He couldn’t identify the expression flickering across her features just then. Sadness? Resignation? No matter. She’d agreed, and ’twas enough for now. “’Tis settled then. When shall we begin your tour?”
“Well, today is Wednesday, and I want to spend this day and tomorrow exploring Dublin. How about Friday, and we can get out of the city?”
“Right. I’ll be here Friday morn, at half eight.”
“You have clocks in the void realm?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Nay.” Unable to fight the pull any longer, he broke out in a cold sweat and dread knotted his gut. “Trust me, lassie, and be ready. I must leave ye now.”
An instant later, he found himself flat on his back in the sand on his island’s only beach. He didn’t attempt to sit up, but turned his head to gaze out over the clear lake to the thick swirling mist beyond. His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists. By the gods, how he loathed this place. The desperation to be free had nearly driven him mad in the beginning. At one point, he’d even considered taking his own life just to spite Morrigan. Would she have allowed him that end? Not bloody likely.
The unfairness of it all, the self-recrimination he suffered for his own foolishness—’twas the worst. To this day, he still couldn’t fathom why one fae princess would trouble herself over a mere mortal like him.
Surely Morrigan had forgotten him by now. And if she’d forgotten him, her anger had to be a thing of the distant past. After all, she would’ve had leagues of lovers since their brief tryst. How many times since the two of them had dallied had she fancied herself in love? For that matter, how many more poor mortals had she cursed?
Even after all these centuries, his longing for freedom was as sharp today as it ever had been. More so, for he’d found the woman he’d prayed for every single day of his miserable existence. He yearned to live his life to the fullest. All he had to do was fall in love and give his heart fully. “Easy, aye?” Doubt edged its way into his thoughts.
He’d had plenty of opportunities to lose his heart afore Morrigan’s curse, yet he never had. He’d come close a few times, but some indefinable reluctance always barred the way, and he’d held back. He’d always believed ’twas because he had ambition, hopes of rising within the ranks of the Fianna. Now he wasn’t so certain. No matter. This time would be different, because this time he willed it so. How difficult could it be? He’d see the deed done, and that was all there was to it. Like any other challenge set afore him, he’d rise and conquer.
How long had it been since he’d conquered anything, anything at all? His pulse raced at the thought of a new challenge. He’d always loved pitting himself against any and all obstacles in his path, which was another reason his confinement chafed so.
“Ah, well. Tomorrow is another day.” Yawning, Fáelán wrapped his cloak around himself and drifted into sleep. For the first time in more than a thousand years, he closed his eyes with a broad smile upon his face, already dreaming of the day he’d hold lovely Regan MacCarthy in his arms.
Chapter Two
Regan stood on Dublin’s Kildare Street, staring at the impressive columned entrance of the archaeology branch of the National Museum of Ireland. She climbed the marble stairs, entered the rotunda and gawked at the opulent, dimly lit interior. A gift shop on one side and a café on the other lined the outer rim of the rotunda, and an intricate circular marble mosaic of the astrological signs took up the entire center.
A tall glass case holding museum reproduction jewelry in the gift shop caught her eye, and she drifted over to get a closer look. She wandered through the shop, finally buying a book filled with the histories and pictures of the museum’s permanent exhibits, along with a great foldout map of the interior.
Here I am. I know you can see me. Why won’t you listen? I want back what was taken from me. Unhappy spirits clamored for her attention. She set off for the Ireland’s Gold exhibit, pretending she couldn’t hear them.
Fáelán had piqued her curiosity with the mention of his armband. Would she sense which one belonged to him? Why did it matter? Though he’d made plans with her, he might never pop into her life again. He was, after all, a ghost. Who made dates with ghosts? Damn. She needed to meet a nice man—someone who breathed and had a pulse. There had to be several Irish online dating sites. Irish men might be more accepting of her interactions with the dead. A ghost whisperer could hope, couldn’t she?
