Truth Seer (Irish Mystic Legends Book 3)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  "I just don't want to be a sitting duck," I said. "I mean, are we just going to wait for our stalkers to cross over and fulfill their destiny by killing us? We're too vulnerable." I glanced at her, then returned my eyes to the road. "I can't live like this. I need to take back some control."

  We were the ones who stood between the rogue Druids and their chance at reigning over time. We were the ones who figured out the curse even existed. And we knew its source.

  If we could stop them, stop their plan, then it would be over. They would lose.

  Killing us was the obvious solution to their roadblock and it left me flinching at every sound.

  Maeve continued to gaze out the windows with slumped shoulders. She was still tired. And probably permanently traumatized from being caught in the abyss, then crossing back over.

  But I needed her help. I needed her to be strong.

  "Look,” I said. “I'm not going to ask you to travel back in time or anything like that. I know you've been through enough. But I believe you can help me solve the riddle of the prophecies and maybe cut the ancient Druids off in their path." My words rambled out toward the windscreen as I spoke in no particular direction.

  She turned her gaze to me and sat taller. "You're right," she stated.

  "About what?"

  "We can cut them off before they even get here." She glared down the long road ahead of us in thought.

  My foot lightened on the gas pedal. "How?"

  "If we can stop one of the prophecies, then the chain will be broken. They’ll be trapped in the past where they belong."

  My mind raced ahead at a million miles an hour.

  "Is that even possible?” I glanced at her phone, wondering what the other prophecies might be.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I need to study these carvings further. Once I’ve interpreted them fully, we might be able to find one that can be stopped.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know yet.”

  “But that's it!" I interjected. "It’s our only chance. We must stop one of the prophecies from happening." My knuckles turned white from squeezing the wheel in concentration.

  Taking a roundabout nearly on two wheels, I followed the Spiddal road toward Ryan's cottage. My heart pounded in my chest with our discovery of the prophecies and our new strategy for stopping our executioners in their path.

  My thoughts leapt ahead to seeing Ryan. He would be pissed that we went to the tomb after strict instructions from Paul to leave it be. But he’d also be mad because he’d made me promise not to go for the sake of my safety. It was a promise I knew I couldn't keep the minute it passed my lips, but deep down, Ryan was already aware of that. Not only because he knew me so well, but because he could see my every thought through one glance into my eyes.

  Maeve had texted Paul and Rory to meet us at the cottage and I hoped they would already be there. I was dying to share our new discovery with them and to begin planning how we would fight back.

  Turning down the narrow green road toward the cottage, I positioned my front wheels on the two tire marks that cut along the grassy lane. The rocky coast of Galway Bay opened up at the end of the drive and I pulled in along the stone wall that lined the perimeter of the cottage.

  Smoke wafted out from the chimney, sending the smell of smoldering coal through the briny air. Along the side of the cottage I caught a glimpse of Paul's car poking out from behind Ryan's truck—a failed attempt at concealing the fact that Mother Maureen had company.

  We were all still on high alert from nosy neighbors, God-fearing witch-hunters, and corrupt officials. They all seemed to have reason to be rid of me, and would stop at nothing to finish the job, particularly now that I had a story to tell. One of abuse and neglect at the institution of reform that I’d been sent to. It had turned out to be a house of horrors that held innocent girls against their will, punishing them for the sins of others. It needed to be shut down and burned to the ground. The prospect was high on my list of things-to-do.

  I had no problem being the first one to arrive with the torch. And to be the one to rescue my friend. Jayne.

  I hadn’t forgotten about Jayne, ever. Getting her out of that hell-hole was a priority. Finding my way back to the island to save her scratched at my subconscious constantly. There was something about her. Something that seemed to bring another piece of the puzzle to light, as if she was somehow an intentional part of the mystery that surrounded me. I just wasn’t sure where it fit.

