Page 27

CHAPTER 27

“ Y ou don’t know me?” Fi asked in horrified wonder. How was it possible Noah had lost his memory of her?

“Of course, I know you. For feck’s sake, Fi! The wards I have in place upstairs wouldn’t let just anyone in.” He scowled and gestured to Fintan with his thumb. “I’m asking who the fuck he is, and why were you coming from my flat?”

“Oh!” She waved away the question and resumed dragging him toward the office. “I’ll explain in due time, to be sure, but let’s go where we can hear ourselves think.”

Once they were situated, with the door shut, Noah indicated they sit down, and perched on the edge of his antique wood desk. The beast consumed half the room, leaving little remaining area for visitors or comfort. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as he regarded them from his elevated position.

“What’s going on, Fi? What’s with the drama?”

“According to the Seer here, you know something I don’t, and we’re to save the patriarch, which happens to be Patrick.”

“Ah.” A world of understanding colored his beautifully sculpted face, and he shifted his attention to Fintan. “A Seer. I’ve only met one in my life, name of Sullivan. You know of him?”

“My uncle, but he’s pushing up daisies and has been for a quarter of a century. Name’s Fintan Sullivan, and I’ve taken his place.”

Noah nodded. “Can ya provide any clarification?”

“Not yet. Other than you’ve overheard something, but you may not know what it is ya heard.”

Black brows drew together over midnight-colored eyes as he considered Fintan’s words.

“Last night, Patrick and I were attacked by two non-witches in the alley between his house,” Fi said.

“Jaysus!” Noah’s expression declared he was ready to rip the villains limb from limb. “Tell me O’Malley dispatched them, or give me their direction.”

“Sure, and it was his ex-wife who shot the man with the knife to my throat.”

He paled. His focus dropped to her neck, and he exhaled forcefully when he registered the lack of injury. “So his wife returned, shot the man, and miraculously refrained from getting even with O’Malley, even though you, his latest lover, were present?”

“It’s not like that. She doesn’t care that he’s moved on, but was a right proper bitch to him in the past, and unfaithful, to boot!”

“Sure, but in that case, why wouldn’t she take delight in his demise?”

Fi shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Everyone is convinced she’s innocent of hiring the men.”

“Why did anyone believe it was her to begin with?”

“The man mentioned he was paid by a lady. But he never finished telling us who before Rose shut him up for good.”

“And you still don’t think she did it?” he asked with a laugh.

“No.” Maybe she was a fool, but she believed Rose. More importantly, she believed Patrick believed her, which was saying a lot, considering he didn’t trust many.

“A woman, huh? Is that what you believe, too?” he asked Fintan. When the Seer confirmed it, Noah’s gaze grew thoughtful. As he considered what was said, he looked toward the door as if mentally recalling things he’d seen or heard. Seeming to reach a conclusion, he climbed to his feet and held out a hand to assist Fi up.

“We’ve a need to see your mother, love.”

“Mam? What does she have to do with this?” Unease unfurled in her stomach.

“Everything.” His expression was grim.

Not wanting to believe her family was in any way involved, Fi looked to Fintan, but he nodded.

“So now you know what’s about to happen when you didn’t five minutes ago?” she asked dryly.

His grin was sheepish.

“You’re right about your feckin’ ancestors, and you can tell ’em I said so.” She smiled when he chuckled, then leaned in for a brief hug. “Thank you, Fintan.”

“I’ll be going with you in case you’ve need of me,” he reassured her.

They followed Noah out the door and down the hallway into the pub. When Fi saw the gathered crowd, she hissed out a breath and touched his arm to get his attention.

“It’s too busy for you to leave. We can go,” she said in a raised voice to be heard above the crowd.

He drew her back into the hallway and leaned closer so she could hear. “I don’t give a shite about any of those people. They can all bugger off.” Sandwiching her face between his palms, he graced her with a look so tender her old self—the woman who’d once adored him—wept inside. “Let’s go find Patrick.”

Overcome by his willingness to help despite her choosing another, her chest tightened, and she could only nod. He clasped her hand and tugged her through the pub, pointedly ignoring anyone who hollered his name. Before they exited, he drew Marta aside. “You’re in charge for the foreseeable future. Don’t fuck it up.”

The cheery, blonde-haired beauty rolled her sky-blue eyes and winked at Fi. “His managerial skills are top-notch, they are!” With a dismissive wave in Noah’s direction, a seductive smile for Fintan, and a well-placed cuff to the ear for the nearest drunkard attempting to pinch her arse, Marta sailed off.

“I love her,” Fi said as Noah hustled her out the door. “I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“It’s a little late for that. You’re almost twice her age, love.”

“Shut your gob, Noah Riley!”

His lips twitched, but he did as she ordered.

Fionola’s worry for Patrick was like continuous nettle pricks under Noah’s skin. Not because he was jealous—he absolutely was—but because her emotions were all over the place, and whatever she was feeling for the man was stronger than anything she’d believed she felt for him. That emotion was the main reason he’d given them his blessing and walked away yesterday after she kissed Patrick. Of course, she didn’t need him to say anything or offer his approval, but he desired for her to move on without the guilt she was wont to wallow in.

As their trio walked up the hill toward Fi’s home, he told them what he’d heard.

“Tadhg and Clara came for Jimmy earlier in the day.” He gave her a sympathetic smile when she grimaced at the idea her father was too pissed to put one foot in front of the other to make his way home. “Your da’s a good man, Fi. Just disillusioned by life.”

“What did they say?” Fintan asked.

“Tadhg asked Clara if she’d heard back from the men she hired.”

The air escaped Fi’s lungs in a rush, and Noah reached for her when she swayed on her feet, cursing himself for his bluntness and assumption that she could handle whatever he happened to regurgitate regarding her family’s conversation.