Her reaction to Fáelán surprised her. She’d never obsessed about the nonliving before, but here she was . . . obsessing. One minute she’d been talking with him, and the next he was gone. Almost midsentence, he’d disappeared. How much energy had it taken him to manifest himself to her for as long as he had?
His sudden disappearance shouldn’t have left her feeling let down, but it had. He’d been good company, funny and larger-than-life, which was amazing for a dead guy. He must’ve been impossible to resist when alive. Cocky, self-assured and proud though he was, for some reason he didn’t come across as vain. He carried himself like a man sure of his place in the world. After all, he’d earned his way into the Fianna. She’d have to read more about the legendary army once she returned to her town house.
Regan went down a short flight of steps, entering a large, two-storied branch of the museum. The bottom floor held glass cases full of ancient artifacts of gold. Ghostly complaints bounced around the long gallery, and though she didn’t recognize all the words being spoken, she got the gist. Mine. Want it back. Stolen from me . . . She’d heard it all before.
Too many souls failed to pass from this world because of an attachment to an item that meant a great deal to them in life. As she walked along, she passed through a few chilled pockets of air, signaling the presence of spirits. She refused to acknowledge them in the hopes they wouldn’t notice her.
The dead had taken up enough of her life. Guilt pinged through her. It wasn’t that she didn’t empathize, but the dead who lingered were often small, petty souls with incessant demands. Some were angry, but the majority were consumed with sadness and confusion. While dealing with the dead and grieving, she lost track of the living and neglected her own life.
When she’d first begun helping spirits cross, the process had all but consumed her. Yoga had saved her. She’d learned how to become centered and turn her focus inward for a change. But as her business grew, she’d once again lost track of herself. She’d worked far too many hours in an effort to avoid what her family insisted was her true calling. And working all the time, she didn’t think about her loneliness. What would it be like to find a healthy balance in her life?
Regan walked behind a guided tour group, listening in as the guide talked about the artifacts and the history of Ireland. She studied each exhibit. There were torques of solid gold, bracelets, earrings and rings, along with a few armbands of Nordic design. She saw buttonlike fasteners, brooches with tiny swords to pierce through wool or leather, and gold balls resembling jingle bells, but none of the pieces drew her.
The group took the stairs leading to the second floor, and the exhibit hall emptied. Regan moved around a corner, and approached a large rectangular glass case holding a treasure trove of golden bracelets and armlets. Her attention caught on one unique piece, and her heart leaped. This piece had been cast in the shape of an animal’s body. The band had been designed to wrap around a man’s upper arm. Fáelán’s upper arm.
A bit of space separated the animal’s head from its tail. Small garnets had been set for the beast’s eyes. She leaned closer to get a better look. A wolf. Of course it would be a wolf. Come to think of it, this piece matched the brooch fastening Fáelán’s cloak. The wolf effigy carried Fáelán’s energy and radiated waves of his essence to her. Her boasty ghosty had been a wealthy man to have owned something like this. How much would an artifact like this be worth today?
Why did Fáelán’s energy resonate so strongly with her? She’d worked with lots of spirits over the years, but she’d never reacted like this with any other gh
ost, or felt their presence so powerfully. Fáelán’s bold personality surpassed any she’d ever encountered—living or dead.
A chill drifted over her, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck and on her forearms stood up. Great. Company.
A ghostly voice whispered into her ear in a language she couldn’t understand. Latin? Norse? Regan risked a glance over her shoulder. The faint outline of a woman wearing a long, flowing gown and a mantle of fur hovered behind her. She was beautiful and very young, and Regan ached for the lost soul. Though she spoke a different language, after so many years of ghost-whispering, Regan understood the message. Help me. I’m lost. I want to go home.
The woman wore amber beads around her neck, gold bracelets on each wrist and rings on several of her fingers. Her blond hair was braided and wound around the crown of her head.
