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

by Sheritta Bitikofer

  “I know!” Oliver snapped. “I just said I don’t like it. Nothing more.”

  He, too, shoved his gun back into the holster on his hip and strode away. Tobias sincerely hoped that there truly was nothing more to it. Phillip was a problem all by himself. He didn’t need his own partner to turn on him when it mattered most.

  Chapter Nine

  Dustin kicked the pinecone, sending it spinning and jumping down the path ahead of them. Darren had given him the task of working on controlling his finer precision skills while they made their way to Albi. But, Dustin knew this assignment had nothing to do with training. Darren wanted him to stay occupied in some way, so they wouldn’t have to speak. That suited him fine. What could they possibly talk about anyway? Certainly not what had happened yesterday. He imagined neither of them would speak of that for many weeks, maybe months.

  This was Dustin’s first lesson about hunters. According to Darren, who admitted with a tone of utter disgust, they were careless and sloppy. No hunter would have left the bodies like that. Neither would they have set the house on fire, because it would have attracted attention. Why they chose to be so dramatic, was anyone’s guess. All he knew was that Darren, no matter how courageous he seemed while carrying Eleanor to her final resting place, grieved more than any man should be allowed.

  They didn’t talk about it for long, and in fact, it was more as a passing debriefing. Dustin was told about the breaking, the pack bond, and the reason he viscerally felt the pain of his new alpha as if it were his own. Dustin cared for Darren’s family, but not enough to warrant as much sadness as he felt the moment he became conscious that morning after the shift.

  They buried Eleanor and Lucy, side by side, in a meadow about a mile away from the smoldering rubble of the cottage. The ground was firm there. Darren mentioned, with tears glimmering in his eyes, how they would often take picnics in that very spot. Lucy would pluck at the flowering weeds and weave them through Eleanor’s dark braid.

  Dustin couldn’t bear to hear these little stories, these happy memories. He could barely stomach thinking about the final moments he spent with the two women the morning they’d left for Albi. He didn’t want to remember how Lucy’s small, lifeless body was the first thing he saw when he was released from the shift and how the grass around her had been stained by her blood.

  Since they left Landes Forest, the two had exchanged perhaps only a few sentences. They did not stop to rest and Dustin did a fair job of keeping up with Darren when he decided to run ahead without warning. At first, he thought it might have been because he sensed the hunters on their trail, but the moment he looked into Darren’s anguished face when he slowed down, Dustin knew the truth. The alpha was trying to outrun the reality of what had happened, the ghosts haunting his every step.

  Sometime around twilight, they found their old clothes again and Dustin felt a little more comfortable now that he wasn’t naked. Darren didn’t say why he was still determined to go back to John and the chateau near Albi, but Dustin wasn’t going to question it. He left Darren to his black thoughts and tried not to reflect on his own as the miles and hours passed them by.

  The man he walked with might as well have been a complete stranger. They shared the pack bond, that invisible cord that connected their hearts and spirits, but this wasn’t the same Darren that had pulled him from the sea and taken him into his home weeks ago. This was an altered Darren, a man who had been brutally scarred by this tragedy. Dustin, perhaps more than anyone, could understand where his mind was. Cassandra was stolen from him in a similar way to Eleanor. They didn’t deserve to die, but they did because of who they had married, because of who they loved.

  Dustin had as much right to blame himself for Cassandra’s death as Darren had to blame himself for his own wife’s murder. But the wise, dominant loup-garou seemed to have forgotten what he had told Dustin the other day. It was in the past and they must move on. Now, Darren might have understood how difficult it was for Dustin to accept that axiom. They could finally see eye-to-eye, but that wasn’t a good thing. He never thought he’d ever have so much in common with an Englishman in his life.

  He heard the laughter first, and then the scents were carried on the wind to greet them. What he came to recognize as a type of preliminary warning sign, Dustin didn’t flinch back at the tingling in his head as they drew closer to the chateau. Darren’s steps quickened and they soon found themselves on the crest of a hill that overlooked the estate.

