And it did.
From every direction, the torrents blasted her with drenching streams of wet and she laughed at its attempt to dampen her spirits. She twirled in it.
Then she stopped.
Something had stolen her glee.
She looked around, searching for whatever caused the shift, and then turned back to the cottage. Her eyes brightened again as she ran in, reaching for a towel.
"My heart hasn't beat this fast in years." Her elated voice filled the cottage. "I feel so alive."
Our silence was deafening and Jayne scanned us for a response.
Maureen broke our silent stupor with her quick wit. "Lassie, we're delighted to see you've awakened. Fully." She went to Jayne and hugged her. "Come here ta me now, ta get dry and have a warm cuppa."
The three of us exhaled at the same time, creating an audible sense of relief through the cottage as we returned to drying ourselves.
I contemplated the obvious. Jayne needed to be told. And it needed to be me who delivered the news to her. I just had no idea how. Or when.
Our chatter filled the warm space as we all got lost in the comfort of being together. But in the bustle, I couldn’t dodge the knowing looks from the others. They, too, knew Jayne needed to be told.
Maybe her awareness could help us understand the situation better and how it all tied in with the prophecies. But telling her…a knot grew in my throat…would prove to be one of the hardest things I’d ever have to do.
With cups of tea and slices of brown bread with marmalade passing around the room, we gathered our wits and began planning for Paul and Rory's arrival.
I sat with Jayne to share the plan of the day, to be sure she was on board with joining our army. She'd slept through all of the discussions and needed a full run down of the tactical planning. But as I looked at her frail form, I reconsidered if she should come along or stay here with Maureen instead.
There was strength in numbers and I knew we could use her help in some way, but I also had to be sure she wouldn't be a liability. She was broken and needed time to heal. It was possible that she could complicate the mission if she couldn’t keep up.
But I had to remember, she was woven into the prophecies. Somehow, she was a part of all of this and might even have the power to unlock something vital to the mission.
She lifted one eyebrow as she gazed into my eyes. Her light shined into my face and I saw the girl I'd known so well at the institution.
A fighter. A rebel. A badass.
And my decision was made.
Two seconds after the sound of slamming car doors, Paul and Rory burst into the cottage, soaked. Water streamed down their faces and dripped from their fingertips.
"'Tis lashin' rain," Rory burst out, reaching for the towel Maureen handed him. "I've n'er seen such wet, just pourin' from the heavens." His accent thickened with his rush of adrenalin. "Like a goddamn omen."
Maureen laughed. "Sure, nothin' will stop the likes of ye though. Not even the wrath o' God."
Nervous laughter moved through the cottage as Paul and Rory dried off and settled in by the fire.
"Rory. Paul." I turned my attention to the couch. "This is Jayne. I know you've heard all about her."
Jayne stood and reached for Paul's hand. "Pleased to meet you," she said.
Paul shook her hand with enthusiasm. "I'm very happy to meet you, Jayne. Welcome to...to this crazy bunch." He chuckled and she smiled.
She reached for Rory's hand then and their eyes met. His expression moved from his typical arrogance to a softened gaze of intrigue.
He lifted his hand to hers. "Hi, I'm Rory. Ah, nice to meet you." He quickly released her hand and dropped his eyes from hers.
I pressed my lips together to hide my smirk and looked at Ryan. He'd seen it too.
Rory was smitten.
From that moment forward, the chatter in the cottage reverberated nonstop as plans were devised and coffees were had.
"There's no end in sight with this rain." Paul glanced out the window. "So makes no difference to wait." He itched to get started.
"Once we're in the hole, won't matter anyway," Rory added. "Will be dark and damp, regardless."
"Let's just be sure to keep our supplies dry," I said. "We can shed our wet outer layers once we've entered the tomb. It's our equipment we need to worry about most. We'll need as much light as possible, for as long as possible."
A shiver ran through me as I remembered the times I'd been stuck in pitch darkness in the catacombs. I hoped to never endure such terror again.
