Authors: Kathy Morgan
“Now, with your permission, I will review the written record of the
Geis.
‘Tis the hasty scribblings of a
de Danann
bard as the Formorian High Priest screamed out the curse from the hull of his sinking ship. Although we’ve studied the scroll countless times in the past, I ask for your patience. Perhaps, our joint scrutiny will reveal something we’ve missed. Something that might aid us in deciding the grave matter before us with wisdom.”
MacDara carefully emptied a tube-like casing made of bronze and a sheepskin parchment, yellowed with age, slid into his hand. An inscription authenticating the document had been set to the page by the hand of the Grand Chieftain of the Túatha de Danann during the first meeting of the Council, some time circa 1000 BC.
As MacDara began to encapsulate the lengthy formal document Council members settled back in their seats, eyes closed. “The record begins by explaining the immutable terms of the Enchantment, before moving on to quote, as accurately as possible, the incantation intoned by the Formorian Archdruid:
“The
Geis
was to remain in effect and unalterable for a period of three thousand years,” MacDara went on. “If at the end of the third millennium the terms of its dissolution have not been met, it is to become immutable for all time. However, as the perfection of all things, since the beginning of time, has come in multiples of three, the destruction of all things by the power of the Evil One requires a waiting period of three thousand years.
“Sorry,” Sean interjected hesitantly. “But I’m new to the Council and I’ve a question about the requirements for removing the curse.”
“Of course,” MacDara replied. “It’s written that, during the final year of each millenium, the Fates will draw a mere mortal woman forth from across the seas. A woman destined to possess great discernment, strength of character, and the impregnable will necessary to fulfill the near impossible terms of dissolution of the
Geis
. Should she succeed, the immediate threat of world annihilation will pass. And all things so affected will return to their state of being prior to the laying of the enchantment.”
Tomas O’Dhea, who’d sat quietly throughout most of the meeting, posed a question. “Do we know specifically what occurred with regards to the first two women? Were they recognized by our forefathers? Is their any historical record of how close the women came to meeting the terms of dissolution? Do we know what became of them?”
Caleb answered. “Information about the first woman is sketchy. Not surprising, given she lived around the time of Christ. What we do know is that the Council identified her formally as the Chosen One for that millenium. Clearly, she failed her mission, as the
Geis
is still in effect. A fact to which I can personally attest.”
“May I ask how you know this to be true?” Thomas inquired.
Seamus shot Caleb a troubled look.
“My own mother was a mere mortal,” Caleb stated. An uncomfortable hush settled over the room. The thought that Caleb’s father, a former Council member himself, had sired a child on a mere mortal woman was unfathomable. “My grandmother, with whom many of you are acquainted, has been the midwife for our women for almost forty years. What you may not know is that she is but a mere mortal herself. Her daughter, my mother, died in childbirth, with my grandmother attending. ‘Twas a blood poisoning death, compliments of the
Geis
. Slow, tortuous and excruciatingly painful.”
Leather squeaked as Liam shifted in the chair beside Caleb. He blew out a breath.
“Sorry, mate,” Thomas murmured.
Caleb gave a single nod.
MacDara spoke up. “We’re also in possession of a verbal record passed down through the generations, which was eventually transcribed by hand. It reveals that the first woman died horribly, in what appeared to have been a wild animal attack. ‘Twas rumored by those witnessing the woman’s remains that it appeared as if she’d been torn asunder by demons.”
“And the second woman?” Tomas asked quietly.
“The archives are more complete with regards to herself, as ‘twas only a thousand years ago. She was after arriving here from an unknown continent to the west of Ireland, which we now know as America. We’ve no way of identifying how close she might have come to fulfilling the enchantment’s terms but we do know that in the process the woman went totally and completely mad. And, in the end, was after destroying herself.”
“There are restrictions,” remarked Padraig Murphy, who had met Arianna at the castle dinner. “Can you clarify the specifics of those, please, for those new to the Council?”
“Simply put,” MacDara replied. “The Woman called by the Fates to this task is at risk of death or madness. And while destined to develop an attachment to one of our leaders—one of us at this table tonight—she is forbidden the knowledge of the existence of our race, and of the
Geis.
Of course, physical consummation of that emotional attachment is deadly to her. The one of us whom she desires is required to be her champion. And that one will be bound by a compulsion to see her safe.”
