I Dream of Dragons

by Ashlyn Chase

  As far as he was concerned, his Ulster cousins could have the damn castle. It was an empty ruin, but his sisters would never forgive him if he gave up without a fight. At least a verbal one. He wouldn’t pit his sisters against male dragons.

  “I need to talk to them.” Rory narrowed his eyes at Fagan. “I don’t suppose you have their phone number?”

  “Sadly no. But now that we’re together, we can lift the spell that kept you from returnin’ home.”

  Rory nodded. “Do it then. I’ll go pack.”

  “And I’ll go with you,” Chloe said, getting to her feet.

  “No, you won’t. You’ll stay here and keep an eye on the youngest.”

  Shannon rose and jammed her hands on her hips. “What do you mean by that? I’m not helpless. Besides, I have Finn to stay with me now.”

  Rory snorted. “Sure’n that’s what I mean, me darlin’ sister.”

  “You can’t be serious,” the women said at once.

  Rory got to his feet, raising himself to his full height. “You’ll both stay here. As head of this clan, I order you.”

  Their eyes rounded, but neither said a word. They couldn’t. Their leader had given an order, and to disobey would mean treason. He’d never used his powerful position with his sisters, but this was for their own safety.

  * * *

  Chad the ghost couldn’t wait to give his report to the tenants. Wouldn’t they be delighted to learn that the rivals had become lovers? No hard decisions. No ugly scenes. The hippie in him just loved this outcome.

  He searched for witch Morgaine, but she wasn’t in her apartment. He floated across the hall, looking for his southern belle roommate Gwyneth. She was missing too.

  Where the heck did everyone go?

  A cheer went up from the paranormal club downstairs. Ah. They must be having a tournament or something. That worked just fine. He could probably call an impromptu tenants’ meeting on the spot.

  He sunk through the floor into the club and saw a bunch of smiling faces huddled around a phone. Gwyneth and Morgaine could hear him and Nathan could see him, but Sly wouldn’t know Chad was there unless he flashed the lights or something.

  “Congratulations, Drake,” Sly said.

  “I knew y’all were havin’ a boy.” Gwyneth hugged Nathan. “They say the goddess only gives ya what y’all can handle. I can’t think of anyone better to raise a rowdy boy than Bliss.”

  The phone was on speaker and Drake laughed loudly. “You got that right. The little tyke won’t get away with anything.”

  “I’m so happy for you two,” Morgaine said. When Chad cleared his throat, she looked up. “Oh! Chad is here. Did you want to add your congratulations to the new parents, Chad?”

  “Sure. But then I have something even more important to discuss with the whole room. Don’t let anyone leave.”

  “More important?” she echoed.

  Gwyneth glared at the ceiling. “What the heck could be more important than the birth of our good friend’s baby, Chad?”

  Drake’s voice interjected. “It’s okay. I should get back to Bliss. I just wanted you all to know that everything went well. Both mother and baby are fine.”

  “Y’all don’t have to hang up just because of Chad. It’s not like he has anywhere to be.”

  “It’s okay, Gwyneth. Another visitor just popped in and I should be social. I’ll come by the club later with cigars.”

  Gwyneth scrunched up her nose as if she’d smelled something foul.

  “See you later,” Drake said, and as soon as everyone had congratulated him again, they finally hung up.

  Chad couldn’t have waited much longer without shorting out the ceiling fan or something.

  “Okay,” Morgaine said. “What’s so important that you had to interrupt?”

  “It’s the new tenants in apartment 1B.”

  Morgaine rolled her eyes. “Are they at it again?”

  “Amber and Rory have become lovers. There’s no need to decide who gets the apartment!”

  For some reason Morgaine wasn’t jumping up and down. Considering she’d be the one to eject one or the other tenant, Chad thought she’d be happier than this.

  “Why aren’t you excited? I thought you’d at least say something like ‘groovy.’”

  Morgaine placed her hands on her hips. “I didn’t say ‘groovy’ because I’m not from the sixties like you are, Chad. Also, just because they’re making love doesn’t mean they want to share the apartment long-term.”

  “True,” he admitted. “But free love went out in the seventies. I didn’t know it was back in. If so, well… Groovy!”

  “No. Free love isn’t back in. I think people realized it sometimes hurt others and haven’t been doing that for a while.”

  Sly cocked his head at her. “What are you talking about? Who’s hurting who with free love?”

  “Nobody is hurting anyone.” Morgaine’s posture relaxed and she smiled. They shared a few moments of silent communication and punctuated it with a kiss.

  “Well, I don’t really know what we can do with this information. It’s not like I’m going to march down there and ask if their recent bedroom activities were a declaration of undying love.”

  “That’s a cop-out. I’d do it, but neither of them can hear me.” Then Chad got an idea. The leprechauns! They could hear him—and see him. “Never mind. I’ll continue to watch them and see what happens. You may return to your regularly scheduled…whatever.”

  Chad floated through the wall and followed the sound of raised voices across the hall.

  He stopped and listened outside the apartment for a few minutes. It sounded like an Irish Sunday dinner. Lots of heavily accented English with a few voices trying to speak over the others.

