Celtic Evil: A Fitzgerald Brother Novel: Roarke (21 page)

Seeing the bandage on her
head reminded him of the blood he’d seen, and Roarke gently brushed
his fingers over it and then down her face. “Her head was
bleeding.”

“She fell and hit it on
cobblestone and since you were always fond of falling on those and
taking layers off your knees, you should know what that feels
like,” Ryan replied, wondering if his brother knew that his hand
was shimmering as it lightly touched or stroked.

“Mild concussion is what
Daniels said before lapsing into German or something,” he went on
then stayed silent.

Roarke looked for himself,
taking her hand in his and holding on as he finally let himself
relax. “I was afraid that if I ever told her that I loved her, shut
up, that something would happen and my failures or whatever would
get her hurt.”

“That attack would have
happened even if you hadn’t told her, brat,” Ryan spoke firmly, not
resorting to his usual arrogance since he could feel the boy’s
honest fear. “So you did tell her?”

“Shut up, Ry,” Roarke
muttered but did smile a little, as things seemed to balance
between them as it had years ago. “I’ve loved her for so long that
if anything hurts her because of me or this…”

This time Ryan reached out
to grip his brother’s shoulder hard enough that he looked up at
him, expecting to see censure or the typical sneer, but all Roarke
saw were his brother’s eyes locked on his.

“Nothing is going to happen
to Jessica because you aren’t going to let it happen, and because
we’re going to kick Sebastian’s butt back to where it came from,”
Ryan declared firmly, then smiled his normal cocky smile. “Now, I’m
going to go flirt with the little red-headed witch until Mac kicks
me out, then I’ll be back with some juice for you two.”

“I’m a little old for
juice, Ryan,” Roarke decided then winced at the light tap to his
head.

“I’m still your older
brother, brat,” Ryan shot back as he went out the door to head
downstairs, seeing Deirdre coming up he could tell something was
wrong. “What now?”

The older woman was
worrying her lip. “Kerry’s gone off to Mayo, lad.”

Ryan blinked at that,
actually surprised by this move and not certain what to do since
his older brothers had always been the calm ones or the ones who
had the answers.

Now Kerry’s rare temper had taken him off to
see the people responsible for hurting their brother while Mac was
probably out to the world for the next few hours.

“This is bloody wonderful,”
he scowled and being a natural betting man, he could have placed
wagers on how that would turn out.

CHAPTER NINE

It was mid-afternoon at the
farm in County Mayo that Kerry Fitzgerald arrived at. Looking
around at the run-down equipment and small fields, but it was the
rickety barn that drew his attention first as he neared
it.

It didn’t take a lot of
energy to pick up the leftover images that places and things can
hold over the years, and this place held a lot more horrors than
his brother had remembered clearly.

By just touching the
rotting wood, he could pick up on the past. See the events that
stained the wood inside as he entered.

Closing his eyes, Kerry let
the images, voices come, and he could see clearly his little
brother, still grieving and alone, locked in here to sleep. Rusty
chains further in showed him this was the spot the Walshes would
chain Roarke to beat him or…

“Bloody hell, Roarke. What
haven’t you shared with even Jess?” he whispered, waving a hand
violently to push the images of the more sadistic attacks away when
he saw the small utility closet close by, and knew now why his
brother couldn’t be closed in as he saw images of the small boy
being beat, starved and locked behind this door. Kneeling down, his
fingertips lightly touched wood that seemed scoured by what he knew
were ridges from his brother’s fingers.

By the time Kerry had
examined the whole barn, his already seething temper was ready to
boil over as he exited it, forcing himself not to cast a fire spell
to burn it to ashes.

“Are ye lost?” a reedy harsh voice asked
from behind him.

Even though it had been many years, several
even before his parents’ deaths that Kerry had been to the Walsh
farm with his Grandmother, he knew he would recall the voice of Ida
Walsh.

A tall, skinny woman even
in her youth, hard work on this farm hadn’t been easy on her aging
as he saw gray hair in a tight bun, worn clothes, but it was a hoe
in her hand that drew him.