  It was exactly as Darren had first described it. The chateau itself was a magnificent manor, well maintained for its age and history. The grounds to the front of the house were blanketed in patches of brightly colored flowers and he could see the figures of young men – just about his age – pruning and pulling at the weeds in the garden. Some turned their faces to the hill and spotted them, but they must have sensed that they were loups-garous as well, just as Darren and Dustin could. They weren’t bothered at all by their sudden arrival.

  A painful thought streaked through his mind that Cassandra would have loved this scattering, brilliant array of flowers. Some he recognized, some he had never seen before. But as soon as he imagined how her face would have alighted with pure joy at the sight of this impressive landscape, it felt as if a knife had been twisted in Dustin’s gut and he almost visibly winced.

  For the first time, a frail smile twitched across Darren’s lips. A glimpse of the man he first met came shining through again, but Dustin could not be at ease. The air around the chateau seemed infused with something that he could only compare to a warm, welcoming hug to a home he had never seen before.

  The last few weeks of his life had been fraught with confusion, fear, and a self-consciousness that he couldn’t shake. Here, staring out over his new home, it was nearly forgotten. But Dustin didn’t want to forget. He wanted to cling to that familiar hopelessness, no matter how badly it hurt. He didn’t want to forget what he had done to Cassandra, or the family he had to abandon in Glengarriff. These other men could never replace what he’d lost.

  “It’s all right,” Darren said, probably sensing his unease. “This is a safe place.”

  Dustin looked back to his alpha and drew his lips into a grim line. “I’m not so much worried if it’s safe,” he replied. “I’m not sure why I’m…”

  He was cut off by a voice from the chateau calling out to them in French. Darren waved, but neither of them were ready to reenter the world again. The last two days of walking should have helped to mend their shared brokenness, but it hadn't.

  “You feel unsure,” Darren said. “It’s natural. I felt the same way when I first came here, but you’ll get used to their company after a while.”

  Dustin’s brows furrowed. “How long?”

  They glanced to one another, but Darren didn’t have much of an answer for him. It might have been different for everyone. Some could grow accustomed to his strange, close-knit family within days, others may take years. Whatever future lay ahead, Dustin just hoped none of them would be too prejudice of the fact that he was Irish.

  A man stepped out onto the front terrace, tall and sure of himself with the kind of confidence that was cultivated through many years of living. He appeared older, much older than any of the other loups-garous around the chateau. This must have been John. A grin split his face and he waved them forward.

  As if they had been waiting all along for his permission, they made their way down the hill. Dustin stayed close at Darren’s heels as they walked down the pebble pathway that led up to the house. He passed under the curious stares of those loups-garous who would be his fellow students for God only knew how long. All the while, his only thoughts returned to Darren. Would he leave? What would happen now that they shared the pack bond? Surely he wouldn’t just hand him over to John and go. Where else would he stay now that he didn’t have a home to return to?

  Darren and John greeted by clasping one another’s arms in a masculine sort of welcome.

  “I’m glad you are he
re,” John said first, but he must have seen the hurt in Darren’s eyes as he tried to smile. “We heard about Bordeaux.”

  Dustin’s brows shot up. “How did you – “

  “John has informants all over France and some in England now,” Darren said, then turned to his former mentor with a look as if he were afraid to ask what came next. “Are they all…?”

  John, whom he realized was another Englishman displaced in the French countryside, only nodded. The hunters had destroyed the pack. Dustin gritted his teeth at the unfairness. This couldn’t have been an isolated incident. They planned to take out every loup-garou in Bordeaux and they almost succeeded. How did they not see it sooner? How could such an operation go completely unnoticed by everyone, including Darren’s father-in-law?

  “Come,” John said, stretching his arm out to usher them inside the chateau. “You two must me tired. We’ll talk and – “

  “Darren!”

  A voice came from inside the chateau foyer and Dustin saw a man rush forward, his golden hair bouncing around his shoulders with each step.

