My heartache tightened, reminding me of the cruel pain of grief. But then, in my next breath, it turned to something new, where there was no pain. Something that gave me new strength and courage. I had a battle to fight for her. For my clan. And what I was feeling was determination.
Determination to fight and win.
If I could restore my ancestral lands, I would live out my life here.
My true home.
And if I could put Grace’s soul to rest, at peace, then I would have hope for a peaceful future. For me and for coming generations of O’Malley women.
I lifted my hand and stared at Grace’s ring.
The Celtic designs danced in my eyes, encouraging me to take on my new role with courage and grace. She’d given me the power I needed to lead the fight. To face the MacMahon chieftain with equality. To face the clan council elders with the validation of an ancestral title passed down directly from the our most honored leader.
“Jazus Christ! What the fook wuz’at?” Rory’s brogue thickened with fright. “Feckin’ Grace O’Malley, it was.” His eyes bugged out of his head as he rubbed his hands through his hair. “Bloody hell.”
He made no effort at hiding his trembling limbs.
Paul pushed up from his knees and stumbled to me. His energy had been sapped from his body and he nearly fell. I grabbed onto him with solid strength and moved him back to our table. He collapsed into his chair and coughed.
“Come on, Rory.”
I pulled him up and moved him to his chair. He followed along like a rag doll.
I stood at the table with a wide stance, shoulders squared, waiting as they gathered themselves together.
Rory rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up straight as Paul propped himself on his elbows, squinting to clear any remaining disturbing images.
I smacked my knuckles on the table, presenting to them the ring on my hand.
Their jaws fell as they stared at it with wide, unbelieving eyes.
Paul stated, “She made you chieftain.”
“Yes.” I smiled.
***
“Can I getcha somethin’, miss?” the barman called over to me, unfazed by any of the windblown, anointing events.
“Pint a’ Guinness, please,” I called back.
Paul and Rory sat taller, regaining their energy through each new breath. They took long pulls from their pints as if it were life-giving elixir—like it might have been their last.
“What now?” Paul asked.
“The skull marking on the map, on Clare Island. It’s our final clue.” My eyes widened in hope.
Rory leaned in. “Whatcha mean? What map?”
I darted a look at Paul first. He raised his eyebrows and nudged his chin at me, leaving the decision to tell Rory up to me.
I wanted to become allies with Rory. Now that we were each in charge of our clans, it provided us an opportunity to unite and work out an agreement. Without violence.
I had to take a chance and trust Rory. He could be the link to making this work out right.
“Grace led me to a hidden map in Rockfleet Castle,” I started.
Rory readjusted his position at full attention.
“It has two markings. One is Ballynahinch Castle, as you’re well aware.” I glared at him with a smirk, holding him accountable for his amateur attack. “The other is Clare Island. And I’m pretty sure whatever might be on Clare Island will give us the final answers to all this.”
“How can you be so sure?” Rory asked as he went to the bar and brought back my well-settled pint.
He placed it in front of me, waiting for my reply.
“Because the map came with another document.” I picked up my pint. “Signed by Queen Elizabeth I.”
Rory eyes widened. “What kind of document?”
I pressed my lips together in silence and held the tight seal.
He picked up his pint.
“Well, to Queen Elizabeth I.”
Paul reluctantly lifted his pint to ours and we cheered to the Virgin Queen.
“Sláinte,” we said in unison as our glasses clinked.
I took a long drink from my pint and wiped my foamy mustache ceremoniously with the back of my hand.
“So, two chieftains, sharin’ a pint?” Rory flashed an arrogant smile Paul’s way.
He chugged the rest of his pint and clonked the glass down. He pressed on the table and lifted himself to delicate standing, still weakened from Grace’s visit.
“This does present a problem, however.” He pressed his lips together and straightened up as best he could. “We’re at odds now, I’d say. More than ever.”
He stepped back from the table.
I watched his every move, uncertain of what he might do or say. Paul sat tall with his shoulders broad, probably using every ounce of energy he had, and his eyes followed Rory like a hawk.
Rory nodded formally to both of us and said, “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
And he left without another word or glance back.
***
With my celebratory pint in hand, I looked across to Paul, as the growing weight of the pint dropped it back to the table.
We sat in silence, finishing our Guinness, absorbing our new reality and stealing glimpses of the ring, over and over, to be sure it was still there on my hand.
I was chieftain of the O’Malley Clan now. Clan leader. Lost kin of Grace O’Malley.
I was the chosen one to carry forward whatever Gráinne Ní Mháille had begun. To return her land and her fortune to the O’Malleys and to reconnect her to her lost love, Hugh.
I thought of her sword, lost in the ivy. It was another piece that needed to be restored. I resolved to get my hands on it.
“We gotta get to Clare Island,” I told Paul without wasting a moment. “To find the skull on the map.” My eyes widened. “You always said her final resting place was most likely on that island. What if that’s what it marks? It could be the solution to this puzzle.” I leaned forward, rambling, ready to pack my bags.
“Maeve. Slow down.” Paul ran his hands through his hair. “We have no idea what any of this is. I mean, chieftain! Christ!” He glanced to the side, avoiding my face. “Think about it. If Fergal was willing to kill you, who else is out there ready to pounce?”
