Temple of Indra's Lies (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 3)

by Rachael Stapleton

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  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  Publisher’s Note:

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

  Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

  Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com

  Copyright 2016 Rachael Stapleton

  For all the people who bought my books, attended my signings, followed my blog and supported me over the years. You fell in love with my characters, just as I did and it warms my heart to hear you gush over them. Thank you for loving my adventurous bibliophile as much as I do.

  Time Traveling Bibliophile Series: Book 3

  Temple of Indra’s Lies

  Rachael Stapleton

  Prologue

  The Early Bird Gets the Bookworm

  Northern Ireland, 1552

  Laasya Lovari closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, relishing the sting of the salty sea air. The sapphire was close by—she could feel it. She’d been hiking her way through the Glens of Antrim in Northern Ireland for days, searching for the spell room she had seen in her visions. She had seen it again last night, clearly this time, and knew her niece, Alexandra, had hidden it in a cave beneath the castle of Dunlace. She need only locate the entrance.

  Gasping, she wiped the sweat from her brow and listened to the sounds of the coast. If she didn’t hurry, she would be too late to save the girl, Sive McQuillan, as she was called now. She opened her eyes, continuing in the direction of the cliffs where a flock of birds made a cacophony of sounds. There seemed to be more of them than usual this morning. Laasya turned toward the sound. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the raven circling. Then she heard its classic gurgling croak, rising in pitch from the back of its throat. She recognized that call and hoped the raven hadn’t recognized her back.

  She ambled up the hill to the edge of the cliff, while the raven continued to circle and flapped noisily above. This morning’s breakfast of berries threatened to emerge, and her mind teetered between excitement and worry, as she approached the point of land where the dark omen lingered. Suddenly she saw it—the Castle sat high up on the cliff above her just as she’d seen in the vision. The cursed stone was out there somewhere. She needed to find it, and escape with it to the small Indian village—her Romani ancestor’s origin of birth. Not an easy task with Alexandra guarding it night and day. But once she stole it, she could hide it in the Temple of Indra. In the temple, her spell would take hold and it would be safe. If she kept Sive from touching the sapphire in this life then the curse would be broken. She owed it to her friend Elena, to save her daughter as she hadn’t been able to before.

  After that, she would figure out what to do with her problematic niece—the so-called Witch of Dunlace.

  Chapter One

  Time after Time

  Northern Ireland, September 2015

  “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph!”

  I jumped at the booming sound of my fiancé’s voice. I’d been in the deepest of sleeps—the only logical thing to do while blindfolded in a car.

  “Sophia, love, did I wake ye?” Cullen asked. “I apologize, lass, I missed the bloody turn.”

  He yanked the car around.

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you woke me,” I whispered, reaching blindly for my water bottle.

  I’d been hopelessly mired in the same horrible nightmare for weeks; the one where I fled down the dark, deserted corridor of a 19th-century palace attempting to outrun death.

  No matter how hard I tried to control the dream, I was never able to escape. Inevitably, just when I reached the door to safety the dream would change and I would be jumped forward in time to the 1920s, where I was chased through the halls of an old Victorian mansion. Eventually I’d jump again and find myself cornered in the abandoned church on Cullen’s family’s estate in Carbury County. These dreams were symbolic of the reality I’d lived through the last couple years, only in the nightmare my stalker was alive.

  Cullen O’Kelley’s large hand squeezed my own. “Same dream as before?”

  I nodded, and wiped away a bead of sweat that ran down the side of my face.

  “Gah. Yer safe and sound now, Aeval. Liam’s dead and the only one stealin’ ye today is me.”

  I looked in the direction of Cullen’s voice and lifted my blindfold an inch. “Where are you taking Leslie and me anyway, and why can’t we see?”

  “Only a minute more and ye’ll have yer answer.”

  It had been three hours since we left Dublin. I could hear my best friend’s soft snores coming from the backseat of the Landrover even as it came to a halt. She’d been smart enough to wear earplugs. A second later my door opened and I was gently lifted from my seat.

  “Out we go, Aeval.”

  “What about Leslie? Shouldn’t we help her out?”

  “We’ll come back for her. Let her rest a moment longer.”

  “Alright. Get on with it then, you big lug.”

  He walked a few feet before setting me down and I could feel a spray of water coming in on the breeze.

  “Have off with the blindfold, will ye now, and take a gander.”

  I obediently removed the cover and gazed out at the serene coastline before me. “It’s practically a postcard.”

  “‘Tis so, it is. These rocks have been carved through centuries into labyrinths of caves and arches. I’ll take ye to the beach later if we’ve time and show ye the Wishing Arch and the Elephant Rock. Now come over here for the real surprise.”

  I followed Cullen and was presented with a beautiful medieval castle, or rather it’s ruins—half of one side was in shambles. But even crumbling as it was I could see why Cullen loved this place. It was as lovely a castle as any I’d seen during my travels or even imagined as a child while snuggled in bed with my great-grandmother, reading fairy tales.

  “Welcome to Dunlace Castle,” he said excitedly.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the expression on his face. “You won the bid to restore it. That’s great!”

