by Janni Nell
“Your worst nightmare, if you don’t leave that woman alone.”
He took a step toward me, aggressive. I stood my ground. He snapped his fingers right under my nose. “I know who ya are. You were hired by that dancin’ fag. Yer the paranormal investigator.” He all but fell about laughing. Soon he got tired of faking humor and eyeballed me. “You mind yer own business and I’ll mind mine. We clear on that.”
“Um—no. If I see you hassling that woman again, I promise I will be your worst nightmare.”
“Yeah? For how long? You’ll be gone as soon as yer feckin’ case is solved.” His lips drew back exposing yellow teeth.
I hated that he was right. I had no intention of staying here forever, and we both knew I couldn’t exactly put the-fear-of-Allegra into him from my home in Hawaii. We stared each other down for a few more minutes before he turned his back on me and walked away. I didn’t follow, but I knew his name now. While I was in Dingaleen, I’d be keeping my eye on him.
I hurried back to Ronan’s, showered and changed into jeans, a long-sleeved top and flats. There were two pubs in Dingaleen. According to Ronan, the Black Shamrock served the best food. I invited him to join us, but he claimed he wasn’t hungry so I set off alone to meet Casper.
The exterior of The Black Shamrock, established 1790, was painted black and white. There was a beer garden filled with happy families, but I preferred the quieter atmosphere inside even if the fireplace was black and cold. Maroon walls looked down on gray-upholstered booths along one wall of the main bar. Wooden tables and chairs filled the center of the room. I chose a table—easier for Casper than sliding into a booth. When he was comfortably settled I headed for the bar. On the way I clocked a kid sitting alone in one of the booths. Red hair, freckles, skinny. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a sign on his back reading Kick Me. He chewed on his thumbnail and shot longing glances at the female bartender. I recognized her immediately as Niamh, the girl who had narrowly escaped Colum. I now had a chance to take a better look at her.
She was—well, a raven-haired beauty was the only description that did her justice. She had luminous sapphire eyes and skin so creamy you could’ve put it on strawberries. The kid in the corner had as much chance of attracting her as Colum did. Even if he did seem a lot nicer.
Niamh shot me a smile. Friendly, welcoming. The kind that bartenders specialize in. “What can I get you? Oh—you were in the wood. Thanks for helpin’ with that arsehole Colum. First drink’s on me.” A Guinness for Casper and a soda for me. I also ordered two servings of Irish stew, and insisted on paying for the food.
Casper usually enjoyed food, even though technically angels didn’t have to eat, but when our meals arrived, he picked listlessly at the chunks of meat and vegetables. Shame, because it really was delicious.
Resisting the urge to encourage him to eat, I focused on the case. “My gut is telling me those graves are the key.” I quirked an eyebrow at him. “What do you think?”
I didn’t really expect an answer. Casper had told me often enough that his job was to protect me, not help solve cases. He surprised me by saying, “Don’t discount Nola and Derry. The pooka targeted them for a reason.”
“Are you helping me with this case?” I teased. “You’ll get in trouble with the Powers-That-Be.”
“No more trouble than I’m already in.”
I leaned closer. “Have you been a bad boy?”
“This is no joking matter.”
“What’s going on? You can tell me. Is this about your current health problems?” I picked his cane up from the floor where it had fallen and propped it against the table. “Have the Powers-That-Be decided you can help me in other ways now that you’re not so good at the physical stuff?”
He winced at the mention of physical weakness.
“Sorry,” I said, “but that’s the reality. At least for now.”
“It’s okay. I know I’m not...the angel I was.”
“You’ll get better.” When he refused to meet my eyes, I whispered, “Won’t you?”
In place of an answer, he said, “Derry and Nola both had encounters with a bird before the pooka attacked.”
“Yeah, I got that. Even made a note of it. You think the birds are a clue?”
“Bird. Singular. Eagle specifically.”
“Nola didn’t say the bird was an eagle.”
“I think you’ll find that it was.”
I made a note to check. Then, since Casper was in an unusually helpful mood, I asked, “Anything else you’d like to share with me?”
