by A. S. Green
“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Declan MacConall. I understand your husband is missing?” Declan winced at his question, but how did you start a conversation like this?
Mrs. McNeelly blinked and her watery gaze moved all the way down to his toes, before rising to his face. “Do you have news? Have they been found?”
“Not that I know of. Not yet. But I’m offering my services. I understand someone recovered your husband’s scarf?”
“Yes, it’s right here. Will that help?”
Declan held it to his face and inhaled. “Do ye know which direction they went?”
“That way,” she pointed, “but that was hours ago. They could be anywhere by now. They could be dead.” The tears welled in her eyes, making the lavender irises shine violet.
“I’ll find them,” he said. “I’ll get my brothers. We’ll find them.”
The door pulled more fully open, and Rowan stood there, behind her mother’s shoulder. She was no longer in that blasted cocktail dress, but rather black jeans, a black turtleneck, and a charcoal fringed cardigan that hung to her knees. “You will?”
“I will. We will.”
Rowan gave her mother a look that said she’d take it from here, and she tipped her head toward the stairs. Her mother turned and walked away from the door. Rowan stepped outside and closed the door behind her. “You came back.”
“I shouldn’t have said what I said. I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”
She stared at him for a long beat, then she pulled her cardigan tighter around her sweet body. Declan fought the urge to pull her into his arms. God, he’d really been an ass. She looked terrified, and he’d made things worse.
“You’re really going to hunt for them?” she asked, sniffing.
“Yes.”
“But you don’t like my father.” Then she closed her eyes as if bracing for more pain. “I think you might even hate him.”
Declan didn’t correct her assumption. “And I like this Niall fucker even less. But I’ll find them.”
She opened her eyes and two large tears rolled out. “But why?”
“Why? Oh, I don’t know… maybe because my anamchara wants me to? Jesus, Rowan, ye know I would do anything for ye. At least once I get my head out of my ass.”
Her expression flickered and changed again. It wasn’t quite one of relief but, whatever it was, it was far better than fear or anger, so he’d take it.
“But you don’t know who has them,” she said, sounding defeated. “Or how many of them there are.”
“Yes, and…?”
The redness in her cheeks intensified and she reached out to touch his hand. Her fingers trembled against him. “Please don’t get hurt trying to help us.”
He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “I thought ye wanted to kill me.”
“I do,” she said. “I will. Once this is over.”
Declan shook his head. He would have even smiled if it had been appropriate under the circumstances. “Ye can explain the crazy way your mind works to me later. For now, ye need to come with me. Is there someone else who can stay with your mum?”
“Ian Collins is here, but,” she said, yanking her hand free, “where are we going?”
“To my house. I need to keep ye safe, and my brothers will need to meet with ye.”
Rowan straightened her shoulders. Then she opened the front door and reached inside, retrieving her coat.
Chapter Twenty-One
ROWAN
It was shortly after midnight when Declan threw open his front door. It crashed against the wall to his mother’s music room before rebounding, and he pulled Rowan through just in time for it to slam shut behind them. A framed picture fell from the wall and broke apart on the floor, making Declan curse loud enough to wake the dead.
Rowan barely noticed any of this. What she did notice was that the broken window had been repaired. She also noticed Aiden, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a huge grin on his face.
He was just about to say something—by the looks of it, something at Declan’s expense—but then the smile dropped from his face like a heavy stone. Obviously, he could tell something was terribly wrong.
“Here,” Declan yelled gruffly, shoving her father’s white cashmere scarf into Aiden’s hands. “Smell it.”
“What is it?” he asked, putting it to his face. “Whose is this? There’s something familiar about it.”
“What’s with all the noise?” Cormac asked, coming down the stairs completely naked. When he got a look at Rowan, he covered himself quickly with his hands, then glamoured on a pair of pants.
“Appreciated,” Declan growled.
“My father’s missing,” Rowan said, pretending not to have noticed. “Niall Buckley, too. They went for a walk after dinner and never came back.” She went on, explaining the few other details she had, which wasn’t much.
Aiden passed the scarf to Cormac. “Your father’s, I presume?”
“Yes. I don’t have anything with Niall’s scent.”
“Yes, ye do,” Declan said.
“What?” She hadn’t brought anything else with her.
“That’s why I needed ye to come with me. His scent is all over ye.”
Declan’s insinuation was clear. Did he really think she would have made out with Niall, or worse, had sex with him? Did he really think after twenty-four years of chastity, he’d unleashed some kind of wanton sex-fiend floodgates and she’d fucked Niall right in the middle of dinner? Right there on the dining table with her parents looking on?
“Declan, I didn’t—”
“I know ye didn’t,” he growled. “I would have smelled that, too, if ye had. But he’s been very close to ye, hasn’t he?”
She couldn’t deny it. She’d sat next to Niall for over an hour, and he’d given her a tight, lingering hug before leaving with her father. Aiden and Cormac moved in closer and silently asked Rowan permission to get even closer.
She nodded and closed her eyes. She felt the weight of Declan’s angry stare as each of his brothers took turns laying their noses alongside her temple and inhaling deeply.
