WORD OF GOD MARTYR DEAD
SACRIFICED SELF SO THE CRIES OF THE CHILDREN WOULD BE HEARD
A DARK DAY FOR IRELAND
“We’re too late,” Paul said under his breath. “The martyr’s dead.”
His words murmured through the quiet space of the pub but resonated loudly in all of our ears.
He came to the back of the pub where we had tucked ourselves in and stared at me, then at Maeve.
"It’s all happening too fast," he said to us. “We’ve no time to stop it.”
We stared back at him in shock. The fourth sign. It had happened. The prophecy had come true and now the ancient Druids were even closer. Their momentum couldn’t be stopped as they barreled toward us like a runaway train.
And now the fifth sign was upon us.
The fifth prophecy was written in the secret chamber, something about the truth seer going home to tell of the darkness falling upon the land.
A DARK DAY FOR IRELAND
The headline flashed across the television screen, over and over.
And then I remembered my shawl.
It was the cloak I wore anytime I travelled as a young girl. I remembered it better now. I recalled the smell. The texture.
But how did it get there? In the sealed, hidden location of an ancient tomb.
My body shuddered.
I looked to Ryan. He stared back into my eyes and I saw him lost. Wandering. Calling for me. For weeks.
"Ryan. What happened in there?" I reached for his hand and he clung to my fingers like a life-line. Everyone leaned in to hear him.
"The moment I entered the first tunnel, it was like I was sucked into a time warp," he said. "I couldn't find my way back and the tunnels just kept twisting and going on endlessly. It was a labyrinth of some form."
"Like an alternate timeline," Maeve stated. "The labyrinth could be the entryway to a different dimension.”
Ryan nodded. “It was a different dimension, all right. Like being trapped in nothingness. Lost.”
“Like being trapped in limbo,” Maeve mumbled, as if pulling her assessment from personal experience.
Jayne's head shot up in response to the word limbo, as if she'd heard her name called.
"Yeah." Ryan exhaled. "Like limbo. Neither here nor there. And it wasn't scary, per se, just a lot of nothing. I was just...lost." His head tipped as he scratched his beard. "That's fucked up."
"Yeah, man," Paul chimed in. "You were gone for literally one minute."
Rory leaned in. "I had no clue anything was even going down. There was only silence once you guys entered the cavern."
Jayne's head jolted in awareness again.
"It's still searching." She spoke into the open air.
I nudged closer to her. "What did you say?"
She shot fear from her eyes into mine. "It's awakened. And it's searching." Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I don’t understand where this feeling is coming from, but it’s so real to me. Like someone searching for us…in limbo.”
"I don't know what you mean." I looked to the others for help.
“She’s right,” Ryan interjected, pulling his hands through his hair. “In the labyrinth…the one thing that permeated the nothingness was an unsettling presence. As if a stranger was in there with me. Hiding just out of sight…searching.”
I closed my eyes in hopes of not hearing him—not understanding what he was saying. But it was too late. The wrathful grimace of the Druid leader flashed in my mind. The deep lines etched in his face exposed the depths of his vengeance and the darkness in his eyes held only hate.
“I see him,” I stated.
Jayne gasped and the others sat taller.
“The leader,” I continued. “I’ve seen his face.”
My eyes met Maeve's as she nodded with a knowing glare.
"It’s the penultimate sign," she said. "The last one leading to the eclipse. It was etched in the carvings in the secret chamber but I couldn’t make sense of it at the time.” She paused, then recited, “Saoirseacht.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Rory blurted out.
Paul hesitated, then said, “Deliverance.”
I stared at Maeve in disbelief as my jaw fell open.
We’d run out of time.
The wrathful leader had to be stopped. It was our last hope at blocking the chain of events leading to the eclipse.
Ryan held my eyes with his. “When’s the goddamn eclipse coming?” Ryan blasted, seeing my panic unfolding in my mind. “Has anyone been able to determine that?” His voice twisted with frustration.
