When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella (7 page)

“Well, thank you,” Rocky told him.

“Have you visited your uncle’s grave?” Flannery asked Devin.

She glanced at Rocky before answering.
Collum hadn’t really been her uncle
.

“No, I haven’t,” Devin said.

“Come, I’ll take you out,” Flannery told them.

They left the church by a rear door, heading along a stone path into the vast field of tombs and gravestones.

There were modern markers in bronze and granite, ancient stone cairns, mausoleums and vaults. Rocky realized that Devin did know where they were going and that they were headed through the maze of memorials of the dead toward the far, westward edge and a vault built into a rise of rolling land.

A chain of keys dangled from a belt at his robe and he opened the massive iron gate to allow them entry into the vault.

Rocky wasn’t sure what he was expecting—perhaps shrouded corpses decaying upon dust-laden shelves.

But that wasn’t the case. Fine marble covered all the graves. There were two large sarcophagi in the center of the tomb. Rocky quickly saw that they belonged to the Karney couple of myth and legend, Brianna and her beloved husband Declan, he who had throne himself at the enemy Sir Barry Martin in order to see that he died as his wife had.

“Collum is here,” Father Flannery said quietly, pointing to the side of the vault.

Cement covered the grave; a tombstone bearing his name had not yet been installed. But flowers strew the floor on the ground there and filled many vases set there as well. As he watched, Devin made the sign of the cross and lowered her head as if saying a little prayer for her uncle.

Devin had grown up Catholic—but she’d also spent a great deal of time with her beloved Wiccan aunt in Salem. She was a spiritual person, a believer—they all were, more or less, in the Krewe. But he knew that she believed in one true tenet, and that was the fact that in her mind, all good men and women believed in decency and kindness and that religion didn’t matter. Yet, here, of course, she honored her uncle as he should have traditionally been honored.

He lowered his own head. Father Flannery softly murmured a prayer.

Something caused Rocky to look up—to look over at his wife.

Her head was no longer bowed in prayer. She was staring wide-eyed and frowning at the back of the vault. She stood frozen and straight, and he was certain that she saw something there.

Something that did not belong.

He strained to see through the shadows.

“Ah, and as the sayin’ goes, Collum,” Father Flannery murmured, “‘may ye have been in Heaven a half hour afore the Devil ever knew ye were dead!’ I know that to be true, for you were a fine man, my friend!”

“Sorry, I am a man of God. But I am from County Cork,” Flannery added, perhaps believing that Rocky’s curious expression was for him.

Devin spun around. “Of course. He was a very fine man,” she said.

She turned and walked out of the vault.

Rocky stared into the darkness at the far reaches of the large family tomb. But all he saw was darkness. He followed his wife into the light of the day.

Chapter 6

They were heading out of the cemetery and up the great slope that led to the castle walls, with Father Flannery far behind them, when Rocky asked Devin, “What happened back there.”

“Rocky, I don’t know!” Devin told him, her beautiful blue eyes meeting his with concern. “There was something there—some kind of a presence.”

“A ghost?” he asked. “Perhaps Collum?”

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like any ghost I’ve met before,” she said. “It was different; it was dark…like a shadow.” She hesitated a bit awkwardly. It was strange. They weren’t just both Krewe. They were husband and wife. They usually said whatever they were thinking—no matter how absurd it might sound to someone else.

“I felt it—or saw it—before. Last night. It seemed to settle over the castle. Just a—a darkness. Like massive raven’s wings, or…a huge shadow,” she finished, shrugging and looking at him a bit lamely.

“Darkness—like some kind of evil?” he asked. He hoped there was no skepticism in his voice. He knew what it was like when people doubted your judgment—or your sanity.

She smiled. “No, not evil. Just—something different. And I almost felt as if the darkness…”

“What?” he asked.

“Wanted to touch me,” she said softly.

A strange ripple of fear went through him. “You’re not a Karney,” he said gruffly. “But if you even begin to think that you might be in danger—”

“Hey!” she protested. “I’m trained, experienced, and tough,” she reminded him. “I became part of the Krewe. But, it’s not like that. I mean, you said it yourself last night—we’ve never known a ghost to kill anyone. Ghosts linger to help the living or find justice or…in some instances, because they feel like they are an integral part of history. I didn’t feel that. Just…something different.”