Suddenly his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He pushed himself away from the table, grabbed his cane and headed for the restroom.
You didn’t have to be an investigator to know something was very wrong. I had a feeling this was much worse than Casper being pissed off with his current lack of physical shape. If my suspicions were correct, he wouldn’t be my angel for much longer.
I was wishing I’d ordered something stronger than soda when Niamh approached my table. “More drinks?” she asked.
What did I do to deserve table service? Oh yeah, that whole Colum thing. “It’s okay, you bought drinks. No more thanks needed.”
“That’s grand but, well, I’m a bit curious. We’ve never had a paranormal investigator in the village before. What’s it like? Do you know any vampires? I’d love to meet one. I’m madly in lust with Eric and Bill from True Blood.”
As far as I was concerned the jury was still out on whether vampires existed at all, so, no, I didn’t know any. But since I didn’t want to destroy her bedtime fantasies, I kept that to myself. Avoiding the question, I said, “Right now I’m more interested in pookas. Have you been called to ride?”
“I haven’t.” She shrugged. “But I wouldn’t mind. Sure, it’s just a big horse.”
A big horse with homicidal tendencies.
I felt the kid in the corner watching us. Well, watching Niamh. “Who’s he?” I whispered.
“Aedan. Heart of gold, but he has the worst luck. Some people say he was cursed by the Fae, but I guess you’d know more about that than me.”
I did, and he wasn’t. Not by the Fae anyway. They wouldn’t waste energy cursing a human. “Aedan’s kind of cute,” I said, hoping to raise his status in her eyes. Nothing like a bit of healthy competition to arouse another woman’s interest. “Do you think he’d go on a date with me?”
Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Isn’t he a bit young for you?”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Gee and I’m almost twenty-six. Just call me a cougar.”
“You look older.”
“Thanks.” Must be all that worrying about Casper.
“No offense. You’re quite—um—handsome in your own way. I’m sure Aedan would be interested.” She didn’t say it, but there was the distinct implication that Aedan would be interested in anyone. “You sure you want to date someone they call Unlucky Aedan?”
I grinned. “If it’s up to me, he’ll get lucky real quick.”
She flicked a glance at Casper, who was returning from the restroom. “The one you’re with is way better.”
“He’s just a business partner. I need a real man.”
“A real man like Aedan?” I could almost hear her thinking, Americans are crazy.
The door of the pub slammed open and three men entered. Two of them were clearly hangers-on, too dumb to do anything but follow the guy who marched ahead of them. Colum. He pounded his fist on the bar. “Oi, Niamh, how about a drink?”
She tensed. When I started to get up, she whispered, “He won’t try anything in here. Not if he wants a drink anyway.” Raising her voice she said, “Keep your shirt on, Colum, I’m coming.”
“Move your arse, Niamh. And what a lovely arse it is.” He came up behind her and cupped her butt in both hands.
She tried to wriggle out of his grasp. He hung on tight. I pushed back my chair at the same time as Unlucky Aedan. We
both stood up. Aedan had fire in his eyes and a death wish in his heart. He yelled across the pub, “Leave her alone. Show some respect.”
“Who’s goin’ to make me?”
Niamh said, “Sit down, Aedan, it’s okay.” To Colum she said, “You’ll have to let me go if you want that drink.”
He shot a challenging glance at Aedan. Then he released Niamh. “Go get my drink.”
She escaped behind the bar, but Aedan couldn’t let it go. He marched up to Colum.
“You want to take this outside?”
Colum roared with laughter at the prospect of fighting the scrawny young man. “Ease up, Aedan, this is just a bit o’ fun. Niamh doesn’t mind, do ya darlin’?” Aedan’s eyes blazed with passion. He swung his fist, wild and random. Pure chance that it connected with Colum’s jaw. The bigger man barely flinched.
“Was I hit?” he asked his mates. “Or did Niamh blow me a kiss?”
One of his mates joked, “Unlucky Aedan packs a mean punch.”
Colum faked confusion. “Was that a man hit me? You sure of that?”