I turned to Rory and added, "So, do we get to see our gear now?" My eyes shot to Paul's. "Or do we have to wait until we get to the clearing?"
They glanced at each other and then Paul said, "Probably makes sense to suit up here, out of the wet. It just might make for an uncomfortable drive, but better than spending hours in the tomb with a damp arse."
"I'll grab what's in the truck," Ryan said as he moved toward the back door.
Before long, a pile of wet duffel bags hit the middle of the floor in front of the hearth and my hoard from home was thrown on top.
Rory tugged on an enormous bag as he huffed. "The gear for the gents is in this one." He kicked the other bag toward me. "This one's fer the ladies."
My eyes widened with curiosity. The bags appeared to be from the same place, like a military base of some form, and were of the highest quality.
"Where'd these come from?" I asked as I pulled on the zipper.
"You could just say I have friends in high places," Rory mumbled. "Militia-types. You know, ta protect the country from terrorists. It's the real deal." His arrogant grin returned.
I tugged on the gear within the bag and pulled out stiff, form fitted outerwear, like high-tech armor. Stretch pants with hard padding throughout and tops with stiff panels, front and back. Elbow pads and shoulder pads. Gloves with protection on the knuckles. Helmets with clear face guards.
Full sets of riot gear. Enough for everyone.
My jaw fell open. "This stuff is incredible. It's perfect!" I blasted. "Oh my god. Whatever we encounter down there, we'll be ready for once."
I glanced at Rory, grateful for his smart preparation. It made sense he would prep for the quest with riot gear. He didn’t have mystical gifts like most of us and therefore relied on brawn and armor for protection. It made for a perfect balance to our team.
At opposite ends of the cottage, everyone started wiggling and pulling, tugging the modern-day suits of armor onto their bodies. Once I had mine on, I did squats and lunges, feeling the mobility in the gear, amazed at its comfort and flexibility.
I looked around me at the motley crew. We were six soldiers, dressed and ready for battle.
I had to admit, the guys looked hot. All of them.
And honestly, so did we.
The form-fitted uniforms clung in all the right places, making us look like an intimidating bunch of warriors.
Standing around the heap of my Goth jacket, Doc Martens and hurley stick, we snickered at my failed attempt at collecting useful items, glad to now have the higher-level performance gear that Rory had acquired.
"We look friggin' hot. Not gonna lie." I chuckled. "Who's ready to kick some ass?"
Covered in enormous cape-like raincoats that looked like oversized black trash bags, we bolted for the truck. Determined to soak us, rain pelted off our coverings, shooting into our eyes and trickling down our necks.
Jayne hopped in after me, squealing and panting with laughter. Ryan looked over at her and his frustrated scowl smoothed over into a gentle grin.
As we pulled out from behind the cottage, I caught a glimpse of the others climbing into what looked like a zombie-apocalypse-style Jeep. The massive, rugged wheels propped it high off the ground and huge lights stood on the top, waiting to light up whatever was foolish enough to get in front of it. Every inch of the Jeep was black as night.
I shook my head. "I'm riding with them next time," I joked as I watched Ro
ry hop into the driver's side.
"Yeah," Ryan grunted. "Me, too."
A nervous twitch shot my attention back to our task. The gear and gizmos were definitely high end, but in truth, they only gave a false sense of confidence. Internally, I still felt as naked and vulnerable as ever.
"So what's the plan?" Jayne asked. "From everything I've heard, it sounds like we're going to try to stop a Druid army from traveling through time to kill you? Is that about right?" Her teasing sarcasm wasn't lost in her tone.
I pressed my elbow into her ribs.
"Don't forget about the 'stopping the prophecies and saving the world' part," I snarked. "That part's important too."
Ryan shook his head. "Sounds kind of cataclysmic when you guys put it like that. And kind of over the top."
