Celtic Evil: A Fitzgerald Brother Novel: Roarke

by Sierra Rose

  Very oblivious to the events threatening his friend, Roarke was staring into the bright green eyes of his mother as they formed in the ancient mirror.

  “Mum?” he asked again, his usually quiet voice going even more so as the image of Brenna Kerrigan Fitzgerald formed in the mirror.

  “Hello my brave little boy,” the vision of his mother spoke in her same soft accent that he recalled so vividly and at times so painfully. “It’s been so long, Roarke.”

  Blinking his eyes and struggling to breathe, he finally was able to see the solid image. “Are you real?”

  The same soft musical laugh he’d grown up hearing and adoring until he was eleven. It was his mother’s laugh that he could recall hearing before his nightmare started fifteen years earlier.

  “Do you doubt your own eyes, boyo?” she asked cheerfully, stepping fully from the mirror and wearing a lovely, form fitting dress in a bright sunny yellow that seem to go perfectly with her blond hair. “Can you doubt your own senses?”

  Her long fingers lightly touched his hair as it had done so many years before. “So many doubts and fears you have, little boy.”

  “I saw you die so I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming, Mum,” Roarke shook his head, a buzzing beneath his skin trying to get his attention but Brenna’s smile kept his attention.

  “Aye, I know you did. It was a tragic event when a child of your age had to see your father and I give our lives up to save you,” a gentle mother’s tone spoke the words but they still made him cringe as the buried guilt began creeping back up.

  Among the many other things he buried in his twenty-six years, the fact that he’d been told plainly that his parents had sacrificed their own lives for his weighed heavily on him to this day.

  “If I could’ve stopped it I would have, Mum,” he whispered, the buzzing in his brain really starting to hurt now. “I didn’t want you or Da to die.”

  “Oh, I know that my dear heart,” Brenna’s green eyes had flashed something else but her ‘son’ had missed it. “You were but a child and a parent’s sole duty is to their children even if it meant also leaving your brothers to fend for themselves, so was it a fair tradeoff?”

  The sudden burning tears blinded him but also something else began to burn. “Jessica” he whispered, shivering as his ‘mother’ gently touched his face.

  “The girl isn’t an issue for you, my child,” she soothed with a smile. “I can take all your pain, your fears, and guilt away and all the pain your brothers will face soon will also go away.

  “Give me your hand. Come with me to join your father and all will be as it was meant to be,” she told him softly. “No more fears or shame, my little boy, because how will Kerry or the lads react if they learn the truth behind all you hide?”

  This caused Roarke to nearly recoil and the slight break in contact caused his mind to hear the scream and the gunshots.

  Jessica had been struggling against the cold power that gripped her throat and was slowly pulling the life and power from her even as she saw the shadow close to Roarke. Unable to use her powers that she rarely used or scream for Roarke, the panic was about to set in when the first loud shot was heard hitting the sealed bedroom door.

  The shot didn’t break the door, but it did interrupt the focus of whatever had entered the room since she felt its grip lessen slightly.

  “Roarke!” the scream was muted and weak but seemed to have some effect when, before she started to lose consciousness, she saw his eyes flicker to pure smoke. “Fight it!”

  It was the terror he felt in his mind that caused the young Irishman to shift his attention from his ‘mother’ to the voice and he finally saw past the gray mists to see the shadow striking at Jessica from inside the mirror.

  “Leave her alone,” his tone was low and dull but as he looked toward Brenna, his temper was starting to surface.

  “Join your father and…” the shadow woman broke off when the boy broke free of her grip and lunged forward. “No!”

  Roarke’s action was to both free himself and grab Jessica away from the grip of the shadow creature that was now pulling her toward the mirror. “Leave her alone!” he yelled, emotion more than control causing his powers to break the mirror and the girl to collapse into his arms gasping. “You’re not my mother.”

  The shadow woman smiled cruelly as more shots came through the door. “No, but do you often wonder if she’d hate you for causing such misery to your family?”

