And then we landed on our feet.
My hair settled around my shoulders. My weight pulled down on me, causing me to exert effort to remain upright. The bright light of the journey faded then and all went black.
"Is everyone okay?" I whispered.
"Yes," they each said.
Our hands found one another on the surface of the altar.
"My headlamp won't work," Ryan said.
"Mine either," Paul agreed.
I fumbled in my pockets and pulled out a lighter.
"Fire," I said as I ran my finger along the metal wheel to spark the lighter into flame. "It's the most ancient form of light and actually seems most appropriate right now."
Paul glanced around the catacomb with a nervous eye. "I'm still not entirely convinced we won't be followed."
I moved the glow of my flame alongside the altar to where I had etched an additional carving with my blade.
"There," I said, illuminating my marking. "It's a distraction. A decoy." I paused as Paul moved in for a closer look. "It will be misinterpreted by anyone, besides a truth seer, who tries to break the code. They won't be able to unlock the power of the portal. No matter how hard they try."
"They’ll read it wrong," Paul murmured, recognizing my slight variation to the system of the code. “Genius.”
I lifted the light of the flame higher, illuminating the space within the catacombs. Small burial chamber doors lined the far side and skulls filled the spaces between them. I walked over to the far wall and moved my lighter all along it. I found no evidence of a seam or a doorway of any kind.
Maeve pressed her back into the wall in the exact spot we had before. Nothing shifted. Nothing moved.
"It doesn't exist," she said. "There's nothing beyond this wall."
I exhaled for miles and heard the same relief come from the others.
"Let's go," I said. "We need to see what's happening above."
With nervous energy sparking from every part of us, we moved through the tunnel to the feet of the guardians. Our bags and rain gear sat in piles around the statues, and my heart rate tripled.
"We're definitely back." I released the air I’d been holding since the altar, and then looked toward the passageway that led up to the clearing. "Time to go up. Like rebirth into a new day," I said with hope.
I entered the narrow passage with the others close behind me. We pressed and squeezed our way through the uneven, slippery crevice.
At the top, I wiggled and pulled myself out. A strange yellowish light filled the air. And there, in the center of the clearing, Rory and Jayne huddled together on the ground, holding each other in what looked like a final embrace.
I glanced up into the sky, and there, to my horror, I saw a dark shadow passing across the face of the sun. Looking away to avoid damage to my sight, I gasped.
"Hurry!" I called to them as I reached for Maeve and helped pry her out. Then I helped Ryan and Paul.
Just as the last of us squeezed out of the crevice, the light changed from a strange yellow haze to a softer bright glow.
The four of us fell into the clearing with a loud tumble, causing Rory and Jayne to look up. They gasped at the sight of us and jumped up in elation.
Looking skyward again, I noticed the dark shadow over the sun had changed course. The moon had shifted ever so slightly in its orbit, allowing a thin edge of the sun to remain uncovered, and therefore, there was no moment of pure darkness.
It was almost a full eclipse. An untrained eye may have called it such. But we knew better. And we basked in the light of a new day.
Rory and Jayne ran to us and threw their arms around us in an embrace of pure joy. The six of us huddled together in the clearing, grateful for our second chance and grateful for each other.
We'd stopped the total eclipse.
The final prophecy had been intercepted.
Intercepted by a long overdue change of heart.
One that resonated through the centuries.
And the curse was broken.
Epilogue
Rory and Jayne pulled away from the joyous, shivering huddle first. Their blinking, disbelieving eyes proved they had resigned themselves to the worst. They had embraced each other in the center of the clearing in a final farewell as darkness crossed the surface of the sun. At any moment, they knew they would turn to dust and blow away in the shadows of the wind.
"We were sure something went wrong," Rory started with a tremble in his voice. "The eclipse. It wouldn't stop. And the light, it just kept fading."
Paul lifted his head. "Did you think about going through the portal? Ya know, to escape it?"
Rory's head shook with certainty. "Nah. Not even for a second."
Jayne smiled at him.
"I couldn't chance it," Rory continued. "Jayne too. We made a pact." He looked at her with a gentle smile and took her hand in his. "We trusted you would succeed. Even if it took to the very last minute. And we decided not to fook with fate." He chuckled. "We left that ta ye arse holes."
I watched the subtle, but intimate, exchanges between them.
"So, what's the rest of the pact?" I asked. "I figure the first part is, 'we trust that they will succeed and when they do we...' What's the rest of it?" I pressed.
Jayne's face lit up, illuminating her magnificent beauty. "We go after the nuns."
The blood drained from my head the moment her words entered it.
Somehow, the nuns scared me more than anything I'd faced in the labyrinth.
With a sly, sinister smile, she added, "And you're going to help me."
Scientific reports littered our social media with the bafflement of the most astute astronomers. First, their last minute prediction of a total eclipse. Then the sudden, subtle change of trajectory of the course of the moon. They were blaming faulty equipment and erroneous calculations.
But we knew the truth.
Something had...shifted.
