by Sierra Rose
“Not sure yet, but our brother’s in the hospital at Killarney and it could be a normal reason or something else,” Kerry explained, sighing. “Roarke hasn’t been back to Ireland since he was thirteen. Cam said he was attacked in New Orleans so it could be stress or…”
“Or Sebastian’s making a play early in the game,” Mac finished, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “This sucks if he’s willing to be this bold.”
Kerry couldn’t have agreed more and caught Ian before he could reach for the helmet. “Have these headaches before?”
“Not often,” he admitted but knew the reason for the question. If the pain got too severe, he was more prone to crash the bike.
“We’ll ride together to the hospital and Deirdre, if our lost sheep calls in, send him there,” Kerry instructed, wanting to keep Ian with them since he figured his powers along with Mac’s would buffer the boy.
Maggie didn’t understand that but saw Mac start to snicker. “Knowing Ry’s temper the last time I saw him we’ll be lucky if he shows at all or if he does, it’ll just to be to tell you off.”
“Well at least we’ll be at a hospital.” Kerry shot back, pulling a leather jacket from the hook near the door before opening it for Maggie. “That way if I have to put him in with Roarke the damn medics will already be there.”
Ian blinked, Maggie stared, and they both exchanged looks. “Your brothers get along at all, luv?” she asked curiously then could have kicked herself but the eighteen-year-old only shrugged.
“Got me, I only have fleeting memories but…” he hesitated next to her on the steps. “The biggest one is of feeling safe with them.”
Mac’s hearing had always been better than most and that innocent phrase had made him pause. “Can we do this and still protect them?” he asked Kerry quietly.
“We don’t have a choice, Mac,” his brother replied grimly, looking around at the house then back to his brother. “I won’t let the bastard take anything else from us.”
As Mac’s car sped off from the house, they were unaware of the sad spirit peering from the attic room.
CHAPTER THREE
The local hospital in Killarney, Ireland, was the most sophisticated the Mavericks could manage considering the distress their friend was in after arriving in the country of his birth.
Cameron Young had been content to allow his second in command and chief diplomat to handle the head of the hospital and get them a whole floor isolated from staff and other innocents, since he had a hunch this would get much worse before it got better.
Scrubbing his face in a tired motion, he recalled arriving at the local airport only hours beforehand:
Farranfore Airport, County Kerry, Ireland, Four hours previously:
Having a private plane at Hadley Industries’ disposal always came in handy when quick trips across the ocean suddenly came up. This time was no different as Michael White, the Mavericks second in command, brought the plane in for a landing.
Of course, figuring out how to get their equipment through customs was the least of Cam’s problems right then. Dealing with a stubborn, hardheaded Irishman was his focal point now.
“You, of all people, should have figured out what the scene in the Big Easy meant,” Cam was reminding himself to keep his temper since he knew why his friend was upset.
Roarke Fitzgerald had woken up fully while they’d been in the air traveling and hadn’t been in a good mood then. His dark mood got worse when finally told where they were going.
Standing in the open doorway of the plane but not stepping on the now attached steps, the black haired young man was scowling. “I know what it bloody well meant but it didn’t mean coming back here!” he snapped at Cam, eyes shifting uneasily as he tried to push down the memories.
“You know that’s not true,” Jessica Hadley spoke softly from behind him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder and felt it shaking. “You’re not alone and we won’t leave you alone, but we do need to talk to Kerry.”
Knowing that meant going to the manor at Fitzgaren, Roarke began shifting until he turned to look at Jessica.
Ever since he’d woken up on the plane, the girl had been close but he’d felt the distance. Where he usually could feel her emotions and thoughts easily, there was something she was keeping from him.
“Telling him I saw a vision of Mum may not be a great plan,” he muttered, starting to reach to brush her face and frowning when she caught his hand to hold it. That’s when he noticed the scarf. “What happened in New Orleans, luv?” he asked.