  I had to admit, I was afraid to return to the island. Its brutality was burned deep onto my soul. But in the same breath, I embraced the notion—the opportunity to save Jayne and to unleash my vengeance on the atrocities of the prison.

  The sound of our slamming doors shifted my mind back to the moment and within seconds Mother Maureen was at the front of the cottage waving her arms for us to join them inside.

  "Howya, me girls!" she greeted us. "A fine lookin' lot, ye are."

  I waved back to Maureen as a wide smile warmed my face.

  Her matriarchal ways created a safe haven for all of us. And her vast knowledge of ancient Druidry, as the Keeper of the Ovates and a seasoned seer, made her our touchstone.

  I looked past her, hoping for a glimpse of Ryan. My heart fluttered as I anticipated falling into his arms and feeling him hold me. Any time away from him was torture and I smiled with guilt from wanting him.

  As I waited for the door to open again and Ryan to step out, Mother Maureen tipped her head and looked past Maeve and me.

  "And who'd ya bring with ye?" she asked with a guarded tone.

  I stopped in my tracks at the sound of her unexpected words, then looked over my shoulder to follow her questioning gaze.

  I froze as two men in white uniforms moved around from behind the hedgerows and surrounded us.

  As if by natural instinct, I shoved Maeve away from me and she stumbled toward the cottage into Maureen's arms. An echo of Maureen's voice bounced in the back of my skull as she screamed Ryan's name. I turned to the men in white suits and took a power stance.

  It had come sooner than expected, but this time I was ready. Ready to defend myself against being kidnapped by the church's minions. If they dared get close enough, I'd have them both reeling on the ground cradling their crushed groins.

  "Stay the fuck away from me, assholes," I shouted at them. "I've done nothing wrong and will sue your asses if you dare touch me." I shifted from foot to foot, certain some unknown ninja moves were conjuring themselves in my bones.

  My hatred of those who pursued me sent courage through my muscles, giving me the strength of a superhero.

  In an instant, the cottage door flew open with a smash and Ryan sailed out onto the lawn. He wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me toward the cottage.

  "Off my property. Now!" he commanded the men. "Before I need to use force. You’re trespassers and I'm permitted on my own land to defend myself and my family without legal prosecution."

  My eyes fixed on Ryan. His threats and legal jargon caught me off guard.

  "And legal prosecution is exactly what we'll have today." Another voice came from around the stone wall. "Restrain him!"

  Two uniformed officers of the Garda barreled across the lawn, passing the men in white, and grabbed Ryan, pulling him away from me. I stumbled and fell on my knees from their rough handling.

  "What the fuck!" Ryan shouted. "Fucking police brutality? Is this what we're doing?"

  The larger of the two officers struck Ryan with a baton at the back of his knees and he fell to the ground. The other cop grabbed his arms and pulled them to his back, cuffing him in a quick, well practiced maneuver.

  Rory filled the doorway in an instant and shouted back to Paul. "Hold Maureen inside. She's not to see this." Then he barreled out into the yard. "What the hell is going on?" he barked.

  "This man is under arrest for harboring a fugitive," one of the officers replied as he nodded to the men in white.

  Before I could snap out of my sho
ck at Ryan's excessively rough handling, the two men had me in their grasp and knocked me to the ground. As if I’d been hogtied, my arms were behind me, keeping me from being able to defend myself. Tie wraps cut into my wrists and I squirmed to regain composure.

  As my eyes scanned the grounds, I saw exactly what I'd been looking for.

  The shadow of Mrs. Flannery at the edge of the property.

  Her self-satisfied smile sent rage through every nerve in my body. She'd tipped them off. Her surveillance had paid off and she’d got what she was dying for.

  Vindication

  Validation.

  Whatever it was. She got it.

  And Sister Margaret, the leader of the witch hunt, would wear the same smirk of vengeance as Mrs. Flannery when they gossiped on the details of our arrests over tea and scones. Patricia, Paul’s ex, would relish in their celebration as well. She never missed an opportunity to avenge her broken heart.

