Who could this enemy be?
“So you’ve made friends,” Declan’s booming voice made me jump out of my seat.
Izzy’s intense gaze bounced to him and lightened.
“Jeez, Declan! You gave me a heart attack.” Panting, my hand flew to my heart.
“Tellin’ her stories already, I see,” Declan jabbed at Izzy.
“She’s got the visions, too, Declan. I need to tell her all of it,” she whined and brushed her hand at him to stop interrupting.
“Tell me what?” I looked from Declan to Izzy and back again.
Declan nodded.
“I know, Izzy. ’Tis as good a time as any. Go on. Don’t let me stop ya.” He nudged at her with his chin.
I stared at her, wide-eyed.
How could Izzy’s dreams have become worse, to visions more like mine? She always had similar awake dreams like me, but not as violent, and she was so much younger.
I dropped my face into my hands in thought. Her visions were what brought Declan and me together as friends in the first place, but now, they were more serious.
Izzy looked at me and chewed on her bottom lip.
“You tell her, Declan.” She turned to her big brother with hopeful eyes.
Declan nodded. “Well…I was gonna tell ya this anyway, Maeve. I just didn’t get to it yet.”
He cleared his throat with his fist at his mouth.
“She sees a sword. Like the one you talk about. Ancient and regal, with the Celtic swirls and all.” He took a breath.
“Yeah...?” I leaned in.
“She says some bad guy has it….” He bared his teeth.
“A real baddy,” Izzy interjected.
“Like a crazed maniac, actually,” Declan continued. “And he, ah, he kills a man with it.” He huffed in an attempt to dismiss the heft of what he just said. “So, yeah. That’s it.”
He looked to Izzy and she nodded in agreement while looking down at her hands.
A chill ran through me and I shook it off.
Then I thought of the murder scene in my nightmare and my eyebrows scrunched together.
“Well, that sounds just like what happened on the ship, in my nightmare last winter—when I saw Hugh murdered by the MacMahons during their attack on Gráinne’s galley. They were like pirates who boarded her ship. It’s the same vision, right?”
I looked to Izzy for confirmation.
She kept her eyes on the floor.
“I know. I thought that too.” Declan hesitated and bit the inside of his cheek. “At first.”
“Tell her,” Michelle prodded, as she came out of the kitchen. “She needs to know. Especially now that she’s thinking of going back to that cemetery.”
I fixed my wide-eyed gaze on Michelle, trying to freeze time, and held it there as Declan’s words continued.
“It wasn’t from the past, Maeve.” His words ate through my armor. “Izzy said you were there. The man who was killed… was with you.”
My hand flew to my mouth with a smack, stinging my lips.
“Paul?”
My eyes widened in fear at the thought of Paul being harmed in any way. It would be my fault. I couldn’t let it happen.
Declan nodded and Michelle closed her eyes in resignation.
“It’s just one of my episodes,” Izzy burst out. “It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen!”
Her voice cracked in panic as if she were going to cry.
I sat up tall and felt my face grow rigid as my teeth clenched.
It was a prophecy. One I knew was coming. I’d known it from the beginning.
Paul and I were destined to be together, but doomed to be apart. Like Grace and Hugh.
My heart tightened and shortened my breath.
“So, I’m going then.” My commanding tone filled the room. “I’m getting the sword before anyone else does… and I really don’t want to go alone.”
My words left no room for negotiation as my eyes pleaded with them.
There was no way I could go alone now. Not with the idea of some creeper out there, probably Fergal, hell-bent not only on killing me, but on replaying history.
The danger was palpable.
Paul needed to stay away. I had to do this without him.
If I could get the sword, I could prevent him from being hurt.
The tingling warmth of the wine had left my veins, replaced by frozen shots of adrenaline and terror.
“You’ll be okay, though,” Izzy added. “The original three will help you.” She smiled with innocence.
My eyebrows scrunched as I leaned in to her.
“The who?”