Jessica and Cameron had made the choice to keep a lot of what had actually happened while he’d been out away from Roarke since both knew he’d feel bad, so she hid the bruises she’d gotten with the scarf and hoped to keep him distracted.
“Nothing, we went through that,” she smiled easily but his eyes narrowed. “Later, let’s just go see Kerry.”
Seeing he was about to downright refuse, Cam blew out a breath and decided to pull his ace card out.
“Roarke, you don’t want to make this harder ‘cause if you don’t move it or keep giving me grief on this, I’m going to remind you that you still hold reserve status on the Mavericks, which makes me your damn leader. So if I say get your ass down those steps and into the car then you damn well better do it!” he snapped, in a tone only used infrequently.
Silence drew as his team stopped unloading the equipment and Roarke’s eyes stared down at him, but Cam wasn’t intimidated by that look and leaned against the Chevy Blazer, waiting.
“I could turn him into a toad,” Roarke muttered under his breath, wondering just how far his friend was bluffing.
“And may it harm none,” Jessica whispered in his ear, quoting the one oath any true witch or believer lived by. “Plus, you’d be grounded within ten minutes if you did a spell like that this close to Kerry.”
That was exactly what Roarke was worried about but finally he scowled and started down the steps. “Fine, but when this backfires, it’s on your heads,” he returned, refusing to sulk but looking close when his friend just smirked at him.
“Yeah, this’ll be fun,” Jessica sighed, following him down the steps but pausing when she saw something from the corner of her eye.
On the edge of the airfield sat a row of trees that had lost their leaves for winter, but in the center tree was a large black bird that sent shivers down her spine.
The bird seemed to be watching them intently as the Mavericks finished loading the truck and Cam and Roarke continued to bicker as they came to bottom of the steps.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed as the bird’s eyes shifted to red and its wings began to flap. “Roarke?” she spoke quietly but heard the wind pick up, and the voice it carried worried her.
“They seek to protect the chosen one but it took two sacrifices to keep it at bay this long,” it seemed to howl as the bird began to fly at them. “Refusal will cause the ultimate price but the boy will die alone before he sets foot on that sacred land.”
She saw the bird’s eyes and realized what it was. “Roarke!” she screamed, starting down the steps faster but it was too late.
Hearing the girl’s panic, he had begun to turn when he felt the wave of energy strike his chest, then there was nothing but white-hot pain and blinding images as he went down, and his helpless friends could do nothing.
Killarney Hospital, Present:
“Sit-rep, Peter?” Cameron Young brought himself back to the present by the approach of his main medic and wanting a situation report.
An odd type to be on a mercenary team, Peter Daniels was a thin, slender young man who had been born in Alabama but raised in Germany. His light eyes were usually hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses and his black hair kept short.
Right then he was pushing even his skills since there was just so much one could do when he couldn’t define a condition.
“I’ve had to restrain him because he’s still convulsing too much,” the medic spoke in his quiet, oddly accented voice, eyeing
his leader grimly. “Physically there’s nothing wrong with Roarke except for his old scars and some of the newer wounds he’d gained. His MRIs, cat scans, X-rays, blood work have all come back normal.”
Pushing his glasses up with a finger, Peter frowned. “I’ve tried giving him sedatives, a pain killer to dull whatever’s making him scream like that but nothing is doing any good.”
Scowling at this, Young knew his medic well enough to read between the lines. “Alright, now hit me with the rest of it.”
“Roarke has had a link with Jessica since they were younger, you said.” Peter closed the chart to face his leader fully. “Whatever this is, is affecting her because she’s getting paler and more upset that she can’t make him better. Plus, she keeps saying that something’s taking his soul.”
“Do I need to scare up a priest or an exorcist for this?” Cam asked, hearing the elevator ding and pulling his ever present Magnum when a hunch told him not to. “Oh, never mind. I can ask you to tell me what the hell is happening since I didn’t sign on for soul eaters.”
