The Irishman (A Legacy Novella) (The Legacy Series Book 7)

by Sheritta Bitikofer

  “Papa said you might be going away.”

  Dustin flipped back his hair, sending a spray in Lucy’s direction as droplets came flying off from the tips. She laughed and ducked behind part of the well, but he saw the light sprinkling of mucky water on her pale pink frock. He was in for an earful from Eleanor.

  “Really?” he said. “And how do you feel about that?”

  Her face twisted into a pout. “I don’t want you to go away,” she replied. “I like you here.”

  Dustin inspected his body and found his cleanup job halfway adequate. It was good enough that he could put on a new pair of clothes without sullying them anyway. He met Lucy’s sour gaze and sighed. “I like it here too,” he said, knowing that Darren would hear him. “But there’s only so much I can learn from your papa.”

  Lucy bounced on her toes. “I can teach you plenty. I read so many things and papa tells me lots about loups-garous. If I taught you, would you stay?”

  Oh, if it were that simple. Dustin squatted so they were at eye-level. “I’d love for you to teach me, but – “

  “Great!” she exclaimed before seizing his hand and pulling him toward the woods. “I’ll show you the trail papa takes when he has to shift. I know he hasn’t told you about that yet.”

  Though Dustin could have easily ripped free of her grasp or pulled her back toward the house, he allowed himself to be tugged down a well-worn path through the pines and birch trees. After they were out of sight from the cottage, Dustin scooped Lucy up and placed her on his shoulders as he so often did with the children back home in Glengarriff.

  Feeling the weight of the little girl and holding her legs against his damp chest, he was taken back to those days when he could play with Katherine’s students outside the schoolhouse. His steps slowed as he remembered their faces and smiling eyes, which he would never see again.

  “Why do you get sad like that?” Lucy asked, bending her head down until her dark hair veiled his view of the path ahead.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You get that look a lot, like you’re thinking about something sad. What is it?”

  How likely was it that Darren could hear this far away? What if confiding in this child would somehow give him peace about the home he had left behind? She was likely to go blabbing to her mother about what he told her, but Dustin didn’t have to tell Lucy everything. Not in all the excruciating details that drove him to near madness every night. Laying in the dark bedroom with the tainted memories of his home and family parading through his mind, it was all Dustin could do to hold his sanity together.

  “I’m thinking about my home in Ireland,” he began. “It’s a place called Glengarriff. It’s a little town just off Bantry Bay.”

  “I know where that is!” she cried excitedly as her tiny hands dug into his matted hair. “Papa gave me a book of maps last Christmas.”

  At least the rest of the world wouldn’t forget about Glengarriff. “I grew up there with my sister,” he continued. “It’s a very pretty place, especially in spring when the flowers are blooming. Colors of all shades as far as the eye can see.” He smiled to himself again, remembering his boyhood days when he ran through the patches of wildflowers with Cassandra after they snuck away from the farm to play together.

  “Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Lucy asked after a moment of silence.

  Dustin’s grin faltered because he knew the answer. “No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back.”

  “Just like papa will never go back to England?”

  Perhaps not for the same reasons, he thought to himself. Darren hadn’t committed murder in a small town where everyone knew everyone. He just didn’t have a home to go back to. Dustin, on the other hand, could never return to Glengarriff. Not in this lifetime. He couldn’t run the risk of someone recognizing him and realizing that he hadn’t aged.

  “In a way,” Dustin replied. “I will miss Glengarriff though.”

  As the path opened into a wide clearing with towering oaks, alders, and willows shading them from the evening light, Dustin told her all about how he grew up on a farm and fell in love with their neighbor’s daughter.

  He went on and on about the fairy folk, entertaining Lucy’s wild imagination with images of leprechauns, banshees, clurichauns, alp-luachras, and changelings. He spoke of the rolling hills blanketed in heather and how the wind seemed to tremble with the ancient songs of bygone ages. He talked about Cassandra with such love and nostalgia that he could almost feel a piece of his broken heart meld back together. He knew he could never love again, not as he did with her, but he could move on just like Darren said. Talking to Lucy healed a bit of his soul, but it was far from completely mended. That would take years, perhaps decades or centuries. And as a loup-garou, he had more than enough time.

