He took her there, the young man’s voice transporting her to his life. Even the bearded man’s whistle-breathing did not bother her there under the spell of the voice.
How can it be that I have you in my mind’s eye, sleeping and waking? Surely your power affords that we meet. I am driven mad beyond measure. I search each lady’s face, wondering when I will again look into yours. No dance is gay enough to tempt me, no music enthralls, no feast fills. I am not hungry but starved. And no one can feed me, save you alone.
“Don’t tell me we have a grey eye weeping.” Emma’s voice startled Riley.
She came out of her reading trace as a lace handkerchief appeared, pendulum-like in its swinging rhythm. Emma dangled it in front of the page. Two wet spots were seeping into the yellowed paper, just missing the ink at the edge. Refusing the handkerchief, Riley sniffed a little and read on. The young man had lost his father, and with his mother grieving alone in her room, he was left to care for his frail sister. His loneliness was engraved in each line, his grief tangible as he watched his sister wane to a “wandering wraith.”
Exhausted, Riley closed the book. What did her grandfather think she could find in its pages?
“Anything interesting?” Emma was looking down at Sean’s journal through a hole in a triangular piece of rock.
“Yeah, just can’t find what I’m looking for.” Riley rubbed her eyes. The world inside the plane was dim and close.
“Sometimes you have to narrow your focus, like this.” Emma leaned forward, her intense gaze fixed on the bearded man who was asleep in cartoon fashion, his lips flapping with each exhale. Riley gasped when Emma plucked something from his mustache.
“Found a peanut, found a peanut,” Emma sang, brandishing it closer to the light.
Riley snatched at Emma’s hand, choking back laughter that now stung her eyes with tears. Had the woman drank too many of those little bottles?
“You’ll wake him up,” she whispered, looking around to see if other passengers were watching.
“Oh, no, he’s an old pro. Not even crashing would disturb his slumber.” She put the peanut in her palm and aimed toward the front. “Watch how far I can flip this.”
“Oh, my god, don’t. You’ll get arrested,” Riley whispered, looking around to see if a marshal was already coming for them.
“You’re too uptight.”
Emma flipped it, and they both watched it sail over the four seats ahead of them and ding against the cockpit door.
The woman laughed. “All nuts should stay together.”
“You should have kept it then.” Riley’s eyes widened, and she clasped her hand over her mouth. Did she actually say that out loud?
“Oh, saints, the black humor of her.” Emma nodded and leaned closer. “I’m a peculiarity. There’s a difference, you know. Anyway, this leg of the journey is near over.”
Even as she said it, the pilot announced they were ready to land.
Riley braced herself and noticed Emma looking at her through the rock.
“Here.” Emma placed the triangle rock in Riley’s hand. “This is a special stone. Very valuable, so don’t lose it, girlie. You need it more than I do.”
“I couldn’t . . .”
“I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you, because you couldn’t. Now, not another word of it. Saints above, I’ve had a fun trip. It was good to get out, see the world again. I’d forgotten much of it.”
Riley tried to look through the rock, but Emma lowered her hand. “We’re about to land. Hold on tight, girlie.”
Riley gripped the seat and closed her eyes, but the plane landed smoothly. She glanced at Emma who was waking up the mothball man with jabs of her finger to his arm.
When they were allowed to get off, Emma followed Riley to the luggage claim and helped her gather her things.
“That’s all then. Don’t forget to look through the stone from time to time, and do be sure to say hello to Carter for me, girlie.”
“I will. Thanks for making the trip back with me.” Riley fidgeted with her luggage, not knowing how to say goodbye to the weird woman.
Emma smiled and gathered Riley in a quick hug. “I’ll take my leave now. It was lovely to meet you. I do hope to run into you again, Riley Walsh, under bluer skies than these. Saints be with you now, though it’s a devil I’m thinking you’ll need.”