  Suddenly all became quiet, then four distinct munchkin voices began chanting.

  No matter how hard he listened, he couldn’t make out the words. They must be chanting in Gaelic or something.

  After they finished, one of the leprechauns said, “There. Now you can go home.”

  Chapter 12

  On the off chance that Fagan was wrong, Rory strode across the hall and used the phone in the paranormal club. He had to place an international call to his cousins’ home in Ulster. He was relieved when one of them answered the phone.

  “It’s Rory Arish. Which one of you am I talkin’ to?”

  “Rory? The operator said it was a call from the United States.”

  “So? I asked which one of me cousins I’m talkin’ to.”

  There was a brief pause on the other end. “What does it matter?”

  “I’d like to know what to call you.”

  “It’s Eagan.”

  “Ah. The youngest. Is Conlan about?”

  “Anythin’ you want to discuss with Conlan you can say to me,” Eagan blustered.

  Rory found a comfortable chair and sat down. “It’s an important matter, and I think Conlan and I should speak as heads of our clans.”

  “Are you referrin’ to our ancestral castle that’s been discovered? The reason I can’t put you in touch with Conlan straightaway is because he and Aiden are in Ballyhoo now.”

  This time Rory was speechless. Bollocks. It’s true. Perhaps Amber, being a flight attendant, could help him get to his destination quickly.

  “Fine. I’ll meet them there.”

  “Why did the operator say you were callin’ from the United States?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have time, and I enjoy long stories.”

  “Most Irishmen do—except this one. If you speak to Conlan before I arrive, tell him I’ll be there presently. There’s a B and B in town where he and Aiden can stay until I can welcome them properly.”

  “But—”

  Rory hung up the phone and ran downstairs.
/>   “Amber?” When there was no answer, he went to the bedroom.

  He poked his head in and didn’t see her. Shite.

  “Amber?”

  No answer.

  “Jaysus.” A few hours ago, neither could leave; now apparently they both could.

  Rory strode across the hall and knocked.

  After another set of knocks, Nathan eventually answered the door. “So, she threw you out already?”

  “Who?”

  “Amber. Your…um—?”

  Rory didn’t have time for explanations. “I’m lookin’ for her. I was thinkin’ she may have come over here.”

  “Nope. She’s not here. Did you check the hospital?”

  Alarm slammed through him. “Why? What happened?”

  Nathan leaned against the doorjamb. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. She’d be on the maternity ward, visiting a friend who just gave birth.”

  “Oh. Is it Bliss?”

  “Yeah. Bliss and Drake had a completely human boy.”

  Rory scratched his head.

  “I… Well, I’d better go. I’m in a hurry. I’ll see you in a bit.” He retreated to his apartment to pack the few things his sisters had bought for him.

  When he walked through the door, a smiling Amber greeted him.

  “Hey, Rory. I guess you realized I’d let you back in.”

  He plunked his fists on his hips. “And where were you?”

  Her smile slipped, as if she’d been caught doing something underhanded. “I—uh…I guess you were here before I got back.”

  “Correct. I looked everywhere for you. Well, not everywhere. I just covered the first and second floors.”

  “So you didn’t speak to Morgaine and Sly?”

  “No. And I wouldn’t have.” He noticed she let out a deep breath and relaxed. He took his own deep breath and blurted out the highlights. “I have to go back to Ireland. There’s an emergency I need to take care of. I was hopin’ you could help me get on the next plane. There must be a trick to travelin’ at the last minute.”

  “Oh! What kind of emergency?”

  “Well, nobody died.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh! I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant you could get an emergency bereavement seat.”

  “Ah. I thought for a moment we made about as much sense as the neighbor next door.”

  She smirked. “I don’t know exactly what that means, but you can tell me later. Right now it sounds as if you’re in a pickle and need to get home fast.”

  “That’s the right of it. The little man you met earlier, Lucky… He was one of a few that were helpin’ us at home, but now they’ve deserted their posts and all hell has broken loose.”

  “I see. Well, if it’s really that important, you don’t need a plane.” She strode over to him and grasped his hand. “Where do you need to go?”

  “Ireland. Specifically me home on the western cliffs of County Kerry in the town of Ballyhoo.”

  She tipped her head. “Never heard of it.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you have. It was a sleepy little village until recently. Mayhaps you can get me to Galway, and I can find a taxi to take me to Ballyhoo.”

  “Or you can picture the place you want to be in your mind. Pick a spot that’s usually deserted. We can’t be seen materializing out of the blue.”

  “The pub is out then,” he said.

  “Are you in a hurry or aren’t you?”

  “I should think me old bedroom would be empty.”

  “Close your eyes and picture it as if you’re there.”

  He did so. When she gasped, he opened his eyes. They were in some kind of haze. Peering out of it, he saw two people sleeping in his bed and a few others in sleeping bags on the floor. Feck. What’s this?

  The next thing he knew, they were standing in their Boston living room again.

  “What’s with the slumber party?” she asked sharply.

