Haunting Beauty (40 page)

“How did you get to Arizona, Sean?” Danni asked again.

He tried to avoid answering. Tried to deflect it, ignore it as he’d done the first time. But there it was—a giant black question mark against the white of his memory.

“I don’t know.”

His response brought a shimmer to the gray of her eyes, turning them into gloam and gale. A distorted reflection of himself glistened in their depths. He didn’t want to look there. He wanted to hold his illusions close and tight. But it was too late.

All those years, all that time when he’d felt like he was going through the motions but not really connected to the cause and effect around him. How many days had he felt ignored, snubbed, rejected? He’d been invisible, seen only by his grandmother. And perhaps worst of all, he hadn’t even known it.

His legs felt weak and he staggered back, sitting down heavily on the bed. Danni reached out, but he recoiled from her touch as comprehension filled his mind.

A memory rushed to the surface and rolled over him. He watched it play in his head as if he were a bystander to a horror he’d somehow managed to bury for all these years. He’d been fourteen and angry, furious and guilt ridden by the deaths of his mother and young brother. The weight of responsibility sickened him like a disease.

Five years after their tragic deaths Niall had fallen in love with Fia. Sean had suspected it even before he’d had it confirmed when he’d seen them together. And all he could think of was the accusation his mother had hurled across the kitchen that day. She’d accused Niall of loving Fia MacGrath, and Niall had denied it.

Sean had followed his father the night Fia MacGrath had disappeared. He’d come upon them in the cavern, thinking it was time to confront his father. To tell Niall how much he hated him. But then Cathán MacGrath had shown up with his gun and something had snapped inside of Sean. Sean had stood by and done nothing to help his brother or his mother that day so long ago, but he couldn’t do the same when Cathán threatened his father. He’d thrown himself in front of Niall, a man he thought he hated, and taken the bullet meant for him.

He could see it now, his father’s face as he held Sean, crying and begging Jesus to tell him why, why. . . .

Christ in heaven, if what Danni said was true, then whatever had sent him into this tailspin of fate would repeat. The beautiful sensation of living, of really
living
, would evaporate like the fog, and he’d never be the wiser until once more she brought him to this moment—here and now—where everything would be stolen away again.

He glanced at Danni, caught her staring back with an expression that made him pause. She looked . . . guilty. Why? What did she have to feel guilty about? She turned her face away and the answer rolled over him.

She’d known.
She’d known from the start, and yet she’d said nothing. She’d touched him and made love with him, knowing it would all end tonight—not just that her mother would disappear with Danni and her brother, but that Sean would die. Was it just a game to her? A foray into the imagination, a fantasy that could be lived without risk to herself? Because she would go on. But for Sean it was the end of the road.

“Never trust a MacGrath,” he said softly, repeating the words that his kinsfolk had said a hundred times before.

“Sean, don’t,” she whispered, looking at him like she cared what he thought and what he felt. But he didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe her. He’d been so enthralled by the idea that she saw him, that she
got
him, that he’d never even realized he wasn’t getting her. Not anymore.

Angrily he pulled on his clothes and turned to the door. “Have a nice life, Danni,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you on the other side. Then again, maybe not.”

Chapter Thirty-six

T
HE door slammed behind Sean, leaving Danni standing alone in the tiny cottage.
Alone again
, she thought. Her destiny.

She wanted to go after him, to beg him to understand, to come back and spend the last hours they had together. But she knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. Because she didn’t want these to be their last hours. And she wasn’t going to stand by while fate stole her hopes and dreams once more.

She didn’t know what had catapulted her to this time and place. Perhaps it was the Book of Fennore. Perhaps it
was
Danni. Whatever the reason, she refused to waste the chance to make a difference. To make
everything
different. If Colleen could be trusted, she’d made this journey before, but hadn’t managed to change the course of history on her previous attempts. She refused to fail again.

The twins said the Book was gone. That it moved, and a part of her suspected that the motion they sensed was actually Danni whisking it through time.