6
When Riley stepped out of the taxi, the clouds that had been threatening and muttering since she left the airport let loose a spattering of cold rain. Random drops fell onto the face of the water in the courtyard fountain and moved across the land in a sheet of rain.
Her skin prickled. Her fear that someone was watching her returned. Tsura had warned her, told her she could feel them.
Riley stared up at the windows. Nothing. When she looked around the courtyard, only the grizzled face of her driver scowled at her from beside his car door.
Her first glimpse from the driveway had proven true. Donahue Castle was huge. The double front door was taller than two of her, and its intricate carvings and aged iron inlays were impressive. The newer section, attached to the right of the remaining stone tower, had chimneys that were pushing grey puffs into the November air and competing with the fog. The stone face of a solitary guarding gargoyle on the second floor seemed to look at her from every conceivable angle, its bird head sharp and cautious.
A demanding gust almost removed her scarf. Riley knotted it at her neck and hugged her coat tighter. Her attempts to dislodge her suitcase were futile. Instead of offering assistance, the driver let out a few curses and ordered her to hurry with her stuff. Finally, putting her foot against the bumper, she tugged at the largest suitcase and pulled it free.
As soon as she closed the trunk, the car peeled out, sending the tiny gravel flying in all directions. Riley jumped back, stumbling and grabbing her suitcase for balance.
“Jerk.”
She was about to yell for her grandpa when the front doors opened and out he stepped looking rumpled himself. His grey hair was mussed, his normally starched collar was open beneath his vest, and the glasses that never left the bridge of his aristocratic nose now hung around his neck from the depending gold chain she had bought him last Christmas.
“There’s my little lass.” Her grandfather's deep voice reverberated in the entryway. “Well, maybe not so little anymore, eh?”
“Hey, Grandpa.”
He hugged her to him. “I trust Emma saw to you on the plane?”
“Yeah, weird lady.”
“I find her a hoot.”
“Not if you had to listen to her talk about her three cats. She showed me their pictures.” Riley dug into the short pocket of her denim skirt. “And she gave me a rock, which was nice, I guess.”
“Ah, very nice. Dear Emma, yes, she’s a bit of a case. But she’s a good woman. Fine as they come.” Her grandpa slid his glasses back in place and took the rock. He held it up to his eye and looked through it. “These never worked for me.”
“What are you supposed to see?”
“The good fae. What can’t be seen by the naked eye, that kind of thing. Probably nonsense.”
“Oh, she said to say hello.”
“Oh, did she? Kind of her really. Good woman.”
“So you said.”
He handed the stone back to her.
“That I did, I guess. Perhaps you should hang on to this, eh? Ireland is said to be teaming with the fae. If you care for that sort of thing.”
“I’ve outgrown fairies.”
“Too bad, dear. Well, let’s head in. It is about to get dark early this evening. Did it storm at the airport?” her grandpa asked, ushering her inside. The door closed behind them, and it was suddenly dark.
Riley’s eyes adjusted to the room.
“Darling? You there?”
“What?”
“I asked if it stormed at the airport?”
“Oh, no. Just rain, but I saw the dark clouds closing in over there.” Ril
ey pointed toward what she thought was the field and fought the urge to grab his hand at the tiny ripple of fear that made its way up her back.
She felt like a small child fleeing the dark. At least the impinging darkness was held off by a multitude of candles staggered across the room. Riley watched the flicker of flames and realized they only highlighted the scary unseen parts hidden around the black and shadowing corners.
“Not a lot of windows, huh?” She stepped to the middle of the room. Stone carvings, intricately wrought metal, and beautifully polished wood surfaces were generously spread throughout the space. There were a few dusty tapestries covering the walls, but the rest was exposed from floor to rafter. A few holes and fissures betrayed by candlelight caught her eye.
“It’s lovely, but it sure looks like a lot of work. Where’s my room?”
He gestured to the staircase. “Second floor, beside mine. We’ll get you settled in a bit. Hungry?”
“You cooked?” Riley turned to her grandfather.