“He’s not from here,” Aiden said.
“No. He’s from Babbitt,” Rowan answered.
“I can track him,” Aiden said.
“Me, too,” Cormac added.
“Good,” Declan said, sounding glad that was over. “We leave now. We’ll start at Rowan’s house. Follow the trail as far as we can. Then hope to Danu we find a witness or some other clue to keep us moving. If they put them in a car…”
“We’ll deal with that later,” Cormac said.
Meghan came down the stairs, her eyes sleepy and her wild curly hair a mess. Cormac turned and pulled her into him, planting a kiss on her lips.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Kissing ye goodbye.”
Meghan glanced around the room and presumably felt the heavy weight of the air. “I don’t think so.”
“Declan needs my help, mo cuisle. Rowan’s da is missing. Some other daoine, too.”
Meghan closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. “My fucking aunt…”
He kissed the top of her head. “Go back to bed. I’ll stay in touch and let ye know how it’s going.”
Rowan expected Meghan to do as she was told. She was now a married woman, after all. Rowan couldn’t remember her mother ever questioning her father’s orders. Instead, Meghan blinked up at Cormac like he’d lost his mind.
“Like hell you’ll let me know how it’s going. If you think I’m going to stay here and do nothing, you don’t know me very well. I’m going with you.”
“This could take a long time,” he said.
She put her hands on her hips. “Many hands make light work.”
“It could be dangerous.”
To this she rolled her eyes. “I’d be surprised if it wasn’t. Seriously, Cormac. If my aunt is behind this, and you know that she is, somewhere, even lurking in the backgro
und, I can be of help.”
Rowan felt a strange trickle of shame run through her heart. How was it that a half-pádraig was braver than she was? Was Meghan the standard by which Declan judged her? Did Declan think she really was a princess—and not in any good connotation of the word?
Meghan continued. “We’re partners, Cormac. You don’t leave your partner at home.”
A warm stirring filled Rowan’s gut. Partners? True partners? She’d always wanted that, though she never dreamed it was possible. Was that how the cú sídhe did it?
To this Cormac said, “You’re really not going to listen to me?” But it almost sounded like he was pleased by Meghan’s insubordination.
“Not when you’re being stupid,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Please stay home, Curly,” Declan begged. “I need someone to take care of Rowan.”
His words hit like a punch to Rowan’s gut. If she didn’t already feel naive, now she felt downright pathetic. She could have wallowed in those emotions. She could have got mad and, like always, pushed those feelings down deep inside of her. Instead, a new resolve welled up.
Rowan would not live a mirror of her mother’s life. Neither would she live the life her father planned for her. If she couldn’t be a good daoine for her parents, then she would be a terrible one. The worst one, perhaps, but she would be doing it for herself. It was time to finally speak not only her mind, but her heart, and speak it to the one who mattered most.
“Declan MacConall,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and taking a page from Meghan’s play book. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much!”
“Rowan?” Declan’s eyebrows pulled together as if he wasn’t sure he was understanding her.
“Why should Cormac’s partner get to hunt, but not your own?” She raised her eyebrows in challenge.
Declan’s gaze shifted to his brothers, then back to her. “My…own?”
Rowan folded her arms. “Am I your anamchara?”
Cormac, Aiden, and Meghan shifted uncomfortably, as if they thought they should politely back away from this conversation. Rowan didn’t pay them any mind. She was on a roll and she planned to keep on rolling.
“Ye know that ye are,” Declan whispered.
“Does that make me your partner?”
Declan glanced at Aiden, then back at her. “Are ye saying that ye want to be?”
Rowan lifted her chin. “What do you take me for, Declan MacConall?”
Declan nearly choked on a laugh, despite Rowan giving him her fiercest expression. At least…she thought that’s what she was doing.
He raked his hand through his auburn hair. “I don’t rightly know what to take ye for, love.”
“He’s my father. I’m your anamchara. You’re going to need someone to patch you up if you get hurt. So I’m going with you.”
“I guess that’s settled then,” Aiden said, and when Rowan turned over her shoulder to look at him, the grin that had been on his face when they first arrived…well… It returned in all its glory.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ROWAN
Rowan watched, confused, as Declan glamoured on a thick leather strap that angled across his chest. She recognized it as being similar to the one Cormac was wearing; at least in terms of the markings engraved on the leather’s smooth surfaces. Cormac’s strap, however, was soft and supple. Declan’s looked stiff from lack of use. He adjusted it over his shoulder then gave it a strong tug to make sure the buckle was secured.
“Afraid?” Meghan asked, sidling up next to her. Even though her hands were in mittens, she cupped them to her mouth and blew warm air across her fingers.
Rowan glanced over at her. Yes, she was afraid. Afraid they wouldn’t get to her father and Niall on time. But right now she was more baffled than anything else. They had all tilted from the MacConalls’ house back to Dún Laoghaire Manor, where Declan said they’d pick up the scent. Rowan wasn’t sure how this was going to work. The MacConalls would have to shift into their hounds; she didn’t know how she and Meghan were going to keep up.
“What are the straps for?” Rowan asked. “Will they help them find my father?”