  Bordeaux, France

  Oliver side-stepped a steaming pile of horse dung that was freshly dropped from behind a merchant’s cart. Bordeaux might as well have been as grand and architecturally rich as Paris or London. With its tall windows that overlooked the cobblestone streets, dark teal shingled roofs, and beautifully crafted archways, both hunters knew they were a long way from Dublin.

  Traveling light, they only carried one suitcase apiece and a travel bag loaded down with silver bullets and a few vials of wolfsbane. Tobias, the only one between them who understood a word of French, read the establishment signs hanging over the doorways, searching for the inn they had been told about by the coachman who brought them from La Rochelle.

  All the while, they kept their ears attuned and listened for the sound of a familiar Irish cadence amongst the myriad of French blathering. It had been a long journey from Ireland. Though they couldn’t spare another moment in their search for Dustin Keith, Oliver was more than ready to rest his tired feet and maybe eat something.

  He could tell that Tobias wasn’t at all thrilled by the decision to journey to France to find this werewolf, but Oliver needed to hear the jingling of coin in his pocket again. Living on credit and the generous hospitality of others put him on edge more than he would let on. Though, he could tell that his eagerness to drag Dustin back to Mr. Flanagan’s farm was hard to conceal from his partner, who was far more practiced in subduing his feelings. Perhaps that’s what made him a better hunter, too.

  As if they were simply a pair of visitors to the illustrious city, Tobias and Oliver stepped inside the modestly furnished inn and tavern at the end of the lane and reserved a room. But before they could follow the innkeeper’s lead up the stairs, a voice called from one of the tables in the dining area across the room that reeked of tobacco and ale.

  “Tobias!”

  Both men turned to regard the Frenchman with a cool look of indifference. His dress and manners fashioned him as a man of wealth, though there was a cunning quality in his eyes that suggested he was not as he appeared.

  They were only acquainted with a few individuals in France and all of them were hunters. Oliver looked to Tobias for guidance on how to react. They had both agreed that they didn’t want to involve any other hunters on this job for fear that they would also want a cut of the profits from what little Samuel could pay them.

  Tobias smiled and abandoned the innkeeper to approach the man who had stood to greet them. “Phillip! Thank you so much for your letter!” he said, mindful to keep his word choice perfectly natural and discrete. There were others dining at the inn and talking of werewolves and hunters would certainly raise a few brows.

  The two men hugged as if they were old friends and Oliver simply stood by, watching peevishly.

  “I didn’t expect you to come to Bordeaux so soon,” said Phillip, the one who dropped the hint to Dustin’s presence near the city.

  “Perhaps we should talk in private,” Tobias said, pointedly looking to the crowd of men and women around them.

  Phillip agreed and the patient innkeeper showed them up the three flights of steps to their room. As soon as the door was shut and the three hunters were alone, all
friendly guise was dropped.

  “You should have told me you were coming,” Phillip grumbled as he straightened out his waistcoat with a mild look of disgust. “The Coutures have eyes and ears all over this town and I’ve worked hard to keep my presence here a secret.”

  Tobias and Oliver glanced to one another in puzzlement. “The Coutures? What are you talking about?” the more experienced hunter asked. “We’re here for the Irishman you told us about.”

  “If I thought you were coming to claim him, I would have told you to stay away,” Phillip snapped irritably, then dropped his voice into a whisper. “I’ve been studying the Couture pack for over a month now. I have names, addresses, everything I need to make a move and I don’t need two upstarts ruining this job.”

  Tobias crossed his arms after dropping his suitcase onto the misshapen mattress. “First of all, we won’t disrupt your plan, just like I trust you won’t disrupt ours. Secondly, do you plan to take down an entire pack by yourself?”