“I knew you would be dead on your feet, darling, and in want of a hot meal and a nap maybe? Been a lot on you of late.” He gave her a questioning look. “Why don’t we enjoy our meal in the kitchen, and you can tell me more about your trip. Then we shall talk about that journal.”
He waited for her to unwind her scarf and place it with her coat. “There’s a lot to tell you, a lot to do. But a little at a time, eh? There’s enough darkness in the world tonight.”
Riley shivered and grabbed his hand. “I’d like that.”
“Then tomorrow night, maybe we can explore the old castle together. That is to say, don’t go off without me. There are lots of repairs to be done that I haven’t tackled. I have worked on this room here, the kitchen, and two bedrooms. You will probably want to explore when you can see better anyway. There’s a lot that goes bump in a castle and a lot to bump into. I had to turn the electricity off for repairs this week. It gets turned back on tomorrow afternoon, I hope.”
He led Riley through a long corridor into a well-lit, massive kitchen. The row of windows would normally let in enough natural light to illuminate the entire room, but tonight they were aided by a few lanterns. Riley noticed the updated appliances but was relieved that everything else was just as she imagined a castle kitchen would be. Copper pots and pans hung along the one stone wall, the fireplace in the corner was lit beneath a cast iron pot and flanked by unmarked barrels. Riley looked up at the exposed rafters which sent down the occasional mote of dust.
“I love it.” She breathed deeply. “It smells of bread and herbs and, and ... just castle, I guess.”
“I think so too. That wall is the only original one.” He pointed. “There’s a great old tale of how the castle came to be built. I find it fascinating.”
He twitched his nose and cleaned his glasses.
“It has a little magic in it.” He winked.
“Mom was telling me the other day how much she and Uncle Rob loved your stories growing up.”
He didn’t seem to believe her. “She did, eh?”
It wasn’t strictly a lie. “Yes, she said you could spin amazing stories.”
He smiled at her before lifting the lid on the cast iron pot and pronouncing the stew ready to eat.
He carried it to the table and indicated for her to sit, then heaped golden potatoes and chunks of tender lamb onto her plate. The steam wafted up, and her stomach growled at the aroma.
“That smells delicious, Grandpa. No one can make Irish stew as good as you.” She accepted the thick piece of brown bread he passed her and followed him to the massive wooden table by the windows.
A brown paper wrapped box waited for her, tied up with a skinny leather string.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and see.”
Riley stuffed the leather string into her pocket and ripped the paper. She lifted a wooden box out of its surrounding tissue and set it on the table.
“It’s beautiful, Grandpa.” Her fingers followed the lines of the carvings. On top of the box a tree stretched out its roots and branches to the four corners. Each corner was different. The top left showed a bird with its wings spread, and the bottom right had an intricate knotted pattern like the trinity knot on her necklace but with a circle around it.
She tapped the corner. “What is that one there?”
“That one is the symbol for purity there at your finger. There’s one something like it on that hag’s stone Emma gave you.” He bit into a piece of lamb and mopped up some juice with a chunk of bread. “I hope you like it. I got it from a little shop a friend of mine owns down in town. It’s antique. Aileen said it’s made of Yew.”
Riley tried to lift the catch, a griffin whose mouth turned to open the box. It was stuck. She jiggled the latch and tried to force it with her fingernail.
“Here, let me.” He knocked on the box’s side and, pressing his thumb against the griffin’s mouth, slipped the latch up and raised the lid.
The sounds began haltingly, throwing out warbled notes in stunted starts, and then filled the kitchen with what sounded like harp music.
“It’s lovely.” Riley watched the gold rods turning. “Thank you.”
“No great trouble. Aileen said it might have a secret compartment, these old ones usually did, but she couldn’t find it if it did. I couldn’t find anything either. But you could play a bit with it and see.” He tore off another piece of bread. “Now, close that thing down and let’s eat. I want to show you your room before we run out of natural light.”