“The original three. They follow you. Everywhere. Waiting. They know you’ve come to free them.” She picked at her nails and bit the corner of her thumb.
I looked at Michelle and Declan, who were both watching Izzy for more details. I turned back to Izzy.
“I’m not sure who you mean, Izzy. Who are the ‘Original Three?’”
“I dunno. Some old people. The lady wears a black dress with a white collar and the old guys wear bad suits. They seem kinda lost or something.”
She reached for Declan’s phone again.
My eyes rounded as my breath sucked in.
The innkeepers from Ballynahinch! Who were they?
My heart rate accelerated to bursting as I pictured them following me.
I shot a death stare at Declan and said, “And you thought I was going to scare her?”
He huffed and moved his eyes away in feigned innocence.
With a huge inhale, I turned back to Izzy.
“I’m sorry you’re seeing such strange and scary visions, Izzy.” My heart broke for her. “I’m going to make it stop. I know what to do to make it stop, and I will.”
My resolve strengthened even further now that I felt responsible for restoring Izzy’s sunshine as well.
My teeth ground together, thinking of the trouble Fergal and his generations of minions had caused for the O’Malleys and anyone else connected in any way to the rhythms of the Druids or the earth or whatever it was that enchanted Izzy.
“I’m sorry, Declan. I feel responsible for all of this.” I shifted in discomfort. “I’m going to help Izzy. I promise. I’ll find a way to stop all of this. Will you help me?” My eyes pleaded. “I could use a getaway driver.”
My guilty smile spread across my face.
Izzy bounced up and down.
“Help her, Declan! Help her. Pleeeease…,” she pleaded.
Declan fidgeted and looked at Michelle.
“Yep.” He sniffed into his curt reply. “For Izzy.”
He lifted his sixteen-ounce can of Heineken into the air. “But also for Granuaile. To bringing balance back to ancient Gaelic Ireland and her pirate queen.”
He reached his can higher.
“Sláinte.”
Michelle and I raised our wineglasses, eyes wide in surprise at his sudden shift.
Izzy raised Declan’s phone and we all chinked.
“Sláinte.”
***
The cotton wool in my head cleared after the second cup of coffee.
I’d tossed and turned all night replaying Izzy’s story. It scared the crap out of me. But Michelle and Declan were on board to help, so that was good.
We’d made a plan; I’d do some last-ditch research today and then we’d go to retrieve the sword tonight, without Paul.
Our aim was to keep him out of it. To keep him safe.
Paul was busy and distracted at the college anyway, so I figured I’d find him while I was there and fill him in on the Izzy stuff and my cemetery plans.
He’d probably try to stop me, but at least I wasn’t going alone. Michelle and Declan were my perfect excuse for making it work, leaving little room for argument. I hoped.
My array of strategies for convincing him it would be okay consumed my every thought.
***
I snuck out of Michelle’s into the blinding morning sun. My sluggish stride to NUIG dragge
d the journey into what felt like an epic Tour de Galway.
As I entered the campus library half-asleep, my senses awakened to the familiar smell of old books, the rows and stacks of well-worn reference guides, and the awesome historical architecture of the high ceilings and arched windows.
My shoulders relaxed as a feeling of security surrounded me, a sense of support basically, whether it was the wealth of information, shelf upon shelf of answers, or the quiet solitude. The library never disappointed me insofar as ancient Celtic history or any form of archaeological digging.
I navigated my way through tables and reference desks to my favorite spot at the far corner.
My computer buzzed to life as I splayed my favorite books across the table, surrounding myself with the mysteries of ancient Ireland. The pictures on the book covers danced in my eyes, showing me history through their titles, fonts, and medieval designs.
My phone sat next to my foam coffee cup from Smokey Joe’s and lit up with a cheerful chime. I flicked it onto silent, looking around like a guilty library criminal, and checked my text message.
