Celtic Evil: A Fitzgerald Brother Novel: Roarke

by Sierra Rose

  “But you didn’t,” Ian shrugged. “You couldn’t help what happened, Roarke, and I’m pretty sure they don’t want you to hurt like this.”

  “Our father’s mother was expected that day but Da still chose to go, which made her mad,” Kerry could still hear her words but shoved that away while giving Ryan a quiet nod. “Mac, Ry and I were supposed to take our boat out to the island to pick them up but Mac and Ryan found other things to do and I got held up by Kathleen, so I was late.

  “By the time I got there it was over.” This was one thing Kerry knew he’d never forget. “I parked the boat and felt the difference in the air. I took the stone stairs up from the beach and even before I was halfway up I heard Roarke crying. It hadn’t been the tears like I’d heard after a fight with Ryan but a gut wrenching loss. I found him sitting on bloodied ground between our parents, clinging to them.”

  Lightly touching the younger man’s neck, Kerry could feel his emotions. “I knew without looking they were already gone and only the leftover emotions let me know what happened because Roarke was pretty much catatonic by that point and when he did come around, he had little to no memories of what had happened.”

  “I didn’t listen to Mum when she told me to hide on the beach,” Roarke whispered, hand now clutching both the stone and Trinity medal Kerry had given him back. “I went back and I saw Da fighting the beast. Mum was already down and Sebastian was there cause I heard him gloating that while it wasn’t supposed to go like this he’d take it. That Mum and I were supposed to die but he’d take their deaths and leave my death to his very own mother.”

  Roarke’s eyes looked up fully at Kerry and there was no mistaking the pain and confusion. “Why did she hate me so much that she’d kill them or want Mum dead?”

  “I don’t know, Roarke,” Kerry sighed, squeezing his arm. “Sometime on that island, Mum and Da cast a spell that banished Sebastian for fifteen years and that time is up. Now we fight him on our terms and we win for what he took from us,” he vowed firmly, meeting each of his brothers’ eyes. “I won’t lie and say it won’t be dangerous because it will be.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “I figured that out before I got here and the old man used Annie against me,” he snorted, still not happy with that. “We’re here and we’ll cope.”

  “He’s weighing the odds in his head,” Mac smirked but nodded to Kerry that he was in.

  “May as well,” Ian shrugged, giving a boyish grin. “I didn’t like the play I was doing, anyway.”

  Kerry moved around so he could kneel and be eye level with Roarke. “I know how hard this will be for you and if I could protect you from the pain this may cause I would and we will do that, but I need you, little brother.”

  “I know,” Roarke sighed, closing his eyes for a long time. “I’ll stay and do this, Kerry, because it’s what we’re supposed to do but all I ask is you help me keep Jessica safe because I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her.”

  “Aontaim (agreed),” Kerry held out a hand and felt the warmth when his brother’s hand clasped his and held firmly.

  “Fine, now can we actually sleep?” Ryan asked, yawning. “Brat’s been through hell and we’ll all need strength to handle this.”

  Mac rolled his eyes and heard Maggie giggle. “This is coming from the bloke who gambles forty-eight hours straight.”

  “It was seventy three hours actually, thank you very much,” Ryan threw back ready to defend his gambling skills.

  Roarke eased up and nudged Ian. “Tell Kerry I went up to check on Jessica.”

  “Sure as soon as he’s done breaking this up, I will,” the boy agreed, wincing as Mac shot something back and Ryan’s temper went into sniping mode. “This may be sometime next week. Get some sleep too, Roarke,” he urged.

  It was odd looking at his baby brother and seeing an eighteen-year-old young man but Roarke nodded, hoping Deirdre didn’t decide to check on his brothers.

  Roarke decided before going to check on his friend he’d shower and change in order to ease the stress he had left so he wouldn’t take that in to her.

  Stripping, he stepped into the shower and was again thankful that sometime in the last fifteen years, Kerry had remodeled the entire manor in which all the bathrooms now had modern showers.