  All this would happen while Maureen and my grandmother fell apart at their mercy.

  As the men in white scooped me up off the ground, a new feeling moved through me. One of empowerment. They were actually doing me a favor and had no idea.

  I wouldn’t allow the witch-hunters their victory. Instead, I would turn it around on them. Expose them.

  I stopped struggling. I regained composure and walked calmly toward their van, taking silent control of the situation.

  Just before the rear doors slammed and locked me into my padded prison, I locked eyes with Maeve.

  She held my gaze with concern and a torn look of devastation. But then she caught the signal in my eye—one of command—and she shot up to full height.

  It was only in the final moment before the door’s big slam that her mouth turned up in a grin and her eyes brightened.

  With a wink and a nod, we set our pact into motion.

  The butterfly effect.

  Without question, now was the time for us to join our powers together—to work like a well-trained tactical team against our enemies. It was a small motion that would have enormous results.

  Maeve would help me save Jayne. And as a team, we’d work to discover Jayne’s connection to our quest.

  We didn’t choose it, but now was the time. I smiled at the clueless arrogance of my captors. They had no idea who they were messing with.

  And then, as the lock on the doors bolted shut, my world went dark and silent.

  But only for a moment.

  Until the purple glow cast light all around me.

  Chapter 4

  Sister Francis paced at the docks, bouncing in her habit, as the ferry pulled in. The precious cargo held within was her prize for all her hard work investigating and uncovering the conspiracy of her lifetime.

  I was the cargo.

  The escapee. Recaptured.

  The mystery surrounding my escape from her loathsome institution had worsened her already foul disposition, I could tell. But now, with my recapture, her sickening enthusiasm could be sensed across the sea that had divided us.

  As I stepped off the ferry, a sense of accomplishment washed through me. My arrest may have come at an unexpected moment, but never-the-less, it had needed to happen. My initial struggles had been quelled once I realized my recapture was my ticket back to the island. My chance at saving Jayne.

  This time, though, I was the one in charge, and they had no idea.

  "You'll regret every minute I spent searching' fer ya.” Sister Francis sneered. “Ya'll repay the time in spades." She scowled her familiar grimace into my face. Intimidation was her most refined skill at the home for wayward girls.

  Without blinking, I moved into her personal space and held her gaze. "The lord will punish you for every minute you've spent hurting me."

  She stepped back with an offended gasp.

  But all I could think of was Ryan being cuffed and arrested on false charges. All because of this. My mind fought to keep from spiraling into darkness with worry of what might be happening to him.

  "Yer of the devil. They're right about you." She spoke at me like I wasn't even human and took another step back as if seeking safety from my hell-born infection.

  "And you're the lost sheep who should be seeking forgiveness for yer sins," I stated back with a steady tone.

  She turned to the staff members who had accompanied her to the pier, searching for their reaction to my defiance. Their mystified expressions shot anger across her face as she lost traction in their eyes.

  "You are the beast! You'll spend yer time in the solitary prayer room to repent, you disrespectful, loathsome..."

  I cut her rant short. "No, Francis. I am the ram. The reckoner who’s come to expose your sins." And I moved closer to her again, right into her face.

  She backed away from me with fear in her eyes.

  Staring into her soul, I saw her true nature. Her true self. It startled me at first, to see so deeply into her, past her hardened exterior. But I was the truth seer and my new ability allowed the honesty of her essence to be revealed to me.

  A frightened young girl. Molested by her uncle. Sent to the nunnery to hide the disgrace she’d brought on the family. Her false identity fell away and she stood exposed in my eyes.

  I couldn’t help it, but I felt bad for her.

  And she knew it.

  Pulling her gaze away from mine, she waved to her staff to take charge of me.

  "Put her in the reflection room,” she barked. “No dinner. She's to repent her sins in isolation. It's between her and God now. And God will not be as forgiving as I." She stormed ahead toward the gray walls of the institution without looking back.

