Page 14

CHAPTER 14

P atrick had screwed up. Somehow, in some small way, he’d triggered Fionola, but he’d be buggered if he could recall exactly what he’d said or done. Whenever he approached her, she would tense up and move away. At times, subtly. At others, not so much. Seeing her closed off to him created a tightness in his chest that refused to ease.

To afford her as much space as possible, he’d let her have the bed and had settled in his usual spot in the far back corner of the room, away from the light. The coward in him didn’t dare ask, but the tension was growing thicker by the minute, and he felt a driving need to clear the air.

If only to breathe freely again.

“What is it you think I’ve done, love?” he asked from his comfort zone.

Whenever Loman walked the aisles and taunted his victims, Patrick had shifted into the shadows to hide his instinctive reaction. The hatred he’d felt for the man was always plain for all to see, and it gave that gobshite too much pleasure to witness it. To deny his enemy the satisfaction, Patrick learned to lurk in the darkness.

Old habits died hard.

“Nothing.” Fi’s chin was raised in defiance, but her eyes were wary, as if she suspected him of nefarious activity. She’d monitored his every movement from the moment their kiss was interrupted.

“Sure, and normally I’d let that stick, but we all know when a woman says ‘nothing’ in that tone, it’s something,” he teased.

Her head whipped in his direction, and a storm cloud settled on her features.

Ah, fuck! Sure, and he’d stepped in shite now!

Patrick sighed, prepared to take whatever lumps she intended to dole out. That’s what he got for being a eejit in the face of her anger.

“Your magic worked!” she shouted, sounding accusing.

“Wha—” His jaw dropped as the realization she was right sunk in.

Gobsmacked, he surveyed the room. Not a single spec of food or dirt to be found!

Meeting her salty stare, he shook his head. “I didn’t know, Fi. It never occurred to me that it had. I’m sorry.”

“How is it possible after all the exploding food?”

Sharp pain started behind his eyes, and he closed his lids to fight off the sudden throbbing ache. The ringing began in his ears again, and he covered them to drown out the sound. Pressure built, and it felt as if his brain were about to explode. He cried out in his agony.

“Patrick?” Fi’s voice came from beside him. When he dared open his eyes, she was there, looking worried but also as if she suspected him of acting.

His heart thudded in time to the pulsing pain in his skull.

“I’m grand,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Aye,” he lied.

“Right. So if your powers are in full force, you should try to get us out of here, then.” Her tone was grudging, as if she still didn’t trust him, but was willing to pretend if it achieved her goal of freedom.

His chest tightened further. Why did women always want to escape his presence? Was he so undesirable? Was he so unskilled in his advances that he turned others off? It bore further thinking about, but he’d be damned if he’d ask Fi, not when she looked at him as if he were about to abscond with her family’s silver.

Clearing his throat, he stood and, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, crossed to the center of their cell. “Aye. Come, and I’ll try to send you home, yeah?”

She scrambled to her feet—too fast for his liking—but Patrick remained mute on the subject. Once she placed her palms in his, he shut his eyes, closing out the distrust she exhibited.

“Dear Anu, hear my plea,

assist me in this time of need.

Release Fionola from this place,

and take her where she’ll be safe.”

Light filled the room, and a crack appeared in the fabric of space. Through the slit, Fionola’s small village appeared to grow closer. If one squinted, they could see Noah Fucking Riley’s place in the distance.

The thought of her returning to the pub owner soured his stomach.

“Wait!” she cried.

Patrick was unprepared for the impact of her body with his, and he stumbled backward with his arms full of Fi. Maintaining the spell was impossible, and the portal sealed shut with a snap and a fizzle.

“For fuck’s sake, woman! Do you not have the sense the Goddess gave a feckin’ mule?” He set her aside and began to pace. His blood pressure shot up, doing nothing to ease the ache in his head. “You’d have had your wish to be away from me, and what do ya do? You feckin’ ruined it, ya did! Are ya mad? ”

After blocking his path, she gave a vicious shove to his chest and settled her fists on her hips. She was stunning in her fury. “Don’t speak to me like that, ya lug!”

An incredulous snort escaped him, but he kept his mouth shut because what he wanted to say would blister her ears. Even a low-level witch knew better than to interrupt a casting the way Fionola had.

