by Ashlyn Chase
On a stool at O’Malley’s, he sipped his Guinness and waited for his friend Patrick. He knew he’d have a hard time convincing Patrick to go to Boston with him, but having company would be so much better—and safer. From what he’d heard, American cities could be unfriendly places and some were downright dangerous.
The door opened and Pat strolled in.
“Paddy, me boy,” Mr. O’Malley called. “Shall I pour you a pint?”
“Do you have to ask?”
“Actually, I do.” He chuckled. “The missus doesn’t want me drinkin’ me mistakes anymore.”
“Where is your lovely wife?”
“She’s at home. Her cousin is visitin’ from America.”
Finn’s ears perked up. “What part of America?”
“Some big city in the middle of the country. Chicago, they call it.”
“Ah.” ’Tis a shame it’s not Boston.
O’Malley dried one of the beer glasses as he talked. “The Yank is doin’ some kind of genealogy trip. Wantin’ to trace her roots and all that…”
As O’Malley droned on, Finn thought about how to propose a trip going the other way. He knew Patrick’s family had been roughly split in two during the famine. Half went to America, and he thought he remembered Pat telling him that many wound up in Boston.
When O’Malley finished his monologue, Finn asked, “Pat, have you ever wondered what happened to your family that went to America?”
His friend considered the question as he took a long swallow of Guinness. “Never much thought about it. I didn’t know ’em. They left a hundred and fifty years ago, give or take a decade.”
“But you must have cousins over there. Perhaps many by now.”
Pat shrugged.
“Well, wouldn’t you like to meet ’em?”
Pat scrunched his forehead and studied his friend. “What are you gettin’ at? I know you well enough to believe you aren’t merely passin’ the time with idle chatter.”
Finn draped an arm casually around Pat’s shoulder. “Ah, it’s probably nuthin’…”
“What’s nuthin? You haven’t said anythin’ of importance yet.”
“Well, I heard on the radio that some big, hotshot businessman from Boston was runnin’ for president over there. I think he had your last name. People were makin’ a big deal of it, sayin’ he’d only be the second Irish Catholic American president, with John Fitzgerald Kennedy bein’ the first.”
“No kiddin’.”
Pat seemed interested. Then he abruptly changed the subject. “Hey, did you find whatever the English bastards were after in those cliffs?”
“Ah, no. And if I had, I wouldn’t have told ’em about it.”
“Good lad,” said a man about four stools down.
Finn peered at the stranger. He’d need to lower his voice. The bar wasn’t busy enough to drown out a private conversation. But whispering would be considered suspicious.
“’Tis too nice a day to sit inside a pub,” Finn said to Pat. “What do you say we find one of those picnic tables out front?” He hopped off his stool. “C’mon, Pat.” He leaned in close. “I have somethin’ to tell you in private.”
Pat swiped his beer off the bar. “Sure’n we can talk to these idjits any time. Let’s go be social with the sun.”
Finn and Patrick settled onto the picnic table and raised their faces to the perfectly blue sky. The warm rays on Finn’s face comforted him and made him feel braver.
“So, you were going to tell me something,” Patrick said.
Finn sighed. It was now or never. “Do you believe in the little people?”
Patrick stared at him. “Little people? What are you talkin’ about? Dwarves?”
“No. I mean the little beings of Ireland. Leprechauns.”
Patrick raised his brows and then burst out laughing. As his laughter died down, he shook his head at his friend. “Ah, you’re playin’ with me. What’s this really about?”
Finn dropped his head into his hands. “I have to tell someone or I’ll explode. You’re my best mate, Patrick. If I tell you and you don’t believe me, t’will be a shame, but not the end of the world.”
“I’m beginnin’ to worry about you. I think you’d better tell me. I promise, whatever it is, I won’t breathe a word.”
Lowering his voice, Finn leaned in and said, “The leprechauns, they exist! I’ve seen one…maybe two.”
Patrick stared but didn’t tell Finn he was daft. That was a good start.
“It was out by Shannon’s place. I rode out there a few days ago and found the ruin on the cliffs that the traveler said might have been a castle.”
Patrick nodded slowly. “I remember you sayin’ that. Then the archeologists wanted you to go with them and investigate. You said you didn’t find a thing. Just some caves.”
“That’s so they’d give up and go home, which is exactly what they did.”
“What has this to do with leprechauns?”
“That’s where I found one. In a cave with a bloody pot of gold. And I caught him in a lie, which was apparently as good as catchin’ him with me bare hands. He was supposed to give me his gold, only I swapped the gold for information on where to find Shannon. She’s in Boston, like some of your family.”
Patrick groaned.
“Come on. You didn’t expect me to want gold over me own fiancée, did you?”
Patrick clapped his big hand over Finn’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think you’ve been missin’ that girl so much that you’ve finally gone ’round the bend.”
“Feck. That’s what I thought you’d say.”
“Then I didn’t disappoint.”
Finn stewed quietly while Patrick leaned back and let the sun shine on his face.
“I suppose you’ll want to go to Boston…”
“Yes.” He had to convince his friend he wasn’t dotty. “Patrick, I hadn’t planned on tellin’ you the whole of it, but I trust you. I hope that our friendship means enough that you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt before pronouncin’ me a lunatic.”