Kerry Fitzgerald had gotten the basic story from those mercs holding the lower floors when he, his brothers, and Mary Margaret Cavanaugh had arrived at the hospital.
This statement, however, took him totally off guard. “Ian, stay here with the young lady,” he spoke softly but firmly to the youngest Fitzgerald but motioned to Mac. “Mac, come with me.”
“Yes, he was this intense even when we were lads,” Mac cut off Maggie’s unspoken question even as he was tossing his jacket over a chair but caught her eye. “Keep him here.”
The red-haired pixie-like woman could read the younger boy’s dislike of these orders but also understood them. She was the youngest child so she immediately caught onto to the overprotective element happening here.
“Big brothers are a pain at times, boyo,” she laughed lightly, sitting down and hoping the edge of tension and power she was picking up wasn’t what was going on further up the hall.
Ian slumped in the chair, very close to sulking. “I know they’re protecting me but they won’t be able to ‘cause I can see what they can’t.”
Maggie’s eyes shot up at this, knowing that at certain times some magic was stronger in certain users, but even she hadn’t been expecting this baby-faced boy to be a seer and she doubted his brothers did either.
“How bad is he?” Kerry was demanding as they followed the mercenary leader up the hall.
The eldest had tried a minor surface scan but only got shoved back by something he had never felt before.
Cam shifted a look over his shoulder then opened a door. “You tell me.”
Expecting the worst by the call and from the surface power that they were picking up, neither Kerry nor Mac had prepared them selves for what they walked into.
Both men knew this would be hard as, unlike the rest of them who had had casual contact over the past fifteen years, Roarke had avoided contact with his brothers unless totally necessary.
In fact, Ryan seemed to be the only brother he had contact with and that was only when businesses meshed.
“Sweet Mary, this is bloody well not good,” Mac whispered, stepping in and instantly being bombarded by the feelings of fear, despair, anger and death. “Kerry.”
His brother was looking and not liking what he was seeing or feeling in the room.
Their brother, as both recalled, had been an energetic boy that was always climbing, jumping, singing or being a typical eleven year old with bright eyes and black hair always too long.
The young man lying on this bed, strapped down to prevent him from hurting either himself or someone else, was a sickly pale color now and trembling. His voice that had charmed royalty while singing and fought bitterly in childish fights with his brothers had turned hoarse from screaming in his native tongue.
Sitting beside the bed and holding onto one clenched fist, Jessica Hadley looked up as they entered and the strain was clear in her blue eyes.
“I…I can’t block it out, Cam,” her British accent tight and her fear was clear. “He was too weak to start with.”
Getting a look from his brother, Mac slowly approached the bed. What he hadn’t admitted to Maggie was that while he did have a legal license to practice medicine, he was more attuned to practicing the healing arts another way.
Early on, all of them knew each had stronger abilities in some areas and Mac had found out that his deepest affinity was in healing.
It was on this power he began calling now as he approached the bed, but was careful to assure the girl of his intentions first.
All of them had known Jessica Hadley and her company since they’d been kids and through the years had stayed in touch. Though Mac knew the young British woman’s strongest loyalties remained with Roarke.
“Easy does it, luv. I just want to see him.” He assured her, voice going to the low, deep and soothing tone he always used playing medic. But as he got closer he also sensed something else. “How about we see how bad these are first.”
Cameron Young nearly winced at this but just rolled his eyes. “She may fry him for that,” he sighed seeing the lanky Irishman slowly reach for the scarf.
“What happened?” Kerry asked, knowing the girl’s injuries wouldn’t have come from his brother.
“What attacked in New Orleans tried to take my employer out of the equation early,” Cam replied grimly, shrugging. “Clearly it doesn’t like her.”
Kerry knew this wouldn’t quite be the case but let that go for now as he approached to see Jessica was trying to redirect Mac’s attention back to his brother.
