Page 2

CHAPTER 2

“ Y er brother’s gone.”

Fionola Bohannon closed her fatigued eyes. Her mother wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know. Two nights ago, she’d gone to check on Tadhg only to find his flat ransacked and no trace of his whereabouts. She’d tried to keep it from her mother as long as possible, but like the proverbial saying, the cat was out of the bag.

Last year, her only brother had been abducted by Loman O’Connor. The evil fucker had randomly plucked and imprisoned members of the magical community, much like a scientist collecting rare butterflies, and he’d put them in cages. Tadhg was one of many held at a compound on a remote island off the coast.

The Aether, Damian Dethridge, along with a small contingent of his magnificently magical friends, saw to it that Loman was put down like the feral beast he was. This time, never to return.

Thank Anu!

But Tadhg was missing.

He didn’t go willingly, based on the state of his flat.

“Did ya hear me, girl?” Mam demanded, her voice pitched to raise the dead.

“Yeah.” Fi expelled a heavy sigh. “I’m after finding him, Mam. I’ve called that man who came around to help Tadhg. He’ll be arriving today to see what he can uncover.”

Face tragic and tears brimming in her large blue eyes so like Fi’s own, Mam nodded. “That’s grand, then.” With her mouth pressed into a thin line, her mother patted her shoulder, smoothed down her apron, and shuffled her way to the stove.

When it came to confronting their troubles, the Bohannons excelled at total avoidance. Da would hang about the pub, and Mam would make enough food for the entire village. Fionola and Tadhg had learned from the best, and they, too, refused to discuss their feelings. Snarky comebacks and work kept the worst of their emotions at bay.

And having considered their inability to communicate, Fi realized Tadhg might be missing for that very reason. If he felt threatened or was scared someone was after him, he’d quite likely jackrabbited for the hills rather than give her the details. Even now, he might be burrowing in and hiding from the world.

Guilt or something similar crept in.

Fi should’ve pushed harder for her brother to speak to someone about his trauma. He wasn’t all right, but she chose to believe him when he said he was. If the worst happened, it was on her. Scrubbing her palms over her face, she unfurled from a sitting position with a check of the clock.

Goddess, she was tired. But rest was for the wicked, and she had a shift to cover for Marta at the pub. And if her father was sober, she’d break the news about Tadhg to Da while she was there.

Within ten minutes, she was heading for the door.

“Are ya not eatin’, then?” Mam demanded.

“I’ve got a shift. Marta’s off to Dublin for the weekend.”

“That feckin’ girl’s gonna find herself with a ween on her hip if she’s not careful.”

Fi hid a grin. “She’s careful, Mam. Marta’s not interested in a life like ours. She’s got grand plans, she does.”

“Aye. Too grand, if ya ask me.”

Fi kissed her mother’s cheek. “Is there any such thing as too grand? I’d take a villa in the south of France and be happy for it.”

A twinkle lit her mother’s pale blue eyes. “You’re as batty as Marta.”

“Sure, but I’m better at hiding it.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Fi reached for the door handle. “Do you want me to send Da home?”

“Nah. Let him drink until he’s pickled his liver. What care I?” Mam’s snappy response lacked heat. In truth, she loved her husband, flaws and all. And who didn’t have flaws?

Feeling particularly sentimental, Fi paused to say, “I love you, Mam. I’ve not said it enough, but I do.”

Gesturing with her chin, Mam said, “Hurry now, girl. You’ll be late for work.”

“Is that your way of telling me you love me, too?” Fi asked dryly.

“And haven’t I kept ya fed all these years, you ungrateful child?”

Laughing, Fionola whipped open the door and stopped short when she saw the visitor on the other side. Although she felt like a proper eejit, all she could do was stare at the man who had his fist raised to knock.

Tall, but not overly so, he had piercing green eyes and graying auburn hair. She couldn’t tell the shape of his body, whether dad-bod or fit, because he was swathed in a navy blue peacoat. Yet her overall impression was of a man who ran toward muscled. His expression was startled, but beneath the instantaneous reaction, there was a worn quality to his visage, as if he constantly fought fatigue and lost.

Her need to hug him to her breast and stroke his thick, close-cropped hair while assuring him it would all be okay was as strong as she’d ever experienced. Granted, she didn’t know what his issues were or if they were on a larger scale than his ability to cope, but her desire to soothe was there, all the same.