Patrick sat up and looked Finn in the eye. “I believe you believe. Is that all right for a start?”
“It’ll do.” Finn nodded.
“Good. Then I’m goin’ with you.”
He heard snickers from the window.
“Shite. Apparently someone was eavesdroppin’,” Patrick said. “And it’s a feckin’ small town. In minutes, everyone will know whatever was heard and then some.”
“Let’s get a head start then,” Finn said. “Come with me right now.”
Chapter 7
Amber opened the bathroom door and almost barreled into Rory.
“Jeez! You startled me. Tell me when you need the bathroom, and I’ll hurry up.”
“I didn’t need it, luv. I wanted to talk to you about invitin’ your friend to our next session.”
“Euterpe?” She almost said something snarky about the Goddess Benedict Arnold but stopped the comment in time.
“Yes. If you’re talkin’ to her, let her know me sisters will be down this evenin’ after supper.”
Oh damn. Supper. Maybe I’m just hungry. Amber’s posture sagged. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well. I need to go to my room and lie down…on the floor.”
“You could borrow me futon.” He shot her a wolfish grin. “I could always lie next to you and make you feel better.”
She waved, dismissing him, and returned to her room.
Euterpe popped in. “One of your lessons is that you cannot get sick—unless you want to. But who would want to? You’re a minor goddess and have complete control over your body now.” She tapped her lower lip and looked pensive.
“Then why have I felt queasy all afternoon?”
“That must be tied to your powers as muse of air tra
vel.”
“Seriously? Are you telling me I’m airsick?”
“Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. When someone needs your help flying, that may be how you’ll know. You’ll feel airsick.”
“Oh lovely.” Amber rolled her eyes. Then she suddenly snapped to attention. “Wait a minute. Does this mean someone needed my help and didn’t say ‘Mayday’?”
“Yes. I imagine so.”
“You imagine so?”
“Well, I’m not the muse of air travel, you are!”
“But why didn’t they call ‘Mayday’? How would I know where the help was needed?”
“Close your eyes and feel the panic. Then follow that energy. It should lead you right to the source.”
“And what do I do when I get there?”
“I don’t know. You’re the—”
“Yes, I know, I know. I’m the muse of air travel. Maybe you should get Brandee or Bliss to come over. Since they’ve already been through this learning curve, they might be able to help.”
“Now that’s a lovely idea. I’ll pop in on them and see if they’re free. Meanwhile, why don’t you investigate the problem?”
“Okay.” Amber closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Now that she knew how to interpret what she was feeling, she focused on the anxiety someone was putting out there. And now I’m supposed to follow it?
In her mind she saw an invisible thread floating toward her. She grasped it and followed where it led with her mind. A rush of noise and light met her, and when she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else.
She could see the scene before her. Pieces of a broken seaplane bobbed on the water. One young girl—maybe six years old—wore a life preserver and clung to a floating object. She looked exhausted and waterlogged.
This must be the ether Euterpe was talking about. I can see her, but she can’t see me. Amber felt her own panic now. How do I get to her? And where is everyone else? The little girl couldn’t have been alone.
Then she saw what the girl was holding. A teddy bear.
Oh, dear Goddess! What do I do? Amber cried aloud.
Suddenly Euterpe appeared beside her. “Visualize a boat coming to her rescue.”
Amber closed her eyes and conjured up a Coast Guard rescue boat speeding toward the little girl. It slowed and circled her. Shouting orders, a man in a white uniform urged the men to lower a lifeboat into the water.
Amber watched as two sailors leaped into the lifeboat and steered it over to the girl. One sailor looked like he was murmuring encouraging words to the little girl and held out his hand toward her as they came alongside. The girl nodded and bravely grabbed the sailor’s hand. The other sailor waited with a blanket. As soon as they pulled her aboard, she was wrapped in the blanket and taken to the larger boat. They didn’t even try to take the stuffed animal away from her.
“What about her parents? They must have been with her,” Amber said.
Euterpe rested her hand on Amber’s shoulder. “You did all you could do at this point.”
At this point. “You mean to tell me that if I had gotten here sooner I’d have been able to help her whole family? Maybe the pilot too?”
Euterpe clasped Amber’s shoulder tighter, and she experienced a whooshing sound and light. Then she was in her bedroom again.
Amber stepped away from her teacher. “I-I failed, didn’t I?”
“Not completely. You saved a little girl.”
Amber’s legs went out from under her and she burst into tears.
“Oh dear,” Euterpe said, but she made no move to comfort her. “Try to understand that you can’t win ’em all.”
All Amber could focus on was, I could have saved her family—and I didn’t. I didn’t know how.
Euterpe patted her shoulder. “Please, try to think of something else.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
Euterpe crossed her arms. “You have a very handsome man in the next room.”
Amber cried even harder.
“I-I’ll go get your things,” Euterpe said, and she disappeared.
Amber wondered why her muse trainer had just deserted her in her moment of need. Maybe she was going to Mother Nature to report that Amber had screwed up her first assignment. The goddess would be furious—probably with both of them. Amber let out a wail.
