Celtic Evil: A Fitzgerald Brother Novel: Roarke (3 page)

“You stopped singing when
you were sixteen.” Her eyes took on a curious look. “Around the
same time as when your parents died.”

This time his smile stayed
but it tightened, as did his eyes that Maggie saw actually spark.
“That’s a closed subject,” he replied evenly, refusing to speak to
anyone about that.

Sensing that he meant it,
Maggie let it drop. Figuring it time to change the subject, she
looked to the fields. “You raise horses?”

“Sometimes, mostly it’s a
hobby.” On safer ground, Mac followed her eyes but he also felt
something in the distance that was making his lunch twist in his
stomach. “We toured the States once and my father showed us some
Appaloosas on a farm in Virginia. I like them a lot.”

The woman felt that love when he spoke of
the horses but also caught the loss when he spoke of his
family.

After a couple minutes of
silence, she coughed and looked at her book again. “My editor gave
me a couple mandatory questions he insisted I ask you so I’ll
apologize in advance.” She laughed lightly but couldn’t quite cover
the unease she had.

“Uh-oh, that’s never good,”
Mac grinned to put her at ease because he did like this quirky girl
and sensed her unease. “Ask away. Trust me, I’ve been asked
everything.”

Maggie wasn’t sure about
that but took a deep breath. “Well, the main thing he wanted me to
ask was how you manage to do it all?”

“All?” Mac’s brow rose.
“Like what?”

“Do everything you do,
travel like you do and still manage to be… a practicing
witch?”

If he was startled by the
question outwardly, Mac didn’t let on as he grinned easily at the
woman, but inside his gut was twisting.

“Your editor must have a lot of guts to try
that since it’d be real easy for a libel suit on that one.” He
sipped his tea in order to gain some time, to gauge how much this
perky redhead may actually know.

Maggie took a deep breath
but didn’t flinch from the cold eyes that were now aimed at her.
“How right is he?” she countered then raised a hand to begin
ticking off points on her fingers. “You were born in Fitzgaren in
County Kerry. The town was founded by your ancestors and legend has
it the Fitzgerald family has long held the power. Your mother was
Brenna Kerrigan whose own mother never made any denial that she was
a…”

“My mother is off-limits.”
This time there was no denying the edge to Mac’s voice but before
he could go on, a sudden snarling
f
rom the fields where a lovely white
stallion was heard making all kind of noise.

Looking away from the equally firm green
eyes, Mac stood to see what the issue was when he saw the large
black wolf in the fenced off area with the horse.

“What the bloody hell?” He
whispered, instinct had him laying a hand on the patio fence to
jump it and try to help the horse when the wolf raised its head and
blazing red eyes stared into his, and he felt the blow to his
chest.

“Oh my God!” Maggie
screamed as the wolf jumped on the horse and began to shred it, but
she also knew she couldn’t leave Mac in this shape as she dropped
to her knees next to him, shocked to see what she saw
but also shocked to see his eyes.

His smoky gray-blue eyes
had gone totally to smoke and his words, muttered to himself, were
in Gaelic, a language she only knew a few words.

“The wolf…” The horse’s
scream was ringing in her ears but then so was something else, like
the taunting laughter of a child. “It’s not real.” She slowly came
to realize, grabbing at Mac’s arm. “It’s not real, is
it?”

Not hearing her, Mac
focused fully on the wolf as he shook off the blow. Leaning on the
wall, his eyes sharpened to stare at the big black wolf tearing
into his horse but he could hear above the noise the words in the
winds coming from what appeared to be a boy on the fence
line.

“You were born of the five.
Five into one, one to become five but it only takes one to fall and
break the circle,” the taunting child crooned from somewhere.
“Which will it be? Who is the weak one this time? Will you fall,
Patrick MacKinley Fitzgerald? Will you fall like your whore mother
and coward of a father?”

Mac’s eyes flashed but
Maggie’s grip on his arm held him back as she threw something from
her huge bag into the tree line.