  Stepping away from them and toward the now open balcony doors, it looked back just as the bedroom door burst in. “You were born of the five. Five into one, one to become five but it only will take one to finally fall to break that accursed circle and free my master.

  “You were meant to die that day, Roarke Michael Quinn Fitzgerald, and without your brothers you will see that death come soon for why would they suffer the pain for one such as you?” it taunted, eyes dropping to Jessica then back to him. “The Mistress of Shadow and Light cannot protect you as you will end up destroying them all if you don’t end it yourself.”

  A bolt of light and flame shot to the creature’s heart just as it vanished with an echoing laugh, as Jessica lowered her hand. “Get outta my house, demon,” she managed to get out, breath still not wanting to come.

  “What in the hell was that thing and why did I put two clips from my magnum in the damn door but it wouldn’t budge?” Cameron Young, the long black haired, brown-eyed leader of the Mavericks, demanded as he entered the room warily with his team close behind. “Boss, what the hell’s going on?”

  Jessica didn’t have the answers her friend would want or accept, but what she did know was that to face what it had been, they’d have to go back to the one country where Roarke had refused to go near in years.

  “Later,” she waved the upset mercenaries off to focus on Roarke, whose arms were still around her, but he’d gone almost totally into himself as he did when in shock or hurt too bad. “It’s alright, luv.” She whispered, feeling his arms pull tighter as they had one time before. “It was wrong and we’ll make it better.”

  Cam was sure that was a bold lie as he motioned to his medic to help him.

  It took a good couple hours to get Roarke calm enough that he was able to sleep alone, or at least so Cam could get Jessica away.

  “Answers?” he challenged, hearing his accountant muttering about damages. “Nick said the thing was a conjured demon.”

  “We need to take him back to Ireland,” she replied slowly, still feeling the grip on her throat and the evil that was in that room. “That thing knew too much, so I think Kerry will be expecting it.”

  Knowing what that could mean, Cam rubbed his eyes. “I hate magic crap and especially when it means facing some centuries old wizard with delusions of grandeur.”

  “No choice,” Jessica heard the first shout and knew it would be hard on her friend to go home for more than one reason. “It knows how to hurt him. He still has too much guilt and Kerry needs to make things right or…”

  “Or we make things right,” Cam smiled, tapping his .357 Desert Eagle Magnum on his palm.

  “Call Kerry and tell him,” his employer ordered even as Roarke screamed in terror, and Cam knew this nightmare was of the day he witnessed his parents murdered in front of him.

  “Yep, this should be fun.” The mercenary leader muttered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The house he’d grown up in and had been born in was unusually tense and quiet since the events at breakfast only a few days prior.

  Kerry Fitzgerald knew the stalwart Mrs. O’Connor would do her best to keep things running smoothly and he, himself, made sure things were as normal as possible. Even if he couldn’t get past the dreams of dread that filled his nights and his days with apprehension.

  Coming from the upstairs rooms that were off limits to all save him, Kerry heard the loud roar of what he knew was a speed-crazed death machine of a motorcycle.

  He stopped on the second floor patio balcony to watch the
neon blue bike roar up the driveway of the manor and skid to a stop with a storm of dust and stone.

  The biker slowly looked around as if gauging his environment before removing the helmet that matched the bike’s color.

  Ian Fitzgerald slowly removed the helmet, leaning his arms on it as he looked around the grounds, then at the two-story manor where he’d been told he’d been born.

  Those memories were fuzzy. However, he did have other clearer ones of running free and happy in a huge yard. Laughing as he chased after his older… a sudden buzzing in his brain made him look up to the second floor patio and locked eyes with his oldest brother.

  In his eighteen years, there had been infrequent visits by his brothers at different times so they weren’t strangers to each other, yet this time Ian could feel this was different. This visit would change all of them.

  Kerry’s breath had caught in his throat as he struggled to remind himself that the baby was now an eighteen-year-old college junior. A slight incline of the head was all he gave before stepping back inside the house.