Rory came bursting through the bedroom door. He stopped and assessed the situation for a moment. It was too late to pretend nothing was wrong, so she remained on the floor and let herself cry.
He approached her cautiously. “Ah, me darlin’… I don’t know what’s got you so upset, but I’m not heartless. If you need the apartment so badly, I’ll find another place to stay.”
She shook her head and managed to eke out, “That’s not it.”
“Somethin’ awful must have happened between you and your friend, then.”
She shook her head again.
“Well, whatever it is…” He sat next to her and took her in his arms. She didn’t even try to resist.
He stroked her back gently and began to croon softly in another language.
She buried her face in his shoulder and soaked his shirt with her tears. He didn’t pry or ask her to cheer up. He simply held her for what seemed like an hour and let her cry herself out.
* * *
All three leprechauns sat on rocks in a circle. Without the usual preliminaries, Lucky got right to the point. “I think I know where your gold went, Clancy.”
“Is that so?” Clancy asked.
“Well, not so much where the gold went, but I think I know where the dragons went. That’s the next best thing, since we think they’re the ones who took it.”
“Ah,” Shamus was quick to add. “The dragons must have hidden it well. We’ve looked all over for it. I haven’t found your gold. Have you, Clancy?”
Clancy shook his head. “No. I thought you said you knew where it was, Lucky.”
“Apologies. I didn’t mean I could point right to it. I’ve been followin’ a young lad from the village who seems quite determined to locate the Arish girl, Shannon.”
“And does he know where the gold is?” Shamus asked quickly.
“I doubt he even knows about it…unless young Shannon told him something.”
Shamus added, “I wonder if he’s trying to find out where she is because she did tell him—and now he wants to share it with her.”
“Like I said, I’ve been followin’ him. I hid in the bushes by the pub this mornin’,” Lucky said.
Shamus bit his lower lip. “The pub is where they all go, but you should be careful. If they catch you…”
“I know,” Lucky said solemnly. “Me pot of gold would be gone too.”
“So, tell us the rest of your story, Lucky.” Shamus bounced up and down on his rock, which made him look like a toddler on a bouncy ball.
“The lad was confessin’ to a friend that he had seen a leprechaun. That would be me. I became suspicious of him returnin’ again and again to the area where the castle is now exposed.”
Clancy reared back and stared at him. “You showed yerself?”
“I did. I counted on him not believin’ in leprechauns and spoke to him as if I were a normal shortish man or dwarf. He was leanin’ over the cliff, examinin’ what’s left of the entrance to the castle when I came to investigate.”
“Shite,” Shamus said. “And you didn’t think to give him a tiny push?”
Both Lucky and Clancy stared at him open-mouthed, like land trout.
Shamus shrugged. “We can’t let humans know about us, after all. They’d hunt us down like dogs hunting rabbits. ’Tis bad enough that what’s left of the castle reappeared after the treaty was broken.”
He was about to give Lucky a stern warning when the latter held up one palm. “I know what you’re goin’ to say.”<
br />
“Do you now?”
“I do. That I shouldn’t have exposed meself to the lad. That I may have put all your gold in peril by doin’ so. But he’d already seen the castle and thought his ladylove might be hurt or tied up and hidden in there. He wouldn’t have given up without explorin’ it further—if I didn’t put the idea in his head that young Shannon was all right. He calmed considerably after that.”
Shamus narrowed his eyes. “But he didn’t give up, did he?”
“No. Apparently he brought archeologists back to the cliffs and they lowered him into one of the caves.”
Clancy’s eyes rounded. “He’s been in the castle’s caves? Did he tell the archeologists anythin’?”
“No, thank goodness,” Lucky said. “He said it was just some old, musty cave with nothin’ in it. Apparently the archeologists left town after that.”
Shamus wiped his brow dramatically. “Whew!” Then he glanced back and forth at his mates. “We’d have half of Ireland and archeologists from all over the world tryin’ to get inside that castle. Thank heavens we sent the dragons away with their ancient treasure to pawn,” Shamus added. “Or most of it.”
“The archeologists are out of the way, but there’s more.” Lucky scratched his beard.
Clancy raised his palms in entreaty. “Then tell us what it is. Leave nothin’ out.”
“The lad told what he really saw to his best mate.”
“And?” Clancy prompted.
“He said he’d caught a leprechaun in the cave. Caught him in a lie, he said. Then the lad gave up the pot of gold he’d won for information on where his ladylove might be.”
“What?” Shamus laughed. “And you believe that? Obviously the lad is lyin’. He probably wants his friend to go into the caves for him. Probably thinks his lady is hidin’ in there, and that maybe she’ll show herself to his friend. Mayhaps he’s thinkin’ she’s mad at him for some reason.”
“And what about the gold?” Clancy asked.
“That’s the part he made up, you dolt,” Shamus said. “How else would he get his mate to lower himself into the caves and look around?”
Clancy scratched his head. “It’s a mystery, all right.”
“He thinks his Shannon is in Boston,” Lucky said. “Why would he want his mate to go into the caves?”