“You can’t enter here,
monster!” she shouted defiantly, eyes dark with anger that whatever
this was that was happening would use what this man loved to hurt
him. “Get away or…”

“Hush.” Mac’s tone was
quiet but firm as he edged her away from the wall to face the now
snapping wolf, but it hadn’t come any closer. “You won’t win by
taunting someone who grew up with the brothers I did, demon. Go
away and try that on someone else.”

The wolf seemed to sneer
but the boy on the fence looked straight into Mac’s eyes. “Three
have refused my master, two there are to go and two with the temper
of your father. Which of your brothers will accept the offer that
your despised father spurned? It only takes one to fall to break a
circle.”

It was several seconds of
uneasy silence after both wolf and boy had vanished did Mac breathe
fully, and then it was a harsh Irish oath. “Shit.” He muttered,
slumping down in a chair, when he remembered the reporter. “You saw
that?” he asked, wondering how hard it would be to get her to
forget.

Maggie was staring at him
in plain shock but just as Mac was about to pour a glass of
whiskey, she sat down. “You’re one of the five.” It wasn’t a
question but a statement in almost awe.

“What?” Mac blinked, hoping she wasn’t
catching onto too many things.

“What that thing said,
about the five into one and all that.” She gestured. “You’re one of
the five that forms the circle said to shield the world from
evil.”

Knowing his day couldn’t
get much worse; Mac poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it
with a hiss. “What’s a nice Mayo reporter doing knowing about such
paranormal things like that?” he tried to make light but his chest
was hurting too much and his head was pounding.

“My Gran’s Book of Shadows
had a whole section in it about ‘the five,’” she replied, still
shocked at everything she’d seen.

“Yeah, well most of…” Mac
stopped in mid-sentence to stare at her. “Book of Shadows?” he
repeated warily. “You’ve seen an actual Book of
Shadows?”

Maggie shrugged. “My Gran
on my Mum’s side had a Book of Shadows which came to me after her
death. She also kept this big book on you and your brothers,” she
smiled slightly with dimples that winked. “Always said ‘those dang
Fitzgerald lads were of the five.’”

“Your Grandmother on your
Mum’s side?” Mac stared hard, for the first time actually looking
deeper, and again started muttering under his breath. “Oh, this is
just bloody great.” He slumped back and closed his eyes, “You’re a
bloody witch.”

“I prefer the term ‘user of
everyday practical magic,’” Maggie shot back with a sniff then
blushed as he just lifted a brow at her. “Alright, but I haven’t
really practiced seriously. I mostly know enough to know which
spells to use to not blow my brothers up from time to
time.”

“Well isn’t that just fine
and dandy then,” Mac muttered, making a choice that could doom them
both. “Well, I hope you like traveling ‘cause you’re about to meet
my family,” he decided.

“What?” Maggie stared at him, “Why?”

“First off because you saw
the same thing I did which no one should have been able to, so that
means you could be in danger,” Mac replied then sighed. “And
second, because you’re a hereditary witch with a Book of Shadows on
the one thing that we need in order to stop another
disaster.”

Still reeling at this
sudden turn, it took Maggie a second to realize he’d left the
patio. “Wait a bloody minute,” she ran after Mac to find him in the
kitchen giving orders to the cook. “According to my sources, all
five of you haven’t been in one place in…”

“Fifteen years,” Mac
finished with a dry laugh. “Kerry tries to stay in touch but all
five of us haven’t been in the same place since the day our parents
were put in the ground, so I won’t promise it’ll be a friendly
reunion given Ryan’s attitude.”

“What was that thing?” she
finally had to ask. “If it could break the circle, so to speak, why
hasn’t it before?”

Mac paused to consider
that. It had been something he’d studied and thought on a lot since
he’d been sixteen years old.

“Kerry’s the oldest so
he’ll know more but from my point of view, it couldn’t because of
something either one of or both of my parents did on the island
fifteen years ago when they died,” he sighed, lightly touching a
photo on a shelf. “Whatever that was belonged to what killed them
and it knows it’ll take only one of us to either give in to it or
die for it to win.”