Everything had shifted.
And the shift brought new balance to all of the world around us, particularly to my soul.
It ached for my father. For my brother. But they had new hope now for a better life. And my life was here with Gram and Declan. That choice had been made for me long ago and even when given the opportunity to change it, I didn't. I never would. This was my home. These people were my family now.
Ryan and I waited on the granite steps of the courthouse, exhausted from everything we’d been through, but content.
"I'm so proud of what you did," he said. "Facing them in there was intense. I don’t know how you did it."
I had to admit, seeing Sister Francis and Sister Margaret in the courtroom was enough to turn my stomach. It just didn't seem right for nuns to be on trial. My entire upbringing was about respecting religious clergy to the point of no question. Full trust.
But sadly, I had been burned by that trust. Scarred deeply.
My intent in the prosecution was to be sure no other children were harmed by the twisted rules of an outdated order. I clung to the honorable code of the Druids instead. Peace and serenity for all. That was the code I would live my life by.
Jayne and Rory walked down the sprawling stairs of the courthouse and sat with us. Jayne exhaled loudly as she plopped down.
"It didn't feel as good as I hoped it would," she said. "But I know it was right."
"It will feel better as time goes," Rory added. "Each passing day will make you stronger and you'll always know in your heart you did the right thing."
Paul and Maeve climbed the stairs to where we sat, carrying cardboard trays that held hot coffee for all of us. We jumped on them as if they held the only water in a barren desert.
"So, that's it," Paul said with confidence. "They say the institution will be shut down."
Jayne and I nodded with satisfaction.
"Well, not completely," he added. "The sentencing of the guilty includes staying on the island for quiet reflection on what they have done. They are not to be moved to their next m
ission until they are able to articulate understanding of their sins."
Jayne coughed on her own spit, causing a small scene as she reeled back from the shock of justified retribution against the church.
"The county council will have quite a bill ta pay," he added. "The part where you demanded shelter and higher education for every girl they held in there, Isobel...that was incredible."
"I just wanted to be sure they would have a place to go," I said. "And an education to ensure they could take care of themselves."
"I've volunteered to help create the program," Paul added. "The university has the housing and the courses to support it." He smiled. "It will be good."
Maeve reached her arm through his and squeezed it.
Just in that moment of tenderness, the large doors of the courthouse pushed open and uniformed bailiffs ushered a small group down the side of the grandiose stairs.
My jaw dropped as I caught a glimpse of Sister Francis. Her stiff scowl had turned to one of repentance and reflection.
Then came Sister Margaret. Her shoes clomped on the stairs, sending a familiar chill through my spine. Her eyes met mine through the movements of the group and the judgment in her harsh glare hadn't wavered one bit. The only difference this time was, it didn't hurt me.
I shot a glare of judgement back to her, one that I knew would stick, as it was hard earned and well deserved.
Then, hidden at the back of the pack, came an onlooker who followed them closely. She tried to remain hidden behind the group, but the flash of blonde hair couldn't be denied.
Patricia. Paul’s ex.
Her nervous movements and sunken shoulders proved her defeat. She's supported the nuns’ initiatives from the start. Right up until the end. But she was on the losing team.
I glanced at Paul to see if he noticed her.
His eyes moved from her anxious position behind the group to mine. He blinked slowly, as if saying a final farewell. And then his arm moved around Maeve and pulled her into him.
Maeve had made peace with her new existence while she was in the labyrinth. Images of Rí had haunted her since her return from the deep past but in the mysticism of the maze, she parted her two worlds in peace and love. She would always have a part of Rí with her, deep within her heart.
But here. Now. She had Paul.
And she had always loved him.
I believed their story now had the opportunity to play out fully.
And I was glad.
Mother Maureen and Gram met us back at the cottage for tea and scones. The warm space came alive with the sound of our voices rejoicing in our victory.
As we recounted every detail of our adventures and the finality of the courthouse rulings, we settled into the inviting comfort of being together.
Ryan took my hand and pulled me toward the door.
"There's something I want to do," he said.
I followed him out onto the lawn, allowing the cool mist of the sea air to wash over me.
I glanced around, searching for lurking shadows or intruding witch hunters, but all was silent.
"We won't be seeing Mrs. Flannery anymore." Ryan pulled my attention back to him. "You have nothing to worry about now. Her squad is gone. She's scared to death she'll be next. I don't expect we'll be seeing even a hint of her ever again." He reached his arms around my waist and pulled me close.
I tensed, not used to being able to share our affection out in the open. I'd been programmed so deeply to hide it. To hide everything I truly was.
But I didn't have to do that any more.
The hunt was over.
And Ryan wanted to show me that.
I reached around his neck and smiled into his handsome face. Our eyes met and we danced in each other’s blissful thoughts.
And then he kissed me.
It was a kiss that filled me up from my toes to the top of my head. My heart nearly burst from his touch and I allowed myself to get lost in him.
Completely.
The end.