"Okay, yeah, it might be a bit lofty. But we have no choice." My voice grew more serious. "Stopping the prophecies seems like the best approach, unless we want to come face-to-face with an army of hell-bent Druids from the deep past." My shoulders twitched from the pent-up energy in my body. "We need to block them. Fast. Before any other prophecies unfold. There’s no telling how close they might be."
"But how?" Jayne's knee bounced like a sewing machine needle.
I stared through the shattered glass of the windscreen and focused on the center prism. The Jeep was ahead of us but the driving rain blurred it into a smear of black with streaks of light. The sound of the rapid wipers sent a high speed rhythm into my heart, matching its pace.
"Maeve and I found a secret passage within the catacombs. The carvings of the prophecies led us to it." I pictured the terrifying dark passageway in my mind. "And then the signs began when a swarm escaped from the chamber, setting the prophecies into motion."
"So, you think there's something in there?" Jayne pressed.
"Maybe." I nodded. "It was concealed perfectly, until the moment the prophecies were revealed to us. Like it was waiting for that very moment."
"Hmm," Jayne murmured. "Can't help but wonder if I'd be better off with Sister Francis." Then she burst out laughing. "Not a fuckin' chance!"
Jayne's levity broke the tension in the truck but we still remained focused on what lay ahead. Our thoughts hovered on my words of the prophecies and the Druids as we battled the torrents of rain through the winding roads to Ballycroy.
I couldn't help but think that maybe she was right. I truly had no idea what we were about to encounter. The danger could be deadly. Maybe she would have been safer with Sister Francis.
My nagging insecurities came to a halt as Ryan swerved into a spot alongside the Jeep, just beyond the cemetery at Doona Castle. My eyes trailed up the hillside toward the clearing and my stomach clamped tight.
Everyone piled out of the vehicles and grabbed bags and backpacks, taking whatever they could carry. In an organized flow of action, we beat our way up the trail in no time.
We travelled along the incline, focusing on our destination and our footing on the wet terrain. The rain and wind worked together in a compounded effort at derailing our mission. Wet lashes stung our faces as we were assaulted by sideways sheets of sopping water.
I shouted back to Paul. “What do you know of the man who’s starving himself? You know, in the name of God’s children?”
Paul slowed for a second in surprise and squinted to see me better through the driving rain. “Joseph,” he said.
My legs wobbled at the sound of his name. It made him more real than I wanted.
“You know him?” I shouted.
He called back to me as we continued to climb. “I know of him. I’ve friends in Dublin trying to save his life.” He stumbled on a rock, then yelled again. “What about him?”
Finally at the top, we entered the clearing in single file and dropped our bags near the boulders that sheltered the chasm. We paced around the hidden opening to the tomb while catching our breaths and continued to shield our faces from the torrents.
I turned to Paul. “We think he might be one of the signs. The fourth prophecy.”
“How so?” he asked, glancing into the crevice between the boulders.
“The prophecy speaks of a martyr,” I explained. “Someone sacrificing themselves for the word of God.”
Paul’s eyes widened and he glanced at Maeve and Ryan. They nodded.
I continued, “Can you contact your friends in Dublin? See what’s happening and find out if we can get access to him?”
He hesitated a moment, processing my words. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely. As soon as we get our asses out of this current situation. I’ll make a call.”
I exhaled in relief but kept my hope from rising too much. It was a long shot. But I couldn’t help feeling the possibility of an opportunity.
"We'll each drop a bag down before we enter,” Paul instructed, drawing our attention back to the task at hand. “We'll gather around the bend then, at the feet of the stone guardians, and get organized."
With nods of agreement, we grabbed our gear and lined up at the opening of the boulders. Paul stood at the front of the line and I moved up next to him. I pulled Jayne along after me. Ryan and Maeve got behind us and Rory stood at the back.
Without another word, Paul dropped his bag down the hole and then maneuvered his legs into the dark passageway. Before long, he disappeared into the darkness. I waited a few moments before dropping my own bag, and then positioned myself at the opening.