  There hadn’t been a lot of smiles lately, what with Lucile, Cullen’s mother, having been murdered. I was grateful for the distraction.

  I looked upon the thick stone walls and counted at least twenty beautiful mullioned windows. The castle sat atop volcanic basalt rock jutting out into the sea with limestone cliffs in the background.

  He took my hand and we walked closer. “The owner, Samuel MacDonnell, a descendant of Sorely Boy MacDonnell wants me to restore things as accurately as can be done with the exception of a few modern updates to make it more functional.”

  “Of course.” I smiled. “Who wants to live without electricity and running water these days?”

  “He plans to make a hotel out of it.”

  Half of it was crumbling and there were a few walls missing but I could almost imagine what the place looked like once upon a time. Restoring it would take work but Cullen was good at his job.

  He reached out and touched my hand. “Ma was from here.”

  “Really? She grew up in a castle that was missing walls?” I questioned.

  “No. No. I mean her family was from this area. Northern Ireland. She used to bring me here as a kid when we visited her family.”

  I felt the tears pushing at the corners of my eyes. Don’
t open those faucets, Sophia, if Cullen can grin and bear it, then so can you.

  “I haven’t told ye the best part yet!” Cullen whispered.

  I tilted my head, waiting for him to go on.

  “Ye’ll be workin’ with me.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It was one of Sam’s conditions,” He gave my hand a squeeze, “He wants ye on board.”

  “Me? That makes no sense. I’m not a castle architect. Does he want me to read him a good ghost story while you draw up the plans?”

  Cullen chuckled. “A good ghost story. Aye. That’s funny, lass, and very intuitive of ye. There are many ghosts that haunt these crumbling walls. He knows several stories but he wants to know what else happened here—what happened to his ancestors that make them weep. He thinks if ye take a peek into the past, then maybe we can give them peace and they won’t haunt his hotel come time to open next year.”

  I tripped over a stone, and would have landed on the ground in front of me if Cullen hadn’t been so quick to catch me. I stared into his face, shocked into silence.

  “Aeval, are ye no happy?”

  I paused, remembering what he’d told me about the ongoing feuds between the three clans, and the Mermaid’s Cave with its haunting legend of lost souls, smugglers and Spanish treasure. It all sounded very romantic to the twenty-first-century listener but after everything we’d been through—how could he expect me to time travel again and to go there—to such a violent time and place?

  I shook my head. “You’re not saying I should…”

  “I am, Aeval,” Cullen said, beaming down at me. “I’ve been obsessed with the McQuillan-Ó Catháin-MacDonnell feud and the famed castle they fought over since I was a lad. Please. Say ye’ll help me.”

  Chapter Two

  Witch of Dunlace

  Northern Ireland, November 1551

  To the east of a small seaside village in Northern Ireland, Alexandra Cuza paced the cold damp floor of the cave below the massive Dunlace Castle. The weather was violent, and the waves smashed and tumbled against the sharpened stone of the White Rocks cliffs. Off in the distance, thin clouds sailed across a darkening sky, and the wind swept wildly as if to mirror Alexandra’s own foul and loathsome mood. This medieval castle was her home now, much like the one she’d grown up in and yet so very different. Occasionally she missed the heavily wooded mountains of southwestern Transylvania, but there was nothing like the roar of the mighty waters, as they came rushing and bellowing into the deep cavern of the mermaid’s cave.

  Using her prophetic sight to her advantage, Alexandra had ingratiated herself into the McQuillan Clan over the last ten years, becoming known as Saundra—the Witch of Dunlace—mistress and advisor to Lord Uilliam McQuillan. She’d waited fifty-seven years to exact her revenge on this man.

  There was but one problem: she no longer wanted to.

  She’d fallen for his charms once again and envisioned a second chance at happiness. Curse him. So in following her heart, she’d convinced Uilliam to marry his daughter Sive off. Without the girl underfoot to distract him, Alexandra would have his undivided attention, perhaps, in time, she could once again become his wife and not just his lover.

  Uilliam listened to the witch as he always did but this time he surprised her by going against her advice and choosing a suitor outside of the McQuillan clan. He’d betrothed his daughter to Conal Ó Catháin instead. The one and only young man Alexandra did not want for Sive. Their union meant a child and that child would ruin everything.

  Alexandra stood at the ledge of the cave’s opening. It served her right. She thought as she stared out at the water. She’d been so caught up in the idea that Uilliam—her Vilhem—would once again be hers; she’d failed to foresee fate’s tentacles slipping up over the rocks and around her ankles—taking its course. Well she would not be sunk without a fight.

  The witch returned inside the castle’s dungeon to her desk. She ran her hands over her crystal ball and steadied the question in her mind. Her black raven circled her as she chanted. Concentration was key when gazing.

  Will Elena be born? An image appeared in the ball: A doe-eyed Sive standing at the altar facing Conal Ó Catháin. Hands intertwined.

