by Sharon Wray
“Rafe?” Nate strode over, his face one hard glare. “We have a problem.”
“Shit.” Rafe took Juliet’s elbow, and she stood. “Time to go.”
That’s when she noticed men around them. All staring at Rafe.
Chapter 36
Rafe knew every man standing. Three Toban brothers and their four sons. Six Marigny brothers. Four Mercer cousins. Six Boudreaux men. Two Legares. And two Prioleaus—the poorer Prioleaus. “Nate?”
“Yeah?” Nate came up next to Rafe so they stood shoulder to shoulder.
“Let me handle this. And watch out for the women.”
“You sure, bro?”
“Yes.” Rafe didn’t want anyone involved in any more of his life’s shit than necessary. Once Nate backed up two steps, Rafe met the gaze of the biggest badass of the group, Francois Marigny. One of Rafe’s many second cousins. “Frankie. You look…concerned.”
“Concerned?” Francois spat. “What the hell you doin’ here, Rafe? You’re supposed to be in prison. You know, with the other fucking traitors.”
The other men murmured, some inched closer. Frankie’s youngest brother, Etienne, in a black hoodie, protected Frankie’s left side. Etienne’s long, narrow nose, flanked by beady black eyes, looked like a steak knife sticking out of his thin, angular face.
Rafe moved in front of Juliet, while Nate covered Sarah. “I’m here to see my wife.”
Francois’s gaze slid to Juliet. His brown eyes brightened. “She doesn’t belong to you anymore. We heard you ditched her.”
Rafe fisted his hands. “Since when do you listen to gossip?”
Etienne spoke up. “We don’t want trouble. We just don’t want you here.”
“And I don’t want you here,” Juliet said from behind him.
The men laughed.
Juliet pushed Rafe aside. “Boudreaux’s is on my land. I can invite or disinvite anyone I want. Permanently.”
“You gonna let your woman fight for you?” Francois taunted. “We heard how you beat up my nephew Eddie yesterday. Kid was so terrified he pissed his pants.”
“I did not,” Eddie said from the back.
Rafe crossed his arms over his chest. “Eddie was trespassing, about to be snake food. And my woman can fend for herself. Gerald made sure of that.”
Francois reached out to touch her hair. “Is that a threat?”
Rafe pulled up Francois by his T-shirt until his feet dangled. “You touch my wife again, you’ll regret it.”
“I ain’t afraid of you,” Francois sneered. “And the next time you touch my kin—”
Rafe tossed Francois onto the table. His back smashed the shrimp baskets, and the sweet tea splashed in three different directions. “If any of the assholes from your family trespasses on Capel land again or looks at my wife, he’ll answer to me. And it will hurt.”
“Hey.” Tommy ran over. “Rafe, let him go.”
Grady took Juliet’s arm. “I think you and your man should leave.”
Juliet shrugged him off. “They started it.”
“Probably,” Tommy said, “but it’d be better if you left. You know, until people forget?”
Rafe let go and glared at Tommy. “That I betrayed everyone I love?”
“Yeah.”
“Except we won’t ever forget what you did, Rafe.” Francois, now splattered with tea, scrambled to stand again. “You disrespected the uniform. Abandoned your men. Betrayed your wife.”
Etienne added, “Prison was too good for you.”
Juliet moved into the center of the scene. Despite her shorter stature, her glare reminded Rafe of her daddy at his angriest. From the way the others backed away, they remembered too.
“If you can’t be civil, I’ll shut down Boudreaux’s like my daddy always wanted.” With a toss of her braid, she walked away as if she were queen of the Isle. Which, considering she owned more than half of it, was kind of true.
Rafe’s heart swelled with pride. Juliet, in her white dress and with blazing brown eyes, had taken on almost every man on the Isle.
Sarah followed Juliet while Nate protected Rafe’s back. Everyone else returned to their tables.
“Come on, Rafe.” Tommy grabbed his shoulder. “We need to talk.”
Although Rafe never walked away from fights, he and Nate followed Tommy. Whatever the deputy had to say, he’d better use few words. Juliet was waiting.
* * *
Juliet fell against the truck. The metal’s heat burned through her dress. The Isle’s summer sounds, which used to comfort her, now made her irritable.
“Juliet?” She opened her eyes to find Sarah nearby, her arms wrapped around herself. “Are you selling your land?”
“Yes.” Juliet waved toward the men staring at her. “There’s no reason not to.”
“I may be an outsider, but even I know that if a developer turns your land into a resort with golf courses and condos, it’ll change the Isle.”
Juliet crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s Wednesday afternoon, and half of the Isle’s inhabitants are here.”
“Hunting, fishing, and construction work happen in the early hours. That’s how these men make their living. I also know from the Habersham sisters how these men treated your father.” Sarah pointed at Tommy, who had Rafe up against the cooking shack while Nate appeared to be reasoning with them. “How unkind they were to you. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a part of this place. Considering you own more than fifty percent of the Isle, what you do will change the lives of everyone living here.”
“That’s quite a guilt trip.” Juliet rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “Since I can’t find the King’s Grants, it probably won’t matter.”