“Well, stay close, kiddo, okay?” he asked, his tone still a bit too husky. Sometimes, he wasn’t easy. A man’s natural instinct was to protect the ones he loved—to protect his wife.

He knew that he sometimes had to remember that yes, she had gone through all the courses. She was a government agent. She was trained, and she—just as he had—had chosen her own course in life. He didn’t have the right to try to lock her in a closet until danger was gone.

The instinct still remained.

“I’m going to have to get back in there,” she said flatly.

“We’re going to have to get back in there,” he said firmly. “Is Father Flannery the only one with keys? Wouldn’t the family have keys to their own vault as well?”

“Yes, of course,” Devin said. “We can get them from Brendan.”

They heard music as they approached the castle walls. The loud wail of Irish bagpipes seemed to cover the whole of the cliffside.

“They’ve started with the celebrations,” Devin said. “Five days of them here with St. Patrick’s being right in the middle. The vendors we saw getting started when we left are set up now and there’s Irish step dancing competitions and in the afternoon, there will be contests for sheepherding dogs out by the pit.” She glanced at him with a dry shrug. “I hope you like the sound of pipes.”

“Not sure I could take it all day every day, but here…they certainly sound fitting,” he assured her.

By the time they reached the gates, they were amidst dozens of people coming and going.

Once they were inside, it was as if they’d stepped through a mystical door and entered another world.

The great walls were lined with portable kiosks. Vendors sold leather goods, plaids, flutes, and even bagpipes, clothing, jewelry, costuming, food, soft drinks, and of course, whiskey and beer. A bandstand was set against the westward most section of the wall. One band took the place of another; their lead singer announced that they were the Rowdy Pipers, and as Rocky and Devin paused to listen, they burst into a rock song—with bagpipes.

“Fantastic!” Rocky said, smiling.

“They are darned good,” Devin agreed. She pointed to an area near the bandstand where there were about twenty young girls in plaid skirts, white shirts, knee high socks, and black shoes. “I believe those are the St. Patrick of the Village dancers. They’re probably pretty amazing.”

“I imagine,” Rocky agreed, looking through the crowds of people.

They all seemed happy. And polite. They waved and smiled, apparently glad to welcome friends and travelers alike.

“I don’t see Kelly, Seamus, or Brendan,” he told Devin.

She frowned, looking around as well. People were milling at the various vendor booths or kiosks.

“I don’t see them either. I know that Kelly’s second cousins are due in sometime today; they might be at the castle waiting for them—or settling them in. A Karney announces the dancers and thanks the church—and St. Patrick himself, of course,” she murmured. “Oh, there they are! And they’re with Kelly’s cousins Aidan and Michael. Well, Seamus and Kelly are there. I don’t see Brendan.”

Devin waved a high hand to her cousin who looked up and smiled, returning the wave. She said something to her father and cousins and they all turned and made their way toward Devin and Rocky.

“Hey!” Kelly called, a little breathless as she reached them first. “Rocky, these are my cousins—second cousins, whatever. Wait, my dad’s cousins, I think—Michael and Aidan Karney. Guys, you might remember Devin, and this is her husband, Craig Rockwell, known as Rocky.”

There were greetings all the way around, Devin hugging the two new arrivals. They were both tall redheads, slim, with freckles, and easy smiles. Rocky estimated that the men were in their mid-to-late thirties, maybe fifteen years younger than Seamus and ten years older than Kelly.

“Nice that you’re here,” Michael said. He seemed to be the older of the two—his hair was a little darker, his voice a little deeper.

“We never miss St. Paddy’s at the homestead,” Aidan told him. “And I’ve my band along this time. Lads are staying down in the village—hopefully, you’ll enjoying hearing us play.”

“If they’ve fortitude!” Michael teased.

“Eh!” Aidan said.

