His face grimaced like a dagger hit him in the chest.
His gaze met mine again as he stood taller and narrowed his eyes. His shoulders seemed to broaden farther.
“It’s no secret, Maeve. You and me. We want the same thing. And we’re ultimately gonna have to fight fer it.” He stared into my eyes. “Everything I do is fer the benefit of me clan. You know that. I’m sorry, but clan first.”
The deep blue in his eyes seemed to turn darker.
His words hit my heart like a sword. But he was right. Everything I did was for my clan as well. I couldn’t expect him to be any different.
I looked around at the village ruins, the desolate rolling hills, and the lost sea lapping at the bones of the decaying homes, and a chill shot through me.
I’d wandered off into distant isolation with Rory. My enemy against everything I was trying to accomplish.
My eyes shot to his like a skittish animal.
His hands moved up and pressed the air between us.
“Now don’t do that. We’ll handle this like two mature, consenting chieftains.” His smile calmed my tense muscles. “But, Maeve, ya need ta know. I do want’cha to give me that map. It’s just too damaging to the MacMahon’s territory holds. Right?”
He nodded at me with pressed lips.
I hitched my pack higher onto my back.
“We can discuss that back in Galway.” I swallowed hard.
He looked at my pack. “Or now.”
He took a step toward me.
“Can I just have a look-see?” He reached his hand out and waved his fingers as if I’d put the map in his hand.
I stepped back.
“Stop. I don’t have it with me. That would be stupid, right?” My voice shook, betraying me.
“Ya. T’would be.” He stepped closer.
Blood drained from my head, making me dizzy. I gulped for fresh air.
A breeze off the sea washed across my face, carrying time in its mist and the memory of what was once here.
I looked at Rory to see if he felt it too. He stood rigid, staring at me through narrowed, distant eyes.
“What?” I looked down to be sure I was still me.
He turned toward the sea and shook his head. “Something’s not right.”
Dark clouds stretched across the sky, painting a layer of somber gray across everything.
“What?” My shoulders tightened and I swallowed, hating the words he just spoke.
“Somethin’s coming. A storm.” He looked to the sky and out to the sea—beads of sweat forming on his brow.
I exhaled half my body weight.
“Thank god. You scared me. I thought you meant….”
Blast!
A burst of frenzied energy knocked me back, sending my hair flying in every direction.
I dug my feet into the ground for stability and searched for Rory in the chaos. He was leaning into the blast with his arms outstretched, squinting for a better view.
It was the wind.
“She’s coming!” I yelled and lunged for him.
“Hell no!” He grabbed my hand and turned on his heels. “I’ve walked right into her trap!”
He shot a look of suspicion at me, as if I had something to do with it.
We ran with matched pace and timing and flew past the broken structures, only to be blasted back from another direction, as if we were being corralled.
I searched the squall for Gráinne’s form and only saw forceful wind and debris-filled mist.
My head spun toward the sound of a mind-shattering war cry. It quaked through my body disjointing all my bones.
A powerful man’s voice, full of venomous condemnation and hate, filled the wind and every space with its bone shaking roar.
Standing on a boulder, overlooking the ghost village and sea, was a tall, dark warrior in full battle regalia. His helmet, with a high spike on top and cheek plates down the sides, cut through the wind and sent chills to my core. He held his sword overhead as blood dripped from the blade, scattering into the wind.
Rory stared, mouth open, at the terrifying warrior and turned to me wide-eyed for instruction.
My gaze froze on the warrior’s face as his features conjured an old memory. One I knew well.
I recognized him.
A bolt of terror shot through me as I pieced it together.
The helmet. The blood. The hate.
He was Hugh’s murderer. The leader of the MacMahon clan. He overtook Grace’s ship and brutally slain her lover.
“Rory! He’s a MacMahon. The chieftain!” Tears choked me as fear rose. “He’s a killer!”
My feet wouldn’t move no matter how I tried. I was welded to the earth.
Rory locked eyes with the savage clansman and then walked to him in a confident, steady gait.
“Rory! No!” I screamed.
He nodded to the aggressive captain as if taking instruction and turned to me with a hollow stare. His eyes empty, like he was gone.
Before I could speak, he lunged at me.
He knocked me from my frozen spot and sent me staggering. He came at me again and grabbed my arms, holding them at my back. I yanked my shoulders to free myself but his grip only tightened. He pushed at my back with his chest and marched me toward the frothing warrior.
I struggled and squirmed to break loose.
“Rory, what are you doing. Stop!” I strained to free my arms, pulling the muscles in my shoulders.
He continued to move me closer to the eager captain.
I turned my head to avoid his heinous death stare and the thick blood oozing off his sword. Hugh’s blood.
I envisioned the sword burying into my body—the tearing, the breaking and the pain. The thought sent my adrenaline pumping into full panic.
I yanked with my entire body weight and spun toward Rory.
I smashed him in the face with a loose fist, making contact before I could tighten it. I connected with his nose and he grabbed for his face as I cupped my sore hand. As blood ran from his nose, I kneed him in the ribs, right on his festering wound. He buckled over in pain.