Sarah glanced at Rafe and Nate again before going to a black car, with its engine running, parked a few feet away.
Was that Calum’s Bentley? With Ivers asleep in the front seat?
When Sarah returned, she handed Juliet a canvas messenger bag. “This is for you.”
Juliet took it, surprised at the weight. “What is it?”
“It’s a book I borrowed from your father’s trunk. It belongs to you.”
Juliet pulled it out. The leather was so old and worn it left her hand covered in orange dust. “Hume’s History of England? It looks old.”
“It is.”
Juliet flipped through the pages until finding the chapter marked with a velvet ribbon. “Ancient Order of Druid Priests and Warriors.” It was written in Old English. She also found a loose paper with scrawled writing on it. Her daddy’s handwriting.
All warriors tithe until death. No way out.
Extreme self-discipline: daily training, fasting, penance, celibacy, speak in well-mannered verse; courteous; memorize twelve books of Gaelic poetry; fluent in Latin; keep a journal; must learn how to walk.
Vows: to protect women, children, noncombatants; cut all ties to previous life; give up own life for a fellow warrior; hunt down/kill rogue mercenaries; serve one master.
Twelve floggings: one every month
If vows are broken, lives of recruit and all of his loved ones are forfeit.
Must survive the Hunt while naked. Must submit to the Gauntlet.
“After reading this book,” Sarah said softly, almost conspiratorially, “I started researching the Fianna. They existed during Anne’s time, a fact confirmed by that window inscription. It sounds crazy, but it’s possible they still exist. It’s also possible they want to either use your lily as a weapon or prevent it from being used as such.”
“It’s not crazy.” Juliet shoved the book into the bag and put it in the car beneath her seat. “The sisters mentioned other documents in my daddy’s trunk. Do you know anything about those?”
“Gerald brought some documents for me to look at. The maps were incredibly fragile. He refused to leave
them with me to study, and I have no idea what he did with them. If you find the maps, though, I’d love to get another look at them.”
“I’ll let you know,” Juliet said. “Hopefully I’ll find the grants as well.”
Sarah brushed a stray hair off her cheek and stared down at the ground. “I know your father and you forbade anyone going out to the cemetery on your property—”
Juliet touched Sarah’s arm. “I can’t allow anyone out there right now. A man was murdered yesterday, and they haven’t caught the killer. But if things change”—like if Juliet built a real road and people stopped dying on her property—“I’ll take you there myself.”
Sarah nodded. “I’d appreciate that.” She glanced at the men again before asking softly, “What do you know about Nate? He seems nice but…troubled.”
Considering Nate’s uncertain future and complicated past, Juliet didn’t know what to say. Mostly, she wanted to spare Sarah the kind of heartache that came with loving men like Rafe or Nate. Men torn between the families they loved and their need to prove themselves. Their desire for love and their instinct to protect. Then Juliet remembered how Nate had helped beat up Deke, how carefully Nate carried Miss Beatrice out of the restaurant, and his plan to protect Sarah from the cemetery. “Nate has a good heart. He’s honorable and protective.” As Juliet said the words, she realized they weren’t just true, she actually believed them. “He’s a man worth loving.”
Sarah gave her a half smile. “Thanks.”
Juliet nodded and noticed Rafe and Nate striding toward them. Despite Rafe’s size, he moved in that weightless, graceful way she’d become accustomed to.
“The book mentions that Fianna warriors fall to the ground,” Sarah said, “repeatedly, until their movements lose stiffness. As if bones, muscles, and tendons are stretched and realigned.”
Floggings. Gauntlet. Hunt. What else had Rafe suffered while he’d been gone?
He stopped close enough for his breath to tickle her ear. “Let’s go.”
“You didn’t hit Tommy.” Juliet stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’m proud of you.”
Rafe grinned. “You’re a good influence.”
Nate came up next to Sarah, holding a red Solo cup. “I think it’s time to wake Ivers. I promised him some lemonade for the drive home.”
Sarah nodded at Juliet. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I wish you luck with your search for Anne’s Lament.”
Juliet and Rafe shared a confused glance. “Anne’s Lament?” Juliet asked.
“Yes.” Sarah hiked her straw bag higher on her shoulder until Nate took it from her. “That’s what historians call the legend of Anne Capel and the forty-four children. They even say she’s protected by three archangels.”
Juliet squeezed Rafe’s hand. “That’s what Sebastian said. Do you remember?”
Rafe nodded.
“Who the hell is Sebastian?” Nate asked.
“Cemetery trespasser from years ago,” Rafe said, “looking for Anne’s Lament.”
“Greeeaaaat,” Nate said. “More competition.”
“Excuse me?” Sarah looked at all three of them.
Nate shook his head. “Never mind. We should leave.”
After they said their goodbyes, Nate took Sarah’s arm and led her to the car.
Once Ivers drove away, Juliet said, “Sebastian was looking for the vial.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he was a Fianna warrior?”
Rafe stayed silent a long time, his breathing strong and steady.
“Rafe?” She tugged his arm. “When you were sixteen, did you make a vow to a Fianna warrior to save me and Calum?”
