Luke's Gold

by JoMarie DeGioia

  Luke’s Gold

  by

  JoMarie DeGioia

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Bailey Park Publishing at Smashwords

  Copyright © JoMarie DeGioia 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9899801-6-6

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Discover other books by JoMarie DeGioia

  Connect with me online

  Prologue

  Cornwall, England

  The present

  Brianna Wellbrook stroked her little sister’s hair, holding back her tears. And frustration. “There there, Violet.”

  Violet moaned softly and burrowed deeper into the pillow. The child looked so much younger than her seven years. Her cheeks were pale, her body impossibly small in her purple nightgown. Brianna brushed back a thin strand of Violet’s golden hair and tucked it behind one ear. That ear showed the hint of a point, proof of their Pixie heritage.

  Their magic. Brianna whispered a curse. What good was Pixie magic when the family couldn’t make Violet whole and well again?

  For two long months Violet had worsened. For weeks now Brianna had watched her go from a bubbly little girl who merrily used her magic to this wan child who hardly laughed any more.

  Violet’s pretty pink bedroom, once the scene of happy disarray, now seemed austere. The white wooden bed faded from view with no shirts, pants or dresses draped over it. Stuffed animals sat in rows on the floor, ready for Violet to make them dance and move as if alive. Books waited to turn their pages at Violet’s whim, eager to capture the little girl’s nimble mind. Brianna dashed her hands over her face to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Damn it, what could she do?

  Nothing the Pixies tried had worked, not Christian prayers or ancient words.

  Brianna wouldn’t give up hope. She’d been like a mother to Violet for the past five years, from when they’d lost their parents soon after Brianna’s eighteenth birthday. Well, she wouldn’t lose her sister. She couldn’t.

  “Please, God.” Brianna closed her eyes and prayed softly. “Please don’t take

  Violet, too.”

  For one selfish moment she gave in to the tears, to the feeling of impotence, as she wrapped her arms around her middle. The books on the shelves tumbled to the floor in a clattering rush. She opened her eyes and glanced at the mess.

  “Come away from her, Brianna,” Grandmother said.

  Brianna wiped her tears away before turning toward her grandmother standing in the doorway.

  She dropped a kiss on Violet’s cheek and straightened. “I just wish…” Anger filled her again. “Oh, what good is a wish?”

  Grandmother shook her head. “Now, love, don’t feel that way. We haven’t done everything. Not yet.”

  Brianna’s heart raced at her grandmother’s words and she hurried to her side.

  “What is this? Oh, please tell me there’s a spell or glimmer we haven’t tried, Grandmother. Is it strong enough to heal her?”

  Her grandmother looked away, her mouth set. “No,” she said. “There’s nothing so simple as that, I’m afraid.”

  “Simple?” Brianna brushed her hair back from her face and snorted. “Oh, I don’t dare hope for ‘simple.’”

  Grandmother smiled, the expression slight. “Come, love.” She put her arm around Brianna’s shoulders and urged her out of Violet’s room and toward the parlor. “We have to hurry if we’re going to save your sister.”

  Afraid to hope there was an answer, Brianna sat beside her grandmother on the settee. She saw little of the cozy room. The house seemed less alive now, the pall of Violet’s illness leeching the life out of their home. Even her grandmother seemed less vibrant since Violet took ill.

  Brianna twisted her hands in her lap as she closed her eyes, her damp lashes brushing her cheeks. Her stomach churned. “Please tell me what we can do,

  Grandmother. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”

  “Don’t think it, Brianna.” Grandmother rubbed Brianna’s shoulders, easing some of the tension that thrummed through her. “I lost your mother. I only wish we didn’t have to take this step. It could be dangerous.”

  “What step?” Brianna open her eyes, forcing back the urge to latch on to her Grandmother’s cashmere-covered arm and give her a shake. “I don’t care about the danger, Grandmother. Tell me. Please.”

  “I didn’t want to do this, love. I didn’t want you to take this step.” After a long moment, her grandmother faced her. “I made a vow to keep my girls safe and I will.”

  Brianna heard the steel in the woman’s voice, steel she wished she had a portion of to get Violet through this. She studied Grandmother’s dear face then. She could see her past and her future in that face, could see her little sister in her grandmother’s clear blue eyes.

  “Tell me, Grandmother,” Brianna said. “Tell me what I can do.”

  Her grandmother nodded and told Brianna a tale of stolen gold and a crystal key.

  Of a curse forged centuries ago. And a way to possibly heal Violet for good. Her words stunned Brianna. Could it work? Violet’s faint moan came from her bedroom. It had to.

  Chapter 1

  Meath Province, Ireland 1810

  “The lass was merely askin’ me the time, Patrick,” Sean MacDonald said.

  “Leigh wasn’t talkin’ to you at the dance, Sean.” Patrick MacDonald threw down his polishing rag. “Luke, tell him ‘twas me the lass was wantin’. And for more than the time.”

  “‘Tis not my concern, Patrick.” Luke smiled at his brothers. “You and Sean worry it out.”

  Patrick glared at Sean and said nothing. Then he grinned and nudged him hard with his shoulder and the younger brother laughed.