All eyes turned to Caleb, who sat like a pillar of stone, fingers curved around the arms of his chair, his dire expression eliminating any need for words.
Chapter Twenty-six
B
y the time the three girls pulled into Doolin Pier on Wednesday morning, Conor was already on the dock loading supplies into a 34-foot cabin cruiser. He acknowledged them with a wave.
Michaela called out in a singsong voice. “Hi, there.”
He joined them, his eyes taking a leisurely stroll down her friend’s body. Her tight white jeans and a navy and red nautical jacket revealed her slim curves to good advantage.
“Sorry, but are you Tara or Michaela?”
Her bottom lip pushed out in a flirty pout. “Michaela.”
“Ah, of course. Lovely name for a lovely woman.”
Leaning against the back door of the car, Tara mimicked sticking a finger down her throat. An amateur photographer, she went back to snapping shots of the fishing boats bobbing on the feathery whitecaps, a scene framed in the distance by soaring cliffs and a rugged coastline.
Arianna popped the trunk release. Conor followed her to the rear of the car. “I’m afraid my friend, Aiden, won’t be making it today. His wife went into labor early this morning,” he explained. “Rather than cancel at the last minute, he suggested I take you girls out instead.”
Before Arianna could open her mouth, Michaela was gushing. “That’s totally awesome. We’ve been so looking forward to this.”
“Pleasure’s all mine.” Conor’s tone made the remark sound vaguely off-color.
Arianna pulled their gear out of the trunk and slammed it shut. “We never discussed how much your buddy charges, so I brought along my Visa. Mick, will you grab the thermos off the floor in the front seat?”
“Aiden said there’s no charge. Just throw me a couple of quid for the cost of petrol.”
“That’s really nice of him. Tell him I said thanks.”
Arianna donned her backpack, while Conor dragged the straps of the other two overnight cases over his shoulders. Loaded down like a pack mule, he chuckled. “Moving to Inishmore, are ye?”
Arianna smiled. “Just spending the night. We plan to get a ferry to Galway in the morning.”
After herding everyone onboard, Conor pointed out the cabin, where the girls stashed their purses. Topside again, Tara took one of the bench seats at the rear of the boat. Arianna stood beside her, forearms propped on the rail. And Michaela—
surprise, surprise—
commandeered the spot across from the Captain’s seat.
The engine sputtered, then roared. As they headed for open waters, thunderclouds reflected the greenish gray of the sea. The sky looked hopeful in parts, with slices of azure blue and shafts of sunlight peeking from between the clustering clouds. As they moved farther away from shore, clinging mists dulled the sharp edges of the coastline. A purple haze shaded the distant mountains, making one peak indistinguishable from the next.
“Weather looks a bit iffy,” Arianna shouted to Tara over the loud whine of the motor.
Tara shrugged unconcernedly, green eyes sparkling with enjoyment.
Conor called back over his shoulder. “Inishmore is about thirty miles out. Since we’ve the whole day, we’ll go around the southern end of the island, before heading into Kilronan. You’ll get a grand view of the cliffs at Dun Aengus, maybe even cap eyes on a seal or two.”
Arianna sent a smile and a thumb’s up in his direction.
Tara gave a stretching groan, then stood up. “I need a caffeine injection. Anyone else? Michaela? Conor? Coffee?”
Michaela looked back and winced a major “Oops!”
“Okay, what did you do now?” Tara’s voice was a study in exasperated patience
“Forgot to get the thermos out of the car?” Michaela confessed meekly.
“Dammit, Mick—”
“No worries, ladies,” Conor called out. “I’ve a full pot brewed down below. Mugs and plasticware in the cabinets.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Tara said, then muttered
“Michaela’s life”
under her breath. She disappeared down the four stairs to the galley. A second later, her head popped back up. “Arianna, your cell phone’s ringing.”
Trying to find her sea legs, Arianna lurched down the stairs. She dug her purse out of a pile of luggage on a table in a small booth and retrieved her cell from a side pocket. “Hello?”
“Hiya.”
Caleb.
“Hey,” she said, unable to disguise the sigh in her voice. “What’s up?”
“Just back from Scotland. I wanted to let you know Granny’s taken a bit of a fall—”
“A fall? Is she all right? God, I feel terrible. With all the work at the cottage, and my friends getting here, I haven’t been over to see her.”