Aedan swung again. This time Colum was ready for him. His hand snaked out, catching hold of Aedan’s wrist stopping the blow before it connected.
Colum bared his teeth. “Piss off.” He shoved Aedan away so hard the smaller man stumbled over a chair and fell. On the way down he cracked his head on a table.
Colum turned back to the bar. “Niamh, where’s my drink?”
Aedan tried to get up, groggy, swaying on his feet. I rushed to help him. Soon Casper joined me. “Take Aedan outside,” I whispered, hoping the two of them would keep each other upright. I followed more slowly. As I passed Colum, I leaned in and whispered, “I don’t like bullies. Leave Aedan alone.”
Enveloping me in a blast of beery breath, he said loudly, “It was just a bit o’ fun, darlin’, Aedan doesn’t mind.”
Drawing myself up to my full six foot and one half inch, I said, “I mind.”
“I told ya before. Mind yer own business. Yer here to get rid of the pooka not preach to us.”
At that moment I kind of tripped. The heel of my boot came down hard on Colum’s instep. “Oops, my bad.” I grabbed the nearest thing for support, which turned out to be Colum’s shoulder, and gosh, I squeezed a pressure point near his neck. A scream lodged in his throat. He struggled to remain silent.
“Leave Aedan alone,” I whispered. “Or next time I’ll aim lower.”
As I joined the others outside, Colum shouted after us. “Unlucky Aedan, just remember there won’t always be a girl around to protect you.”
Aedan tried to march back inside. With my arm around his waist it was easy to hold him back. “Not this time, tough guy. You’ll get your chance.”
“Bastard,” he muttered.
Bastard? That was the best he could come up with? Oh dear.
“How long you been in love with Niamh?” I asked.
“Since primary school. I proposed to her when I was seven. She accepted. Long time ago. Things change. I’ve made peace with that. So long as I can be near her it’s not so bad.”
“Maybe that’s your problem,” I murmured. “You won’t fight for her.”
“If I fought for her, I’d fall flat on my face.” He was probably right.
I glanced at Casper. “Think we could teach Aedan a few moves?”
Before his death, Casper had spent a lot of time fighting the Romans. Any moves he didn’t know weren’t worth knowing. Of course, there was that little rule forbidding him from brawling—unless he was protecting me—but teaching someone else the moves? I figured that wouldn’t breech his Rules of Conduct.
Casper seemed to agree. “I can teach Aedan to fight. Theoretically. But there might not be many practical lessons.” He leaned heavily on his cane.
“Just do what you can.”
“We’ll begin in the morning.”
Aedan was currently unemployed so there was no problem fitting the lessons in around work. After he and Casper had arranged a time to meet, I took the opportunity to question Aedan about the case. It seemed a no-brainer that anyone known far and wide as Unlucky would’ve been called to ride by the pooka and ended up in a bog. Probably more than once. But when I posed the question, he shook his head.
“I’ve heard it galloping through the village,” he said. “I’ve heard it call for people to ride. Once I even saw it. Derry Boyle was clinging to its back and yelling at it to do its worst, or something like that. But it’s never called me.”
Hmm. Maybe Aedan wasn’t as unlucky as people thought. “Have you seen a black eagle with yellow tips on its wings?”
He started to shake his head again, but then did a mental double take. “Wait on, I did see it. Scavenging for scraps. I threw it some leftovers.”
“Did it attack you?”
“No. It ate the food. Then it kind of nodded its head like it was sayin’ thank you, and flew off.” Aedan stopped at a tiny house. “This is me.”
There were no lights on in the windows. “You live alone?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
Casper and I watched Aedan walk to his door. We didn’t move on until he was safely inside with the door locked. Then we set off for Siobhan’s place.
The village was bathed in twilight. The kids and joggers and gardeners had abandoned the outdoors for their TVs and computers. We headed past brightly lit windows to a soundtrack of cop shows and news bulletins.
