Brigid had said the same thing, and now, here it was. My exact reflection, every detail and imperfection, painted in the 1500s.
My mind scrambled from history’s proof in the portrait. I’d gazed into my own eyes from five hundred years ago. I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes through a long inhale.
After my slow, deliberate exhale, my eyes narrowed and I swatted at the air in anger. Every time I thought I was finding answers, I was only uncovering new questions. Frustration ground my teeth.
But this… this scared me the most. My whole identity was crashing in on me and I struggled to keep hold of who I was.
I knew I was a descendant of Grace O’Malley, my sixteenth great-grandmother, but this was bigger. Like a more immediate connection.
A familiar feeling of home washed over me and my breathing steadied. “We are one,” she had said to me once, and now, it repeated in my soul and I believed it to my core. If I had been lost to her at some point in time, I was now found.
And I was ready to go to Clare Island with this new understanding of my identity.
An inner light gleamed out from my eyes, brightening my way, without any doubt of who I was anymore and what I needed to do.
Chapter Eight
The Lost Daughter
The fresh air cleansed my senses as I watched dark gray clouds roll in. The portrait, and everything it implied, just didn’t seem real… as if it weren’t possible.
My fingers pulled through my hair as I stared up into the sky. Thoughts of my family raced in my mind. My mother, my grandparents. And Brigid. I didn’t just need to fight for Grace. I needed to fight for Brigid, too. She deserved some peace. And all the women of my family, past and future.
I looked out across the yard at the fancy gardens of topiary shrubs, absorbing my new reality, and my breath sucked in as my eyes darted toward the far end, following quick movement.
A deer maybe? Or a badger?
My gut told me worse.
I raced up to a tall pyramid bush, as least ten feet high, just like the one in my vision, and hid. I peered back toward the large doors to the estate, praying Paul would walk out any second. I peeked around the four-sided shrub and let out a shriek of terror as a brown-cloaked figure darted straight for me.
I turned and bolted back toward the castle entrance.
“Paul! Paul!”
The shriek of my own voice sent higher levels of fear through my soul and accelerated my legs faster than they’d ever moved.
I lost speed as I was pulled backward by my pack. I yanked to break free from the grip and spun to the side, losing my balance. My vision filled with the brown flapping cloak everywhere I turned.
He held strong to my pack and I struggled again. This time, pushing back on him with my entire force.
“Get away!” I shouted.
His grip remained strong and a shudder of terror bolted through me, convincing me I was outmatched.
With a crash, the huge wooden door smashed open and Paul flew out of it with a snarl of aggression etched across his face. I recoiled as he came bounding down the stairs like a steamroller.
Without a word, he lunged at the man and knocked him away from me. The cloaked stranger turned to run, but Paul caught the point of his hood that trailed behind him. He pulled it off the man’s head and held tight, stopping him in his tracks as he was choked by it.
The stench of his filth permeated the air and hit me square between the eyes, causing me to gag. The foul decay repelled Paul’s face as he turned away with a grimace, but he held on and restrained him.
The man turned on Paul, swinging, ready for a fight.
I stepped back in horror as his face came into view.
Fergal!
Horrible, creeping Fergal.
I knew it!
He’d been stalking me from the start. Trying to stop me for reasons I didn’t understand. But now, here he was again.
Following us.
Me.
He pointed into my face, baring his vile teeth.
“She must be stopped!” He spat from the rot of his mouth.
He pulled from Paul’s grip and leapt for me again with venom shooting from his eyes.
Paul clamped onto his back and forced him to the ground.
“Run, Maeve. Get out of here. Lock yourself in the car or get inside the castle. Go!”
He threw himself back on Fergal and they struggled in the grass, throwing chunks of sod into the air.
Paul’s strength outmatched Fergal’s by far, but I still worried about what Fergal might be capable of.
I flew through the topiary gardens toward the safety of the car, my mind racing on how I would help Paul.
