Deadly Gift

by Heather Graham

  The kiss could have lasted forever and she wouldn’t have complained. But then she felt his hands on her, and she instinctively moved her own. She felt the silky brush of fabric as her dress was pulled over her head; her fingers were awkward against his buttons, but she learned quickly.

  Naked was even better.

  Flesh against flesh. The quickening of muscle, the feel of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath, mingling with her own. They tangled together, falling upon the bed, and she was curled in his arms, locked in another passionate kiss. She was half atop him. She was beneath him. She lay, barely able to breathe, as his lips moved from hers and touched flesh, tenderly, erotically, with fever and heat. Her fingers moved over his shoulders, nails raking lightly.

  His mouth…

  His kiss…

  So intimate. She felt her blood racing, every inch of her flesh so alive, so unbelievably alive and vital. Felt him, his caress upon her breasts, her throat, her ribs, her inner thighs. She yearned for greater intimacy even as she feared it. Awkward and tentative at first, she touched him in return, learning that her instincts were all she needed, that she could touch and thrill him, that her kisses spurred his fever. And then they were an incredible tangle of give and take, limbs and torsos, fingers and hands…lips caressing, a shattering ride of wild and liquid movement. There was nothing that did not seem incredible, the wickedly sweet arousal, the feel of him inside her, the staggering, blinding ecstasy that came at last in a shuddering moment of climax, and the euphoria that swept over her again and again like an ocean tide as she drifted down, held in the curve of his arms. And all the while, she felt the rhythm of beating hearts, and the rise and fall of their breathing, the sweet and precious pulse of life.

  This was real….

  His face was in shadow, his expression difficult to read, as he rose up on one elbow, tenderly touching her cheek.

  “What is it about you?” he asked her.

  She turned to him, glad that a note of laughter escaped her lips. “What is it about you?” she asked him.

  “Honestly, this room is for visiting musicians.”

  She laughed again. “Of course.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know a few Irish tunes.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “Only that I’m sure you do. And that you sing them well. And that your singing will be as great an enigma as everything else about you.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, studying his features in the half-light, praying that her own remained as well hidden.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she said huskily.

  “You know what’s frightening?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I feel as if I could stay here, right here, forever.”

  He was a man, she reminded herself. Words came easily to them, emotions and the memory of those words…not as much.

  Not fair…

  “We can’t stay here forever,” she said.

  “A lifetime might not be a bad thing,” he said.

  “We have to go sometime.”

  “Yes.” She saw his smile. “But not just yet. I mean, if that’s all right with you.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. She felt the sleekness of his body, the length of his limbs, the pulse of his blood and the heat of his skin.

  Just to touch.

  Just to feel.

  Just to know…

  It was amazing again. It was another dimension, sensations so strong and rich and vital that she felt as if she’d died and come back to life, only to die again and ascend to some strange heaven. Yes, it was sex, physical beyond a doubt, and yet it was also magic, something ethereal. She was certain that hearts didn’t always beat together, that two people didn’t always feel as if their minds and souls had joined so intimately into a single whole….

  Eventually, finally, they had to rise and dress and head back to the house.

  As they got settled in the car again, she looked at him gravely. “Don’t ever try to tell me that the fantastic does not exist, that magic isn’t real.”

  He smiled, then leaned over and kissed her slowly, holding her chin, studying her eyes.

  “Careful,” he teased, his eyes warm, alive with tenderness. “You seem to be magic yourself. You just may make me fall in love with you.”

  She looked back at him without smiling. “It’s life itself that is magic, Zach.” She turned to look out the window, and he turned on the car and drove. She kept looking out the window, thinking that she didn’t have to worry about falling in love with him.

  She’d already done it the first time she’d seen his eyes, and that had only been in a picture. And then she had seen him.

  And gotten to know him, and to care.

  It was magic.

  And with magic, there was always a price to pay.