“Well, what are ya waitin’ on, girl—Oh!” Mam quickly wiped her hands on her apron and swung the door wider, allowing her to see their visitor better. “What are ya after, then?” she asked him.

As if he had all day, his disturbing gaze traveled the length of Fionola’s body and returned to her face. A frown tugged at his brows.

She was proud when she finally rediscovered her voice. “Are you lost?”

With a shake of his head, he glanced between Mam and her. “I’m Patrick O’Malley. I’ve come about Tadhg Bohannon.”

“It was me you talked to. I’m Fionola Bohannon. Tadhg’s sister.” Fi glanced at the wall clock and grimaced. “You’re early, but I’m late for my shift. If you walk with me, I’ll fill you in.”

With another kiss to her mother’s cheek, she pushed past Patrick and started down the path, leaving him to follow if he intended. He’d disconcerted her. When they’d talked on the phone, she gave him directions to the pub, intending to tell him what she knew during her break. How he’d found their house was no mystery, though. It only took asking anyone in town.

Patrick fell into step beside her, but remained silent for three of her seven-minute walk.

“It’s a lovely sight,” he finally said, gesturing with his hand to the view of the village below them.

Since she was already late, she stopped at the overlook and absorbed her favorite scene. The rain had let up, and the fields were rich in color, greener from a good soaking.

“It is,” she agreed with a smile. “Is this your first time in this part of the country, then?”

“No.”

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. With a shrug, she started down the road. “So, as I told you on the phone, my brother went missing.”

“Aye. I’ve come to help you find him.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief, and until that particular moment, she hadn’t realized her tension was so high. “What more do you need to know other than what I told you last night?”

“I’d like to see his flat.”

“Sure. I’ve a shift, but I’ll get Da to take you if he’s sober.”

“Thanks.”

Again, they fell into a comfortable silence as they traversed the road to the village. She had the ridiculous urge to clasp his hand, but shook it off.

“Are you married?” he asked in a gruff, seemingly seldom-used voice.

Fi jerked to a halt and gaped. It didn’t take him long to realize she’d stopped, and he spun back to stare at her. His dark brows snapped together, and he opened his mouth as if he intended to speak, but clamped his jaw shut the next instant.

What the hell?

What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

Patrick didn’t know what demon had possessed him, but he was prepared to battle the fecker to death if only to stop it from doing stupid shite on his behalf. Still, he made a visual sweep of her left hand, and the tension left his body when the lack of a wedding ring registered.

“Not married,” she said with a clipped tone and a sassy toss of her strawberry-blonde hair, as if irritated he’d asked. Yet her gaze sought his left hand, and his inner demon prompted him to pull it from his coat pocket and wave it in the air.

“There’s no commitment here, either.”

Her lips quirked, but she didn’t grace him with a smile as he’d hoped. “What matter is it of mine, Patrick O’Malley?”

“Just in case you were after knowing,” he countered.

“Well, I’m not. After knowing , that is.”

“Your eyes were.”

“Shut your big gob! They weren’t!”

He chuckled in the face of her indignation.

She hastened her already brisk pace, but he possessed a long stride and easily kept time with her.

“Do you think you’ll be able to find Tadhg?” she asked, reminding him why he was there.

“I’ll not lie and tell you yes, but I’m after doing my best.”

She nodded, but her disappointment showed. Although he suspected, like any Irish person, she was a stone-cold realist, no one cared for bad news.

At the rate Loman’s ex-victims were vanishing, it didn’t bode well for Tadhg. But he kept that tidbit to himself.

“Do you think his disappearance is connected to the others? To Loman’s island, somehow?” Fionola asked, as if she’d read his mind.

His heart resounded loudly in his chest, kicking up its pace until the thrumming in his ears was all he could hear. How had she learned about the other victims? He was doing a piss-poor job of keeping things under wraps if all of éire knew what was happening. Grey spots danced in front of his eyes, and a wave of dizziness nearly knocked him down.

“Mr. O’Malley! Patrick!”

When her chilly hands cradled his face and her devastatingly blue eyes locked with his, Patrick came back to himself. Warm buzzing started within his cells, as if they were amping up for a teleport, yet his feet never left the ground.

“Aye. I’m grand, love. No need to fuss.”

Fionola released Patrick faster than scalding chips straight from the oil, and nothing short of horror filled her face as she repeatedly shook her head.

Filled with dread, Patrick ventured a glance around, but nothing seemed strange.

Her voice was hoarse when she asked, “What was that? What did I see?”