A crowbar maybe? Or blast the horn?
I panicked about where the keys might be or a phone. Too many unknowns. I redirected my escape toward the back of the castle to get help.
From my peripheral vision, my head jerked toward sudden movement from behind another bush, close by. I jolted in terror from the sight of a second brown cloak.
With my imagination running frantic, I wasn’t sure if it was real, but I hid around a large topiary anyway.
Panting to catch my breath, I peeked around the far side of the shrub, to check that the coast was clear. Terror blinded me as I caught sight of the cloaked figure barreling toward me. I turned with a yelp and ran for my life.
His speed was double mine and he reached me in an instant. His overpowering strength halted me as he grabbed my pack and pulled. My entire body fell backward from his swift tug and I bounced off him.
I rounded in my shoulders to keep the pack on my back and yanked around as hard as I could to release his grip. In the same motion, I clenched my fist and swung at his head. The hood of his cloak buffered my contact point but the unexpected strike surprised him and he stepped back.
Shaking my fist loose, assuming at least two knuckles had just been shattered on his thick skull, I stepped back for balance and lunged at him with a kick to his crotch. He went down like a ton of bricks, reeling in a fetal position from the pain.
I kicked again, aiming for the same spot, but only hit his wrists, strategically protecting his injury from further assault. I kicked at his ribs and heard a sickening groan escape from his lips.
I turned to see what was happening with Paul and Fergal. They had moved out of sight, so I hoisted my pack securely and turned to tear across to the rear of the estate for help.
As I took my first step, the cloaked man grabbed my ankle and yanked me to the ground. I hit down on my elbows with a thud and kicked to get away. He rolled on top of me and pinned me with little effort as I squirmed under his weight.
Fear pounded my heart. But it was a new fear. Not for my personal safety anymore, but for losing ground in my mission. Protecting my backpack was my focus and I was ready to defend it with all I had.
I swung my arms at him, trying to scratch his face and took hold of his hood and yanked it. As it came away from his face, he turned from me to hide his identity.
His dark hair fell across his cheek, framing his sharp jawline, as my eyes flew wide open. He flicked his head, shifting the hair off his face and moved his gaze to mine. My heart stopped and I gasped as I looked into his familiar deep blue eyes.
Rory.
“Christ! Ya tryin’ ta kill me, Maeve?” He keeled over, holding his side and his crotch, wincing.
I wiggled to try to get out from under his weight as terror widened my eyes.
Nothing made sense. If Rory was trying to harm me, then I truly had no idea what was going on. I was in way over my head.
“Stop. I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached for my hair to move it from my face. “Please.”
I shrank from his touch.
“What the hell are you doing, Rory?” I yelled in his face. The pressure in my scream nearly burst my head. “Get off me!”
“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I never would.” He moved his weight off me and sat to my side, hunched over, wi
ncing.
I pushed myself up to sitting and dusted off any leaves or debris.
“What the hell, Rory?” I stared at him with loathing. “Fergal attacked me. Paul is over there. Stop him!”
“Fergal ran. Paul kicked the shit out of him.” Rory chuckled. “I just saw your boyfriend run into the castle looking for you.”
I jumped up.
“I need to find him.”
“Wait! Maeve.” Rory stood and grabbed my hand. “We need to talk. You have something we want.”
I yanked my hand from his.
“Get away from me, Rory.”
“Please, Maeve.” He reached for me again and I pulled with every ounce of energy in my body to get away from him.
As I jerked away, my leg twisted under me and I lost balance and began to fall. I reached for the fabric of Rory’s cloak and knocked his balance off as well. As I grabbed for him, he stumbled and we both fell into a beautifully sculpted shrub with a cracking, snapping crash.
I landed on top of him with a splat, forcing him to take the prickly part of the fall. I shimmied clumsily across his body to move myself off and caught the sinister twinkle in his eye.