  12

  The next evening, Zach was in Sean’s office studying the local sea charts kept there.

  A scream cut through the air.

  “What on earth was that?” Clara cried, practically dropping the sandwich she was carrying, her eyes darting to Zach’s.

  Without answering, he tore from the room and down the hallway toward the dining room, where everyone else—except Bridey, who was still sick—was having dinner.

  When he got there, it was like looking at a tableau. Everyone was so completely motionless, they didn’t even appear to be breathing.

  Caer was standing slightly in front of Marni and Amanda, who were flanking her as if they were backup singers, although Zach had to admit he’d never seen a backup singer holding a plate of blueberry pie, as Marni was. Cal was on his feet as if he had just leaped up from his chair. Tom had apparently come rushing in from outside, because his hands were dirty and his face was flushed. Sean was standing next to Kat, at the end of the table, her hand locked around a silver pie server.

  “What the hell?” Zach demanded, and all eyes shot to him.

  “Glass,” Kat announced, and lifted the hand that held the server.

  A thin trail of blood was oozing along the side of her palm.

  Confused, Zach strode forward to Kat, took the pie server from her and grabbed a cloth napkin, which he held tightly against the cut. “You cut yourself slicing a pie and screamed?” he asked, puzzled.

  She shook her head. “I cut my hand on the pie.”

  Clara had come in behind Zach, and she said, “Child, you can’t cut your hand on a pie.”

  “Yes you can,” Kat said. “If there’s glass in the pie.”

  Marni let out a sudden howl, grabbed a napkin and held it to her mouth, and started spitting out blueberry filling.

  “Did you swallow any of it?” Cal asked anxiously.

  “No!” she gasped.

  “Clara!” Amanda snapped.

  “Wait,” Sean began.

  “There is no wait, anymore, Sean. Clara cooked glass into a pie. Someone could have eaten that and—”

  “Could have? It was in my mouth!” Marni cried.

  “You spit it out soon enough,” Amanda pointed out. “But it could have been much worse. Sean, I know you love Clara, but we can’t keep on living like this.”

  “Oh, Mr. O’Riley!” Clara gasped with horror. “I would never, ever, make such a mistake. I have no idea how that happened, but I promise you, I…” She burst into tears, and Tom hurried to her side to put a protective arm around her.

  “Now, now,” Sean said firmly. “Amanda, we don’t know what happened. Clara, please stop crying. You know how much I treasure you.”

  “Excuse me, but I’m the one who almost swallowed glass,” Marni said, then hurried from the room. Cal rushed out after her.

  Zach already had his phone out and was dialing Morrissey’s number.

  “What are you doing?” Kat asked him.

  “Calling the police.”

  “The police?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes. W
e’re going to give this pie to Detective Morrissey and find out just what the hell is in it,” Zach said.

  “I don’t think we need to bring the police into this,” Sean said.

  “What do you think they’ll find?” he asked. “Ground glass. Where will it have come from? Somewhere in this house.”

  Zach ignored him and was put through to Detective Morrissey, and quickly explained the situation, extracting the other man’s promise to come over right away.

  “Zach, this is just crazy,” Sean protested.

  “Maybe there was glass in the blueberries when they were purchased,” Caer suggested.

  “It’s her!” Amanda said suddenly, pointing at Caer.

  “Pardon?” Caer said.

  “Our lives have just been a mess since you brought her home with us, Sean.” She looked at her husband with concern. “Ever since Caer came into this house, things have been going wrong.”

  “Oh, Amanda, don’t be ridiculous,” Kat said with disgust. “It seems to me our lives have all gone to hell since you came into them.”

  “Sean, I told you that your daughter was never going to be able to accept me,” Amanda said plaintively.

  “Everybody, stop!” Sean snapped. “This is my house. Amanda, I love my daughter, and, Kat, Amanda is my wife. Caer had nothing to do with Eddie’s disappearance or me becoming ill in Ireland, Amanda, so, please, let’s just calm down on that. In fact, let’s all go into the living room and have a drink while we wait for Detective Morrissey. Caer’s right. There might have been something wrong with the blueberries themselves. Fresh or canned, Clara?”