“You did it wrong,” she said in a haughty voice.

Frustrated beyond measure—and not just about a spell gone wrong—Patrick’s jaw clamped. Not only did he fear for the welfare of his molars, but he was certain his head was about to explode. Still, there were worse things than dying of one quick brain splat.

“Did ya hear me?” she demanded.

“Aye,” he snapped. If he didn’t wring her neck before the day was through, he’d be grand. When he could speak again without spitting teeth, he asked, “And what, pray tell, did I do wrong, O' Wise One?”

Her lips compressed in a tight line, and her eyes were troubled.

His anger dissolved in the face of her upset.

“Fi? What did I do wrong?” For the life of him, he didn’t understand. If he’d missed something and created a portal to harm her, he’d never forgive himself.

“You weren’t going to save yourself,” she whispered. “Just me.”

As confused as when their argument had started, he pressed his temples, wishing he could go back into the shadows and ease his aching head. How hard was it to please one woman? Why couldn’t he do anything right?

“And that’s why you stopped me?” he asked. “Because you didn’t want to go through the portal alone?”

“No, I…” The look she cast the cell door was helpless. “I’m sorry. I can’t go without my brother.”

Patrick’s stomach bottomed out. How had he forgotten? Jaysus, he was a bloody old fool.

“Your brother,” he stated flatly.“Aye.”

“He’s who we came to find,” she reminded him, though he wasn’t likely to forget again. Fi was here for Tadhg, not him.

“I’m after trying the spell again, yeah, and I don’t expect you to stop it this time. If the opportunity arises, you’re to escape, Fionola Bohannon, and not spare another thought for those left behind.” When her lips formed a protest, he covered them with his index finger. “I’ll save your brother, love. I promise I’ll find a way to tear down this place and get him out.”

“Thank you!” She rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly around the waist. And really, he had no choice but to embrace her. His heart wouldn’t let him push her away, though it would be for the best if he did.

“I’m sorry, Patrick.”

“You’ve no need to be, but have a care around active magic in the future, yeah?” he said gruffly.

Lifting her face up, she grinned. “You always turn grumbly whenever your softer side makes an appearance.”

“It’s because my softer side dumps me in the deepest water without a life preserver. It’s a fucking pain in my arse.” Digging deep into his reserves, he found the strength to set her from him. Sure, his brain understood she was only here for Tadhg, but his body and heart hadn’t received the message, and they were both begging him to claim her for his own.

Noah scried for the fifth time in two hours to no avail. Neither Fi nor Patrick appeared anywhere on the map. Frustrated, he blew out a breath. Needing a break from the family drama, he’d left his brother and niece behind with the O’Malleys to work on the problem. Noah was better with solo endeavors, and he was determined to find Fi as soon as humanly possible.

A knock sounded on his pub door, and he frowned at the intrusion. With a wave of his hand, he unlocked and opened it, not bothering to cross the room. Indeed, he’d recognized his visitor the instant his face appeared on the other side of the aged and distorted glass.

“What do you want, Aether?”

Damian clasped his hands behind his back and ignored Noah to meander around the room. Here and there, he paused to study a picture on the wall or run his fingertips across a beautifully crafted furniture piece. He strolled the place as if he didn’t have a care in the world and nowhere to be.

“I asked what ya wanted,” Noah ground out.

“To see where you live. Your place of business,” Damian replied smoothly, with no outward sign of irritation.

He , on the other hand, was annoyed enough for the both of them. “You’re not welcome here.”

That stopped the Aether in his tracks. Pivoting, he met Noah’s challenging stare, and the fucker had the nerve to smile. The action wasn’t taunting or mean, but held the warmth of the sun.

“Growing up, I’d always wanted a bratty little brother. One who I could say wasn’t an adopted sibling,” Damian told him. “You’d have fit the bill nicely, I believe.”

With a snort, he crossed his arms. “Well, I suppose it’s too feckin’ bad our mother went mad and you’re filled with evil, yeah?”

His retort wiped all expression from his brother’s smug face.

“What is it you believe you know about me, Noah? I’ve the distinct impression our father didn’t provide you with the pertinent details.”