  His alpha’s eyes lit up with surprise. “Johannes!”

  The two loups-garous embraced with more warmth and brotherly affection than with John. Dustin, who hadn’t been formerly introduced to anyone yet, stood meekly off to the side to watch these reunions. No, Darren wasn’t alone in the world at all.

  They spoke hastily in some staccato language that puzzled Dustin further. The fair-haired man looked to be about the same age as Darren, his features bolder and more striking. Perhaps he was a beta? He was built for it.

  Finally, Darren gestured to Dustin. “Johannes, John, this is Dustin Keith. He’s been in my care for the last few weeks.”

  John turned a pair of dark, assessing eyes upon him and nodded in approval. “I see you’ve done a good job taking care of him.”

  Johannes smiled and offered out his hand to Dustin. “It is an honor to meet a pack member of Darren’s.”

  Evidently, he wasn’t the only one who could sense the bond between them. He shook Johannes’ hand and matched the strength of his grip, then did the same with John.

  “Johannes was one of my best friends during my time here at the chateau,” Darren explained. “I didn’t think you’d still be here after all these years,” he said to his old friend.

  He shrugged his muscled shoulders. “When Bart left, someone had to help with the boys.”

  Darren narrowed his eyes. “He left?”

  John nodded gravely. “Yes. Evangeline’s death was too much for him to bear. He writes to us on occasion, but he has no intention of returning to France.”

  A dullness returned to Darren’s expression. Perhaps he had been considering the same thing, but refused to tell Dustin. If he had such thoughts of leaving France, Dustin could hardly rebuke the idea. He had done the same to his beloved Ireland, and it seemed such an impulsive decision was not uncommon among loups-garous. Did they love deeper than most, or was this simply a coincidence?

  “Papa!”

  All four loups-garous looked to the stairs at the end of the foyer and watched as a boy scampered down the treads, his polished shoes banging against the wood. He ran straight for John, who lifted him up into his arms.

  Beside him, Darren went rigid and stared at the boy whose hair was just a shade darker than Johannes’. Dustin knew what he must have been thinking. This boy was about Lucy’s age, maybe a year younger. What kind of pain he must have endured to see a child so soon after what had happened to his family.

  “What is it, Noah?” John asked, propping his son against his hip.

  Fists grabbed for John’s lapel. “Mama won’t let me go into the garden with the others.”

  A little sheepish, he turned to his guests. “You’ll have to excuse me.”

  Darren was too speechless as John turned and carried his son up the stairs. The older loup-garou was too busy explaining how Noah wasn’t allowed in the gardens again after all he did was dig in the dirt for hours and soil his clothes.

  Dustin reached out and took his alpha’s arm to steady him. Johannes instantly saw this heartbroken display unfold and his lips parted in sympathy.

  “John told us about Bordeaux. You have my condolences.”

  He said nothing in return and his gaze became unfocused as it had so many times before they arrived. Dustin gave him a hard shake to bring him out of the memory loop, knowing full well the kind of damage it could do to one’s already fragile sense of acceptance. But the well-meaning gesture backfired. Darren yanked his arm out of Dustin’s grasp and looked as if he would push him away. But he realized what he was about to do and stopped himself. Darren had never even attempted to strike at Dustin before and the shock was keenly felt.

  Johannes instantly stepped between them. Yes, he must have been a beta, ready to intervene in a fight if one should ensue.

  “I’ll call for Helaine to bring us some tea,” he said, slicing through the tension Darren had unwittingly created. “Do you remember your way around?”

  As if awoken from a dream, Darren nodded and took a few steps toward one of the rooms. Dustin didn’t follow right away, but looked to Johannes. He wanted to try and explain what happened, but the beta didn’t want to hear. He shook his head. “We will all talk later. For now, just rest.”