  Wincing as the hot water hit him, Roarke leaned into the spray for a long time as he used a meditation routine to force his stress out of his body. He was in the midst of rinsing soap from his long black hair when he felt the presence from his room.

  Always a man aware of his surroundings, Roarke was mentally cursing himself for getting so at ease in this house that he’d lost that caution until he sensed something else and he blew out a breath.

  “I’ll be out in a second, Jessica,” he called through the bathroom door that he’d left open as he quickly finished showering and just grabbed his jeans.

  Stepping out into the room he saw Jessica Hadley wandering around, her one arm still held gingerly as she moved, and he felt her wariness.

  “You shouldn’t be up, luv,” he spoke softly from beside her, quickly reaching for her elbow when she turned too quickly and got off balance. “Easy.”

  Blinking up at him, Jessica seemed to be shaking off sleep for a few more seconds. “I woke up and you weren’t there so I wasn’t sure what…” she seemed to stumble on what to say.

  “I had to talk with the others and then decided to take a shower before I came back,” Roarke explained, gently guiding her to a chair. “Have a nightmare?”

  “No, just woke up,” she replied, wincing at the dull ache she had. “I wanted to be sure you were alright.”

  Feeling her pain, Roarke was careful when he ran a casual hand over her injured arm to ease the pain. “It’s still hard but I’m…coping,” he admitted, kneeling next to the chair. “I wish you and the others weren’t involved but…”

  “We’ve faced worse before, Roarke,” Jessica told him, smiling to reassure him on instinct; fingers running through his thick still damp hair when he sat on the floor and rested his head against her legs. “We’ll get through this.”

  “I hope so, luv,” he sighed, knowing she was unaware of the pain he was taking as he sat still to allow her to reassure him.

  Silence filled the room until Roarke lifted his head to meet her eyes. “You’re tired, Jessica.”

  “So are you, hotshot,” the British girl countered, hating to be hurt to the point where she was this weak.

  “True enough,” he agreed, easily getting to his feet and reaching for her hand. “Mac would say we both need to sleep.”

  Rolling her eyes about medics, Jessica did yawn but judged that it was safe enough to leave him alone. “If…if you need anything I’m right next door I guess,” she had to stretch to lean up to lightly kiss his cheek before starting to turn toward the door.

  Recalling what he had been thinking about before this whole mess had started in New Orleans, Roarke’s fingers gently curled around her good arm. “Where you going, a gra?” he asked softly, bringing her back closer to him.

  “Next door to bed I suppose,” Jessica shrugged, looking up into his eyes and was surprised at how dark they seemed. “Unless you think you may need me and then I can sit in the chair.”

  Chuckling softly, Roarke leaned down to lightly brush a kiss over her mouth. “I will always need you, Jessica,” he murmured against her ear, bending to easily lift her into his arms. “But you will not, while I’m alive, sit up in a bloody chair all night.”

  Startled by this sudden move, her arms had automatically gone around his neck. “Roarke, what are you…?”

  He heard the unease but shifted so he could see her eyes as he carried her toward the bed. “Stay with me tonight, Jess. Let me hold you, kiss you and wake up with you.”

  Wary about this more for his sake than anything else, Jessica stared at his eyes. Feeling the emotions rise before slowly nodding her consent even as his mouth found hers for a deep kiss that distracted her while he was gently laying her
in the center of his bed.

  Feeling the bed shift under her friend’s weight, Jessica’s hand went flat on his bare chest instinctively.

  “It’s alright, Jess,” Roarke assured her, expecting her fear as he slowly stretched out next to her. “Nothing happens, my love.”

  Seeing her eyes drop slightly, he felt the instant silent thought and knew he’d phrased that last comment wrong.

  “No,” gently he lifted her face in his hand to hold her eyes. “I guess what I should say is nothing happens until you want it to because eventually if you’d let me, I’d hope we could go farther.”

  Moving her fingers restlessly on his chest, Jessica chewed her bottom lip. “You know you can do anything…” she stopped at the quick flash in his eyes.

  Reminding him that Jessica’s assault several years ago in Las Vegas had left her with very little knowledge on how things should be between men and women. Roarke knew that despite his past he still knew this was a touchy area for them both.

