The lightning crashed.
While it was gross that the man had a relationship with his child, the picture was becoming clearer.
These two were the evil that had haunted these grounds.
Only, there was one thing they didn’t get.
One sister was burned, but what happened to the other sister?
“Who killed Marissa?” Brianna asked.
The second witch shook and her form creaked as bones ground against bones.
Maribel said nothing.
In that moment, Brianna got it. She’d pieced it together, and she knew what happened.
“You, out of bitterness, Maribel, killed your own sister. You murdered her, offering her up to Carman for his love, didn’t you?”
Vines crept toward them.
Avalon began whispering over and over again in a language they didn’t understand.
Finally, Maribel spoke.
“She stole my love! So I had to kill her!”
The skeleton that stood beside her grabbed onto her arm with her other hand. It turned, and the decayed face said it all.
Marissa didn’t know who killed her until that moment.
She placed her hand over the gaping hole in her chest. Then with empty eye sockets, she stared at her sister.
She spoke.
“You killed me?”
The ground began creaking and a pile of dirt beneath the tree moved as if a grave was opening.
Maribel tried to pull away, but her sister held on with her skeletal hands.
Laird moved them back.
It was about to get ugly. Sister was about to battle sister as they worked out this whole mess.
Brianna had been right.
The dead would answer all these questions, but they still had more. The living were the issue too.
Bishop was watching the ground open, and she just happened to glance down at Brianna’s ring.
It shone in the darkness.
The earth shook again.
She had an idea. “I’m sorry,” she said to Brianna.
The woman looked confused.
Grabbing Brianna’s hand, Bishop yanked the ring from her finger. “Trust me,” she said, tossing it toward the open grave.
They fought for it.
Maribel wanted that ring, and so did Marissa. In all of their evilness, that had become their symbol of anger and hate.
The two tumbled into the opening, and they were pulled down. The dirt covered them.
The whole estate was filled with their unholy wails of anger as they continued to do battle for that one token of unrequited love.
“Jagger, now would be a good time to burn that tree,” Avalon said, finally able to speak.
That worked for him.
He didn’t hesitate.
He took his lighter, flicked it so the flame was on, and tossed it onto the tree.
It shouldn’t burn with all the rain, but the opposite happened. It went up in flames.
They listened to the screams around the yard.
They were horrible.
Then...
They stopped.
“Is that over?” Maura asked, holding onto her husband. She was pretty freaked out.
Avalon couldn’t feel any of them.
“Maribel and Marissa are gone,” she said. “Their energy isn’t here anymore.”
Lucian wasn’t at ease.
Not yet.
“We should get back inside—just in case.”
They headed back. Once in the foyer, they still had the mystery to solve.
They were cold and wet.
“Everyone change. We’re going to work on this, and we’re going to figure it out,” Nate said.
He was still rattled by what they’d all seen on the estate grounds, and truthfully, he needed a break.
No one argued with him.
They all wanted to take a few minutes.
Heading up the stairs, they broke off. When Nate got Avalon into their room, he had to know.
“Did we change fate?” he asked. “Are Laird and Brianna safe?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
She went quiet.
He could feel the energy around them. Avalon was doing her Oracle thing.
“It’s blank.”
“What do you mean by that?” he asked. “How can the future be blank?”
She focused on him. “Fate is letting them write their own ending. They get to decide. It’s never happened before. Normally…”
He waited. “What?”
“We have to let them do this, Nathaniel. I can’t help them. Fate wants me to leave it alone.”
He sighed.
This was going to be bad.
He could tell.
“Then we solve the case, and we let them decide what happens.”
Avalon knew what that could mean. “They might die.”
“Then the next Oracle isn’t born, right?”
“Worse.”
What could be worse than that? He didn’t get it. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“If they die, we don’t have a child. Their fate, whatever it is they decide, is tied to ours. We have to let fate play out, Nate. No matter what, you can’t say anything. I’m trusting you as my husband, my partner, and my mate.”
He stared at her.
Well, she was right.
It was worse.
And it sucked.
Back downstairs, they settled into the living room. Lucian had a fire going to take the chill out of the room. God knew they were all shaking, and now it wasn’t because of the rain.
It had been the creep-fest outside his doors.
Yeah, he was ditching this place, and fast.
As they all sat, it was time to begin.
Brianna spoke, “We know that Maribel and Marissa were sharing Lawrence, and in the end, it was jealousy that caused a mess. We know that he fell in love with Polly, but what happened to them?” she asked. “We never saw either here.”
Avalon offered up more information. “When I saw Polly, it wasn’t really her. It felt like Maribel. Now I know, because the charade is over. Polly isn’t here.”
“Where do two people disappear to?” Lucian asked.