Meghan gave her an amused look, then she shook her head.
“What?” Rowan asked.
“The straps are for us. We’re going to need something to hang on to.”
Hang…on to? She was going to…ride a hell hound? Like a horse? Rowan’s eyes jerked to Declan’s, and he pinched his lips together. Clearly he still wasn’t excited about her coming along.
“It’s kind of terrifying,” Meghan said, still being oh-so-helpful.
But Rowan didn’t have the luxury of succumbing to her nerves. Her father and Niall were out there…somewhere.
“Well bring on the terror,” she said, sounding impatient. “We’re wasting time.”
Declan grumbled, but Meghan smiled. “I knew I liked you,” she said.
The MacConalls backed up to give themselves some space to shift, but before the transformation began, a car came racing up and screeched to a halt, one of its tires jumping onto the curb. The driver’s side door flew open and a stranger stood there. In the dark, Rowan couldn’t tell who or what he was—only that he had a thick shock of black hair hanging over one eye, a gray plaid scarf wrapped around his neck, and small round glasses.
“Are you Rowan McNeely?” he asked, panting as if he’d been running and not driving a car.
She looked over at Declan then back to the stranger. “Yes?”
He breathed out in relief. “I’m Simon O’Keefe.”
“Simon?” she asked. What were the chances? “Niall’s second cousin?”
“Yes.” He grabbed her hand, which triggered a territorial growl to rumble out of Declan’s chest. Simon barely gave him a glance. “You have to hurry. Niall and your father are in trouble.”
“You know where they are?” Declan stepped forward and pulled Rowan against his side.
Simon nodded, still sounding out of breath. “I was coming by to meet up with Niall after his dinner date was over. We were going to get a pint, and he was going to give me the scoop on…well…” He glanced apologetically at Rowan.
“Me,” she supplied.
He nodded again. “I passed him as he was walking with your father, so I realized he wasn’t quite ready yet. I made a loop and came back the other direction. That’s when I saw the two of them get pushed into a van.”
“Do ye know which direction they went?” Declan asked.
“I can do better than that. I followed them. They’re in a cabin about thirty miles from here. Good sized. I don’t know how many are staying there, but I counted four.”
“And my father? Niall? They’re still alive?” Rowan asked, grabbing onto his arm.
A pained look crossed Simon’s face. “They were when I left. I watched for a long time, trying to figure out what to do. When I realized I was going to need help, I got back here as fast as I could.”
Rowan looked at Declan, and her heart was so full of hope it made her feel a little floaty. “If they meant to kill them, they would have done it by now, right?”
“I can’t promise ye that, love,” Declan said, and she could tell from his face that he wished he could tell her anything else. It didn’t matter. There was a chance. That’s all she needed.
Simon yelped, and Rowan followed his gaze to Cormac, who had already transformed. Rowan’s heart skipped a beat, too, especially when he lowered his chest toward the ground and Meghan clambered on top. She grabbed hold of the leather strap like she’d done it a million times before.
“But we’ll bring them home,” Declan said. He glanced at his brothers. “One way or another.”
“No impulsive charges this time,” Aiden said.
Declan nodded, then he turned toward Simon. “Lead the way.”
Aiden transformed—black fur sprouting from his back—then Declan shook his head and dropped to all fours. It only took a few seconds, and Rowan was in the pres
ence of three bristled and snarling cú sídhe. She didn’t shrink away. To the contrary, it was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in her whole life, and she couldn’t believe that would ever change.
She looked up at Meghan, who gave her a look of encouragement. Then Rowan gritted her teeth and took hold of the strap, leaping onto Declan’s back. He let out an audible groan, which Rowan knew had nothing to do with her weight because she felt it too. To touch him again, even like this, brought her one step closer to making everything all right. She curled her fingers into his russet fur, and gave him a knowing squeeze.
Simon pushed his glasses up his nose, then hopped into his car and made a Y-turn to head back in the direction from which he’d come. He took off like a shot, and the hounds were right on his tail.
Rowan kept her eyes closed for most of the bone jarring, eye watering race from Ely and east toward the North Shore. The cold wind cut through her mittens to the point where she couldn’t feel the stiff leather strap clenched in her fists. She only hoped that she was, truly, still holding on, and she gripped Declan’s ribs with her thighs all the tighter.
She imagined what they’d find when they arrived at the cabin Simon described, tucked deep in the dark woods. Would there be only four of the Black Castle like Simon counted, or could there be more? Perhaps, a lot more?
But of all the things Rowan imagined finding when they finally came to a stop, the last thing she expected was a pack of leannán sídhe all dressed in their typical black and nearly invisible under the night sky.
Rowan and Meghan dismounted, and the brothers quickly transformed back into human forms. They didn’t even seem winded. The lights from a cabin shone through the trees, approximately one hundred feet away.
“What are ye doing here?” Declan whisper-yelled at the leannán priestess, whom Rowan recognized from the council meeting. Maeve, she thought?
“We heard what happened,” she said calmly as if her father’s capture was nothing but an entertaining spectator sport. “We assumed you’d come. Honestly, we’ve been here an hour. What took you so long?”