  “Leigh’s sister is bonny,” Sean said.

  Luke laughed to himself. He and his brothers ran the shop together, their work valued by those in the dell and beyond. Shoemakers by trade and enchanted Braunachs by birth, the MacDonalds were known for their keen minds and their charm, able to sway mortals and Faery to their will with little more than a grin and glimmer.

  Luke was the oldest at twenty-seven, but sometimes he felt older still. No lass in the dell drew his heart, not Leigh or her bonny sister surely, and he began to wonder if he’d ever find a girl who wanted him for himself and not his MacDonald charm or fit body. Or his gold.

  Luke set aside his work and cleaned off his bench. “I’ll see you lads at Uncle’s, then.”

  The sun slanted through the trees to the west as Luke walked down the wide cobblestone street that formed the center of their dell. Cozy houses and tidy shops were on either side and Luke nodded greetings to folks he’d known for years. The dell felt safe this spring evening. Then again, no dark magic ever came cl
ose enough to do much

  damage.

  As he turned down the lane toward his uncle’s cottage, he anticipated the coming evening. Ah, Mrs. O’Grady would serve up a hearty meal followed by her delicious biscuits. And after dinner, Uncle Seamus would tell his stories. Those tales drew Luke as much as the fine food.

  As he neared the house, Luke heard a crash from within.

  “Luke!” his uncle shouted.

  Luke ran into the house and found his uncle sitting in the drawing room. White-faced, Seamus clutched the arms of the chair he sat in. Luke glanced at Mrs. O’Grady and the woman shook her head in confusion.

  He looked back at Uncle Seamus. “What is it, Uncle?”

  “She took it, Luke.” Seamus grabbed Luke’s hand and squeezed. “She took the gold.”

  Alarm shot through Luke. The gold?

  “Who, Uncle?” he asked. “Pray, who took the gold?”

  His uncle turned his eyes toward Luke. As Luke watched, the man changed. His eyes went vacant in his face, his mouth, slack. “I’m sorry, lad.”

  * * *

  “What can I do?” Luke muttered as he set the shoe aside. How could he work

  when his family was in trouble? He wiped his hands on a cloth and sighed. Sunlight streamed into the workshop, falling over the cluttered, dusty room. His brothers hadn’t worked in days, but Luke couldn’t blame them.

  Something must be done to heal his uncle. To make things right. It was his job, damn it. He had to be the one to fix this mess. He threw down the cloth. What could he do now?

  “I know where the gold be, MacDonald,” a low voice said from behind him.

  Luke straightened and turned from his workbench. Daniel O’Shey perched on a stool beside the door, his black eyes gleaming just beyond a shaft of sunlight.

  Luke folded his arms across his broad chest and glared down at the Leprechaun from the Ulster Province. “And how do you know this, O’Shey?”

  Daniel’s round face wore a distasteful grin. “Wot difference that be makin’, MacDonald?” He winked. “I… persuaded the Cornish Pixies to tell me where she took the gold.”

  Luke could imagine the tactics the little imp had employed. Ulster Leprechauns weren’t known for their cunning or their kindness. Luke was tempted to use his Braunach charm on Daniel, to bend him to his will, but he couldn’t take the risk of sending him away before he revealed all of it. Damn it, he needed the information O’Shey possessed.

  He had to keep his emotions in check. For Uncle Seamus.

  Luke took a deep breath. “What do you want, O’Shey?”

  The little man’s eyes glittered and Luke knew the answer.

  “Me share,” Daniel said. “When ya’ find the Pixie, ya’ give me a share o’ the gold.”

  Luke weighed his request for a moment. His uncle needed the gold. But surely not all of it. He would worry about that later, when he had the gold in his hands.

  He nodded at the Leprechaun. “Where?”

  Daniel chortled. “The question be that, ‘tis true.” He hopped down off the stool and sauntered so close Luke could smell the swamp on his wrinkled clothes. “But ya’

  must also ask, ‘when?’”

  Luke spat out a string of curses. A time jump. There was only one man able to assist Luke’s leap to recover the gold: the very one whose diminishing mind needed it so

  desperately. Uncle Seamus.

  The theft of the gold meant more to the MacDonalds than a loss of wealth. Luke had to recover it, and he needed his uncle’s amber pendant to accomplish that. A time jump, though? Resignation soured his belly.

  “When then, you filthy imp?” Luke asked.

  Daniel scowled, an ugly expression on his round face. He crossed his thick, short arms. “Maybe I won’t be tellin’ ya’!”

  Luke grabbed him by his fat neck and held him aloft until Daniel’s eyes bulged from his balding head.

  “Okay,” Daniel croaked. “I’ll tell ya’!”

  Luke dropped him to the floor. Daniel barely muttered the words he needed to hear before Luke tore out of the workshop, bound for his uncle’s cottage.

  He pulled open the door and rushed into the drawing room. “Patrick?” He

  slammed the door shut. “Patrick, damn it!”

  Patrick stepped into the room, dragging his hands over his face. “Aye, Luke,” he grumbled. “I’m here.”