“We should research that,” Maura offered. “If she married him, and I know that’s gross since that was her father, she’d likely have taken his name, right? We looked for Polly O’Sullivan. We didn’t look for Polly Keane.”
They had a point.
“Moira MacDonald was killed today,” Bishop stated. “She was married to a Keane. We need to figure out what the hell is going on, because Brianna is next.”
That didn’t make Laird happy.
“Has fate changed?” he asked Avalon.
“No.”
Nate heard the lie. He kept his face neutral, and he prayed no one got hurt. He’d promised his wife that he’d help her, and he trusted her. Besides, if they died, he’d never have a child of his own.
He was risking it all on those two people.
Oh, and Oracle.
As he was about to ask more, like divine intervention, the detective’s phone rang.
“Detective Maguire?”
“It’s Brian. Can you and Brianna come to my house? I found something,” he said.
“We’re a little busy.”
“It’s important,” he said, nervously. “Just come in. We’ll be in the basement working.”
“Okay, we’ll be right there,” he offered, hanging up. “We have to run to the historian’s home. They found something. It might be the next link to the killer.”
The team would have to work on the digging.
“Be careful,” Nate said.
Laird’s phone beeped again, and once more, he pulled it from his pocket.
It was the reports from the autopsies and crime scenes. He tossed his phone to Nate.
“Reports are in. Brianna has her cel
l. If you need us, call us on that,” he said, as Nate caught it.
They could do that.
Together, the couple headed out. Once at his car, she stared him in the eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m afraid,” Brianna offered. “I don’t know what we’ll find out next.”
He got in and kissed her fingers. He was worried too, but what could he do? They had to face this head on.
“We’ll be fine,” he said. “We have each other. I don’t care that you look like Polly. Do you care that I look like Lawrence?” he asked.
“Can I call you daddy?” she teased.
He laughed. “My love, you can call me whatever your heart desires,” he replied, heading out of the estate.
To her, that offered some calm. They were good. They were safe, and they had love.
“I think I’ll take you up on that.”
He grinned.
“That’s my girl.”
And she was.
The two men, across the street and parked in the trees, watched them leave. They were keeping tally of who was coming and going. It was going to be a matter of doing the job, or disappointing Silas Reed.
They couldn’t fuck this up.
If they did, the shit would hit the fan.
No one wanted that.
“I think there’s eight more inside,” he said, trying to keep count.
“You think?” he said. “Maybe we should know for sure? If we break in…”
Yeah, he got it.
They were screwed.
“I know there are eight.”
“Keep counting,” he ordered, as he went back to looking through the binoculars. “Mr. Reed said to do whatever it took to get the girl, and we’re going to do just that. We can’t fail.”
He was aware.
If they did, it would likely mean their deaths.
You didn’t mess with Silas.
* * * O R A C L E * * *
Brian Higgins’s
Home
He was scared.
“We did what you wanted. Don’t kill us,” he whispered, as he and his boyfriend sat in the closet, their arms and legs bound.
He put tape over their mouths.
“Aye, we won’t. We keep our word,” he said, putting a pillowcase over both of their heads.
Once they were on, he pulled out his razor-sharp knife. Drawing it across his thumb, he watched the blood bead.
“Can I do it?” she asked.
He smiled. “Yes, my love, you may. You need to go out on your own and do it. That’s the only way,” he said, handing it to her.
She sliced it across the first man’s throat, and his jugular was cut.
The second man began squirming as soon as the blood hit him.
“Are we going to take their hearts?” she asked. “I’m hungry, and I want to be fed.”
He laughed.
“We’ll just kill these two. We don’t need them. Carman wants the originals. She wants the two who are our kin. Once we kill them, you can hack at these all you want.”
William whimpered through his gag.
She began stabbing him in the chest, sinking the knife to the hilt. When she looked up, she was covered in gore.
“I am so proud of you,” he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Now let’s get ready. It’s nearly time. Polly and Lawrence are going to die. They escaped Carman once. They won’t again.”
* * * O R A C L E * * *
When they arrived at the house, there was a light on inside. Laird knocked, and no one answered.
“Brian,” he said, “William?”
“Should we go in?” Brianna asked.
They heard a door closing in the back of the house. Taking a chance, they headed in.
“He might not hear us,” Laird said, taking her hand in his. “He said he’d be in the basement and to come inside.”
Brianna was getting a weird feeling. She felt like vertigo was hitting, and that never happened.
It was making it hard to concentrate. Then, once inside, the static kicked up.
As they headed toward the basement stairs, they stopped at the top.
“Brian?” Laird called.
That’s when Brianna, from beside him, felt it.
There was someone behind them.