Siobhan lived on the outskirts of Dingaleen, the opposite side to Ronan, but their houses had much in common. Both were more modern than the historic cottages nearer the center of the village, and boasted double garages. Siobhan’s front yard was decorated with strange lumps of stone and abstract sculptures. One big downside—the place was still deserted.
“Maybe she stayed in Dublin—went clubbing,” I said.
“It’s too early in the week for clubbing,” Casper pointed out.
“Do we wait or head back to Ronan’s?”
“Let’s wait,” he said.
Did he know something I didn’t? Was he helping again? “You’ve been bending a lot of rules lately.”
Instead of giving me a reason, he said, “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Hmm. That had a ring of finality I didn’t like at all. Before I could probe further, a single car purred down the street. It slowed and turned into Siobhan’s driveway.
“Perfect timing.” As a slender young woman climbed out of the car, I approached and said, “Siobhan Whelan?”
“That’s me.” She pushed dark bangs off her face, the movement making her silver bracelets jangle. Her lips were painted a bright red that not only suited her but managed to avoid clashing with the multi-colored dress. Gladiator sandals were laced halfway up her legs. She regarded us curiously. “Are you here on holiday? From America? Do you want to see my work? You’re welcome to look in the studio, but my best stuff is in the gallery in Dublin.” She dug a card from her bag and handed it to me.
“Uh, thanks.” I stuck it in my pocket. “I’d love to see your work. Next time I’m in Dublin I’ll drop by the galley. Right now I want to ask you some questions about the pooka.”
She took a closer look at me. “Who did you say you were?”
“Allegra Fairweather. And this,” I added as Casper joined us, “is my partner.”
Her brow puckered then suddenly cleared. “Of course, you’re Ronan’s paranormal investigator. Sorry, I didn’t realize—it’s been a long day. I’ll happily answer some questions so long as...” she cast an admiring glance at Casper, “...I can sketch him.”
Casper grimaced.
“He doesn’t like to be sketched,” I said.
“Shame.” She headed for her house, a ring of keys dangling from her long fingers.
I whispered to Casper. “It’s only a sketch. All you have to do is sit there. Please?”
Casper nodded wearily. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”
“Well, Siobhan is pretty cute.”
&nbs
p; “You know who I mean.” But he stopped short of saying it was me.
As we followed Siobhan into her neat cottage, she said, “I’m desperate for a cup of tea. Want to join me?” She offered us a choice of Earl Grey, Russian Caravan, green, white, peppermint or chamomile. As usual, tea was the last thing I wanted, but I settled for green, which I barely sipped. Casper asked for plain water. When Siobhan had made the drinks, she got out her sketchbook and pencils, and curled up in an armchair opposite Casper. We were in a casual living room, which led to her studio. Through the open door I saw the usual artist’s paraphernalia—tubes of paint, brushes, palettes, half-finished pics on easels—there was even a rack of costumes that I guessed were worn by her models. Hanging amongst the long floaty dresses, hooded capes, and faux armor was a barbarian’s loincloth.
“Do you want Casper to wear that?” I asked hopefully.
“No, a costume won’t be necessary. I can fill that in later.”
Bugger!
As she continued to sketch, I pulled out my own pencil and notepad, and got to work.
“I understand the pooka appeared right after you tidied some graves,” I began.
“Not right after.” Her pencil flew across her sketchpad. “Two days, I think.”
“Do you visit the graves a lot?” That’s what Nola had told me, but Siobhan denied it.
“I went there once.” She paused to study her sketch, study Casper and chew the end of her pencil.
“Tell me about the graves,” I said as she got back to work.
“They were in some woodland.” She spoke absent-mindedly. All her attention was on Casper and the lines and swirls she was adding to her sketch. “I was wandering around looking for inspiration when I saw the headstones. They were half covered in vines, weathered and leaning like broken teeth. They looked so sad I just couldn’t help myself. I pulled the vines off. I tried to straighten the stones as well, but they were too heavy.”
“Did you sketch them? Or take photos?”
She shook her head. “My work is concerned with life, not death. It’s hard to explain why I felt the need to tidy those graves. Even harder to explain why I gathered posies of wildflowers and left one on each grave.”