  Deirdre O’Connor had heard the bike and hurried from the kitchen to see what was happening. The look on her young Lord’s face warned that it was finally happening.

  Taking a deep breath to steady his suddenly unsteady nerves, Ian put his leather riding gloves in his helmet and left it sitting on the seat while he gathered his single travel bag, then headed up the dozen massive stone steps to the huge front door.

  Wondering if he should knock, find the doorbell or what the correct procedure was for this, the boy was about to knock when it pulled open to reveal a stout looking older woman with graying red hair.

  “Um, hello, I’m…” he greeted, seeing and feeling her startled emotions.

  “Blessed Saints, laddie, I know who you are,” she laughed, nearly in tears as she practically pulled him into the foyer. “The picture of your Sainted Mother you are, Ian Fitzgerald.”

  Very unsure how to handle a crying woman, Ian was thinking quickly when a hand finally freed his from the woman’s grip.

  “Don’t scare him away this soon, luv,” Kerry urged, sensing his brother’s anxiety. “I figure the first time Mac has to break up a fight Ryan picks, Ian will go back to where it’s sane.”

  Shifting to meet eyes that were like his own, he swallowed his nerves. “I should have called.”

  “This is your home. You need never call to come home, little brother,” Kerry assured him, holding out a hand then waited to see what the younger man would do.

  Manners that Sybil drilled into him caused him to take the offered hand politely, but something in the older man’s eyes stopped him from letting go.

  Unsure of how the boy grew up in Dublin, Kerry waited to see his eyes, and due to the connection the five of them shared soon read his brother’s eyes easily enough; it was easy to see what he was wondering.

  “Welcome home, Ian,” Kerry gave a slight pull to just ease one arm around his brother in a casual welcome hug and didn’t let on when it was returned fully.

  Still sniffling, Deirdre reached for the bag. “I’ll take this to your room, lad, while Kerry offers you something to drink after that long and dusty drive down.”

  Ian blinked and started to say he’d take it but the woman was already hustling away with a brisk efficiency that made the servants he’d grown up with seem slow.

  “You’ll never get a word in with her,” Kerry smiled, leading the way into the living room. He didn’t go for liquor, but reached under a bar for a bottle of water which he tossed at Ian’s nod. “Deirdre’s never happy unless she’s fussing.”

  Nodding almost dumbly, he took a couple sips of water as his brother took a sip of the Scotch he’d had, then just had to blurt it out.

  “I saw a talking crow in Dublin that caught the stage on fire, burned up my classmates, and talked about breaking circles and the five. I told it to go to hell and threw my claddagh medal at it, then it burst into flame and went away.”

  Slowly lowering his glass, Kerry eyes locked on his youngest brother’s and did a surface scan to get a better gist of what had happened in Dublin.

  “Well, I guess that takes away any further doubt,” he murmured, walking to the window in order to calm his nerves. “Sebastian’s back and he’s not wasting any time...”

  “This has something to do with what happened fifteen years ago, doesn’t it?” Ian asked, although he was sure it did.

  Reminding himself, that while it still seemed like yesterday to him, Ian had only been three years old the day their parents died, and as such wouldn’t know the exact details.

  “I’d rather wait for the others so this can be told once,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose where a dull pain was building.

  Distracted by some photos on the mantle shelf, Ian looked over his shoulder. “You really think they’ll come?”

  “Until you came and told me what you’d seen I had my doubts, but considering what I saw and heard to what you saw, I’m ninety-five percent certain that he’d also send these images or minions to visit the others as well,” Kerry assured him, hearing the sounds of a car pulling to a stop. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  Before either had gotten close to the foyer, they heard the front door open and slam, then a voice that made the eldest brother feel odd.

  “Kerry! Me, you, words now about some bloody wizard paying me a visit at a real bad time!” Mac’s voice echoed in the tone he used to use when breaking up their bickering brothers.