I swallowed hard, lost in the fear of the unknown. Then a familiar flash behind my eyelids jolted me back. The vision of the ancient Druid leader again.
But this time, I knew him.
He was awakened.
And he was searching.
For me.
Now that the martyr was dead in the name of God, there was only one way left to end the prophecies. And it meant stopping the final one; the deliverance.
The meaning behind the one-word prophecy held uncertainty in its simplicity but the depth of its warning rang true in my soul. Redemption. Release. Liberation. It was everything the ancient Druids had planned in our demise.
They would deliver us from the evil of our ways. The time was upon us now.
I had to face him.
And the only way to do it was to enter the labyrinth.
Ryan had felt the presence of the evil leader within its alternate dimension. I was sure it would provide my access to him.
My stomach turned at the thought of returning to that eerie, haunting place and putting everyone in harm’s way again. But it was clear to me now. The labyrinth must be the gateway—the portal that connected our two worlds. Much like the time portal within the altar, but this one was darker, emanating sinister negativity.
The rogue Druids must have stolen the knowledge of the original portal and created their own, twisted version. The idea sickened me further, which convinced me I was on the right track.
"We need to go back in," I stated.
Everyone's eyes landed on me and all voices fell silent.
"I know,” I said. “I'm sorry. But this is it. It's happening now and we need to stop it." I stumbled on my words.
"Slow down, Isobel." Ryan eased his way into my panicked rambling. "What are you planning?"
I took a slow, deep inhale.
"I know the Druid leader is coming for me. I see flashes of his twisted face in my mind all the time," I stated. "He's the one searching. The one Jayne senses. Ryan, he’s the one you felt in the labyrinth."
"And you see him coming for you?" Paul leaned in closer.
"Yes.” My voice shook. “And…I know him." The words choked me on their way out, making their message more real when it hit the air.
"What the fuck?" Rory blurted. His aggressive tone expressed the rising tension.
I had to be honest with everyone now. There was no time to hold anything else back.
"I don't think it's my first time at that portal, either," I added.
Ryan sat taller. "What are you talking about?"
I lowered my eyes to the table, thinking about how crazy my next words would sound. I was still fumbling through what they could actually mean. My throat tightened as if attempting to withhold the information from hitting the air.
I coughed. "The little girl's cloak." I hesitated as everyone stared. "The shawl. It belongs to me."
Ryan shot up from his chair and paced. He was either pissed off that he didn't see that information in my eyes sooner or he was scared to death of what it all meant. Or both.
"Okay, stay calm." Rory lifted his hands to keep tension from rising too high, then looked to me. "How do you know?"
I shook my head. "As soon as I saw it, I recognized it. I knew the feel of it before I even touched it. And its smell, it brought back memories of how I felt as a child." I hesitated. "Feelings I'd forgotten. A little girl I'd forgotten."
My voice went quiet.
Maeve's head tipped. "And the dress?"
That's right. The dress.
It had been tucked away in my rucksack for years. I hadn't used the bag since I was in primary school but those were the years that were most faded in my memory, like I was asleep or lost in a haze.
"What dress?" Ryan's voice grew more agitated.
"I found a child's dress in my gear when I was packing for this trip," I said. "I'd hidden it long ago."
Maeve added, "It's an ancient relic. Like the cloak. Hundreds of years old, if not thousands."
Paul's hands went to his face and he rubbed it. He pressed his fingers over his eyes.
Out of nowhere, Jayne’s voice broke through. “So why does it all seem so familiar to me?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
She stared at me as if knowing I held the answer.
And I did.
“Jayne,” I started, knowing it was already too late to stop. “There’s something you need to know.”
Ryan and Maeve shot warning glances my way as the barman brought three pints over to the table. A moment later, he brought three more.
All eyes fell on the six pint glasses filled with black stout and frothy cream tops. Foam slid down the sides and collected on the cardboard Guinness mats beneath them.
"Thanks very much," Paul said. "We really need these."
