked.
“I was thinking that I haven’t been here since I found my mate.”
“So this is why my sire sent you. You’re to hound me until I saddle myself with a lifetime of misery.”
Tomas didn’t say anything, so Niall opened his eyes.
“Do you remember what I was like before I took a mate? It’s not all bad.”
“Well, I suppose when you put it that way,” Niall said, his voice oozing with sarcasm.
Tomas laughed. “Some of my happiest days weren’t until I met my mate. Wait. You won’t expect it and then it’ll hit you like a rock.”
More like a bloody boulder.
“Let’s hope it misses,” Niall muttered.
Niall didn’t have time to think about it, because suddenly his stallion was spooked in the way that all púca get when they sense something isn’t right. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.
“What is it?” Tomas asked.
“I’m not sure…”
Niall rose from the bed, and without waiting to see if Tomas would follow he strode out of the cottage and started walking toward the centre of Kilronan. As he got closer to the town his stallion grew more and more anxious. He’d reached the heart of the sleepy village, and the sensation that had spooked his stallion intensified when a priest approached the entrance to Tí Joe Watty’s pub. A force emanated from the place. It was definitely powerful enough to lift the veil. His stallion stood at attention.
“Do you feel that?” he asked Tomas, who was just catching up to him.
“Aye.”
“I’m thinking we should stop in for a pint and keep an eye on that one,” Niall said, motioning toward the priest as he opened the door to the pub.
Chapter 7
Tí Joe Watty’s was said to be one of the oldest and most traditional pubs on the island. Everyone in it turned toward Felicity and Cyn as they entered and made their way to Father Cleary, who was sitting at one of the tables near an open fire. Felicity found it a little unnerving that all eyes were focused on her. Even the band that was gearing up for the night glanced her way before they continued setting up. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself. It wasn’t the chill; even though early summer was still cool enough to warrant a fire, she imagined once the band started playing and packed people in it would be plenty warm. Especially after everyone had a few pints. Maybe then they’d stop gossiping and staring at her.
“Aye, have a seat,” Father Cleary greeted them as they joined him at the table.
“I notice we seem to be the source of gossip,” Felicity said.
Father Cleary laughed. “Aye, the craic around town has been all about the journalist who’s come to write about the púca. We haven’t had a púca visit us since I was a wee lad.”
“Really? And what makes you think that it’s a púca?”
“Did you see the picture that I sent your boss?”
Felicity wanted to see where the priest was going with this, so she wasn’t about to tell him that the photo itself was inconclusive. She pulled the picture from her purse. In the photo was something that looked like a black stallion with glowing eyes, but the picture had been taken at night and whatever it was had been moving fast. Too fast to make out very much. Either it was blurry because of that, or maybe there was something layered over the image. It almost looked like lace. Like a veil. She couldn’t tell for certain. The only thing that stood out was in the background: a stone tower looming in the distance. There appeared to be a man with glowing eyes standing at the top of it, gazing through the lacy curtain that covered the entire picture. She’d insisted that it had to be an effect done with photo editing, but Nathan told her they couldn’t be sure.
“I did,” Felicity said.
“Then you can see why we believe it’s a púca. The only thing I don’t understand is why it’s causing so much trouble. When I was a lad the púca were always a blessing.”
A waitress brought menus over to the table. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Cyn, who’d been looking at the craft beer list while Felicity talked with the priest, ordered first. “I’ll take a Tom Crean Irish Lager.”
“Aye, same for me,” Father Cleary said.
“Just a water, please,” Felicity said.
The waitress left to get their drinks and Felicity returned her attention to the priest. Regardless of his vocation, she hadn’t decided whether or not she should trust him. But she needed to understand what he meant about the púca being a blessing. Everything she’d read last night about their folklore had led her to believe that they could be either a blessing or a bane.
“Father, what do you mean that they were a blessing?”
“Our island has always been bleak, and subsistence has not come easy. We’ve relied on the púca to bless the crops, and according to local legend our relationship with their race dates back to before Christianity was introduced to the island.”
“Hmmm…I see.”