  “What?” Clara said, as if still dazed. “Oh, the blueberries. They came in a jar, Mr. O’Riley.”

  “You’re right, Zach,” Sean said with a deep sigh. “We need Morrissey. There might be more jars of bad blueberries out there. I, for one, am having a drink. You should all join me.”

  “Dad, you shouldn’t be drinking,” Kat said.

  “I’m having a whiskey,” he said firmly, and left the room.

  The others began following him. Zach waited for Caer, who left last. Her eyes met his, big and blue and questioning.

  He shrugged. “One swig of whiskey isn’t going to kill him. Something else might, but…”

  She nodded, then followed the others from the room.

  Soon after drinks were poured, Morrissey arrived. By then, Caer had headed upstairs to check on Bridey. Everyone started talking all at once, until Morrissey gained control. Marni made a point of mentioning that she and Cal didn’t live there, so of course they didn’t know anything about the jar, the pie or anything else that went on in the house. Morrissey wanted to know when Clara had purchased the blueberries, and she was so distraught that she had to think for a while to remember that she had bought them exactly one week before. Morrissey was by turns grave, thoughtful and patient with everyone there, earning Zach’s continuing respect. In the end, he left with the pie. Since the garbage had already been picked up, there was no jar to salvage, but Clara remembered the store where she had purchased the blueberries and the brand, so he had that information to follow up on. In the end, it took hours, but Morrissey had doggedly gotten everything he needed from everyone.

  Zach walked the detective out.

  “This is a strange situation you’re in,” Morrissey said. “Maybe you should all take separate hotel rooms for a while.”

  “Sean will never accept that a member of his family or circle of friends is trying to harm him,” Zach said. “And as to glass in a pie…if Kat hadn’t gotten cut right away, anyone might have eaten it, which would make it a rather random method of committing murder. Marni did take a bite,” he added thoughtfully.

  “Maybe she should head to the hospital and have herself checked out,” Morrissey suggested. “Just to be safe.”

  “She never actually swallowed or even chewed it,” Zach said.

  “Your prime suspect would be anyone who didn’t want pie—if the tampering was done in the house. If Clara isn’t homicidal.”

  There was no pun intended. Morrissey’s features were dead flat.

  “I’d bet my life that Clara isn’t homicidal,” Zach assured him. “And everybody wanted pie.”

  “Well, first things first. The pie, and the blueberries,” Morrissey said. “I’ll get things in motion right away. You just make sure everyone is careful.” He looked at Zach. “Anything else you think I should know?”

  Zach stared back at him with a level gaze. “No.”

  Morrissey nodded and left.

  Cal and Marni emerged from the house before Zach could reenter.

  “We’re going home,” Cal said, but he looked apologetic, as if he felt guilty, leaving when everything was such a mess.

  “Yeah, sure.” Zach looked at Marni. “You’re sure you didn’t swallow any of the pie?”

  Marni nodded. “Trust me—I’d have been screaming for an ambulance if I had. I’m all right. And someone has to keep the business going.”

  “Of course.”

  They still stood there awkwardly.

  “Well, we’ll talk tomorrow, I’m sure,” Marni said.

  “Yes, I’ll be in,” Zach told them. “I may take off around the area, do a little boating, clear my head.”

  “Oh?” Marni asked.

  “Nothing like sea air to clear the mind,” Cal agreed.

  “Well, of course, but…” She grimaced apologetically. “Zach, shouldn’t you be following the blueberry trail?” She hesitated. “So many scary things are going on around here.”

  “Morrissey is a good cop,” Zach said. “He can take care of that. My focus is this family right now.”

  “Of course,” Cal said.

  “Well, good night,” Zach told them both, and they departed at last.