A wide smile spread across his face. Then laughter. I couldn’t help but laugh too and I punched him in the chest.
“Jerk!”
He reached up and grabbed me, pulling me close to him.
“I miss you, Maeve.”
I pushed against his chest and wriggled away.
“Funny way of showing it. What the hell are you doing in that creepy robe, stalking me? Rory!” I searched him for answers. “You’re with Fergal?”
The accusation flew with ease from my lips.
I scrambled to my feet, brushing off bits of the bush, as Rory pushed himself out of the deeper part of the hole.
We’d left a huge indentation in the once-perfectly-manicured shrub.
“Sure, they’ll hardly notice,” Rory said as he tried to replace some broken branches to their original location.
“Stop avoiding my question. What are you doing here? You attacked me!” I stared him down and hitched my backpack onto the center of my back.
I took a few steps toward the estate, looking in every direction for Paul. Just at the far corner, I caught a glimpse of him and waved my arms above my head.
The relief that washed over him was visible for miles as he ran toward me.
“There he is!” I said to Rory as I started running to Paul.
I looked back to see what Rory would do, but he was gone. Without a trace.
If the gaping hole in the topiary hadn’t still been there, I’d have thought he was a dream. The big black scar in the bush was wide open, but Rory had vanished.
I ran to Paul, clutching the straps of my pack like they were my lifeline.
***
“Can we just go inside for a minute?” I begged Paul as he beeped his clicker to unlock the car.
“We need to get the hell out of here, Maeve.” He scoffed at my request.
“Seriously. I need to pee. Badly.”
A strange sense that there was unfinished business here stopped me from leaving with him that instant. It was clear Paul wanted to vacate the premises immediately, but I needed some resolution to this nagging feeling first.
He darted his eyes around the grounds, searching for clues of our attackers. The landscape was silent. He pursed his lips together as his nostrils flared.
“Fine. Let’s be quick.” He beeped his clicker again to relock the doors.
“It was Rory.”
“What?” Paul’s tone was curt, placing extra emphasis on the T.
“Rory. He was here too.”
“I knew it. Did he touch you? I’ll fookin’ kill ’im. Can’t be trusted.” He kicked the gravel drive.
“He didn’t hurt me. But he wanted my pack.” I chewed my lip.
“He’s an enemy now, Maeve. You know that, right?”
I nodded my head in agreement, though my heart felt different.
When my head and my heart disagreed, I was lost.
He took my hand and pulled me along to the rear of the building where the restaurant entrance was.
An odd sense of normality washed over me as the sight and sound of happy patrons filled the air. Cups of tea, scones, and salmon platters mixed with lively conversation and gentle laughter invited us in.
Paul sat tall in the foyer, in full-blown lookout mode, as I staggered into the ladies room. His shoulders hadn’t fallen from his ears yet and he brushed dirt from his knees while surveying every corner of the establishment. The muscle in his jaw twitched from its vice-grip clench.
I leaned on the sink in the bathroom and gazed into the mirror.
I was safe. Unharmed.
After a few deep breaths, my tense thoughts of Fergal dissipated and the memory of falling into the bush with Rory took over. I relaxed and chuckled to myself at the thought of it.
I stared up at the ceiling, wondering how I could still have butterflies when I thought of Rory. Even now.
Warm soap on my hands cleansed the trauma of the attack down the drain and I ran my wet fingers through my blown hair. My cheeks flushed crimson and my eyes sparkled with bright light. I felt more alive in the moment than ever before. My senses were sharp and alert.
As I stepped out of the door marked “Powder Room,” Paul jumped to his feet and fixed his eyes on me. He closed the space between us in a millisecond and I reached for him, feeling his angst cut through the air.
I wanted to hold him close and never let go. As I opened my mouth to speak, the words were lost in the voices approaching us from behind.
“There she is. The one I told you about.” The polished black strapped shoes darted toward me, clomping on the wood floor, followed by two sets of formal gentleman loafers.