“Teasin’!” Michael assured them. “Actually, Aidan’s group is great. He forgot to mention there’s a lady with the band. Lovely voice she has. She gives the band the last bit of excellence that they needed to head over the top.”

“She and the lads are staying in the village,” Michael explained. “The castle was sold out. My own family castle. Ah, well, I asked Collum and Brendan last minute and ye can’t oust a paying guest like that. They’re fine, though. Put them at Molly Maguire’s bed and breakfast. They’ll be up for a wee bit of a drink tonight.”

Seamus was staring toward the doors to the castle’s central tower. A frown furrowed his white brows.

He looked over at Rocky.

“He was right behind us, just leaving another of his notes on the desk to check into the pub if anything was needed or amiss,” he said.

“Brendan?” Rocky asked.

“Right behind us! Right behind us!” Seamus said. He started to run toward the castle.

Rocky ran faster.

He burst through the giant wooden doors to the great hall.

And he froze.

Brendan was there.

On the ground.

Chapter 7

Kelly let out a terrifying scream.

Devin ran right into her cousin’s back, pushing her forward, and she caught Kelly by the shoulders, moving her so that she could see.

She strangled back a scream herself.

There was something that seemed frighteningly medieval and oddly poetic about the way Brendan Karney lay. His massive back and shoulders were flat on the floor of the great hall, his eyes wide open, staring upward at the wall where the great crest of his family held prominence dead center over the massive stone hearth and the crest surrounded by medieval shield and crossed swords.

Where now a few were missing.

He’d gone down with such a sword in his hand, taken from that wall—but it had never drawn blood. One of the fine fifteenth century dirks that had belonged in its proper place at the side of the crest had not drawn blood either—it lay near the left hand of the dead man, as if he had wielded the sword in one hand and the dirk in another to battle an enemy—and unseen demon, so it appeared.

Because Brendan Karney had not been wounded in any way that met the eye—he was just there, staring, eyes wide open with horror, at whatever man or beast he had meant to battle.

“Call the emergency number,” Rocky said.

He was already on his knees by the dead man.

“Dammit!” Rocky roared. “Emergency!”

Kelly collected herself, shaking as she pulled out her cell phone. But her voice was clear and distinct when she asked for help.

Rocky had already begun work over Brendan, practicing cardio pulmonary resuscitation.

Brendan had appeared to be dead!

But, he wasn’t
.

Devin hurried over to come to her knees by Rocky’s side, grateful that training worked and that she quickly kicked into response mode rather than shock. She let Rocky continue counting and using the “hands only” practice for an unconscious heart attack victim. He sat back, letting her take over, then used his own careful force again.

As she worked on her knees, she felt a strange sensation sweeping over her.

The same eerie feeling of cold that had touched her in the Karney family tomb
.

She dared to look around. And she thought that, lurking in the shadows beneath the stone staircase that led to the floor above the great hall, there was something.

A shadow in the shadows. A great raven’s wing. Something…

Dark.

Darker than dark.

She didn’t dare look; Rocky had realized that even lying prone, eyes wide open, Brendan might still be alive. And while it didn’t look good, they just might be able to save him.

Even if the banshee had wailed. Even if she waited, lurking in the shadows
.

Devin gave herself a serious mental shake and continued listening to Rocky.

Apparently, emergency med techs were on hand at the festivities; what had seemed like a lifetime was most probably only the passing of a minute or two before men were rushing in, ready to take over.

Kelly would ride in the ambulance; Seamus would follow. Rocky didn’t think that the man was in any condition to drive, but Devin insisted that she was—she would bring Seamus to the hospital.

Rocky didn’t want her to go and him to stay—but one of them needed to go and one of them needed to stay, and that’s the way it was.

Someone had to find out what was happening, what was causing the “banshee” wail at night and what demon—real or imagined—had come to put Brendan Karney into such a state
.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything,” Devin promised Rocky.

She smiled, looking at him. She loved him so much. She could see the fight he was waging within himself, hating to be away from her at all.

But they’d come to find the truth.

Kelly was her cousin while Rocky was the most experienced agent. They were right doing what was needed right where they were.