  When he returned to the house, it was quiet. He found Tom and Clara in the kitchen, cleaning up. Tom told him sadly that, no matter how much they cared about Sean O’Riley, they doubted they could stay much longer if Amanda continued to be abusive toward Clara. Zach assured him that he understood, but asked him to try to be tolerant a little while longer.

  Tom looked at him sadly and assured him that he would try.

  Sean and Kat had apparently retired to their rooms, Caer had already gone back to Bridey the minute Morrissey had finished talking to her, and Amanda was nowhere to be seen. He hurried upstairs to check on Bridey and Caer himself.

  Caer was seated by Bridey’s side, holding her hand, speaking to her soothingly. The lilt was in her tone as she talked about the old country, the sweeping emerald hills and the beauty of the great tors, and the sweet sounds of fiddles and harps. Bridey was smiling, listening to her.

  He found himself lulled, as well, almost mesmerized, listening to the rise and fall of her voice. Caer laughed and reminded Bridey that a leprechaun was required to polish a person’s shoes, so if she really wanted a pot of gold, she needed to leave her shoes out to compel a leprechaun to stop, giving her a chance to catch him.

  Bridey’s eyes opened. “Remember, when you catch the evil, you can’t allow it to roam the world. Remember that the banshee must be good, Caer. Swear it.”

  “I swear,” Caer assured her.

  A moment later, Bridey was sleeping peacefully.

  Caer rose quietly and spotted him standing in the doorway.

  “Do you think she’s all right?” she asked him anxiously, joining him.

  “Yes. Why would anyone want to hurt Bridey?” He shook his head. “She’s no danger to anyone. I don’t think we need to worry about Bridey.”

  “I am worried. She’s taking her medication, but she doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” Caer said. “Pneumonia is a real danger for her now.”

  “It is for anyone her age, Caer. Bridey is up there.”

  “Some people live to be a hundred,” she said.

  “True, but we get vulnerable as we age,” he assured her, noticing that she seemed distraught. “Why don’t you head to your room, where you’re
closer to Sean?” he suggested. “Tomorrow I’ll ask Kat if she’ll watch over him for a while. You and I are going exploring.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded gravely. “Eddie left a clue.”

  “What?”

  “Just be ready to head out around ten,” he told her. “Now go on. It’s still safest when either you or Kat is near Sean.”

  She slipped past him, and he stepped into the room, anxious to make sure that Bridey really was sleeping easily. Her breathing sounded a little raspy, but her sleep appeared to be peaceful.

  But as he stood there in the muted light, she opened her eyes. She seemed to be staring at him, but he could tell that she wasn’t seeing him at all.

  Her lips formed a word, and he leaned closer, trying to hear her.

  “Bridey, I’m sorry, what?”

  Nothing.

  Her eyes were closed again, and he hesitated. He straightened and was about to leave when her lips moved again.

  He leaned close and heard her whisper a single word.

  “Banshee.”

  Outside, the winter wind suddenly rose with a vengeance, like an ominous echo.

  Banshee, banshee, banshee…

  He rose, shaking the strange spell of the wind, and looked down at Bridey.

  She was sleeping soundly again, her smile completely serene.

  He left her room to return to his own but paused at the end of the hallway, where a high arched window looked out into the night. No one had drawn the drapes, and the view by moonlight was breathtaking, all jagged rocks and the silhouettes of boats lying at anchor. Lights along the docks cast a gentle glow on the eighteenth-and nineteenth-century buildings that lined the waterfront, and Christmas lights twinkled, adding a holiday touch to the peaceful scene.

  Then he saw the birds.

  Ravens, maybe, or crows.

  They’d begun appearing as he looked out the window. First one, then two. Then a flock—a murder of crows. Sweeping through the sky, their great dark wings appeared larger as they caught the moonlight and shadow. Then they began to settle on the roof of the cottage where Clara and Tom lived.