Paul stepped in front of me and reached his arm back around me, holding me close behind him.
The hostess who had greeted us earlier, at the front great room, slowed with the two older gentlemen as they reached us.
“Ah, I see you’ve come for that fine cup of tea.” She ran her velvet voice over us.
Paul stood taller as I peeked around him at the curious hostess and her posse.
One of the graying men, wearing a dated but stately brown suit, leaned his head around and studied me like I was a picture.
“It’s uncanny.” He spoke to no one in particular. “The resemblance.” He rubbed his chin. “Come out, dear. Let’s have a look at ya. Seems to me we have a special visitor to Ballynahinch today.”
I reached for Paul’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“We were just leaving. We appreciate your hospitality, but must be on our way.” Paul’s words left no room for negotiation.
The other man pushed his glasses up his nose for a better look.
“Would you stay a bit longer?” He nodded and straightened his waistcoat. “Tell us who ya are. It’s clear to us you’ve come a long way, for a reason, no?”
Chills ran up the backs of my legs.
“What’s your name, miss?” The man in the brown suit stared into my face.
My protective nature for Grace put up a strong wall to these people. Disclosing my true identity to strangers, and unusual strangers to say the least, could put everything in jeopardy. There was no way to know if they’d try to stop me. It was best I remained anonymous for now.
I searched for my voice which was hiding deep in my throat. I cleared it.
“I’m Maggie. Maggie McPhee. From the States.” My eyes pulled to the floor, attempting to conceal my lame lie.
“Mm.” The gentleman in the waistcoat pushed his specs higher up his nose again. “Are you of O’Malley descent by chance? Your resemblance to our, ah, relation, shall we say, is quite shockin’.”
“Um, no. No connection to O’Malleys that I’m aware of. Sorry.” My head shook more than necessary.
Relation? Could they be O’Malleys?
My heart leapt into my throat as I cons
idered the possibility of finding some of my distant relatives.
All in good time. I would come back to them. Hopefully with good news of laying to rest land disputes and feuds over historical O’Malley territories. But before then, I had work to do.
I pulled on Paul’s hand, shimmied the straps of my pack up my shoulders, and took a step back toward the door. Paul stepped back with me. As we put space between ourselves and the Inquisition, the three moved closer to us again.
Paul put his hand up to establish a barrier and said, “Sorry for any trouble or disappointment. We must be going now.”
He turned and wrapped his arm firmly around my shoulders and we moved out the door in a blur that left the three frozen and speechless.
One final look back as the door closed behind us and I met three sets of eyes boring into my soul with questions of centuries gone by.
Guilt washed over me as we raced for the car. They knew something in there. And believed I held the answers they were seeking.
Paul’s silence emphasized his full attention to our surroundings as he ushered me into the car without blinking or missing a beat. The secure sound of locking doors around me confirmed we were safe.
In a hasty three-point turn, Paul had the car sailing toward the long driveway that brought us here. My head turned to a dark spot in a large topiary, the gaping hole left by Rory and me. Motion from the corner of my eye spun my head further back to where we’d come from.
The three hosts had come out and walked, side by side, toward us. They covered ground faster than their feet moved, giving an eerie sense of something supernatural. Their eyes were fixed on me and I spun around to Paul.
“Shit!” I spat through clenched teeth.
“What is it!” His tone rose to alarm in an instant.
“They’re coming after us!” I yelped.
I threw my hands on the backs of our seats and peered through the rear window as Paul struggled for a look in the side and rearview mirrors.
They were gone. Vanished into thin air.
Paul reached for my waist and coaxed me back into my seat.
“Buckle up.”
He swerved through the bends of the winding, heavily wooded drive like a professional race car driver. The hum of the engine whirred through each gear, adding to the intensity of the escape. As light emerged at the end of the drive, leading out onto the main road, we burst out from the thick of ancient tree cover and flew along the open road toward home.
Inish Clare Page 11