  Phillips snorted and lifted his sharp chin. “Of course not. I have ten other hunters across the city who wait for my word.”

  Oliver rolled his eyes. Big operations such as what Phillip was trying to execute were exactly the reason why Oliver and Tobias went into business for themselves. Profits were split too many ways, and there was always the one hunter who was too big for his breeches and took control of the job. Often times, he took a larger cut for himself and shorted the others.

  “And I’m afraid you’re mistaken. If you plan to go after your fellow countryman, you will ruin my plans.”

  Tobias sneered. “I don’t see how that could be possible. You said he was outside of Bordeaux.”

  Phillip held up a finger. “I also said he was under the care of a member of the Couture family. If you hunt down this man, it will alert my presence to the Couture alpha and everything will fall to pieces.” He made a dramatic gesture of just how disastrous their interference was, but Tobias wasn’t moved.

  “Then perhaps you need to inform us of your plan so we don’t overstep,” he stated coolly. “We’re in a hurry to take this man back to Ireland.”

  Phillip let out an exasperated sigh like wasting his breath on these two novices would be the worst decision of his life. “The Coutures have been in Bordeaux for over fifty years. The alpha alone has five children, three of which are women who have married within the pack or outside of it. Eleanor Couture married one of the newest members of the pack, Darren Dubose, and they are living in the moors to the south. When we take out the alpha, we will be eliminating his family as well, and all pack families in the area. It all has to happen on the same night so no one may warn the others. It all must be perfectly staged.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Then we will take out the Duboses and take our Irishman at the same time.”

  Tobias shot daggers with his eyes. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid, but Oliver held up his hand to stop his partner from berating him. “And we won’t even ask for a piece of the commission you plan to receive when the deed is done. Let us repay you for your intelligence by eliminating these two nuisances for you so you can deal with the alpha and the others of the pack in Bordeaux.”

  It might not have been the best offer. Killing loups-garous cost them bullets, gunpowder, and of course there was the risk of injury on their part. But if taking care of Eleanor and Darren would ensure that Phillip stayed out of their business with Dustin, then it might have been worth the trouble.

  Phillip didn’t seem phased at all by the gesture of good will and only said, “There are three. They have a young daughter. Make sure you take her as well.”

  Oliver could feel the very blood in his veins freeze. A child?

  “Done,” Tobias quickly said and shook hands with the Frenchman.

  “Very well,” Phillip said with a nod as Oliver tried to grasp hold of what exactly they had just agreed to. “We plan to strike tomorrow night and it’s half a day’s walk to their home in the moors. Will you be ready by morning?”

  The other two hunters hashed out the particulars of the arrangement. Phillip allotted them two other hunters to accompany them into the swamp since they were familiar with the terrain and location of the cottage. As Oliver walked to the window and looked out over the bustling street, he heard Tobias make the condition that only he and his partner were to go in and do the job after they arrived. No doubt because he didn’t want anyone getting too trigger-happy and shooting the Irish werewolf by mistake.

  The ringing silence in the room told him that Phillip had taken his leave of them.

  “A child, Tobias?” Oliver questioned. “We’ve never had to kill a child before.”

  “Correction,” he replied as he unlocked his suitcase, “you have never had to kill a child.”

  Oliver turned and looked to his companion in horror. Tobias had spent a few years hunting before they decided to become a team. That left a lot of time unspoken for, a lot of deeds committed that would have never come up in any of their conversations.

  “I won’t have a part in killing the girl,” he flatly stated. “I can see killing his wife, but – “

  “This is what we do,” Tobias interrupted. “You heard what Phillip said. If she is allowed to escape, then she is liable to spoil the hunt for the rest of Bordeaux. What do you plan to do with her if you don’t kill her?”

  Oliver didn’t have an answer. She was only a child. If the Duboses had a son, that would be another story as well. They couldn’t allow the son of a werewolf to grow up and become another beast they would have to worry about later. They had to be eliminated just like the contaminated women the animals took as their wives. But a little girl? It was unthinkable.