“No, Ida. I’m not lost,” he
spoke quietly, surprised that his voice was this even and quiet
with the way his temper was pounding.

Staring hard at this tall,
well-dressed man with a proper accent, Ida Walsh blinked at his use
of her name. “You know me, boyo?”

“We met once when my
Grandmother visited you,” Kerry replied, still seeing his brother’s
life here, still hearing the screams from inside the barn. “You
should recall her pretty well since she gave you and your family a
perfect slave for two years,” then his voice hardened. “You should
recall him well enough, my brother Roarke.”

This made the old woman
stop short. “Yes, I recall that one,” she sneered, turning to walk
back to the house. “Nothing but trouble from day one he was and
then he threw my family’s hospitality back at us by running
away.”

“Running away or escaping?”
Kerry challenged as he followed her, seeing a large, barrel-chested
man coming from the house.

“What’s that supposed to
mean?” Ida demanded in a higher voice, whirling but was surprised
when he was holding the hoe before she could raise it. “That little
bastard was a liar and a thief. He deserved whatever Felan and I
had to do to punish him and don’t you tell me
different.”

Seeing his mother arguing
with this upper class stranger brought Shay Walsh down the house
steps. “What’s the problem, Mum?” he asked, swaggering as he sought
to intimidate this new arrival.

“My brother was eleven
years old and small for his age. Sure as hell smaller than your
children were,” Kerry stared hard at the woman then shifted his
gaze to the man when his eyes caught sight of the polished obsidian
stone with a hole in it that he wore around his neck. “Don’t tell
me he deserved what you sick sons of bitches did to
him.”

“You don’t talk to my
mother like that!” Shay snarled, drawing back a huge fist when
Kerry’s eyes flashed and lightning flashed into the ground. “Saints
preserve us!” he breathed.

Kerry sneered, temper
sparking. “The Saints wouldn’t have you,” he snapped, reaching down
and jerking the stone from around his neck. “My father gave Roarke
this lucky stone for his sixth birthday. When did you take it from
him?”

“You’re wrong!” Ida snapped, nerves showing
now.

Kathleen had assured her
that no one would care what happened to the boy. It had been years
since she had even considered anyone coming about their
mistreatment of him, much less one of his brothers.

The stone seemed to glow in
Kerry’s hand, which silenced her. “Roarke would fight to keep this
since it was from our father, so I want to know when you took it
from him,” he looked at both coolly. “One of the times you beat him
raw after chaining him in that barn, or when you were assaulting
him?”

This made mother and son
look at one another but before either could speak, Kerry’s eyes
flashed. “I should make you both feel what he has felt. I wish you,
your children and whoever else you may have sold him to could know
the pain he has known and I could do that,” his voice was cold and
flat.

“Boy, your Gran told me and
my sainted Felan how to handle your brother,” Ida spoke quickly,
sensing the danger and knowing this one’s power. “Kathleen was my
longest friend but I feared her if we didn’t…”

Lightning flashed again,
striking the ground near the woman. “He was a child!” Kerry
snapped, motioning to the barn. “No animal, much less a child,
should have been treated like you treated him.”

“Been years since it
happened, let it go,” Shay sneered but didn’t move from the ground.
“Besides, why would a bloke of your importance care so much about a
bloke whose probably only use these days is what me folks used him
for…Hey!”

Kerry’s eyes went from
smoke to black in a second as Shay found himself yanked from the
ground and slammed down a few feet away. “You’re still alive only
because I want you to know suffering of some kind, and I won’t sink
to that level,” he snapped, glaring at the man.

“I got what I came for in
his stone. However, I promise you, Ida Walsh, that for what you did
to my brother you will always be marked and I assure you that the
grandmother you should fear isn’t Kathleen Fitzgerald but Fiona
Kerrigan. She will learn of this and if you or yours ever touch
what is mine again then I may forget my vow.”

With this Kerry walked away, knowing if he
didn’t leave then his temper would cause him to do something he’d
regret.