“Damarius was a lot of things, most of them mean, but he wasn’t a liar.”

“Mean?” A frown furrowed Damian’s brow. “Father was only disagreeable during the time he was infected by the Darkness, but Mother removed it.”

“Disagreeable. Ha! That’s rich. It had little to do with any residual Darkness, to be sure.” To put distance between them, he walked behind the bar and picked up a pint glass. After lifting it as an offering and receiving Damian’s nod, he drew a Guinness for each of them. “His soul took the beating, and he never recovered from the loss of you and our mother. When the man wasn’t crying in his cups, he was berating me for not being you .”

“I’m sorry.”

Noah’s brows shot up, but the sympathy on Damian’s face made him uncomfortable, and he shrugged. “What are you apologizing for? He’s the one who fled his home. I’d probably have suffered less if he’d left me behind for her to murder me.”

The temperature in the room cooled, and when he glanced up, it was to see his brother’s arch look.

“She wouldn’t have,” Damian said sharply. “She didn’t murder me, and she wouldn’t have harmed her baby.”

“That’s not the word on the street.” Yes, he was pushing buttons, but Noah needed to gauge the man beneath the power. To really see what he was made of, and not be subjected to the act he presented to the world.

“I don’t care what the word is. She wouldn’t have hurt you. With the last of her willpower, she requested assistance on my behalf.” Damian picked up his drink and studied the contents. “If you were with us, she’d have sent you away with me. But the fact she let Father take you once she’d become infected spoke of her love for you.”

In two centuries of living, Noah had never considered it from Damian’s point of view. And although his mother might’ve actually cared about him, he found it hard to reconcile the past with the present.

“Perhaps,” he finally said, removing Damian’s drink from his hand to take a sip and hand it back. “If I wanted to poison you, I’d have done it already.”

His brother laughed and placed the drink on the bar top. “I’m not much of a beer drinker. I prefer an aged scotch or brandy.”

“Well why the feck didn’t ya say so?” Noah shot him a disgusted look and reached for a bottle on the top shelf. “Feckin’ pretty manners,” he scoffed. “You need to live in the wilds of Ireland for a time, then ya’d speak plain.”

“I lived in the wilds of America during my youth. Trust me. I have the ability to get down and dirty with the best of them. But I prefer civilized conversations and finer things as I get older.”

“Aye, and you’re ancient.” After serving up a tumbler of his best scotch, Noah downed the remainder of the beer, then swiped his shirtsleeve across his mouth to wipe away the foam before offering up a hearty belch.

Damian merely laughed at his antics. “Like I said, I’d have appreciated a bratty younger brother.” The Aether’s mood shifted. “My daughter revealed some truths after you left, Noah. If you care to hear them, I’ll tell you what I know.”

“What happened to the rules you hammered the wild beastie with? Is it fair they don’t apply to you, then?”

Obsidian eyes, so solemn yet sincere, stared back at him, waiting.

“Fuck it.” Noah drank the second pint and set the glass on the bar. “Fine. Out with it.”

“She said Fionola won’t return to you.”

He scowled at Damian. “And what the bleedin’ hell does that mean? To work, to this village, to me in particular?”

“I took it to mean you , but Beastie can be quite literal. It may mean to the village or even to work here, I suppose.”

“And did your child-clone tell you we’d find her?”

“Yes, but not right away or without a great deal of effort.”

“Jaysus. If I’d known I was supposed to be solving riddles, I’d have kept a clear head,” Noah muttered.

Damian’s mouth quirked up on one side. “I’ve more bad news for you.”

“Of course you do.”

“My wife would like to have you over for dinner tonight. I’m not to return home without your agreement.”

With a scowl, Noah gathered the glasses and began to wash up. “Why me? And why tonight?”

“You, because you’re family. Tonight, because Vivian can be as impatient as our children.”

Curious despite himself, he studied Damian. “Your daughter mentioned she had a brother.”

“Nate. Named after my foster father, Nathanial Thorne.” There was sadness in the his brother's smile. “He was a great man, and I wish you could’ve had him for a father.”

Noah was astonished to realize Damian was sad because Nathanial hadn’t raised him, too. He did the only thing he could to cover his surprise—he agreed to dinner.