Paul: Mornin U up yet
Me: Ya Lots o coffee
Paul: Doing what
Me: Lookin for grace stuff. How bout u
Pause. Waiting.
Paul: Not now. Working. Talk later maybe?
Me: ???
Pause. Waiting.
Me: Hello
Paul: Sorry. Meant for someone else
Okay...?
My throat constricted.
Was he seeing Patricia again?
My insecurity washed over me.
That’s all that could mean, though. Right?
It was meant for Patricia. Holy crap.
A sickness rose up my neck and coated my tongue green. Oh my god.
Was he pulling away again now that I was chieftain? Or because Rory was there to save me from Fergal and he wasn’t?
My eyes climbed the pile of books in front of me but I could only think of Paul with her.
My face scrunched in a grimace.
The time she confronted Paul outside his classroom flashed in my mind… and her stare-down when she saw me with him. She knew then that we were together, just by the energy between us.
A twang of guilt washed through me again, but Paul had assured me they were over. But I’d always felt awkward about it. Like I was the “other” woman.
I knew this might happen again. Like karma, I guess. She had a hold over him that I couldn’t compete with. Years together. And family ties. And she was gorgeous. And. And. Ugh!
I was losing my mind. But I saw them together in Smokey Joe’s a couple weeks ago. When Paul had pulled away.
Ahhhh! I grabbed my hair. I didn’t know what to think.
I shook my head. There was no way it could be true.
Paul and I were meant to be. It was real. Like truth.
He was Hugh DeLacy’s descendant. Grace and Hugh were soul mates. I stared at my foam cup in complete distraction. We were meant to be together too.
Grace and Hugh had been ripped apart by violent, evil ways. But somehow their love continued through centuries of separation.
I pieced it together. Paul and I were their hope. We were the chance for Grace and Hugh’s love to stay alive. And I felt like I was home with him. He made me whole again.
I texted.
Me: Paul. What are you doing?
Silence.
I laid my head on my crossed arms on the table, allowing fear and insecurity to reawaken in me. The familiar feeling wasted no time reacquainting itself with me. It had been waiting, just a layer or two under my skin, to gnaw away again at my weakened inner structure.
The thick history books surrounded me like a fortress. They mocked me now, though. Each one holding answers just out of my reach. They reminded me I was a stranger, with little knowledge of the magic of their world. New to their land.
“Sorry, no sleepin’ on school grounds.”
The lyrical brogue brought me back to the present. I blinked and lifted my hazy head.
My half-open misty eyes looked into the bright, smiling eyes of Rory.
The heavy gray fog around me cleared away in a blink.
“What are you doing here?”
My surprise at seeing him at the college was too obvious. He’d dropped out a long time ago.
His hands went up in defense as his eyes narrowed.
“Easy. Can’t a guy seek a bit o’ knowledge now and again without bein’ judged so harshly? Sheesh.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just surprised to see you.” I shook my head with a grin, to clear the air between us. “Seriously though. Why are you here?”
I stared at the stack of books in his arms and smirked. “Research?”
“You could say that.” He glanced at my impressive spread of texts. “And you? Investigatin’ something?”
“You could say that,” I retorted with a smug grin.
“Can I join ya? Got room for me?”
He pushed his stack of books onto my table, causing mine to shift and nearly spill off.
“Hey!” I grabbed the edge of a stack before it went crashing down. “Seriously? Not so pushy!”
I sat up straighter with a wide grin, wondering if I looked as bad as I felt. Blush rose to my cheeks for even caring.
“So, what are ya lookin’ fer?” He pulled one of my books over and flipped through it.
His thick black hair flowed up at the front, possibly with a bit of hair clay rubbed through it.
“Gimme that!” I grabbed for it as he yanked it out of my reach, teasing.
“Hmmm.” He leafed through it again. “Celtic history. The Druids….” He scratched his chin stubble. “One might think you were looking into ancient ways. Tryin’ to solve age-ol’ mysteries perhaps.”
He threw a suspicious side-glance my way.