I pulled from his weakened grip and ran.
I looked back at the boulder and watched the warrior swirl into a cyclone of mangled shades of red and violent screams. I flew ahead, but as the mist cleared, there he stood again, in my path. Sword drawn, eyes homed on me like a missile.
I darted to the right and was blinded by black gusts of violent winds hitting me square on. The wind swirled and sliced, focusing in on one point and taking the form of the wrathful Gráinne Ní Mháille.
She whirled all around me creating a protective force against the warrior.
I ran without looking back.
Over the hills and high roads, I retraced our direction to the abbey and begged for its familiar sanctuary to come into view. Grace’s shadow blew around me, sheltering me from every side, building my courage with each stride.
I searched for her face in the gusts.
A wave of unconditional love blanketed me. It was Grace’s protection that warmed me, just like the feeling of my own mother’s love. I burst with my newfound inner strength and power, knowing I had Gráinne surrounding me.
Over the last rise, the cemetery came into view, then the abbey.
I bolted the final distance and darted between the gravestones, forging my way to the back of the abbey. I hid around the corner of the ancient structure and looked back to see if anything or anyone was following.
As Gráinne’s mist settled around me, I had a better view back over the rise. At first, the gravestones were all I saw, but then, in a shocking instant, the angry cyclone exploded over the ridge.
It was the savage warrior. His hate and rage filled the torrents and shot red through the squalls. The violent storm moved toward the abbey… and Rory led the way.
He charged forward with all his effort toward the ruin, gaining strength from the warrior and searching for me with a focused hunt in his eyes.
The s
kies darkened and filled my soul with terror.
I had nowhere to hide.
Chapter Sixteen
Sanctuary
Grace whirled around me and the force of her current threw me to the door of the abbey.
I searched all around for alternatives, and as my eyes darted across the cemetery, the red blasting tornado tore through the gravestones, coming straight for me.
I pushed open the door and burst into the dark space seeking shelter. I slammed the door behind me and the fury of Gráinne settled in the silence of the ancient walls.
I stepped into the echoing darkness and took my first breath, brushing my clothing and searching for any injury. My shaking hands were scratched and my shoulders were sore, but other than that, I was okay. For now.
I hurried toward the faint light at the front of the abbey, lit by the narrow windows letting in the dull gray skies. Small pebbles and shrapnel hit off the glass, reminding me of what searched for me just outside.
As I followed the echo of my own footsteps, the door behind me burst open with the fury of a stampede and the air in the abbey churned to life.
Rory filled the doorway in an aggressive posture of broadened chest and snarled features, backed by the imposing figure of the warrior, teeth bared and larger than life. They pushed through the opening as one and the dark red gusts surrounded them and reached into the space, searching for me.
Run!
Grace’s voice filled my mind.
Hide!
I tore into the front of the abbey and darted around the corner where I had found Rory earlier. The open space offered no shelter or crevice to crawl into. Nowhere to hide.
I turned and ran in the other direction, looking back through the doorway into the rear section where all I could see was a fury storm of red.
I ran toward Gráinne’s crypt but stopped short as I caught a glimpse of the O’Malley crest. Just before the crest plaque was the opening in the wall. The ornate space that looked like it once held a coffin.
Hide!
Gráinne’s voice forced me forward toward the spooky visage, nudging me into it.
Without hesitation, I climbed onto the surface and lay down on my back, hands crossed over my heart, still as a corpse.
The red wind burst into the front abbey hall and whirled around every corner and into every crevice, everywhere but on me. Rory’s silhouette blurred in the wind as he searched along with the warrior and they pushed through the room together with guided-missile determination.
I held my breath and remained frozen in place. Still as death.
As I lay silent, Gráinne’s soul blanketed me and connected to my soul.
My eyes closed and bright light filled the inside of my lids.
She’d spent over a hundred years in this same spot, not resting… but waiting. Waiting to be reunited with her lost love. Waiting for her lost daughter.
My eyes flickered with the enlightenment of Gráinne’s being. The torment of her soul bore down on me.
The light in my eyelids burned bright. Flashing memories of the O’Malley boneyard and my last time seeing her there, grief-stricken and broken.
The O’Malley boneyard flashed again. Then again.
The O’Malley boneyard!
Every nerve in my body tightened and tingled. I stiffened like a board at the realization.
It was all there. All this time. In the O’Malley boneyard.
My impatient eyes popped open and glanced to the side.
The red wind slowed with dwindling power and began retreating. It wiped the walls in a final effort to find me and then melted to the floors and flowed out of the abbey like thick, heavy fog.
I gasped for life-saving breath and remained frozen in place for longer than I wanted, just to be safe. Finally, my body awareness returned and I moved my feet. I wiggled my fingers and toes and blinked my eyes.
I was alive. More alive than ever before.
Gráinne was here. She was laid to rest here.
But then she was moved.
Most likely by the O’Malleys. Moved closer to them and her roots… and her lost love.
My body quaked as a massive shiver moved through me.