He turned to me with a tension on his face I’d never seen before. The look of loss deep in his eyes twisted my gut.
I stopped my racing brain from planning my trip to Clare Island and considered his words. I hadn’t thought about other creeps that might exist. Other brown cloaks. My spine straightened with the reality it presented.
Paul exhaled and pursed his lips. “I don’t think you should be alone at all anymore. Not until we really know what’s going on.”
“Seriously? You too?” I rolled my eyes. “Michelle and Declan said the same thing.”
I’d been staying at Michelle’s since the attack but never expected to make it a longer-term thing.
“I want you to stay with me,” Paul said. “I won’t feel safe any other way.”
My eyes nearly fell out of my head.
“No way. I won’t put your reputation on the line like that, not ever again.”
I thought back to how our relationship began, when I was a student in his class. No matter how cautious we’d been, it had still gotten away from us.
“It’s too risky, “ I added.
I closed my eyes, trying to erase the memory of the time we were once seen in public together by a former student and then the whole Patricia confrontation.
I rubbed my temples. Somehow, his ex-girlfriend Patricia got wind of it and then came to him, trying to pressure him back to her. What a mess.
“I can’t take that chance.” I shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter. I need to keep you safe.” His eyes held mine as he clenched his teeth. “I want this.” He hesitated. “I need this.”
“It’s too risky, Paul. I’ll be okay. I’ll move my things to Michelle’s for a while.
Declan’s there most of the time, too. It’ll be okay.” I reached for his hands on the table and squeezed. “Really.”
He pressed his lips together, knowing he’d lost the debate and moved his gaze out the door of the pub.
“I’ve got a bad feeling.” He shook his head in resolve and closed his eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Soul Mates
“So, do you want to come to the O’Malley cemetery with me?” My nodding head and high eyebrows left Michelle little wiggle room.
With Paul stuck on an unexpected assignment at the college, I was antsy to get moving. My impatience gnawed at me as I considered my next steps—as chieftain.
The title nearly blew my mind as I considered the responsibility that came with it. The clan system went back in Irish history to medieval times and held families together like tribes. My entire clan, wherever they were, was counting on me and they didn’t even know it yet. Truth was, I didn’t even know yet if I could live up to it. But the idea of bringing my clan together again was like rebuilding my lost family.
It was what my heart beat for, what I was meant to do.
Now that I was chieftain, though, getting my hands on Grace’s sword seemed imperative, before moving on to any other task. It called to me from its hidden ivy bed every time I closed my eyes.
I placed my wineglass on the red stain that bled through my brainstorming paper—covered with flow charts of what to do next, what could happen, where to go, et cetera. The paper was covered in scribbles, cross-outs, and arrows.
“Hell no!” Michelle blasted. “I refuse to go to that freaky cemetery. I’m staying away from all that crazy shit. Far away!” Michelle swung her arm for emphasis on the “far” and sloshed her wine on the couch.
I shook my head and huffed.
“Seriously, Michelle. You have to come! There’s no way I can go alone,” I begged. “Paul is trapped with his college stuff and can’t get out of it. If I can’t leave for Clare Island yet, then I have to do something.”
The whine in my voice annoyed even me, but I had to take some form of action, and getting back to the cemetery seemed to make perfect sense.
If Fergal was “taken care of,” as Rory alluded, then he wouldn’t be guarding the cemetery anymore. Assuming that was Fergal, I guessed, but I was pretty confident it was.
The thought of the sword at the cemetery, in the ivy, haunted me. It was calling to me—popping into my mind, morning and night. I had to get it.
“You guys shouldn’t go there,” Declan chimed in from the kitchen, sounding more like a dad.
He dropped a bag of Tayto’s on the coffee table and we launched at it.
“You’re just looking’ fer trouble that way.”
“Her mind’s kinda made up,” Michelle said to Declan as she shot him a look I couldn’t interpret.
He paused with his lips pursed to the side.
“You’re going, either way, right?”
I sucked air through my clenched teeth, apologetically. “Yeah, kinda. Sorry.”
I had to go.
If I could get my hands on Grace’s sword… it was her power. It might give me the power to ward off enemies. Not that I would slash them or anything, or even be capable of wielding it in any fashion. But I believed it held more than that. Like an unspoken, unwritten law. And it would be proof of my chieftainship, along with the ring.
I couldn’t stand the thought of it just lying there in the wet ivy. When she dropped it last winter, the look on her face twisted my guts. Her stately features contorted with shock and stricken grief as she stared at Paul after nearly killing him—as if she were gazing on Hugh himself.
My drive to reconnect Grace with Hugh was stronger than ever.
I felt so close.
I needed that sword. It was a symbol of her power and leadership but also a conduit through time of centuries of struggles, fights, and victories. And I definitely had to keep it out of enemy hands.
Declan moved to the couch and plopped next to me.
“Well, it’s safe here. You should stay. And wait for Paul. I mean, anything could happen, and go wrong.”
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye like he knew something.
He scratched his head, as if he were re-evaluating me, and I squirmed under his scrutiny.