“No worries, she’s grand. A bruise or two is all. Despite her threats of physical violence against my person, I’ve tucked her away up here at the keep for the next few days.” His low chuckle warmed Arianna’s heart.
“Well, I’m glad she’s with you.”
“I’ve to pick up a few things for her in town, so thought I’d call over to your place if you’re there.”
Arianna made an
oh-oh
face. “Um, when you called me last night, guess I didn’t mention we were going to Inishmore today.”
His silence was deafening.
“We ran into Conor Sunday at the pub. A friend of his owns a tour company, and he was able to arrange for me to take the girls over to see the Island today.”
The silence got even louder.
“You didn’t feel the need to report to
me
that you were going to Scotland,” Arianna pointed out defensively.
Still nothing.
“Dammit, Caleb. Are you still there?”
“I’ve one question.” Icicles dripped from his words.
“Okay.” Arianna gnawed on her lip.
“Were you after
forgetting
to mention your plans, or hiding them from me deliberately?”
It was so tempting to lie, to avoid a confrontation, but Arianna refused to raise a wall of deception between them. Not that he wouldn’t see right through any subterfuge anyway. Not with that eerie “mind-reading” talent of his.
“To be honest, I didn’t want the drama. And it’s no big deal. Really. The owner couldn’t make it at the last minute, so it’s just the three of us and your uncle. So, you see, I’m perfectly safe. We’ll be staying overnight at a B&B on Inishmore, then taking a ferry to Galway first thing in the morning. I’ll call you when—”
“I’ll be leaving you to your craic, then.
Slán.”
Liquid nitrogen couldn’t have been colder.
“Caleb—” Too late; he’d already hung up. “Damn,” she grumbled under her breath.
When she turned, Tara was staring at her, a mug of coffee in her hand. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”
“He’s upset because I didn’t tell him we were coming out here today.”
“You neglected to mention your new boyfriend’s a control freak.” Her tone was flat.
“He’s not—
crap
. He’s being overprotective is all.”
“Already making excuses for the man, are we?” Platinum brows raised over clear green eyes.
“I’m not...not really. I just want you to understand that he’s legitimately worried about me.” Arianna hesitated, then decided to come clean. “Look, I didn’t tell you guys before, because I didn’t want you to worry. But there was another incident, besides the break-in at the cottage. Some pervert stalking me at the beach. Caleb believes it was the same guy.”
Tara went pale. “Good God, Arianna. You gotta get the hell out of here...go home.”
Arianna gave her a bland look. “
Now
who’s being over-protective?”
“It’s not over-protective when you’re really in danger,” she shot back. Arianna raised her brows as Tara was forced to admit that Caleb had a reason for concern. “And what’s going on with you and Caleb, anyway? Things are moving awfully fast in the romance department, which isn’t like you. You can’t honestly believe he’s the guy from your dreams.”
“Look, I know you’re a skeptic about that kind of stuff, so I won’t waste my time trying to convince you. But I will tell you that it’s not just me. Caleb remembers the dreams, too.” Tara’s face darkened with concern. She started to say something, but Arianna shook her head. “Please…I really don’t want to debate this, okay? Can’t we just agree to disagree?”
“For now. As long as you don’t think this conversation is over.”
“As if,” Arianna quipped, dropping her cell back into her purse. Then swearing, she dug it out again. “Forgot to shut the darn thing off.”
“Shut it off? What if lover boy wants to make up?”
“He won’t. Not right away.” Arianna shrugged and her lips twisted into a sheepish grin. “I also neglected to mention the man is stubborn as a mule. He’ll treat himself to a good brood for a couple of hours, before coming to his senses. Anyway, I forgot to pack my charger and the battery’s low. I’ll turn it back on later, when he’s had time to become properly penitent.”
The storm clouds blew away, the weather cooperating beautifully as they headed for the south end of the island. Saltwater whispered against the hull in peaceful harmony with the tranquil murmur of the wind. Skipping in and out of gray cotton clouds, the sun gleamed off the rippling waters, gently warming the brisk sea air. Arianna and Tara lounged on deck chairs sipping coffee, silently soaking up the sun and fresh air.
Giggling at something Conor said, Michaela stood up and leaned over, giving him an innocent peck on the cheek. Arianna glanced at Tara and gave a shrug. Conor seemed to be taking things slow and easy, behaving himself. Maybe they had misjudged him after all.