"It's narrow and slippery," I said over my shoulder to Jayne. "And it's dark. Like, pitch."
She nodded.
"Just go slow and stay close," I added. "I'll wait for you at the bottom."
Just as the last words left my mouth a sound escaped from the tomb. A low, moaning tone whirled around us, carried on the dank air that wafted from the passageway. The moan reverberated through our bones, shaking us to the core as it turned to a higher pitched wail.
The wails turned to the shrieks of a thousand lost souls, sending terror through our very beings.
Jayne stiffened and pressed backward by instinct. I reached for her ankle and squeezed it with encouragement.
Then, still shaking from the clear warning to not enter, I lowered myself into the dark hole.
Chapter 10
Squeezing my way down the passageway to hell, I wriggled along the wet rocks, kicking my bag below me. Sounds of Jayne's efforts rustled above me as I made my way around the bend. Just as I moved into the space near the stone guardians, a light clicked on and I gazed toward the glow of Paul's headlamp.
"Everything in my bag is dry," he said.
He approached me and helped pull off my rain poncho. He handed me a headlamp and placed my wet coat along the far wall by his. A moment later, Jayne appeared at the bend, pushing her bag through to us.
A gasp escaped her throat as she stared at the intimidating figures of the gargantuan guardian statues.
"They're the Keepers of the Ovate Guard," I told her. "They protect the tomb for the Ovates." I paused. "The good Druids. The seers."
"Oh, there are good ones?" Jayne chuffed.
"Yes. Most of them are, actually. It's a rogue society of Druids who’ve created the curse," I said. "They stole the mystical knowledge of the good Druids and twisted it for their own gain. The power of time, basically."
She lifted a shoulder. "I can see the allure."
I huffed and reached for her poncho as the others entered the chamber and settled into the new, drier environment.
“So we’re racing against an eclipse, I hear?” Rory interjected.
Paul reached for more headlamps. “Right.” He nodded to Maeve then looked to me. “I found plenty of info on the lunar eclipse next year, but every link for solar eclipses led to static and dead ends.” He handed a lamp to Jayne. “It makes me suspicious.”
“Me too,” I added. “It’s coming. But somehow, it’s being hidden from us.”
It made no sense that we couldn’t find information about an impending eclipse. It should be big news. Bu
t maybe the Druid curse reached further than we could ever know. And maybe it was blinding us to something that was right in front of us.
“We’ll have to figure it out when we get out of here,” Ryan said. “I’m sick of the run around. There’s got to be another way to get the info.”
I hoped there would still be time.
Headlamps in place, we strapped on utility belts and clipped extra flashlights onto the carabiners. Everyone opted out of taking a helmet. They were just too bulky and stifling. Paul tossed a few items to Rory that looked like grenades.
"What the hell are those?" I blasted. "You tryin' ta get us killed?"
Rory chuckled. "They're flash-bangs. To stop an attack, temporarily, without actually killing anyone."
"Oh, okay," I mumbled, then leaned in closer to Paul's bag. "What else you got in there?"
Paul pulled out some batons that looked like they were made of heavy rubber.
"Truncheons," he stated. "They're clubs used by military personnel, you know, for defense. Take one."
I hesitated, remembering the the baton the Gards used to take Ryan down. My molars clenched tight. And then I took one.
He passed the rest around and everyone hung their baton from the side of their belt.
Rory opened another bag and paused for a moment. He then reached in and started placing items in a row on the stone slab floor. We all took a step closer and aimed our headlamps at the array of weapons.
"Take your pick," he said.
Knives, pepper spray cans, tomahawks, and a gun. My heart nearly shot out of my chest.
"No! A friggin' gun!" I shouted. "No way! We're not taking that."
Rory lifted his arms in defense. "It's a taser. No bullets. I swear."
"But the knives and axes?" Worry poured from my voice, tightening my throat.
We were heading straight for danger. Danger that required real weapons for defense.
Truth Seer (Irish Mystic Legends Book 3) Page 8