  By the way Tobias set to inspecting their pistols and weaponry supplies, Oliver knew that he was done with this conversation. At least he had made his resolve known. His gun would not be tainted by the blood of an innocent girl. He would gladly kill Darren or his wife, but not the girl.

  West of Lectoure, France, the following evening

  They had been walking for most of the day through the dense forests, avoiding paths and roads as much as possible. The last thing he needed was a friendly merchant offering them a ride to Albi or nosy travelers who asked too many questions.

  By now, Darren was comfortable with traversing the forests of France. But by the way Dustin lagged behind and had to struggle his way through the underbrush, he knew that the Irishman would have preferred the safety and convenience of the dirt roads. with the worn ruts that were perfect for carts and carriages.

  He remembered a time when he walked through these woods in the same way, fighting back branches and jumping at every strange or threatening noise off in the distance. He wouldn’t relive those first few weeks in the French wilderness for anything. At least he was here to guide Dustin through it.

  With their packs bulging with supplies that his wife insisted upon them taking along, they were on their way to Albi to see John. There was no need to send a preceding letter to announce their arrival. His old mentor took in travelers and new pupils at any time of the day or night. At this rate, they might get there sometime the following night. This might have been a good chance to continue Dustin’s training, but Darren thought against it. They didn’t need him running into homeless vagrants or spooking farmers outside towns while he tried to master his speed.

  Darren came to a halt in a shady clearing and he looked to the bright golden sunset to the west. Night was closing in and, though it would have been customary to set up camp and rest, Darren had no plans to stop. They could see just as well at night and that would be a lesson in itself.

  Dustin entered the clearing a moment later and grumbled about thorns creeping up his pant leg.

  “How much farther is Albi?” he groaned.

  “At least another day,” Darren replied before looking to his young travel partner. “Don’t tell me you need a rest.”

  Green eyes flashed with a coming smart remark. “No, I don’t need a rest. I
need a damn horse or something to get me to Albi faster.”

  Darren laughed. “And you were the one who didn’t want to go.”

  “I still don’t want to go,” Dustin said as he readjusted the pack on his shoulder. “But if you’re going to dump me off with John, I might as well get it over with quickly.”

  He ignored the slight jab below his off-putting statement. Darren didn’t enjoy the idea of parting with Dustin any more than he did. Lucy was especially heartbroken and he wondered how Dustin liked it when she clung to his legs and begged him to stay. Even Eleanor was a little sad to see him go, despite the constant trouble that only she seemed to suffer during his stay. If the Irishman thought he wouldn’t be missed, he’d be gravely mistaken.

  “I take it you didn’t travel much outside of Glengarriff?” Darren asked as he started back down the unmarked trail that wove to the southeast.

  He didn’t need to turn to see the puzzled look on the young man’s face. This was the first time Darren had given any hint that he heard what Lucy and Dustin talked about the day before. He had heard all about Glengarriff, Cassandra, Katherine, the Flanagan family, and how he was adopted by the Keiths as a baby. He heard about the schoolhouse and all the other residents of the tiny town off of Bantry Bay. He continued to listen for the final confession as to what Dustin had done to make him never want to set foot in Ireland again, but it never came.

  “No, I didn’t,” Dustin replied. “I had no need to.”

  Darren waited briefly to hear that his ward was following and then said, “Well, John won’t make you travel so much. Not until you’re ready. Maybe then you can come back to Bordeaux if you like.”

  Silence stretched between them with only the sound of their footfalls crunching upon fresh, untrodden grass.

  Dustin was the first to break it again. “What will you do when Eleanor and Lucy grow old, but you won’t?”

  That had been something Darren asked himself for years now. It was the painful existence of a loup-garou to watch their loved ones be stolen away by age and death while they remained youthful and strong as ever. “Quite honestly,” he said, “I’m not sure. I love Eleanor dearly and I know I’ll never leave her. I suppose Lucy will grow up, marry a man who is worthy of her and –“