  “Since I’ve been feeling things for you for awhile now, it’d be too bloody easy to take you too far too fast, luv,” he was careful when he spoke to keep his voice even but the confusion he saw in her eyes made it hard.

  Cursing that confusion and the shadows he now saw in her eyes, Roarke was gentle as he shifted slightly next to her so he could run his fingers down her face. “One day when this is all settled and you’ve gotten used to me saying ‘I love you’ we’ll go slow.”

  “We’ve been close before,” Jessica yawned, not wanting to close her eyes as she watched her friend. “Don’t wanna hurt you though.”

  “Hurt me?” Roarke frowned slightly, not fully understanding right away then it clicked for him and he rested his forehead against hers. “God, you are so wonderful,” he murmured, feeling the rest of the stress in his body leave, “you could never hurt me like that, luv.”

  Jessica watched his face, having years of experience with watching the expressions, eyes, or emotions of friends or enemies, then slowly let her fingers move up to touch her friend’s face. “Can I…?”

  A soft kiss interrupted her words as Roarke gently let his fingers stroke through her hair and down over her face and down. “Just let me hold you tonight, Jessica,” he replied, seeing her eyes drift close then struggle to open. “Sleep, luv,” he whispered, letting his own eyes close once he was sure his friend was sleeping, but unaware of the shadows close by.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lulled to sleep by his own exhaustion and the gentle heartbeat next to him, Roarke twisted restlessly until finally sitting up with the sudden urge burning inside.

  Not sure why but Roarke Fitzgerald, if asked later, would say he didn’t remember dressing fully or leaving the house of his childhood to go to the cemetery where his parents were buried, and totally unaware of the danger lurking inside and out.

  Sitting at the kitchen table with cards laid out, Ryan was scowling at the cards and wishing for something stronger than coffee to ward off the chill he was feeling.

  “Can you cheat yourself?” Ian asked as he entered the kitchen, unable to sleep as nerves or something skittered along his skin.

  “Some can but cheating takes the thrill out of winning,” Ryan replied without looking up, finally tossing the cards on the table. “I thought you went to bed.”

  Ian dug through the refrigerator before coming to the table with the rest of Deirdre’s chocolate cake and a glass of grapefruit juice. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted after taking a bite of cake. “Just like nerves running under my skin or electricity.”

  In the middle of frowning at his youngest brother’s food choice, Ryan’s eyes shifted at that description as it matched his own unease. “What else did you feel?”

  “Just like there’s something outside watching.” Ian didn’t see his brother’s expression but did finally frown as something else bothered him. “Roarke must have felt it since he’s not in his room.”

  “Shit,” Ryan swore, shoving away from the table. “Go get Kerry and Mac. We should have done the protection spell before going to bed.”

  Ian looked at his snack then shrugged and went for his brothers, not seeing the shadow in the hall.

  Mac couldn’t relax no matter how hard he tried. Usually a nice friendly fight with Ryan soothed his stress but tonight it hadn’t done anything. The shower and the meditation hadn’t helped either. He was about ready to give in when Maggie Cavanaugh stuck her head in.

  “You awake?” she asked the obvious then entered before he could reply. “Dumb question, but does your brother have dogs?”

  “No, not officially he doesn’t,” Mac sighed, standing easily and seeing the woman’s unease. “Something’s outside and something’s wrong.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes, for the first time she was actually uneasy since this all started. “Gotta plan to deal with it then, Doc?” she asked, nearly jumping when the quick knock sounded before Ian came in.

  “Ryan said to find you. Roarke’s gone outside and something’s wrong,” he spoke quickly.

  “Stay inside and stay close to Jess,” Mac told Maggie as he quickly pulled his shirt and boots on. “Anything happens, yell for me.”

  Both men were out the door before Maggie could reply, then all she could do was shake her head and try to put aside the odd feelings she had.

  “If Sebastian makes a move on him this soon…” Mac was muttering as he came down the massive stairs to see Kerry waiting and scowling.