“Fi?”

“I’m grand,” she croaked, drawing on whatever reserve she had to continue up the hill.

The look he shared with Fintan was half worried, half exasperated. Someone like Fionola Bohannon would never admit to what she perceived as weakness if she could help it.

“Yeah, and what did Clara have to say in response to her son?” Fintan asked.

“She informed him she hadn’t yet, and appeared vexed by the situation.”

“Oh, Mam,” Fi whispered.

The distressed sound, along with her building angst, tugged at Noah’s heartstrings. His empathic ability was working overtime on her behalf, and the Bohannons’ betrayal of her trust felt personal. Fi was strong-willed, yes, but she was also intelligent and deliberate in her choices. Had Clara and Tadhg simply voiced their concerns instead of sending thugs to hurt O’Malley, they’d have gotten farther with their objective.

The cottage came into sight, and Noah felt a sense of impending doom so strong it stopped him in the middle of the road. Fintan and Fionola took another moment to realize he’d halted.

“Noah?” Fi’s tone was concerned but distracted, and he recognized she was still obsessing over her family’s part in all this.

“Something’s off,” Fintan said, cutting off Noah’s reply. “The patriarch is here.”

“Aye.” Noah shot Fi a grim look. “I feel him, and he’s not happy.”

She took off at a run.

Swearing savagely, he followed. Luckily for him, his legs were longer than hers, and he caught Fi prior to her bursting through the door.

“Wait!” He kept his voice low despite his urgency. “Don’t go in half cocked. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Fintan held up a hand with a glare and snuck closer to an open window. Voices were audible, but only Tadhg’s was raised in agitation.

“Kill him now, Mam, and be fuckin’ done with it already. Fi doesn’t know the bastard’s here, and she’ll not be missing him. With his scrambled brains, she’ll think he deserted her, she will.”

Noah clamped his hand over her mouth to prevent the anticipated explosion. An elbow to his ribs was her repayment. He grunted, but refused to let go.

“Stay calm and listen,” he whispered into her ear. “Clara’s not prone to swift reactions, and we’ve time to help.”

After receiving her sharp nod, he released her. Of course, she followed up with a heel to his instep. No one manhandled Fionola Bohannon and got away with it. He’d have laughed if it wouldn’t have given them away.

As they huddled on either side of the window, waiting for the scene to play out, Noah experienced the eerie sensation of being watched. Easing his head around, he scanned the area, seeing no one but feeling another life force in the general area. Closing his eyes, he drew on his limited magic and sent it through the Bohannon home.

Three. Where was the fourth? Shouldn’t Jimmy be present, too, even if he was merely sleeping off his earlier imbibing?

Concentrating harder, Noah pulled his remaining power from his cells, picturing the invisible thread in his mind and sending it room by room. In the primary suite, he found Jimmy, slumbering. The knowledge almost caused him to recoil, but he pushed through and sent the thread into the room on the other side of the wall from where they crouched.

Tadhg’s energy was like a live wire, as always, with Clara’s more subtle in nature, but still containing irritation. For Tadhg or Patrick, Noah couldn’t quite tell. When he reached for the third entity, he found none.

He did recoil that time and hissed out a breath. O’Malley wasn’t soulless, so how was it he put off no energy signature? What the hell was happening?

Again, he sensed a watcher.

With one last try, he sent his feeler threads out toward the place where he suspected the person hid. They connected with a wall, similar to a magical force field, about twenty feet from their location.

“Sullivan?” he whispered with a hand signal toward the suspected watcher. “Anything, man?”

When Fintan sunk to the ground, eyes opaque and visage a blank mask, Noah gripped Fi’s hand, prepared to drag her away.

“He does that when the Sullivan ancestors are imparting a message,” she murmured. “He’s all right.”

“But I’m not. There’s another here, and I’m not happy not knowing who it is.”

“Where?”

“Twenty feet to your right.” Although he looked that way, he didn’t gesture, not wishing to give himself away if the cloaked person hadn’t noticed them yet.

“It’s Patrick O’Malley,” Fintan said in a hushed voice, scaring the bejeezus out of Noah when his body convulsed and he rejoined the conversation.

Sharing a what-the-fuck look with Fi, Noah stared hard in the direction of the hidden figure. “How can ya tell?”

Fintan threw up his arms and waved a hand toward the window.

“The second sight, man. How the feck do you think?” he replied at a normal volume, but with his tone expressing annoyance.

“Show yourself, O’Malley,” Fintan demanded.

Nothing happened. No shimmering light, no big reveal.

“Astral projection.” Fi nodded as if it were an everyday occurrence, yet as far as Noah knew, it wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish. “Patrick defaulted to it in the prison,” she explained before turning to Fintan. “I’m assuming you muted our noise, yeah?” When he nodded, she said, “Can they see me if I stand up?”

“Sure, if they bother to glance out the window, but it will be a shadow only. Like a cloud passing overhead.”

“Good.” Climbing to her feet, she peered through the glass. “He’s in there and speaking to them. Or part of him is.” Her lips firmed and she came to a decision of sorts. One Noah would probably despise because he hated recklessness. “Can you guide me to him with your magic, Noah? Make sure I don’t trip over or crash into anything?”

“What are you intending?” he demanded, not down for her putting herself in danger. “If Patrick has reverted back to a broken mind?—”

“He hasn’t,” Fintan assured them.

Fi waved them off. “I’m going to break through his wall. If he’s doing what I believe, he’s likely in a trance and unaware we’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t he just go inside?”

“He’d view it as too dangerous.” Fi positioned herself at the corner of the house. “Astral projection is his fail-safe reaction to sticky situations, or so I’m learning. Ready?”