  As much as he didn’t want to take the beta’s advice, Dustin nodded and moved to follow his alpha. He didn’t want to rest. He wanted to stay busy, perhaps begin some sort of training, so the silence and idleness wouldn’t open the doorway to feelings and flashbacks he didn’t wish to experience.

  “By the way,” Johannes said by the open front door, “welcome. I look forward to getting to know you and I’m sure the rest of the boys do too. I can already hear their questions.”

  Dustin could hear voices, but they all spoke in languages both foreign and vaguely familiar. In time, perhaps he would learn how to speak with all of them. He certainly had the time.

  Darren sat motionless in the armchair in the sitting room of the chateau. He hadn’t moved for what seemed like hours. The once roaring fire that one of the maidservants had built the evening before was nothing but a few smoldering logs. He stared, unblinking at the embers in the cinders as they glowed over the passing minutes. The cracks in the blackened logs were rimmed with ash, but they too continued to burn on the inside. The undying fire was the only light besides the moonbeams that angled through the window.

  Just go out already, he thought to himself.

  With his chin resting in his palm, he tried to ignore the way his muscles ached atop the penetrating numbness that had settled in after they buried Eleanor. He closed his burning eyes. The phantom laughter of his daughter echoed in his ears, and when it was quiet he could almost hear his wife humming the way she often did while cooking or cleaning. Their scents overpowered his senses until he could smell nothing else.

  In the blackness behind his eyelids, he saw their death masks again and his eyes popped open once more to escape them. Sleep was as elusive as peace over the last two days and his body suffered the effects of such deprivation. He hadn’t even stepped foot in the room that Helaine had prepared for him, much less disturb the coverlet atop the bed that should have been a welcome sight after so long a journey.

  The room swam back into focus as more tears misted over his vision. Dustin had been mercifully silent about what happened, but Darren knew that John would not leave well enough alone. He wanted – needed – time to heal. Maybe it would take days before he felt like himself again. Perhaps never. Eleanor and Lucy had been his world, the one span of years in his lifetime that he felt the most happy. How could he ever recover from this?

  In the early hours of the morning, the chateau was quiet. All the boys – including Dustin – were asleep in their dormitory. Ten students, eleven if Dustin was included, were now under John and Johannes’ care. There were a few older loups-garous that he could sense elsewhere in their own rooms, but he hadn’t met them yet. Darren sequestered
himself away from the rest, much to John’s disapproval. But he couldn’t give a damn about John’s opinion of him at a moment like this.

  His ears pricked to every sound, locking onto it to keep his attention on anything else but the heartache. He listened every time one of the boys rolled in their bunks, when one of the maidservants sighed in her sleep, when John rose from his bed on the upper floor and made his way down the stairs.

  The alpha appeared in the doorway to the sitting room, but Darren wouldn’t face him. He hadn’t moved in so long that he wondered if just shifting his eyes would break the calm that was slowly coming with drowsiness. He needed to sleep, to eat. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  John passed in front of him to sit in the armchair closest to the hearth. He sat down heavily, but said nothing for several moments.

  “You’re not the first to lose a loved one to hunters,” his mentor said softly, though his voice sounded so loud in Darren’s sensitive ears.

  “You don’t think I know that?” he whispered, finally letting his hand drop, so he could lean back against the plush velvet.

  “Do you know that it’s all right to mourn?” John asked.

  Darren could feel his eyes upon him. “I mourned.”

  “No,” he corrected. “Mourning includes accepting what has happened, grieving, and carrying on with your life. You’re festering in the tragedy instead of moving forward.”

  At this, he could no longer be composed. He turned to John, eyes blazing gold in the darkness. His wolf felt the loss just as deeply as Darren did. “I should have been there. I should have protected them and I failed.”

  John’s gaze turned as hard as stone. “You couldn’t have known they would be in danger. None of our informants knew the hunters were waiting in Bordeaux. It was a tactical slaughter. If you had been there, both you and Dustin would have been killed.”

  Darren’s hands balled into fists so tightly that his nails cut into his palms. “I could have at least done some damage. I could have killed – “