By the time they’d eaten, it was dusk and Riley was feeling the effects of jetlag. But she didn’t want to miss out on her grandpa’s tour.
The castle was in bad need of restoring, but it held onto its old-world beauty. Her grandpa practically shone as he pointed to the various nooks and crannies. Then his face became serious, and he patted her back before gesturing to what would be her room.
“Tell me what really happened, lass. I heard you near ripped the man’s hand off.”
The abrupt change had her heart racing. The panicky feeling she’d managed to push aside somewhere else was now at the forefront of her thoughts and making her hands shake with the memory.
“I’m sorry, lass. Did I put my foot in it? I just wanted to know is all.”
He stood aside and held the door. “If it helps, it will get easier if you talk about it, deal with it. I’ve learned that myself.”
“I did,” she almost whispered the words and forced her voice to be stronger. “I fought him with everything in me.”
“You did good, darling. Real good, you did. First, I thought your mom was having a gas with me, but sure enough my granddaughter did be kicking some arse. I’m that proud of my brave lass. And you are very brave, love. I couldn’t have done better myself, though I’d like a shot at the leering bastard.”
He shook his fist in the air, his face turning almost purple. “I’d...” he stopped, out of breath.
“I just stabbed him with a nail, that’s all.” Her voice quavered at the memory, and she heard her words like they were someone else’s memory of the day and not hers that were so black and frightening, “I felt his skin break and the bones separate from their tendons. I can still hear him screaming. I don’t know if half of what I remember is true.”
“What else, lass?” His calm voice belied the tension in his face. “What do you remember?”
“I keep seeing his eyes change and the pupils disappear. And...” She thought about the twisted nail. “The nail… That’s all, really. I don’t want to think about it.”
He stared at her for a moment. “And you used magic?”
The thought of the nail moving in her hand made her shudder. “I did something.”
Her grandpa nodded. “I thought as much.”
“So, I’m not crazy, and the gypsy, she was right?”
He gave her a quizzical glance. “I don’t know about gypsies, but magic, I know it to be as real as you and I.”
“You
believe me then?”
“Never a doubt, lass. Whatever you say happened, I know it did. I’ve seen magic, real magic.”
Riley didn’t know what to say.
“You’re worried you are losing your mind?”
She nodded. “A little. I don’t know what to believe, you know?”
“I do.” He placed Riley’s suitcase on the canopy bed and hung her coat on one of the iron posts before setting the music box on the dresser between two giant candles. He drew back the curtains on the windows and let the waning light filter in through the distorted panes. “So much about this place that needs help.”
For a moment, he seemed to lose his thoughts, like he was concentrating on the mundane, but then he was himself again. “You’re safe now. I’ll see to it. It’s going to be okay, lass. I know what to do. I have friends who can help you. And you are protected here. You believe me, don’t you?”
Riley nodded. “Okay, but I’m worried about mom and my friend. What if that man--”
“Don’t think one minute I’d let my Gillian wander off unprotected. Emma will be around for her.” He scratched at his chin. “Your friend, what’s her name? I’ll put in a word with the Order.”
“The Order?”
“Good people who know magic. They’ll do all they can, don’t worry.”
He looked worried though, and Riley thought about his missing friend. If something had happened to Liz, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“I’ve been reading the journal.” Riley went over to her luggage and pulled it out of her purse. “I’m only half way through, but it’s very sad.”
“Ah, yes. We have so much to discuss, lass. I’m glad you are reading it. I read it myself.” He sat down on the bed and massaged his temple. “But I can’t make sense of it. Like ramblings.”
He stopped rubbing his head and motioned for her to sit. “I want you to know that bringing you here isn’t just about the journal and what might have happened to Sean, though I was hoping you would be able to offer something, anything, to help me figure it out. But that was before …” He looked at her over the top of his glasses. “It is very selfish of me to drag you into my problem. Your mother would kill me for involving you. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 241