If you want more, be sure to click a few pages ahead for a sample of BOHERMORE, book one of the Pirate Queen Series - the story of Maeve.
www.jenniferrosemcmahon.com
Afterword
I hope you enjoyed the epic finale of the Irish Mystic Legends series, Truth Seer.
If you want to read more about Maeve’s story, as well as Paul and Rory, and to see Isobel when she was younger, be sure to click a few pages to begin a sample of Bohermore, Book One of the Pirate Queen series. This series is the story of what happened before the Irish Mystic Legends unfolded and will have you page-turning well into the wee hours.
Be sure to visit my website for more information and buy links.
Thank you!
www.jenniferrosemcmahon.com
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Also by Jennifer Rose McMahon
PIRATE QUEEN SERIES
Bohermore, Book One
Inish Clare, Book Two
Ballycroy, Book Three
Rockfleet, Novella (Book 2.5)
IRISH MYSTIC LEGENDS SERIES
Legend Hunter, Book One
Curse Raider, Book Two
Truth Seer, Book Three
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Naomi Hughes for her amazing editing super powers and for supporting my growth as an author through seven books, so far!
Thank you to Rebecca Frank for her fabulous book covers.
Thank you to Rebecca Hamilton for being a master writing coach.
Thank you to my family for all the love and support around what it takes to write books. Love to the McMahon Clan and the O’Malley Clan. :)
About the Author
Jennifer Rose McMahon is a USA Today Bestselling Author who has been creating her Pirate Queen series and Irish Mystic Legends series since her college days abroad in Ireland. Her passion for Irish legends, ancient cemeteries, and medieval ghost stories has fueled her adventurous story telling, while her husband’s decadent brogue carries her imagination through the centuries. When she’s not in her own world writing about castles and curses, she can be found near Boston in the local coffee shop, yoga studio, or at the beach…most often answering to the name ‘Mom’ by her fab children four.
For more information
www.jenniferrosemcmahon.com
[email protected]
Sample of Bohermore, Book One of the Pirate Queen Series
Chapter One
The Hunt
Clawing up the steep hill, slipping on loose gravel, I cursed the new rip in my favorite jeans as I vanished into the town cemetery. Every inch of the place was familiar, from the oldest tombstone to the freshest newcomer. It used to be a playground to me for as long as I could remember; hide and seek grew into manhunt, sniffing fresh-laid flowers in the sun turned into stargazing in the black night sky. But it was different now.
My feet dragged through the old section of the graveyard, passing the centuries-old stones of early Massachusetts settlers. The thin slate hand-carved headstones, some cracked or fallen, leaned toward me, straining to be noticed.
I slipped past the World War II monument, avoiding eye contact with the weathered bust-sculpture of some famous general. His eyes supposedly possessed your soul if you looked directly into them. It always gave me that unsettling feeling like I was being watched, so I moved with purpose, flinching at every little sound. I kept focus, past the cannons and into the new section of thick granite stones, shiny on the front, rough on the back, all the same.
The straight rows were packed tight with cold efficiency, draining the warmth of the old section from my core and replacing it with the chill of mass-produced memorials. I shimmied through to the far edge, avoiding stepping directly on any plots, especially ones with fresh-cut sod because, well, the possessed thing again. You’re just not supposed to.
Grateful to be somewhat on the outskirts of the grid, I found my mother’s grassy pa
tch by the young maple that shaded it.
“Hi, Mom,” I whispered as I dropped to my knees in front of her, looking around to be sure I was alone—wondering if every time I looked up, whatever it was that was out there hid, with stealth timing. “I’m gonna hang out with you for a little while. I think I need your help.” I paused and tried not to feel dumb.
I plucked the dead leaves from the pot of pansies my grandparents had left and gently pulled a tuft of grass away from the base of her stone to be sure my senior picture was still buried there.
“It’s like something’s wrong with me,” I mumbled. The comment seeped out of my mouth like the sick bile that was churning in my stomach. “Like something’s following me…or someone. I don’t know.”
I flashed back to the smell of wind and rain, the echo of words spoken just out of my hearing. I’d been having the feeling more and more lately—not quite the disturbing visions I had before Mom’s death six years ago, but subtle reminders of them.
“Mom, it’s my awake dream. The scary wind, the screams, everything. It’s coming back. I can feel it. And now that you’re gone, I think I’m next.”
My heart palpitated in my chest. Hearing my harrowing words made it all the more real. My grandparents and the doctors—they’d all claimed Mom’s death was caused by a “heart condition.” But I knew better. I knew the truth. It was behind their hushed whispers, behind their tears, behind the hands brushing me away from grown-up talk. My awake dream killed my mother. She was always in the visions, being pulled away from me into the mist. And now…now, it was my turn.
“Am I going crazy?” My exhale expelled resignation and even submission as my hands pulled across my face and into my hair. “I just need to know everything’s okay. Like there’s not really anything wrong. Can’t you just give me a sign?”
Truth Seer (Irish Mystic Legends Book 3) Page 17