The barman huffed. "Looks like it," he joked. "And wit’ the eclipse comin’, sure, everyone’s in a tizzy.”
All six of us jolted in our seats, shaking the table and rattling the pint glasses.
"What eclipse?" Paul barked.
The barman stepped back to survey our panicked reaction to the news. "Sure, you'd think it was a natural disaster or somethin' the way the news folks are talkin' about it," he said. "’Twas only supposed to be a partial coverin’ of the sun, barely noticeable from our point on the globe, but now it’s predicted that the west of Ireland will be the only location in its path that will see total darkness. Them scientists are baffled. But sure enough, it's gonna be a dark day tomorrow."
“Tomorrow?” Paul shouted.
We stared at each other in disbelief.
“But there was no fuckin’ word of any eclipse anywhere in my searches,” Ryan burst out.
Maeve glanced at Ryan and then back at the barman.
“It sounds like it was only going to be partial, with little effect,” she stated, looking to the barman for confirmation. “But now a total eclipse is predicted?” she asked.
“I didn’t know there was a feckin’ difference,” Ryan spat.
“Sure, wasn’t much word of it on the tellie or anywhere, for that matter,” the barman continued. “Until today, that is. It’s made headlines.” He wiped his rag around our pint glasses. “Sure, they didn’t think we’d notice it at all here in the west. Hardly worth a mention. But now, they’re saying it will be a once-in-a-lifetime sight not ta be missed.”
I stared back at the television and locked onto the ominous words continuing their taunting dance across the screen.
A DARK DAY IN IRELAND
The final prophecy was set in motion already. We had no choice now but to get back to the tomb. Immediately.
"It's time to go," I said.
Six shaking hands reached to the center of the table and took hold of the pint glasses.
We lifted them up to solidify our pact and saluted. "Slante."
And we downed our pints as if they would be our last.
Moving like a fine-tuned militia, we marched toward the exit of the pub in perfect lockstep. But before reaching the door, Jayne's footsteps fell out of sync at the back of our line. She slowed by the bar and then stopped.
We all paused, just before pushing through the door, and turned to her.
She stared at a woman sitting at the counter, one who had just recently entered the pub. Her gray hair and the slight shake in her hand put her in the same upper age bracket as the barman. The woman had been chatting comfortably with the man behind the counter, like life-long friends reminiscing of the old days. But now, the woman stared at Jayne too.
The shake in the woman's hand grew more visible and she placed her coffee cup down on the bar and then stood. She stepped closer to Jayne.
"Bronagh?" The woman's voice drew out the syllables in a long sound of ‘brone-ah’ that turned my blood cold. "Is that you?"
She stepped closer to Jayne. Unflinching, Jayne stared back at her with a haunting glare.
Then Jayne shook her head and stepped back. "No, I believe you've mistaken me for someone else." The quiver in Jayne's voice proved she was rattled, though.
"But the resemblance. It's incredible." The woman peered into Jayne’s face. "In Ballyconeely. We were school girls." She paused. "But it's impossible. You haven't aged."
Jayne's face fell. "I'm sorry. I'm not who you think." Her head shook as she looked to me for help.
I stepped over to them and took Jayne's arm. "A familiar face can bring back vivid memories," I said to the woman with a gentle tone. "I imagine you have some wonderful stories from your school days." I pulled on Jayne to move with me. "Good day."
The woman followed us as I brought Jayne away from her.
"But the resemblance," she repeated. "Bronagh?" A harrowing desperation grew in her voice. "You went missing. For all these years. And now, you’re here. Unchanged." She reached for Jayne's arm.
I blocked her effort and pushed Jayne into the safety of our friends. They circled around her and moved her out of the pub. I followed through the door and turned back for one more glimpse of the woman.
She stood with wide eyes, jaw dropped open, as she watched Jayne get whisked away. Fear coursed through me from the certainty in her stare. And then came one final whisper from her lips.
"Bronagh."
And I flew out the door.