  “If Mac’s this mad I can’t wait until Ryan shows up,” Kerry muttered, stepping out to meet his brother, but was stopped by the fiery haired pixie like woman following him outraged.

  Maggie Cavanaugh had jumped from the car and hurried after Mac, and couldn’t believe that he was yelling in a house he hadn’t been in for such a long time.

  “Didn’t you have any manners growing up?” she chastised in a hushed tone. “You can’t just barge into your brother’s home and start yelling.”

  Patrick ‘Mac’ Fitzgerald had grown more on edge the closer he and the reporter had gotten to his birthplace and upon stepping over the threshold of the massive main door, a part of him was once again sixteen years old.

  “I was born in this house, Miss Cavanaugh, so no matter what else it’s still part mine,” Mac shot back at her, pulling up short when Kerry stepped from the living room and his eyes narrowed. “Is he back?”

  Knowing whom he meant, Kerry just nodded but was more curious about the woman. “Your shadow, I presume?”

  Seeing that Mac was still too upset to introduce her, Maggie stepped forward to easily offer her hand to this tall handsome blond haired man but nearly gasped when she actually felt the power as her hand was gently held.

  “Don’t do the scanning crap, Kerry,” Mac sighed, running a hand through his short hair before blowing out a breath. “Mary Margaret Cavanaugh, my brother Kerry and…” he stopped when he looked past his brother to catch sight of Ian. “Bloody hell, he looks just like her.”

  “To which Deirdre has already pointed out,” Kerry’s eyes were still on the woman and things that were popping out. “This is our youngest brother, Ian,” he finished the introductions before shooting Mac a look. “She’s a reporter?”

  If Maggie was startled by this guess, she didn’t let on but merely shrugged. “I was interviewing your brother when a massive wolf seemed to attack one of his horses and all hell broke after that.”

  Ian let out a low whistle as the manor phone began ringing. “This thing likes to use animals?”

  Not answering and leaving Ian to distract the woman, Kerry motioned Mac aside. “She saw?” this was a shock to him as very few people other than those closest to them or those related by blood should have been able to see the images Sebastian had sent.

  Glancing over to see Maggie’s ease in any situation had taken hold, and she was again talking animatedly to Ian who seemed amused.

  “Yeah but more to our problem, aside from being a reporter, she’s a
lso a hereditary witch who owns her Grandmother’s Book of Shadow which has a section on ‘the Five.’” Mac was careful when he said this and didn’t miss the flash in his brother’s eyes. “She’s also an overly hyper girl who won’t stop talking if you let her.”

  Kerry could certainly agree with that but he was trying to decide how this wrinkle would affect them when Deirdre hurried out of the kitchen area. “There’s trouble.” He knew by the worry on the older woman’s face.

  “That was Cameron Young on the phone.” She was speaking quickly, a sure sign to Mac that something was wrong and he thought to place the name.

  “The lad who worked for Roarke’s little friend?” he eyed Kerry and caught the small grin, translating that without asking.

  Figuring that was the easiest way to explain the leader of the Mavericks, Kerry focused on his housekeeper. “What did Cameron say?” he asked curiously, feeling the pain getting worse behind his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “He said they arrived at Farranfore Airport but something happened and they’ve had to rush your brother to the hospital in Killarney,” the concern was evident in her voice as she rushed on. “The lad didn’t say much but…”

  Kerry didn’t need to hear more and he silently kicked himself for not expecting this when he’d been called earlier. “He’ll lash out at Roarke the hardest since in many ways he’ll still be the weakest.”

  “It’s been fifteen damn years, Kerry,” Mac complained. “Surely he doesn’t still blame himself for…” scowling at the silencing look his got as he followed his brother back to Maggie to see Ian was rubbing his neck. “You give my baby brother stress already?”

  As the woman wound up for a retort, Ian shook his head. “Nah, just a dull ache like someone poking my brains in with a fireplace poker, and it’s like I hear screaming and laughing all at the same time.”

  Maggie caught the shared look. “Something’s wrong?”