  The other nuns in her posse gestured for me to follow them. None had the nerve to touch me. The look of fear in their eyes made it clear they wanted no close interaction with me.

  I followed without resistance.

  It was crazy. I had absolutely no fear of this place anymore or of Sister Francis. I'd surpassed it. As the truth seer, it was as if my clarity exposed their close-minded simplicity, giving me a huge advantage over them.

  My shoulders squared as I scanned the details of the island prison, plotting its destruction.

  As we marched through the antiseptic halls of the old monastery, my confidence grew. I was no longer a prisoner to these women of God. No longer at their mercy. They were all broken in one way or another, fighting to keep their souls intact in the situation they found themselves in. My best approach would be to connect with each one, to let them know I was aware of their secrets.

  And to show them they would not be forgiven on judgment day.

  One by one, I looked into the eyes of each woman and watched them shrink from my truth. They knew my premonition about them to be true and fear poured from their souls, exposing their guilt.

  One in particular, her eyes drooped as if permanent exhaustion had taken over her face. She recoiled from me, but not before I’d connected to her truth. Her cold gaze and hardened emotions came from a place of early childhood neglect. She’d found comfort in her misery by retaliating against the innocent. But today, I’d exposed her.

  “You can still be forgiven,” I whispered to her.

  She pulled her eyes from mine with a jerk and turned away.

  None of them dared touch me but they followed Sister Francis' orders like loyal soldiers. Their averted eyes proved their confliction though as they reconsidered their actions, likely understanding the wrongfulness now of what they were doing.

  But still, they led me through the corridor of hell.

  To Purgatory.

  My heart pounded in my ears from the memories of my times here, staring at the blank walls, any of them, in an effort to avoid having to look at the near-life-size graphic depiction of Jesus on the cross. Blood, thorns, and all. The image haunted my sleep to this day. But the worst part was the isolation. Solitary confinement. It was enough to drive any sane person mad. They thrived on it as the best form of punishment here.

  My teeth ground together under
the pressure from my tight jaw.

  "Yer ta wait in here now, until ya can mind yer manners enough to join the other girls," one of the nuns said as she opened the door to my cell.

  Sister Francis hovered at the back of the pack.

  As I glimpsed the sparse room, a chill ran through me, reminding me of Jayne and the torture she must have endured in my absence. Would they be cruel enough to punish her for my sins? The question slapped me in the face with its absurdity. Of course they would. And the notion shot terror through me.

  I stepped back from the door and peered down the hall. "Jayne!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  Sister Francis pushed through the group of nuns and launched toward me with a hand raised to my mouth.

  "Shut yer gob, girl. This is a house of God," she blasted, keeping her hand just from touching me.

  My eyes darted along the doors down the hall. "Jayne! It's me! Isobel!" I belted with all my force.

  "Get her into the room, sisters. Move!" Francis commanded.

  A faint pounding travelled down the hall followed by a scratching sound. My eyes widened and I stared into Sister Francis' worried gaze.

  Without hesitation, I pushed past her and ran down the hall. "Jayne!" I called out.

  More weak thumping on the door at the end of the hall.

  I raced toward it as the nuns chased me, not knowing how to stop me or control the situation.

  Stopping in front of the last door, I pounded on it with my fists and rattled on the locked doorknob.

  "Jayne! It's me, Izzy," I cried.

  I turned to the panicked nuns and caught the eye of the one who'd opened my door to Purgatory. She still held the key in her hand.

  "Give it to me." I reached for it.

  Sister Francis stepped between us and scowled.

  "Not on yer life, girleen."

  It was the moment of truth.

  Sister Francis stood between Jayne and me.

  She blocked my way to the key to Jayne's freedom. The key that would release her from solitary confinement and reunite us.

  I couldn't let Sister Francis get in the way again. I wouldn't.

  I stepped closer and her shoulders squared taller, but the shake in them didn't go unnoticed. She intended to stop me but it was obvious she feared me at the same time.