As she went to turn to warn her husband, without warning, they were pushed. They both fell down the stairs and to the bottom.
Laird tried to protect her, but Brianna landed beneath him. As they landed on the floor, they both hit their heads.
As Laird fought not to go out, he looked up at them, and he was confused.
“Why?” he whispered, as the gray moved through his vision.
“You can’t hide forever, Lawrence.”
He tried to protest, but then…
He was out.
* * * O R A C L E * * *
Graymoor
He was flipping through the trace reports on Laird’s phone, trying to get some answers. As he was reading, Bishop got his attention.
“I found Polly Keane!” she shouted.
That had their attention.
“What about her?” Luke asked.
“She married Lawrence Keane, and they moved out of Ireland and into Europe. They have family there, but they don’t have any other Keane’s here. The closest are second cousins. They are from a branch of Marissa’s family line. It appears that before she got into the crazy of witchcraft, she was married. She had a child.”
“That might be something,” Nate offered.
“Who is it?”
“Marissa had a daughter by her first husband. I don’t have a name for him, since the records don’t go back that far, but I do have her child’s name. Martha married a man by the name of Patrick Murray. They family branched off for more generations, but there was always a Murray son at some point.”
“Where have we heard that name before?” Bishop asked. “I swear we’ve heard it.”
Nate looked up. “Uh, I have that name here in the report too,” he said, scanning it.
“What?” Maura stated.
“The bones that Molly found. They belonged to a woman named Aine O’Shea-Murray.”
Luke Googled the name. “I found her. There’s a big news story in the Adare papers. She went missing around ten years ago. The family was distraught.”
“Who was the family?” Nate asked.
“The Murrays own the bed and breakfast. Ryan is the older man, Quinn is the father, and Mary…that’s the little girl that was always tagging along with Brianna.”
“She was staying at the killer’s home?” Maura asked. “Well, we know why the killer picked her. She was in his own space.”
Nate dialed her phone, trying to get through to her.
Nothing.
It went to voice mail.
Avalon sat up on the couch, and she and Lucian reached for them. She could smell the blood.
“They are hurt,” she said, still clinging to Lucian’s hand.
“We have to go,” he said.
Nate waited for Avalon to give the word. He knew she was checking out fate’s plan. When she did, she scrunched up her nose. It was happening.
“We need to go!” she said.
They all began running.
Jagger stopped Bishop. “You have to stay here with Roxy! I have to help them.”
She got it.
They could handle this one without her.
“I got her. Go!”
The team jumped into their SUV and flew out of there.
Once they hit the road, Jagger drove it like he’d stolen it, showing Maura how it was really done.
As the gate closed behind them, they didn’t notice the one man who slipped in. It was so dark and fogy, he was like a ghost.
The team kept driving, not focused on one of their own. They didn’t notice that Roxy and Bishop weren’t safe.
In fact, they wouldn’t.
Until it was too late.
*
* * O R A C L E * * *
When she woke, her husband was bound and gagged on the floor. He was staring at her, and she felt like puking.
Not only because she’d taken a header down the stairs, but because of the dire situation.
This was bad.
It looked like fate was taking them both.
“I see you’re awake,” Quinn said, staring down at her. He was wearing an apron, and she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to analyze all the blood splattered on it.
“My arm,” she whispered, rolling to her side to cradle it. Yeah, it was definitely broken.
He grinned at her.
“What the hell?” she muttered, clutching her arm.
“Aye, you broke that on your tumble down the stairs. That’s okay, though, since we only need your heart.”
She tried to get up, and he shoved her back down.
Laird struggled.
“Hush,” he said. “Do you know you look just like my ancestor?” he asked, crouching down in front of her. “You look like Polly Keane. The second you came into my inn, I wanted to be sick. You see, you stole Lawrence from his family. Our rightful family.”
She let him talk, all the while, she was moving closer to her husband.
“Poor Marissa, I bet that sick Polly killed her,” he said, licking the long knife in his hand. “You see, her daughter was hidden before they took her to that island. Her daughter lived, and she carried on for her ma, our ancestor. Martha loved her mother.”
Brianna knew what happened. This man had some sick, skewed version, twisted by anger and fake history.
“Both sisters, they loved Carman. They built her altars right in that house,” he said. “They would kill the servants, and offer them up. He let them,” Quinn said, pointing at Laird. “He wanted the power. Then, he wanted pussy more. His own child’s. Yours.”
“We aren’t them,” she said, trying to talk him out of the crazy. “We just look like them. He’s Laird Maguire, and I’m Brianna Maguire.”
“You had the ring,” he said. “Where is our family heirloom?”
“I lost it.”
Oracle Haunting (The Phoenix Files Book 4) Page 40