There was no doubt in Danni’s mind her father had been using it before then. His sudden wealth . . . the strange look in his eyes . . . the tension she sensed when he was near . . . the fear she’d seen in her mother. How many times had he put his hands on that sinister black cover and wielded its power? How many pieces of his soul had he surrendered to it? A handful? Or all of it? Was there anything left of the man Cathán had been before the Book of Fennore had called him? Before it began whispering in his ear as it had with Danni and Sean tonight?

Danni was certain it had been Cathán she’d seen in Arizona, Cathán she’d seen at Fia’s house in the vision, when she’d watched Edel use the Book. And she’d seen him today, when she’d gone for the Book herself. Somehow he’d figured out how to travel through time. He’d done intentionally what Danni and Sean had done by accident. She shouldn’t be so surprised—he shared the same blood that made her unique, didn’t he?

She wished she understood how the Book worked or how history was impacted by it. She’d traveled back in time and stolen it, but returned to a world much as it had been when she’d left it. She and Sean were still here in Ballyfionúir, and her memories were unaltered. The change she’d made in the past by taking the Book of Fennore didn’t appear to have rippled forward with any significance.

What did that mean where her father was concerned? It stood to reason that he “acquired” the Book of Fennore sometime after the night she’d seen Edel use it. But today she’d gone back to a point
before
that and stolen it. That meant it wouldn’t be there later, when he went for it himself . . . didn’t it? Would the impact of what she’d done only come into play from this point forward? She didn’t know, couldn’t wrap her head around it at all. Couldn’t even conceive how she’d reached a place where she was thinking about the abstract concept of changing the past.

However it worked, Cathán had seen her at Edel’s house, and for all his faults, Danni didn’t think he was a stupid man. He would make the connection and know that Danni had the Book of Fennore. Perhaps the Book itself had told him.

She’d brought the Book here, not realizing what she’d invited into her home. Now that she knew, she understood that she couldn’t use it near anyone she loved. She couldn’t trust it, couldn’t trust herself around it. What she needed to do now was get back to the cavern and use the Book there, before her father could stop her.

As frightening as the thought of it was, Danni was determined to go through with it. She would force herself to hold it and pray with all of her heart for salvation—for Sean, for her mother and brother, for herself. She would plead with that voice in her head, bargain her life if that’s what it took.

Danni swallowed hard, remembering the vision, with the blood that had seeped out of the Book and how when Edel touched the cover, it had oozed like sludge, sucking Edel’s hand deep into its midst.

Don’t think about it.

But she couldn’t stop the memory of the Book’s dark and terrifying odor, the strange, jarring hum she’d felt to her bones, or the blood that seeped from its open pages.

None of it mattered, though. She would use it to change the events of this night, at any cost.

Chapter Thirty-seven

D
ÁIRINN MacGrath knew that trouble was coming. She hadn’t seen it, but she’d felt it building, like the pressure in a teakettle. Soon the steam would be hissing out in a shriek that would change the world. No one could stop it.

She was awake and waiting when Rory opened her door. “Mum’s coming,” he said.

“I know.”

He climbed up on the bed beside her. “Have you seen anything else?” he asked.

“Only the same. Danni has the Book, but I don’t know how she got it.”

“We can’t let her use it.”

Dáirinn knew this already. She’d seen it enough times, in dreams. In visions. The Book of Fennore was greedy and it would take more than Danni could give. Danni didn’t understand how different she was. How special. But the Book knew and it was hungry for her. It would devour her, and she would make it more powerful, more dreadful than anyone could imagine.

Danni could do what no else could even guess. She alone had the power to unlock the Book of Fennore. She could unravel the ancient Celtic spiral of life. And once pulled apart, it would never go back together again. Not in the same way. Not as it should.

It would remain open and searching, preying on the defenseless, using the evil in the world for its own purpose.

Rory had told her this. Her brother understood the Book of Fennore, though he didn’t know why he was connected to it. Dáirinn had no doubt it was the truth though. Rory never lied.