I inched out of the close space and stood. I glanced back at the alcove and smiled. I smiled at the fact that I actually had lain there, as in a coffin, and it had worked.
Though it seemed out of place, I couldn’t wait to tell Michelle.
I peeked around the corner before walking into the back part of the abbey, toward the door to the outside. I scanned the walls in the darkness, making sure Rory didn’t lurk there or some other form of evil, ready to attack me, and saw no ominous shadows. No creepy forms.
I snuck to the door.
I hesitated, unwilling to leave the safety of the abbey, but worried about Rory. I wondered if he was okay. If the warrior harmed him.
I shook my head in frustration. How could I worry about Rory after he just attacked me?
But it wasn’t his fault. It was the warrior.
I dug my nails into my palm, disgusted at making more excuses for him.
I pulled the door open and was met with a wash of fresh air and calm bright skies.
My senses settled and absorbed the tranquility of the quiet cemetery and the rolling green Irish landscape. I inhaled the salty brine and earthy air, bringing new life to my spirit.
As I emerged from my dark cocoon, I jumped back into my defensive armor as I saw Rory come out from behind a tall gravestone. His hands were up in surrender and he moved toward me with slow, cautious steps.
“Stay away from me.” My voice was firm and unfriendly, but the quiver exposed my true composition. “Not another step.”
My hand shot up to stop him.
I turned and ran toward the road at the front of the abbey. I looked back and stumbled.
Rory was following with his gaze fixed on me.
“Stop! I told you to stay away.” Tears constricted my voice. “Don’t come near me. I knew you were my enemy,” I yelled at him.
“Maeve! It wasn’t me. I don’t even know what really happened. Stop. Please.” His voice cracked as he begged.
I made it to the road and shot a glance back at Rory.
He fell to his knees watching me leave. His shoulders slumped as he curled into himself. His expression twisted with regret.
I turned back to the road and looked toward the direction of the docks. My immediate journey home waited for me just over the bend.
One last look back at Rory and I saw his tortured form, kneeling in the grass. His hands had fallen to his sides and his head fell back with his eyes closed. He leaned back on his heels in the dirt.
The gentle rain began to fall and wet my face, softening everything around me.
My feet slowed on the road and stopped. I clenched my teeth and resisted my natural instinct to go to him.
He restrained me and looked at me like he didn’t know me.
I turned around.
He betrayed me. He handed me over to the savage warrior.
I walked back to him.
“Rory, you’re hurt.”
I stroked his hair and checked for his injury.
He opened his eyes and straightened his posture.
“I’m hurt,” he said with a broken voice.
“I know. I just said that.” My eyebrows scrunched.
“You hurt me.” His gaze met mine as he held his side and winced. “Every day.”
“What are you talking about?” I pulled on his hand and helped him stand.
He reached for me and I flinched. I pulled away from him by defensive instinct.
“I love you, Maeve.” He held my gaze with sadness in his heavy eyes. “From the first time I saw you. Even when you spilled my pint all over me.” He huffed. “I’m in love with you.”
He looked at the ground, as if he were too ashamed to look at me.
“But we’re destined to be enemies. I know that now,” he said.
His eyes met
mine again.
“I never want to hurt you.” His voice broke and his lower lip quivered.
He looked at me, waiting for me to say something.
Words were lost on my tongue, but my fist had no problem speaking. I punched his arm and then smacked his head.
“You bastard!”
The seething anger that spewed from my mouth was unrecognizable.
“What are you doing to me?” My mind scrambled into a mess. “You tried to kill me, you lunatic. You have no idea what you are talking about!”
I panted and stepped back.
My hands went to my knees as I bent over, feeling sick. Sick about Rory. And sick about Paul.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He raised his hands in defense. “I can’t blame you for wanting nothin’ to do with me. But I had no control, Maeve. I swear. That’s never happened to me before.”
I didn’t know if I should believe him, but I was pretty sure that was his first encounter with the warrior. And he was definitely shaken up by it.
But he’d had sinister intent, before the warrior showed up. It was probably what conjured the warrior in the first place. I had to hold on to that knowledge.
I glanced into his misted eyes. They were red around the edges.
My guard softened. It always did with Rory.
“Well, now you can tell your elders you know a bit about the mystical ways of being chieftain.” I half-smiled. “That’s something, I guess.”
He huffed and reached for my elbow.
“Come on. At least let me take you to the ferry. I’ll leave you alone after that. For good. I promise” He sighed. “It’s for the best.”
***
I stood with my back to Rory and looked out to sea as the ferry bounced in the rising swells. My vision in the abbey replayed in my mind, on endless repeat, and it was all I could focus on.
Gráinne had been moved from her resting place, around four hundred years ago, to the O’Malley cemetery in Claremorris. It made sense. That was where she had attacked Paul and me with such vengeance, protecting Hugh chained at the burial mound… until she’d recognized Paul as Hugh’s blood.
I hitched my backpack up my shoulder in response to my thoughts on the tomb key that hid inside it.
Inish Clare Page 20