The spirit’s confusion and sadness settled upon Regan’s shoulders like a sandbag. “They await your homecoming, my lady,” she whispered, hoping the apparition would understand. “You only have to let go.” Regan scanned the hall, making sure she was still alone. Then she returned her gaze to the case before her. “Stop clinging to whatever it is that holds you here, and look for the light.”
“I just want to go home! I miss my husband. I miss my children.” The apparition spoke in English this time. Covering her face, she wept into her hands. “I cannot find my way. I do not know where I am.”
“Don’t try to find your way. Be open. Think about the light, and it will appear. Let the light guide you to your family.”
Two of the bracelets in the case in front of her looked exactly like the ghostly bracelets on the apparition’s wrists. The poor thing had probably attached herself to the ornaments and was brought to the museum with the artifacts. “Turn away from your worldly possessions, my lady. Set aside your attachment, and walk into the warmth of the golden glow.”
Regan’s phone rang, the cascading tones echoing through the hall. The spirit disappeared, and the air returned to its normal temperature. Regan sighed with relief that she was once again alone. The woman had been too fixed upon her confusion, fear and grief to hear what Regan had said. It took a concerted, uninterrupted effort to get through to ghosts like her. Probably better if Regan didn’t return to the museum.
She fished her phone out of her purse, checked caller ID and hit “Accept.” “Meredith,” she whispered to her sister. She glanced at the watch with multiple time zones she’d bought for her trip. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I have a final late this afternoon, but that’s it, and then I’m officially finished,” her sister whispered back. “Why are we whispering?”
“I’m in a museum, and I don’t want to disturb anyone.” Regan watched as a young couple strolled in, hand in hand. “Can I call you back once I find a quiet place where we can talk?”
“Sure.”
“Give me five minutes.” The museum closed at five, which left her with only another three-quarters of an hour anyway. Tucking the phone into her purse, she hurried toward the exit, through the doors and across the street to the car park. She settled herself behind the wheel of her rental and called her sister.
“Hey, is everything OK at home? Mom and Dad are good? You and Grayce?” Regan was four years older than her twin sisters, and they’d been like her own personal doll babies when her parents had brought them home from the hospital.
“Everyone’s fine, Rae. I sensed something momentous happening to you earlier, something exciting. And since my life is utterly boring, I called to live vicariously through your adventures. I’m putting you on speakerphone. You can tell me what happened while I fix myself a sandwich.”
The mention of food made Regan’s stomach rumble. “I became a lawbreaking trespasser this morning. I sneaked into the Newgrange heritage park at dawn.”
“No, I don’t think that’s what I sensed.”
“I met a ghost while there. He claims he’s not dead, but cursed, which if true, would make him around eighteen hundred years old.” Hearing the number out loud made his story all the more ridiculous. “He’s strong, Mere. Extremely, and he’s . . . colorful.”
Something else that hardly ever happened with ghosts. Generally, spirits had a washed-out appearance, closer to a blurry black-and-white photo than real life. Some were transparent, other stronger spirits were not, and sometimes spirits appeared as nothing more than orbs of light. “He has brown eyes,” she said, as if that had anything to do with anything. “And he wore a green cloak.”
Everything about Fáelán had been dynamic. What must he have been like in life? Her heart skipped a beat. She’d never know the boasty ghosty in life, and that made her sad. Which was absurd, since she’d known him for all of a day and might not ever see him again.
“That feels right. Your meeting him is what I sensed. Could he be telling the truth?”
“About being cursed and not dead?” She huffed out a breath. “After eighteen hundred years? I doubt it. He’s had all kinds of time to create a story in his head to make sense of what has happened to him, something he can cling to rather than accept death.”
“Is he attached to Newgrange? You could get through to him with that reality if he is.”
“No.” Which made her wonder why he’d been at Newgrange at all. “He joined me when I drove to Howth.” Ghosts were often trapped in an area significant to them, like a house where they’d lived and raised a family, or the place where they’d died. Using that type of evidence to convince a confused soul that time had passed often helped them to cross. “So, what can you tell me?” Regan asked. Her sister’s gifts included precognition, and she too saw and could communicate with spirits.