  “Hell. That’s probably why I need to get back there. It looks like me place has been overtaken by others who think possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

  She shook her head. “Well, now that I know where you want to be, I can poke around a bit and find a deserted spot to take you to.”

  “There’s a shed out back. And a sheep’s paddock with a deep lean-to. I doubt anyone would be sleepin’ out there.”

  She nodded, dropped his hand, and disappeared.

  He was at a loss. Should he try to bring Chloe with him? Her take-no-prisoners attitude would roust the interlopers quickly. Did she really need to chaperone their sister? Shannon was, after all, only a young lass in looks. But acting the part of her elder and protector had become such an ingrained habit…

  While he was debating, Amber reappeared.

  “The good news is I found a spot. The bad news is there are people almost everywhere. Tents are pitched all over the place.”

  “Feckin’…” He couldn’t come up with a curse word strong enough, which left him frustrated.

  She grasped his hand and suddenly he was surrounded by sheep. Surprised, the animals began bleating.

  “Shhh…” Rory crooned. “’Tis only me.”

  They crowded around, nudging Amber away.

  “They must think it’s time for grazin’,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could watch them for me while I go toss out a number of trespassers, could you?”

  “I’ve never tended sheep before, but how hard can it be?”

  He stifled a snort.

  A throat cleared and Rory’s gaze met a familiar face. “O’Neil. What are you doin’ here?”

  The man’s expression turned from surprised to annoyed. “Tendin’ your bleedin’ sheep. Where’ve you been all this time?”

  Rory ignored the question, and Amber elbowed him in the ribs. “Ah, forgive me manners. Amber McNally, this is Far O’Neil.”

  “Father?” Amber asked.

  O’Neil laughed. “Not hardly. Me first name is Farquar. Everybody just calls me Far. I think they’ve forgotten me real name.”

  “Far is a teacher and plays sessions with us in the pub when he’s not tendin’ sheep. Thanks for lookin’ after ’em.”

  O’Neil shrugged. “They’d probably take a bite out o’ the tourists if they got too hungry. I may have done you a disservice.”

  Rory would have laughed, but the idea of tourists within his sheep’s reach infuriated him.

  Just then, Amber muttered, “Damn it. Not now.”

  He tried to read her face. “Do you have to leave?”

  “Yeah. I—uh… Nature is calling.”

  He gave a quick nod.

  “Far, why don’t we take a walk? You can fill me in on the shenanigans happenin’ on me property.”

  Rory quickly ushered his acquaintance away, letting Amber answer her Mayday call.

  As he strolled behind the lean-to, frowning at the tents, Farquar O’Neil told Rory that a mysterious castle had been discovered built into the cliffs just off his property.

  Rory halted. “Bollocks. That castle is me property. It belonged to our Arish ancestors. Now it belongs to Shannon, Chloe, and me.”

  “Not accordin’ to county records,” O’Neil said. “You’ve been payin’ taxes, they said, but not enough to cover two dwellin’s. Only the one is listed and it’s the cottage.”

  “So who is sleepin’ in me bed, and how is it they think they’ve a right to it?”

  Far shrugged.

  “It’s time I go see.” Rory whirled on his heel and marched toward the caretaker’s cottage. If it’s me no-good cousins and they think they’ve a right to stay there, they have some bad news comin’…

  * * *

  Amber struggled to
keep her mind on her muse job. A helicopter instructor had apparently suffered a stroke, and a brand-new student was at the controls. Amber didn’t know a thing about helicopters, so all she could do was keep the student calm.

  “You can do this…” she said.

  The helicopter rocked a bit.

  “Steady,” she whispered in his ear.

  The student managed to stop the rocking and return the helicopter to a perfect hover. Amber looked down. They seemed to be over a farmer’s field, but the corn was only a foot or so high. She supposed he could land. Even if he took out a few stalks, he might live to pay the farmer for the loss.

  “Sh—should I cut the engine and try autorotation, even though I’ve never done it before?” he asked aloud. The instructor wasn’t answering and probably couldn’t.

  What should I tell him? Damn it. I have no idea. They were at about one hundred feet, but this kid needed help. They could flip end over end if a propeller hit first.

  “What does your gut tell you?” She whispered in his ear.

  He glanced down. “It looks too high.”

  “Then go lower.”

  He swallowed hard. They descended, but even Amber knew they were going too fast.

  “Shit!” she cried and then slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Fortunately the student stayed relatively calm and muttered, “Autorotation it is.” He steadied the craft and cut the engine as he murmured a prayer. It was “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep,” but she imagined that was all he could think of under the circumstances.

  Instead of a dead drop as Amber would have expected, the chopper slowed dramatically and then the blades began rotating in the opposite direction. They were almost on the ground.

  “You’re going to be all right,” she said excitedly.

  He finished his prayer moments after they came to a full stop with a mild thump. The chopper was in one piece, as was the student.

  Amber saw the farmer rushing over and knew she could leave. There was nothing she could do for the instructor. He was still alive, and something told her he’d be all right. The kid dragged a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

  Amber’s relief only lasted a moment. Where should she go now? Back to Rory, but where was he? Surrounded by squatters?