  They would wed and the she-devil babe would follow. Alexandra’s only hope was to pit the McQuillans against the Ó Catháins, thus preventing the union of Conal and Sive, but how? And if it worked, there was still the problem of Sive remaining underfoot. As long as the girl was around, Uilliam would refuse to make Alexandra lady of the castle, for the two women hated each other.

  “I need to find a suitable replacement groom for Sive but whom?” Alexandra spoke aloud.

  Uilliam was unreasonably choosey when it came to his daughter and he’d passed over all of his clansmen.

  The raven stopped circling, coming to a perch on the table beside the crystal ball.

  “Help me, my dark and handsome friend.” She shot a hand out and stroked the bird’s neck.

  The bird tapped the ball with its beak. The words Vis Conjuncta Fortior appeared in the ball. It was the motto from the MacDonnell’s coat of arms.

  “Of course, ye’re brilliant. Without an heir, whoever marries Sive will become Lord of the Route.” Dunlace Castle would be the perfect carrot to dangle in front of the Warrior Chieftan of the MacDonnell Clan. The MacDonnells of Scotland had been chomping at the bit to take over the Route since they first stepped foot on the Antrim shore. And Uilliam would be a fool to turn down Sorely Boy—the MacDonnell’s were already looking for a reason to storm the castle walls. By marrying the clans, it would force peace and both parties would get what they desired.

  Chapter Three

  Over the Hills and Far Away

  Northern Ireland, September 2015

  I sat down on the ground. My legs had turned to jelly in an instant.

  “Aeval, what’s goin’ on with ye? Did ye hurt yerself?”

  “I just can’t believe what you’re asking of me.”

  “Well, truth be told, I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “It might seem a wee bit much now but ye’ve got Les to help.”

  I looked behind me in the direction of Cullen’s Landrover to where Leslie was now wandering toward us. She’d removed her blindfold and her eyes were pointed up in the direction of the looming castle.

  “What does Leslie have to do with my time travel?”

  “Time travel? Oh Jaysus, Aeval. Is that what ye thought I was asking of ye?” Cullen crossed his arms and tilted his head as he grinned mischievously at me. “Well, no wonder ye were after turnin’ pale. I would never ask that of ye. Bejeesus!” He laughed and I swatted his arm playfully.

  “What are you asking for then?”

  “I need the two of ye to research the castle and see if you can unearth the truth of it. That is what librarians are best at, isn’t it?” Cullen helped me to my feet and gave me a hug. “I apologize, love, for givin’ ye such a start. I guess I didn’t think it through—how it would sound, I mean, to a time traveler such as yerself.”

  I took a deep breath and smiled. “It would be fun to feel useful again.”

  “And I’d love to help,” Leslie said, coming to stand by my side.

  “Good. The owner, he tells me that there are several journals, tons of letters, and an armload of other boring useless documents, just the sort of thing you hens moon over.”

  “What does he need us for, then, if he’s already got so much information?” I questioned.

  “He needs an expert, Aeval, to go through them. He’s an international photojournalist and he’s done his best to collect things but so far he’s none the wiser as to why the spirits won’t leave. He hopes the paperwork will be a good startin’ point for the two of ye.”

  I looked at Les and we nodded. I had little in my life to focus on now that I was no longer working at the library. Cullen and I had talked about opening a bookstore but so far we hadn’t found the righ
t space, and besides that I wanted Leslie to open it with me and she wasn’t ready to move to Ireland permanently.

  “Wait a minute...”

  I shook my head, confused. “What about returning the Purple Delhi Sapphire to the Temple of Indra?” We’d been planning a trip to India ever since his mother’s funeral.

  The purple sapphire was a family heirloom that I’d received from my great-grandmother, Gigi. All my life, Gigi had told me a bedtime story about a powerful jewel stolen during the Indian Mutiny of 1857 by a fortune hunter who didn’t realize that removing it from the temple triggered an age-old curse.

  I never realized how true the story was until I made the mistake of wearing it. I was then pulled into a past life where the sapphire captivated a greedy man who coveted the throne, condemning him to reincarnate endlessly under the foolish notion that he would someday rule. As a result, I was cursed too, tied to this dangerous man who stalked and murdered me in every life. My friend, Rochus, the protector of the sapphire’s magic, told me that the only way to end the curse was to either kill this man or return the sapphire to the temple. Three months ago I’d faced off against him and he had died, my fiancé’s brother, Liam O’Kelley. Now the curse was broken, but we were returning the sapphire to the Temple of Indra just in case—or rather the dagger and engagement ring which held pieces of the original stone. It was unnecessary given that Liam was dead, but better safe than sorry.

  “We’re supposed to leave on Monday; we’ll never get our money back now.”

  “No need to fret, love. I know how important it is to ye—to rid yerself of those cursed stones. The real work won’t begin at the castle until we’ve returned from India next month. For now, we’ll spend the weekend at an Inn—they’re kin to Sam. It’s just down the road and that way we’re nice and close to explore the castle. I’ve got to meet with my team once a day to go over the plans and after that we’ll relax. Ye lasses can moon over the documents or ye can come here with me. And Monday we’re off to roam India.”