“Your meeting him wouldn’t have registered with me if he weren’t important. Keep an open mind.”
“I always keep an open mind.”
“No, you don’t,” Meredith said with a snort. “Fasten your seat belt, because I predict your mind is about to be blown in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. Ireland is the land of magic after all.”
Regan frowned, remembering her failed effort to capture some of that Irish magic. “So, have you and Grayce figured out when you’re coming to visit?” She’d leased the furnished townhome in the hopes she’d have visitors. Her rental had two bedrooms and a loft area with a couple of futons.
“No specifics, but it’ll be soon.” Meredith sighed. “Have I mentioned how wonderful my life will be once I graduate? No more writing my thesis, studying and taking tests. Ever.”
“More than once. Just think, in a few weeks you’ll have your master’s degree. All that studying was worth it, Mere.”
“I hope so. I’d really like to be gainfully employed, so I don’t have to keep leeching off Mom and Dad. Speaking of our parents, Mom and Dad send their love and said to tell you to call them on Sunday.”
“I will.”
“So, are you homesick yet?” Meredith asked.
Regan grinned. “I’ve only been here four days. Ask me again in a few months.”
“All right. I’m jealous, you know.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me rent-free whenever you want. I’ll buy airline tickets as graduation gifts for you and Grayce. You can both stay as long as you like. Wouldn’t that be a nice break before you begin the grind of looking for a job? You could work on your résumé while sitting on the bluffs overlooking the ocean and breathing in the Irish air.”
“I’d love it. I’ll talk to Grayce and let you know. Any idea what you want to do with your life once you come home?”
The past five years had been intense. Too intense. After her painful breakup with the man she’d thought was her one and only, she’d thrown herself into growing her business, working around the clock, managing three yoga studios, while also ghost-whispering. She’d burned out, hit the proverbial wall. She’d been well on her way to a breakdown by the time the offer for her business had come to her.
Her chest tightened, and she forced herself to breathe. The emptiness
of her life had led her to take this trip. She just wanted to be . . . idle, recharge and explore the island as well as her own inner self. She knew the odds of turning off her gift were slim, but that too was always at the back of her mind.
“No, but I gave myself a year to figure things out. I’m in no rush. I do have the option of teaching classes at the yoga studio in Knoxville if I want, but who knows. Maybe I’ll do something completely different, start something entirely new.”
“Hmm. Something completely different feels right. You might be surprised by what your future holds,” Meredith mused. “I’m getting the strong impression that you’re supposed to help your new ghost friend. That much is certain.”
She’d been afraid that was the case. No problem. One more ghost, and then she’d be done for good. One of the reasons she’d crossed the ocean to Ireland was to distance herself from pressure to use her gift of sight. It came not only from her family but from the word-of-mouth recommendations spread by people she’d helped. Here, no one knew, and that was a relief. “You’ll tell me if anything else comes to you?”
“Only if you need to know. Sometimes it’s better to wing it, Rae, and I’m not like Grayce. I don’t have visions of things to come; I only get impressions, gut feelings.”
“Right.” She’d ask Grayce if she’d had a vision, but both sisters insisted that unless someone’s life was at risk, it was better not to interfere with fate. What was wrong with knowing or being in control? Maybe that was part of her problem. She needed to be in control, and she’d never been able to control the voices of the dead.
“Gotta go eat my lunch, Rae. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye for now.” Regan stowed her phone in her purse and started the car. Tomorrow morning she’d visit Grafton Square, a touristy outdoor shopping mall where street performers gathered, not a likely place to attract ghosts. By lunchtime she might brave the archaeology museum again, ghosts and all. Or not. She could also go see the Book of Kells exhibit at Trinity College, or she could tour Christ Church Cathedral, except those two ancient sites would also have ghostly residents. If she pretended not to hear them, would the spirits leave her alone?
Tangled in Time (The McCarthy Sisters) Page 4