Rafe’s exhale was explosive. “Apparently so.”
“What do we do now?”
“We need to go to where we last saw Sebastian. We need to visit Anne Capel’s tomb.”
Chapter 37
Rafe parked the truck as close as he could to the cemetery and opened Juliet’s door. They’d stopped by Pops’s trailer to get the cemetery keys and switch cars. While there, she’d changed into the jeans, T-shirt, and field jacket she’d thrown into the car before coming out to the Isle. Rafe had also found snake boots in the barn.
He got out and opened her door.
“I wish I hadn’t forgotten my own boots,” Juliet said. “These are too big.”
He scrounged through the back of the pickup and found Gerald’s duffel while Juliet adjusted the boots with ladybug faces painted on the toes.
He concentrated on the weapons. “My momma loved ladybugs.”
“I miss her,” Juliet said softly.
“I miss her, too.” He’d take the shotgun, his handgun, the machete, and two knives. “Do you have your gun?”
“In the pocket of my field coat.”
“Good.” Although it was beastly hot, they understood the risks of traveling on foot without jackets and boots. He slipped on his field jacket and loaded up with ammo and flashlights. He gave her a backpack he’d filled with water and more ammo. Once he slung the shotgun onto his back and held the machete ready, he took her hand and led the way.
A minute later, she said, “Is it true you were flogged once a month?”
He stopped and stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Sarah gave me a book. It had a chapter on ancient Druid warriors.”
Rafe’s snort startled nearby birds. “Hume’s History of England?”
“How’d you know?”
He shook his head and kept walking. “I’ve read it. And no, I wasn’t flogged every month for a year. I can’t imagine how that’d go over with the brotherhood.”
“What about the Hunt? What’s that about?”
“Juliet—”
“This situation can’t get much worse, and I’ve a right to know.”
She had a point, and he was tired of being evasive. “The Hunt is the last training period before a recruit is accepted into the brotherhood. He’s chased through the woods in the middle of winter, naked, with a staff as a weapon. And his hair, which he was forced to grow during the training period, is plaited.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how they did things during Roman times. He has to hide, evade, and take out as many hunters as possible. Every branch he breaks and noise he makes, even each hair that’s out of place, is counted against him. But, eventually, he’s captured. Then he’s buried up to his chest in a pit with his nondominant arm free and uses the staff to fight off twelve men. If he wins, he’s dug up and allowed to enter the Gauntlet.”
“You’re buried naked?”
He glanced at her concerned frown. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not the fact that he’s being attacked by twelve highly trained men at the same time and only has one arm and it’s freezing cold?”
“That’s bad too. But weren’t you worried about bugs?”
He laughed out loud. “I thought you’d be impressed. Instead you’re worried about spiders crawling up my a—”
She covered his mouth with her hand. “Don’t be crude. And I am impressed. Just wondering why that kind of training is necessary.” Her head tipped to the side. “Since you’re a warrior, I suppose you passed this training?”
He smiled wide. “Yep. Wish you’d been there. I was totally buff and hot.”
She passed him. “You’re impossible.”
“And still hot.”
She laughed, and the tightness in his chest dissipated. He’d never talked about these things. Not even with Escalus, and they’d trained together. Yet bringing them out into the open made the horror seem less…horrible. Maybe that’d been the point of the secrecy. Once you release the memories, they lost their power.
When they reached the headless archangel in the center of the cemetery, Rafe turned left. It was a twenty-yard direct
line from St. Michael to the iron doors of Anne’s crypt. Rafe gave her the keys, and she flipped through the ring until finding the right one.
The doors opened easily, and he slipped the padlock into his coat pocket, trading it for a flashlight. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She threw the keys into her backpack, found her light, and used her bag to prop open the door. “Let’s do this quickly.”
He switched on the light and went in. Dust motes scattered through the beam, and his boots left impressions in the dirty floor. Juliet coughed next to him. A marble tomb lay in the center. Four pillars stood in the corners, three holding urns. “I don’t see anything unusual.”
“The urn I broke is gone.”
He swung the flashlight around. “There’s no place to hide anything in here.”
She tilted one of the urns to look inside. Then the other two. “They’re empty.”
They met over Anne’s tomb, and she wiped off the dust on Anne’s crypt, exposing a carving of her lily. “Do you think there’s anything in here?”
He laid down the machete, knelt, and ran a hand around the marble edges. “It’s sealed.” He used the light to trace around the bottom. It was a solid piece with no joints or obvious openings. “I can’t imagine anything was buried with Anne. That’d mean someone else would’ve been in on her secret.”
“You’re afraid to open it.”
He glanced at her and caught her smile. “I’m not big on desecrating burial sites.”
She moved to kneel next to him. “I can’t wait to tell Samantha you believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts. I just don’t want to see another dead body.”
Her smile fell away, and she touched his cheek. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her hand. “Have there been many?” Her voice sounded soft and far away.
He opened his eyes and met the brown gaze he’d dreamed about for the past eight years. “Too many.”
She kissed him gently on the lips. “I’m sorry.”