Maggie didn’t care for that
much but she considered. “So who does it consider the
weakest?”

Surprised by how fast she
was catching on, Mac shrugged. He knew by what the boy had said
what would happen. “‘Two that are left with my father’s temper,’”
he repeated, rolling his eyes. “Ryan and Roarke both got our Da’s
temper when it’s unleashed and both have weaknesses to exploit, but
as to who would give in…,” he only shrugged. “Who knows, and I hope
Kerry’s ready for company and has answers.”

Maggie Cavanaugh began to
wonder if she shouldn’t have left this assignment alone while she
wandered around the downstairs after her host had disappeared
upstairs.

“You said your Gran had a
book on us,” Mac came back down the stairs a few moments later with
an overnight bag slung on his shoulder. “Just clippings of a
devoted fan or…”

“She always seemed
interested and had all the albums your family put out until the
last one,” Maggie considered that question. “When it was announced
that you wouldn’t be together anymore due to a death in the family
she didn’t seem surprised. In fact, she seemed to be expecting it
because she told my Ma once that it was contained for now
but…”

Mac swore silently under
his breath. “Kerry had to know. Our grandmother had to know.” He
was angry but fought to control it as he saw the young woman’s
confusion. “Short of it… A warlock tried to kill my brother fifteen
years ago and my parents got in the way. They died, Roarke lived,
and we found ourselves yanked apart.

“My theory is, on that
island fifteen years ago my parents, before they died, cast some
sort of shield to bind the evil but something that powerful can
only be held so long and it looks like it’s loose and God help us
all if it can’t be stopped again.”

Monte Carlo,
Monaco:

A normal night in the small country usually
meant calm seas, clear skies and crowds of tourists or visitors
crammed onto the beaches or the casinos.

World known for its Royal
Family and also for its casinos, it was where a lot of people came
when seeking to lose themselves for awhile in noise, in the luck of
cards or slots or table games. Some went away with much less than
they arrived with and those very few who came away from a night at
the tables with much more.

Then there were the ones
who broke even when luck just couldn’t seem to make up her mind.
That was certainly how security consultant for the rich and famous,
Ryan Fitzgerald, was seeing the night.

Finishing a security
upgrade job for a wealthy client in the small country, the
Irish-born native had decided to stick it out the weekend to see if
his luck would hold up in the casinos.

Normally the 6’ Irishman
always seem to have the fabled Irish luck riding on his narrow
shoulders when he gambled. Ryan gambled as he liked to live, hard
and fast, and it usually paid off.

While playing cards or
anything, he won both the pot and the women since he’d never had
trouble attracting attention from the opposite sex with his
slender, rangy build and chiseled upper body. Women were usually
flocking around but on this trip, he barely broke even and wasn’t
even remotely interested in the few females he noticed.

“Well this night bloody well sucked.” He
muttered darkly as he walked through the casino parking lot to
where his car was waiting.

A naturally cocky man who
seemed arrogant at most times, Ryan knew that was how others saw
him and accepted that easily. In fact, he usually played into it
with the cocky tone in his natural accent that came or went
depending on what he wanted. He didn’t care and hadn’t for many
years.

He was a single man who often looked out for
himself, did his job well and played when he wanted to and how he
wanted without having to care what others thought.

The warm breeze blew his thick long black
hair into his smoky gray-blue eyes and he shoved it out with a rare
show of bitter impatience.

Ryan accepted his poor showing in cards may
have been due to his temper and impatience being higher than normal
but the recent days had left him rawer than he’d been in years and
he didn’t care for it or for the blasted dreams.

Almost to his car, Ryan
stopped in the lot to look around. Having been in security for
awhile now and having had his time in learning the ins and out of
being a thief he knew when to accept that his sixth sense was
warning him and right then both his sixth and seventh senses were
screaming, and it was that last one that really irked
him.