“Declan. Cut it out. It’s still me!” I punched his arm and threw a look at Michelle like, What the hell? What’s his deal?
She laughed at Declan.
“Yeah, he’s a worrier. Can’t blame him, though.” She rubbed his knee as Declan looked at his phone.
Her hand shook slightly as she forced a fake smile.
“Ah, jazus.” His fingers tapped across his phone, texting someone. “Mum needs my help with Izzy.”
He rolled his eyes at Michelle.
“Tell her to drop her here,” Michelle said. “That way, you won’t have to leave.”
She shot him a wicked smile that left no options.
His fingers flew across his phone again. His eyes lifted from the screen and looked into mine with a filter of caution.
“Sure, I guess you’ll be meetin’ Izzy.” His lips pressed together. “They’re on their way.”
Michelle’s eyes went wide without reason.
Insecurity washed through me.
I wasn’t ready to meet her. I needed to work up to it. Take time to figure out how I’d talk with her. What I would say? I fidgeted in my seat.
“Hey, I don’t want anything bad to go down either,” Declan said. “Don’t go sayin’ stuff to scare her, now.”
“I won’t, Declan. Shit, I’m more scared of her than she will be of me.”
I laughed at myself. Frightened of an eleven-year-old.
But she knew stuff. She saw things.
I shook my head, realizing how my friends must see me. Kind of a freak too, I supposed.
“Her vision are still getting worse.” Michelle broke the tension but added a new level at the same time.
“Wait. Seriously?”
I turned to Declan and readjusted myself on the couch so I could look directly at him.
“What’s going on now?” I asked, holding my breath.
Declan glared at Michelle in a micro-beat, not meant for me to see.
A car door slammed out front and Declan jumped from his seat.
“Well,” he said as he looked out the window, “you’re about to find out, I guess.”
***
Izzy bounced in with fresh air and sunshine beaming from her eyes. Her smile lit up the room as her feathery blond hair flowed around her as she looked around.
“Hi, Michelle!” she squeaked in a high-pitched sweetness that melted me.
She ran to Michelle and hugged her. She grabbed hold of Michelle’s wrist and examined her bracelet.
“Oh, I love this! You have the best accessories.”
Declan interjected, “Izzy, this is our friend, Maeve.”
Izzy barely pulled her eyes from the bracelet.
“Oh, hi.” She flashed a bright smile of little Chiclet teeth and I smiled back in insta-love.
She was so sweet and full of life.
She looked up at Michelle.
“Wanna bake? We can make a sponge cake or Black Forest gateau….” Her huge eyes could win any debate.
Michelle’s face fell and she looked to Declan. She could hardly make boxed mac and cheese, so I was sure she had no idea how to make those things, let alone have any of the ingredients.
“Gotta pee.” Izzy hopped on one foot and Declan pointed the way.
She scampered off to the bathroom.
“Now don’t freak her out, Maeve. Promise?” He begged with his puppy eyes.
“Jeez. What did I do?” I mocked him with my palms turned up in innocence.
When she got back, Declan sat her down and handed her his phone. She dove right into his apps looking for her favorite.
“You’re not gonna be here long enough to bake, Izzy. Mum’ll be back soon for you
,” Declan said.
“Awwww.” Her eyes stayed glued to the phone screen as she tapped away on it.
“Maeve,” Michelle yelled for me from the kitchen. “Get in here. I need to make a snack for Izzy.”
I jumped up, thinking of good kid snacks. Grilled cheese, chopped fruit, cereal. I browsed Michelle’s cabinets and we agreed on pasta. Plain, buttered pasta.
I plopped back down on the couch across from Izzy as Declan went to the kitchen.
I watched her playing on his phone and a small smile crossed my lips. Then, she looked up at me and caught my gaze.
Her eyes popped open and she stared at me.
“You’re the girl,” she said. “Right? With the visions.”
She looked straight into my eyes.
My chin pulled back, like I’d been caught or exposed.
“I can see it in you.” She looked at Declan’s phone then looked up again. “Can you see it in me?”
I stared into her eyes and suddenly understood the term “old soul.”
“Yes, Izzy. I see it in you too.”
She dropped Declan’s phone onto her chair and scrambled over to me on her knees. She knelt in front of me and took a closer look with a drawn face and slackened jaw.
“I think you’re in trouble.” Her voice fell flat. “My dreams are gettin’ worse. And they’re to do with you.” She leaned in closer. “Do you want to hear ’em?”
I nodded my head.
“Yeah.”
The sunshine in her eyes dulled and she took on a darker appearance, as if she were sinking into herself to an unpleasant place.
“There’s death all around.” She looked to the side.
My fingers gripped the upholstery as she continued.
“The pirate queen is near. She fights. She’s brave. But there’s an enemy.” Her eyes squinted as she leaned even closer.
My breath sucked in as I hovered on the edge of my seat.
“He’s strong. Smart.”
I stared into Izzy’s eyes, hanging on her every word as my skin prickled in reaction to her story.
“He wants to stop you. He has the power to lead others, to stop you.” Her eyes grew wide and she leaned even closer. “He’s coming for you.”
I swallowed through my tight throat.
Inish Clare Page 15