“They’re just bruises. He needs help now,” she argued, not even aware when some of the pains went away. “Mac, it’s killing him.”
“Who’s killing him, darling?” Kerry asked gently, trying to probe but only getting static and pain.
Jessica’s eyes shot to his and she explained about seeing the bird, hearing the wind and what she’s felt since then. “It’s destroying him, Kerry, and I can’t block this out. It’s not like the shadow creature in New Orleans that made him see your mother.”
That caused both Fitzgerald brothers to exchange looks. “That’s low,” Mac muttered but did turn to place a hand on Roarke’s trembling wrist, and was shocked when something physically shoved his hand away. “Roarke?”
“Luv? It’s alright,” Jessica had looked when something, a twinge in her head, made her look up to see her friend’s eyelashes beginning to flicker. “Is he waking up?”
Kerry wasn’t sure since something was still blocking him, but it wasn’t until his younger brother’s eyes did open that he knew for sure. “Mac!” he snapped, whirling to shove Cameron Young back from the bed.
“Oh, well isn’t this just perfect,” Mac swore, grabbing Jessica and pulling her back just as she was going closer to help her friend, when Roarke’s normally smoky gray-blue eyes opened to reveal pure black and he sat straight up in the bed, restraints going away in a simple burst of flame.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Maggie Cavanaugh was asking Michael White who had come at her shouting when Ian Fitzgerald had literally screamed as pain bombarded his head and fell to the floor.
The California-born native wasn’t sure but had to figure given what they were involved with, then it couldn’t be a good thing.
“Ian! What happened?” he was asking, getting word from his radio of varying things. “Shit! Roy, keep the staff outta this! Adam, yell for Nick if the power readings get worse and Bry, tell him to get up here!”
Ian was still trying to regain his balance but finally gave up and slumped to the floor, his head down; images still vivid. “He’s here but he’s inside him,” he was whispering. “He’s screaming!”
“Who’s screaming, luv? What do you hear?” Maggie asked gently, trying to get the young man up to his feet but couldn’t budge him until a hand reached over her and gave a quick pull that brought Ian to his feet and into a chair.
“Look at me, boyo.” The ster
n voice got through his haze better than Maggie’s soft tones did.
The boy and Maggie both looked at the new arrival to see a well-tanned man with windswept, almost unruly, long black hair, but his eyes were a sparking smoke right then as he stared hard at this boy.
It didn’t take Kerry’s more natural gift of sight or scanning for Ryan to see what his youngest brother did. That and the power he felt from down the hall told him what he needed.
“This hurts,” Ian whispered, rubbing his head but nearly recoiling as strong fingers gripped muscles in his neck and squeezed. “That’s worse!”
While the pain hurt, the deep laughter he heard over it was more relaxing to him for some reason that he couldn’t place.
“A little pain or no gain as the saying goes, baby brother,” Ryan replied, letting his hand rub lightly and felt some of the boy’s pain ease away, then he shot the woman a look, an instant read on her. “Stay with him, little witch, and keep him away from that room.”
Maggie never got a word in edgewise with this one but didn’t try as he shot White a look before heading down the hall, just as the whole building seemed to shake.
“Mike! Get the woman and Ian outta here!” Ryan snapped, knowing this had gone way beyond Kerry’s point of control. Hoping they could bring it back because he knew he didn’t want to kill his brother this soon.
“No, I can help,” Ian started to argue but Maggie had grabbed his arm. Instead of pulling it to leave, as he feared, she shoved a weathered old leatherbound book at him. “What’s this?”
“How we’re going to help,” she replied, sitting down to begin sorting through pages to find one she’d seen often as a child. One her Gran always had marked.
A sudden wind seemed to come in and blow the pages until it stopped on one with a rough drawing of a medal and a spell.
“That works.” Maggie sighed with a shaky laugh seeing the boy’s eyes had landed on the picture. “We don’t have one of…”