“Your Gran will hear of
this, laddie!” Ida screamed at his back. “You can’t come to my home
like this! Kathy will…”

Shifting slightly to look
back at her, Kerry simply smiled. “You tell her what you like
because I have plenty more to say to her myself,” he replied before
disappearing and reappearing in the office.

“Tell me you turned someone
to ash,” Ryan’s voice spoke from the side.

Looking to see both Ryan
and Ian waiting for him, Kerry shook his head before sitting on the
sofa with a sigh. “It’s too easy to match violence with violence,
Ry.”

Ian handed him a glass of
Scotch since he could see how weak his brother seemed, but also saw
his temper and pain. “Why would you go there?” he asked.

“I wanted to see them. I
wanted to see the place,” Kerry sighed, hissing at the liquor then
dangling the obsidian stone from his hand. “I also went to get
this.”

Ryan recognized the black
stone as the one their father had given Roarke. Taking it, he
didn’t care for the feelings. “It needs cleansed before he gets it
back.”

“I can do that,” Ian
offered, figuring it was time he did something to help.

As the boy left, Ryan sat
on the sofa arm. “So, is he coping?”

Knowing what he meant,
Kerry could sigh. “I hope, because we have things to
handle.”

After Ryan had left the
room, Roarke had remained sitting next to his friend; his gray-blue
eyes settled on her face. “I love you, Jessica,” he whispered,
lightly brushing hair from her face.

Thinking about going to
check on Ian, since he hadn’t had a proper chance to see his
younger brother yet, Roarke was just moving when the first glimmer
from across the room caught his eye.

Blinking, he frowned as
what he saw slowly became clear and his blood ran cold. “Oh, God,”
he breathed, “not again.”

“Using your memories and
fears against you was a cruel thing even for Sebastian,” Brenna
Fitzgerald spoke as she looked at her son with the same loving
smile she’d given the others. “I’ve been trying to reach you for
the longest time, Roarke.”

Staring at his mother’s
image, Roarke blinked but he moved away from the bed so nothing
would endanger his friend if this was a trick. “Last time I saw an
image of my Mum it didn’t turn out well for me, so you’ll forgive
if I’m a little wary.”

Smiling in amusement,
Brenna sat in the chair across from him. “You look like your Da but
got my wit I see. Toryn always said I’d teach one of you to have my
sarcasm.”

“Mum?” Roarke moved a
little closer, his powers not picking up anything wrong, and his
mind remaining clear unlike the night in New Orleans.

“Hello, my sweet darling,”
Brenna smiled, letting her head move so she was looking fully at
him. “I never guessed all my wee ones would grow into such handsome
young men, even if you and Ryan do need your hair cut.”

Nearly snickering at that,
Roarke stopped a little bit away from her then slowly dropped down
by the chair. “I’m so sorry, Mum,” he whispered, emotions he’d
buried coming out. “I never meant for you and Da to die and if I
could have given my…”

“Stop, Roarke,” Brenna
soothed, her hand rising as it would to brush his hair and even
though he knew it didn’t touch him, he felt the brush. “Toryn and I
knew what we were doing that day and though I fear you’ll learn
things soon that may hurt, I never want you to doubt how much Toryn
and I love you and your brothers.”

Looking down with sad eyes,
she watched him for a moment. “You need to let go of the guilt, my
boy. Only you and your brothers can stop Sebastian this time and
stop the rest but you need to let others in to help. You need to
love again and learn to trust again.”

Looking up at his mother,
Roarke thought he knew what she meant as he looked back to the bed.
“I will, Mum,” he promised, thinking of something. “Are you and Da
ashamed of me?”

Fire lit in her soft eyes
and this time he did feel the touch of her hand against his skin.
“Roarke Michael Quinn Fitzgerald, your Da and I will love you
always. What happened when you were a lad wasn’t your fault and
eventually all evil gets what it deserves, so let go of the shame
and fear and live, my sweet boy,” she smiled as a slim hand rose to
wave and slowly candles lit in the room to cast a soft glow, as did
the fireplace. “Now, go to her,” she urged softly, laying a kiss to
the top of his head. “We love you, Roarke.”