I swiped the book from him.
“Well, what are you looking for?” I pressed.
I reached for the book on top of his stack. He stopped me by a mile before I got to it and held my wrist.
“Not so quick, lassie. These are my secrets.” He winked at me.
The old Celtic lettering on the top book read Ireland’s Clans and Chieftains.
“Hmm. That looks like a good one.” I reached for it again.
This time he let me take it.
I flipped through it and nodded.
Maps and family names jumped out at me, and writing, lots of writing. This was definitely a book I needed to study.
He pulled another book off my table and read the title aloud.
“Great Tribal Chieftains of Ireland. Hmm. One might think we’re here for the same thing, ay?”
His innocent expression and lost puppy eyes lifted any apprehension I had about his possible bad intentions. He was just as confused as I was in this whole chieftain thing.
“What have you learned so far? Anything helpful?” I asked, keeping my head tipped down but lifting my eyes just enough to meet his.
“Well–” his eyebrows rose in arrogance “–it appears all the land along the west of Mayo, you know, the castles, the bay, and all surrounding territories, treasures too, it all belongs to the MacMahons. Says so right here, in one of these books.” He nodded his head, waving his hand at the big pile. “And the O’Malleys, well, I’m sorry to tell ya, but they’re to do as we say. Yield to our wishes, that sort of thing. It’s here, somewhere.” He flipped through hundreds of pages of the book in his hand. “And you? Find anything of interest?”
I huffed, ready to dump his pile onto the floor.
“Well, my books show clear maps of the west of Mayo.” My voice held exaggerated confidence. “All marked as O’Malley land. Control over the land and sea, and all relics and treasures too. And it says here, explicitly, that the MacMahons are a bunch of shitheads.”
Rory pushed my books to the edge of the table and one fell off with a loud thump.
“That’s a load a’ shite! My books are the real
ones. Sure, yers are ancient tabloids.” He pressed his lips to the side and shot a judgmental glare at my piles.
My smile exposed all my teeth as I cracked up and pushed myself up out of my seat. I reached for the book in his hands and slapped it down. He lost grip of it and fumbled to catch it, flipping it in midair. It splatted on the floor with a heavy whap and he gawked up at me like I’d broken his favorite Christmas toy.
He lunged at me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders in a loose headlock.
“Take it back.” He laughed. “Say the MacMahons rule! We control it all!”
He pressed into me farther, trying to get me to say uncle, causing me to bend over in resistance. His jeans filled my vision and smelled of wood and wet air.
I reached for his thigh and trailed down to find the back of his knee. I grabbed hold of the two tendons, running up the back of it, with my fingers and squeezed—hard. A monkey bite, as my grandfather once taught me. I pinched and pulled on the tendons until he fell over.
“Never!” I shrieked.
He dropped his hold on me instantly and leaped back, hopping on one leg to shake the willies out of the other.
“Not fair! You know I hate that!” He hobbled around to get rid of the queasy feeling that shot through his knee.
I dropped my face into my hands and laughed.
“You’re a total goofball,” I snickered.
“Shhhhhh,” commanded an annoyed librarian who appeared out of nowhere. She eyeballed the books on the floor and glared at us like we were heretics.
“It was her!” He pointed an accusing finger at me as I withered in the librarian’s glare. My jaw dropped as I stared back at Rory while pointing a weak finger at him to prove he was the true library criminal.
He gathered his book up while rubbing the back of his squeamish knee and whispered, “No, O’Malley. I got you beat on this chieftain thing.”
“We’ll see about that, MacMahon.” I scowled.
“Shhhhh.” His finger at his pursed lips hushed me.
Chapter Thirteen
Ancient Cemetery
We settled into our books after calling a truce, finishing our coffees, and thoroughly checking our phones. Rory flipped through his chieftain book, mostly looking at pictures, and I focused on maps of ancient Ireland, making careful note of family names for each territory.
Inish Clare Page 16