  “It’s not Sebastian,” his temper was on the surface and bubbling that he had been so stupid as to think they’d be free of the woman’s interference. “She’s here.”

  Mac didn’t have to ask who ‘she’ was, knowing by the tone that Kathleen Murphy Fitzgerald had finally picked a time and place to react to her grandsons’ snub earlier.

  As the front door shut, the misty shadow slowly formed into a shape and Sebastian smiled as he knew that most people had more than one weakness, and if he couldn’t access one than he would fall to the other.

  Maggie was sitting cross-legged on Mac’s bed reading the battered and worn book her grandmother had given her when a large heavy book bound in ancient leather hit the bed next to her leg, causing her to look up, and she was very proud of herself for not screaming.

  Standing not two feet from her was the image of a man, a tall, slender man with thick jet-black hair and smoky gray eyes. The scowl on his face looked harsh yet she didn’t feel any fear.

  “Help them, Mary Margaret Cavanaugh, and never fear him,” Toryn Fitzgerald seemed to glare at her then his gaze softened. “Patrick needs someone who is an equal but understands him and his family.”

  Maggie blinked once and the image was gone, but the well- kept leather bound book that was three times the size of her family’s Book of Shadows remained on the bed, and it seemed to be vibrating as she reached for it even when she felt the scream more than heard it. “Oh, bloody hell.”

  The night air held a chill along with a low hanging misting fog as Roarke slowly made his way from the house to the family cemetery where his parents had been laid to rest

  Even though he hadn’t been down these paths in fifteen years he had no problem finding it in the dark, yet as he passed the gate and neared the stone his head began to buzz.

  A sudden wave of dizziness caused him to falter, going to one knee just to regain his balance as images and memories began flooding back.

  “God, no,” he groaned, feeling his stomach flip as images took him back to that barn and the pain and shame.

  “You see the trouble you still cause?” Kathleen spoke from the shadows where she stood, a black velvet cloak shielding her from the mist. “Naughty little boy, you should have died on that island, not your father. Then you couldn’t even die in Mayo when I told Ida and Felan to make you their whore, to beat you to within an inch of your life,” she clucked her tongue as she crossed the grass toward him, eyes blazing with hatred.

  Roarke fought the images, the pain, to focus o
n the voice bearing in his ears yet having been taken by surprise, he wasn’t strong enough yet to combat his grandmother’s power.

  “Why couldn’t you die?!” she screamed at him, hand lashing out and invisible nails raked his face, drawing blood.

  Body shaking, Roarke finally lifted his head up to look at the older woman that he still had nightmares about. “I don’t know,” he whispered, unknown tears shining. “Why didn’t you do it yourself that night in Mayo?”

  Looking startled, Kathleen stared hard and bitterly. “Why should I sully my hands with such a task?” she chided, waving it away. “I assumed that Ida’s lads would finish you off or one of those strapping lads that worked for them. I merely took a strap to you.”

  “After you cast a spell that would double the damage done, after you sat and watched what they did,” he threw back then cried out as pain like a fist hit his stomach, and feelings that were more familiar took over. “No…”

  “I could kill you with a thought, lad,” Kathleen snapped, glaring down as her grandson collapsed on the ground. “But I think before I do, I want you to recall what those times felt like when you served the only purpose you’d ever have been good for anyway. Feel what Sebastian will make that British whore who ruined my plans feel before she dies.”

  Roarke’s mind flashed on that but couldn’t focus on anything past what he was being made to see and feel as his body automatically curled in a near fetal position to fight against the spell that caused the vivid memories to be real to him.

  Smiling as she watched the boy she hated so much shake under her control, she took a step closer when a thin bladed dagger landed next to her pointed-toe shoe.

  “Back the hell away from him,” Ryan’s tone was firm as he stepped from the darkness.

  “Leave this alone, Ryan,” Kathleen warned, still hoping her grandsons could see reason as she started around the dagger that flew back to Ryan’s hand at his will. “He’s an evil boy that cost you and your brothers a father’s love and you wouldn’t want to associate with all the dirt and evil he…”