Felicity found it hard to believe that a priest would believe some mythical race was responsible for the recent events on the island, especially when it sounded more like a pagan belief than the folklore she’d been reading. The waitress returned with their drinks and when Felicity looked past her, she saw a man sitting at the bar who caught her attention. He seemed to be watching her very intently. Heat rose to her cheeks. He had longish brown hair that curled over the collar of his shirt, and when she met h
is gaze the corner of his mouth rose in a sheepish half-grin, perhaps because he’d been caught staring at her. She found his smile a bit unnerving considering that most people would do the polite thing and look away, which was what she found herself doing instead. Surely the last thing she needed was to think about how attractive some fellow was, but boy was he good-looking. Chiselled cheekbones, angular chin, and a fire in his eyes that made her suddenly aware of a different kind of heat. Felicity turned her attention back to the priest, refusing to identify the warmth that had moved from her cheeks to her thighs.
Crap. Crap. No. Crap. You need to stop it. He’s far too beautiful to want someone like you.
Felicity was perfectly happy with the extra dose of awesomeness that was her curvy figure, but she wasn’t delusional. There were certain limitations. Dancing, skinny jeans, and guys that looked like sex gods were a just a few of them. She sipped her water and pushed the unexpected desire that a single look had awakened back where it belonged—on the long mental list of things she could never have. If just looking at him could make her heart leap into her throat and desire shoot to her pelvic region, then it was better she focus on the priest and think holy thoughts.
“You really believe that, Father?” Felicity asked.
“Whether I believe it or not that’s the history of our land and I can’t argue with the evidence. But don’t take my word for it,” he said as he motioned to a woman sitting over by the bar.
The woman approached the table, and Father Cleary introduced her. “This is Jenna Hall. She’s an American photographer and artist who’s been staying on the island. And she’s the one who saw the púca first-hand.”
Jenna sat at the table. “It’s true. I didn’t want to believe it, but I was going for my morning walk when I saw that thing.” She pointed to the photograph that Felicity was still holding.
“But the photograph looks like it was taken at night,” Cyn said.
“Tell them what you saw—just as you told me,” Father Cleary said.
“You’re going to think this sounds crazy, and I have no way to logically explain what I saw. If I hadn’t photographed it, I wouldn’t believe it myself. Cameras don’t lie,” Jenna said.
No, cameras don’t lie, but people do. Far too often. “Go on…” Felicity urged her.
“It was just after sunrise and what looked like a portal to another land opened before me. And it looked like it was night-time on the other side. There was a stone tower. It was the scariest and most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen in my life. So of course I had to take a picture of it, or no one would believe me.” Jenna paused. “I hardly believe it myself. But as I was taking the picture, a horse appeared right on the other side of the portal. It spoke to me.”
A chill ran down her spine. Jenna’s story should have sounded crazy, ridiculous, and a few other adjectives, but she seemed perfectly normal. Well, except for the fact that she’d told Felicity something that should be utterly impossible.
“It spoke to you?” Felicity asked.
“I know…it sounds crazy, right? I mean the whole talking horse thing reminded me of Mister Ed.”
“Right you are. Totally nuts,” Cyn said.
Felicity ignored Cyn’s sarcasm. “Mister Ed?”
“Oh, sorry. It was this old American TV show with a talking horse.”
Cyn nearly spewed a mouthful of beer.
Serves you right for being a smart arse.
“What did it say?”
“It told me not to come any closer. Not in a menacing way, but it sounded like a warning. It said I’d be trapped there forever if I went any further. That was enough for me, so I backed away slowly and it disappeared. The horse, the tower, the portal…poof…it was there and then it wasn’t.” Jenna snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
“Just like that? And how did you get involved?” Felicity asked the priest.
“Aye, five days ago Jenna came into the pub,” Father Cleary said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “She was having a chat with the bartender about that picture. I imagine after seeing something like that I’d need a drink too. It wasn’t long before all of Kilronan had heard the tale of the púca. Someone who reads that blog of yours—Everyday Supernatural—contacted your boss and put him in touch with me. He asked about the story and if I had any evidence to corroborate it. So Jenna let me send him that photograph you’re holding.”
Felicity glanced down at the photo. Maybe there’s more to this than I’d thought. When Nathan related the case to her, she’d been certain that it was a simple matter of someone not wanting the resort to be built. She always approached these stories with a healthy dose of scepticism, because most of the time it turned out to be a hoax. Felicity wasn’t easily rattled, but it had been a bloody long time since a case had given her the chills. Yet there was something about the way Jenna explained what she’d seen—with a deadpan expression—that gave her an adrenaline rush. Felicity could tell when something was rehearsed. Jenna was telling the truth, and she wasn’t one of the locals, who’d be easily swayed by superstition.
“I see. Jenna, do you think you could show me where you took this photo?”