As he brought the cabin cruiser closer to the panoramic cliffs, Tara grabbed up her camera and managed some amazing shots of the limestone wall. With a rolling gait, Michaela joined them, cup in hand, looking for another refill.
“Coffee’s gone,” Tara told her.
“Geez, I’m so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open and you guys hog all the bean juice,” Michaela whined. “Conor didn’t drink any, and I only had two cups.”
“Don’t look at me,” Arianna said. “I only had one. Trying to cut back on the caffeine.”
“Tara?” Michaela accused.
“The coffee pot’s only a four-cupper, Mick,” she replied and yawned. “If you hadn’t forgotten the thermos—”
“Alright, alright.” Michaela plopped onto a deck chair beside Tara.
Conor killed the engine. The sudden silence drew the girls questioning glance. The vessel bobbed up and down as he reached for a backpack stashed beside his seat and joined them in the back of the boat. The three shiny brochures he plucked from the backpack were riffled by the quickening wind. He parked a hip on the rail nearest Michaela. “Compliments of Aiden,” he said, offering a flyer to each of them.
Arianna unfolded it to a colorful map. “Didn’t realize Inishmore was so small.”
“And aren’t the most priceless things found in the tiniest packages.” He winked at Michaela. “Now I’ll describe the heritage sites and ye decide which you fancy visiting first.”
Arianna tipped her head back. Black-headed seagulls soared weightlessly on the wind currents, their raucous cries blending with the high-pitched arias of the little terns. Waves drummed against the hull in rhythmic accompaniment to the birdsong, as Conor’s melodic voice drew the girls spellbound into the epic tales and sagas of the islanders.
“Inishmore comprises an eight-by-thirteen-mile carboniferous limestone ridge with over 7,000 miles of stone walls.” The lilting strokes of Conor’s words painted colorful pictures of the island. “They’ve a garda station, three churches and six pubs, and about as many trees. The people here are Irish speakers, fisher folk with the sea in their blood. Their lives are a testament to a traditional—often ancient—culture.”
Conor paused to study each woman’s face, before continuing the soliloquy. “Their way of life combines reality with myth. The dry-stone walls, church ruins, round towers, and prehistoric stone forts speak of another time. Dun Aengus is a horseshoe shaped fort stretched on the cliffs three hundred feet above us. At over 2,000 years old, it enjoys the distinction of being one of the greatest ancient monuments in all of Europe.”
He paused for another brief survey of Michaela’s face, and then Tara’s. Both had fallen asleep. His gaze then turned on Arianna, eyes unblinking. A spider watching a fly struggle to free itself from a silken web.
Now where did that come from?
Arianna blinked rapidly to keep his face in focus as he squatted beside her. Her stomach did a loop-de-loop, and she could feel herself beginning to sink beneath thick, syrupy waves. What was happening to her? She couldn’t seem to think…couldn’t concentrate.
The sky above them began to dip and roll. Arianna imagined she was melting, her body thick and fluid, folding like cake batter into a deep, black void of eternal sleep. She felt feverish, like she had a bad flu, burning up one minute, chills wracking her body the next. She was nauseated, seasick. And her head felt like someone was going at it with a pickaxe.
Conor’s cool hand settled on her brow, his touch soothing…comforting.
“I’m so sick, Conor. Please, take me back....”
While her mouth struggled to form the words, they fell incoherently from lips that were Novocaine numb. Eyes like lead weights she forced them open, hoping he would be able to interpret her beseeching look.
A rictus grin smiled down at her
.
Arianna shuddered.
Drugged!
The warning shrieked from an area of her consciousness now dark and dormant.
“You shouldn’t have come here, Yank. Shouldn’t have involved yourself in matters not of your concern.” The voice wasn’t Conor’s, but rather a demonic growl that dragged like an old 78-rpm record played on 33. “Now that you have, we’ve an appointment with destiny, you and me.”
With her tenuous grasp on wakefulness slipping through her anesthetized fingers, Arianna began a slow, sinuous slide into the engulfing darkness dragging her under.
* * *
Waves were sloshing against the hull, gently rocking the boat, as awareness crept back to her. Blinded by a migraine headache, Arianna’s stomach pitched and rolled with every dip of the boat. She heard footsteps approaching on the oaken deck.
Conor.
Pretending to be unconscious still, she peeked at him through lowered lashes. What she saw twisted her upset stomach into a tight knot of dread.