“You have to find, Sean, Rory. He’s the only one who can stop her. But be careful. It wants you, too.”

“I know it,” Rory said solemnly.

Dáirinn gave her brother a hug, feeling again the plunging anxiety deep inside her. She didn’t know the future, but she felt it dragging away her hopes like the tide eating away at the beach beneath the ruins.

Chapter Thirty-eight

S
EAN sat on the front porch of his grandmother’s house as the sun went down. He hadn’t knocked or let her know he was there, but he didn’t think he needed to. Colleen had a sixth sense where he was concerned. He’d thought it was her love for him that brought it, but now he realized it was simply her way, her connection to the other-world. The world he belonged to.

“And what is it you’re wanting out here in the dark?” she asked as she closed the front door behind her.

“It’s where I belong, isn’t it?”

She studied his face for a moment before taking the seat beside him. “Aye, some might see it that way. I’m not of that mind, though. I see you in the light plain enough.”

At least she hadn’t lied or pretended not to know what he was talking about. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked, and his voice betrayed the depth of his feelings.

“’Twas not I who brought you.”

“You sent me to her, though. You sent me to find her and bring her home. You even bought me a plane ticket. Why go to all that trouble when you knew I was—”

She held up a hand, face blanched and eyes blazing. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, do not be saying it in my presence, Sean Michael Ballagh. You’re no eejit. Why do you act one?”

No, not an idiot. Just dead.

He asked, “Why did you send me to bring her back?”

“Sure and there are things that we all must live with. If you’re thinking I don’t know that, then you’re a fool yourself. The Lord paves my road, and I can do no more than follow it. He would not blame me for the choices I’ve made. Yes, I sent you to bring her back. And how can you even ask me why? She can change what happens tonight. I’d not be the woman I am if I didn’t want her to try.”

Sean didn’t have a fucking clue what she meant and said as much.

“I’m saying there’s a chance to change what will come. I’m saying, Danni is that chance.”

“What about the Book of Fennore? Did you plant the idea of using it in her head?”

“What do you take me for? Sure and don’t I know the Book of Fennore is not a toy to be played with. It’s not a wishing well to toss a penny in. But it can be used, that’s a certainty. And sure it can be used unwisely. ’Tis not a part of God’s will, but it has power enough to be godlike. Whether or not our Danni uses it at all is up to her and her alone.”

Sean turned in his seat and looked at the old woman who’d been his only companion for longer than he could remember. “She saved Trevor,” he said.

Colleen nodded and her eyes glittered with tears. “When I saw him walk through me door, I thought my heart would shatter with happiness. It was like a dam breaking inside me.”

It felt like a black void had suddenly filled with laughter and love. Trevor had been the heart of their family since the day he was born. His death had wrapped them in a dark shroud they’d never escaped.

“Does she know it?” Colleen asked.

Sean frowned. “Know what?”

“That she saved him?”

“How could she not? He was dead and now he’s alive.”

“But she wouldn’t know that, would she now? Unless you’d told her?”

Sean slowly shook his head. He hadn’t said a word about Trevor—not before and not this morning either. He’d assumed, of course, that she knew what she’d done. But he’d never mentioned Trevor to her, had not been able to say his name since the day he’d seen his little brother slain in the kitchen of their home.

At first he’d been too stunned to even speak. And when he’d returned from his father’s boat, he’d found her gone. After that . . . he felt his face grow hot when he thought of what had come after that.

He frowned at his grandmother. “If you know what’s going to happen tonight, why don’t you stop it?”

“And what do you think I’m doing now? Twiddling my thumbs and dancing a jig?”

“You’re putting a lot of responsibility on Danni’s shoulders. A lot of faith in her . . . abilities. What if she can’t make a difference?”

“Aye. But what if she can?”

“What if she makes it worse?”

“And how could it be worse, Sean?”

He didn’t know the answer to that. But the question filled him with dread.

“She’s trying to save you,” Colleen said, placing a gnarled hand over his. “It would only be good manners if you did the same for her.”