Father Cleary answered before Jenna had a chance. “Aye, we’ll take you tomorrow. It’s not far from the construction site where the resort is being built. But it’s best to be heading back before it gets dark.”
“Oh, we’re not afraid of the dark, Father,” Cyn said.
“It’s not the dark, but what lurks in it. The púca are known to ride at night.”
Jenna coughed. “I’d be happy to show you tomorrow.”
The waitress reappeared. “Are you ready to order?”
Father Cleary rose from the table. “I’m gonna head on.”
“I should be going too,” Jenna said. “See you tomorrow.”
Felicity nodded. “We’ll meet up with you after breakfast.” And a bit of Internet research. “Is eleven-thirty all right?”
“Sure,” Jenna said.
“We’ll stop by Pier House and have a walk over to where she took the photo,” Father Cleary said as he and Jenna left the table.
“Well, I’m ready to order,” Cyn said. “I’ll have fish and chips.”
“And what will you be having?” the waitress asked.
Felicity had barely had a chance to look at the menu, so she picked the first thing she saw. “I’d like the chicken ciabatta and chips.”
The waitress took their menus. They didn’t have to wait long for their food. While they ate, Felicity thought about Jenna’s story and the strange photograph. Its stone tower and the figure with glowing eyes was a puzzle she needed to solve. Or maybe the light in his eyes was from the camera’s flash? And the tower itself looked like some relic from another time. She’d been staring at the picture all day trying to figure out if it was a fake, but she couldn’t help glancing over at the bar. When she did, the man that was staring at her before met her gaze. He grinned. Crap. This time she’d been the one caught staring.
Chapter 8
Niall followed the priest into Tí Joe Watty’s and took Tomas with him as backup. In searching for answers regarding the veil he’d discovered a force that was strong enough to lift it emanating from the pub. He couldn’t tell if the priest had anything to do with it, but he followed the instinct of his stallion and took a seat at the bar. Niall knew the bartender. Her family had taken care of their property and kept the O’Leary secret for generations. She made her way over to him and Tomas.
“What can I get you, Niall?” she asked.
“I’ll take a whiskey,” Niall replied.
“What about you?” she asked Tomas with a smile that offered more than just a drink.
But Tomas either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was hooked on his mate. Man, he had it bad. Niall wanted no part of it, but he had a duty to fulfil and an obligation to save his sister. First, though, he needed to find out why the veil had lifted despite it still being summer on the island.
“
Aye, a whiskey,” Tomas said.
The bartender stepped away to get their drinks.
“I think the lass likes you,” Niall said, nodding toward the buxom bartender.
“What of it?”
Niall grinned. “Just an observation is all.”
The priest had found an empty table across the bar, but no one was with him. Niall honed in on his stallion as he watched the priest. If his stallion didn’t trust the man, then he wouldn’t either. Strangely, as he watched the priest his stallion didn’t have much to say on the matter. The bartender came back with their drinks. Her eyes lingered on Tomas a little longer than they should have before she moved down the bar to wait on someone else.
“Doesn’t matter,” Tomas said. “I have a mate and I wish you the same happiness I’ve found when you meet yours.”
Niall sighed. After all he was pretty certain his father had sent Tomas to make sure he followed through, but they had no need to worry. Niall was a man of his word and he loved his sister something fierce. Strong-willed pain in his hole that she was, he still loved her. Family meant everything to him, and clan came before anything else. “Aye, you needn’t go reminding me. Don’t worry… I’ll find one, for the sake of duty. Nothing more.”
“Then you’re promising her the same fate that you’re rescuing your sister from,” Tomas said, his voice harsh, and he took a slug of his whiskey.
Tomas was his best mate, but he had a way of getting under his skin, needling him with the truth. He was right and perhaps that was the part that irked Niall the most. The whiskey’s heat slid down his throat in single gulp and Niall glared at Tomas as he slid the glass toward the edge of the bar to signal that he wanted another. A gust of cool air brushed against his back as the door to the pub pushed open, and two women entered along with the evening breeze. Niall turned as they entered the pub. They seemed to be looking for someone, and he noticed that they’d captured everyone’s attention. Not that he could blame them. One of them had brown hair that reminded him of honey. His stallion definitely had something to say now. Take her for a ride. Niall ignored his stallion, but even he couldn’t deny that he wanted to bury himself in those curves. Her generous hips swayed as she made her way to the priest’s table. Niall narrowed his eyes.