  Patrick’s clothes were rumpled and if Luke didn’t miss his guess they were the same ones he’d had on the day before. Luke knew his brothers felt their uncle’s illness keenly, but Patrick’s appearance struck him as strange.

  “What the devil ails you, brother?” Luke asked.

  Patrick’s blue eyes widened a fraction before his gaze slid away from Luke. “I… I did not sleep well last night.”

  Luke could read the exhaustion on his brother’s face, in the lines around his mouth and the dullness of his skin.

  “The nightmares again?” he asked.

  Patrick began to shake his head, then lowered his gaze to the floor. He sank into one of the overstuffed chairs that flanked the stone hearth and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

  “Patrick, what—?” He shook his head. “Nay. I don’t have time for this.” He glanced past his brother toward the bed chambers. “How is Uncle Seamus?”

  “The same.” Patrick glanced up again, his brows drawn together. “He’s just starin’ out the window, hummin’ some tune to himself.”

  Leaving Patrick in the drawing room, Luke went in to see his uncle. Seamus lay there in his bed, looking half the man he was before. His face was no longer ruddy with good health, his eyes were no longer a deep green sparkling with knowledge and humor.

  Nay, those eyes stared right through Luke and he stifled a shiver.

  “Uncle Seamus?” Luke stepped closer to the bed. “‘Tis I, Uncle. Luke.”

  Seamus said nothing as he turned to stare at the yard beyond his window. Luke swallowed hard and sat beside his uncle. “I know where the gold is, Uncle.” He took Seamus’s slack hand in his. “Your gold.”

  Seamus gave a start and pinned Luke with a gaze sharp and clear. “She took it, Luke. You must find it and bring it home.”

  Luke’s heart pounded. This was his uncle as he knew him, strong and vibrant.

  “Aye, Uncle.”

  But Seamus turned away again, his green eyes clouded. He was gone so quickly that Luke could almost have imagined the man’s impassioned words. That was it, then.

  Luke had no choice but to take the leap.

  “I will bring back the treasure, Uncle,” he whispered. “On my word as a Meath Braunach.” His eyes burned with tears and his chest grew tight. “As a MacDonald.”

  He rose and returned to the drawing room. “There’s a connection between Uncle

  Seamus and the gold, Patrick,” he said. “I know it in my heart. The treasure must be recovered.”

  Patrick straightened. “How, pray?”

  Luke raked his fingers through his hair. Nothing but the truth would serve now, a part of it any way. He didn’t want to involve any innocent Pixies if he could help it, and Patrick had a temper to rival Daniel’s. “O’Shey told me where the gold is.”

  “Nay,” Patrick said. “Where?”

  “The future, brother,” Luke said. “A place called Indianapolis, in the Colonies some two hundred years from now.”

  Patrick just stared at Luke, his eyes wide. Then he gave a slow nod. “The amber.”

  Luke nodded with a jerk. “Aye, the amber. I’ve no interest in flying through space with only a thin slice of amber for protection. ‘Tis the only way.”

  Patrick stood and placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Go, then, and be safe.

  We’ll be fine ‘til you come back with the gold.”

  Luke wrapped his brother in a rough hug then crossed to his uncle’s wooden desk set in one corner of the room. A box set on the top held money from the different times their uncle had visited over the years. Luke chose money wh
ich read “United States of America,” printed a few years earlier than the one O’Shey had said. He shoved a large stack of the bills into his pocket then pulled open a tiny drawer set deep into one side of the desk. Inside rested the amber, a smooth pierced disk the size of a gold coin suspended on a strip of supple leather. He lifted it and, as a shaft of light struck it, the amber winked at him. A jolt shot through him and his hand shook. That had never happened before.

  Luke tied the leather thong around his neck and dropped the amber down his shirt.

  The disk was cool as it settled against his skin. He gave Patrick a nod before stepping out of the cottage. Without another look behind him he headed into the woods, to the clearing

  in the forest.

  To the future.

  Chapter 2

  Luke stood in the clearing, one hand clutching his uncle’s amber. The stone felt smooth and warm against his palm now and he loosened his grip. He’d never used the pendant, had only heard Seamus’s stories about his many trips to places and times far from Ireland, far from now. The amber had been in the MacDonald family as long as the gold, and Luke believed it could track the treasure. He prayed it would.

  He heard a rustling in the trees to his left and turned to the sound but saw nothing but shifting shadows, the underbrush swaying in an unseen wind. The sun dappled the grass at his feet, a breeze crossed his face, and Luke closed his eyes. He reasoned a prayer wouldn’t be out of place and prayed that God would keep his family safe. The Lord knew he’d take all the help he could get.

  He gripped the amber tightly. “To the gold,” he murmured.

  A shock went through him. A rushing sound filled his ears and he felt the earth tremble beneath his booted feet. The earth began to spin, whirling until he was almost too dizzy to stand. His stomach clenched and then… nothing.

  A blackness filled his senses, void of sound and light and sensation. In the next moment he found himself on his backside as the world tilted then righted itself. He opened his eyes and sucked in a great breath.