Chapter 12
With Jayne wedged on top of Maeve and me, we all squeezed in the Jeep and swerved through the narrow roads on our hasty return to the clearing.
Back to finish what we’d started.
The guys threw ideas around and plans for how to approach the labyrinth this time, particularly how to avoid a recurrence of what happened to Ryan. But I let the words wash over me, already knowing how I wanted things to go down.
Through all the chatter, I kept my eyes on Jayne.
I caught her staring into the rearview mirror at her reflection, lost in her own eyes that gazed back at her. I couldn't be sure what was going through her mind, but I figured it had to have something to do with the woman at the pub.
She’d got to Jayne.
Her gaze flinched and she caught me peering at her in the mirror. She shot her head around to me and held my eyes with hers.
“Tell me, Isobel,” she said. “You know something. You’re protecting me like I’m about to shatter.”
My heart rate jumped into my ears and pounded in them. She deserved to know. I couldn’t hide the truth from her any longer.
“What do you remember, Jayne?” I asked her. “How did you end up at the institution?”
She paused and observed the sudden silence of the others. Looking back to me then, she said, “He hurt me.”
My breath stopped short. “Who?” I whispered. “Who hurt you, Jayne?”
She pulled her eyes away from mine and gazed out the window. Then she dropped her head and stared at her knees.
“A man of God,” she murmured. “I was so naïve. I, I didn’t know it was even possible.” She hesitated, then with a voice that grew louder with each syllable, she said, “He tricked me. Made me think I was special.”
I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “You did nothing wrong.”
She lifted her eyes to mine and they pinched tight this time.
“Oh, but I did,” she stated.
Maeve turned to look but Jayne didn’t care. The anger in her narrowed eyes shot daggers, clearing the way for her purge.
<
br /> “Once I realized what was happening,” she continued, “I watched him transform in my eyes from an honorable man of the church to a low-life beast.” She grimaced. “The problem was, he saw the judgment in my eyes. He knew I’d seen his ugly truth and he panicked.”
The Jeep slowed, reducing the jarring bumps to lesser disturbances as all focus fell on Jayne.
She took a long breath and went on. “Before I could get away from him, his hands were around my neck. His weight was on top of me and everything faded to black.” Her voice stuck in her throat. “Bickering voices woke me and from my paralyzed place on the floor, I watched him and a young nun arguing on what to do with me. The nun glared at me like I was a dirty whore.”
Her hand flew to her mouth then in shock.
“Stop the car!” she shouted. “Please! Let me out!” she blasted.
Rory pulled over and jammed on the brakes. We piled out of the back, allowing Jayne a quick exit. She stumbled out into the grass gasping for air.
We gathered around her. Rory grabbed his jacket from the back of the Jeep and placed it over her shoulders.
“I’ll kill that bastard,” he mumbled under his breath. Subtle nods within the group proved we all shared the same vengeful sentiment.
I knelt down next to Jayne and put my arm around her shoulders. She glanced up at me with a terror in her eyes that was only possible from uncovering a long-hidden memory. One that had been suppressed with deliberate intent: to ensure her own survival.
“What is it, Jayne?” I prodded.
Her shoulders quaked in my arm. “The young nun,” she started with a dry, scratchy voice. “Her judging scowl. It was Sister Francis.”
I pulled my arm away and shot up to standing. The shock of the information confused me—and then I thought back to the older woman in the pub who’d recognized Jayne. She called her Bronagh.
This existence—it was Jayne’s limbo.
That man had taken her soul from her, having intended to kill her. But somehow, she lived. Sort of. She’d gotten stuck in between two realms, between the living and the dead. Their only solution was to send her to the island. To hide his sin.
“She told my family I’d caused them unforgivable shame,” Jayne continued. “They were devastated. But then they allowed them to take me. I was sent away to the island.” She looked up at me. “What happened to me, Isobel? Tell me.”
Truth Seer (Irish Mystic Legends Book 3) Page 10