She still wrote her books, gaining ideas from her work. And being with the Krewe made her feel that she was using herself in the best way possible—helping those in need. She’d never wanted the world to be evil. And the world wasn’t evil—just some people in it.
She did have to admit that her life had never seemed so complete. But, of course, that was mainly because she woke up each morning with Rocky at her side. And she knew that no matter how many years went by, she would love waking to his dark green eyes on her, even when his auburn hair grayed—or disappeared entirely. She loved Rocky—everything about him. He was one of the least self-conscious people she had ever met. He towered over her five-nine by a good six inches and was naturally lean but powerfully built, and yet totally oblivious to his appearance. Of course, he took his work very seriously and that meant time in a gym several days every week. Now, of course, she had to take to the gym every week herself.
Rocky was just much better at the discipline.
Better at every discipline, she thought dryly.
And also so compassionate, despite all that he’d seen in the world. When her cousin had called her nervously, begging her to come to Ireland, Rocky had been quick to tell Devin that yes, naturally, Adam Harrison and Jackson Crow—the founder and Director Special Agent of their unit, respectively—would give them leave to do so. And it had all worked out well, really, because they’d toyed with the idea of a wedding—neither wanted anything traditional, large, or extravagant—and they’d made some tentative plans, thinking they’d take time after and head for a destination like Bermuda.
They chose not to put off the wedding; in fact, they pushed it up a bit. And instead of Bermuda or the Caribbean, they headed to Ireland.
A working honeymoon might not be ideal. Still, they’d been living together for six months before they married, so it wasn’t really what some saw as a traditional honeymoon anyway. And, St. Patrick’s Day was March 17th, just three days away from their landing on the Emerald Isle that noon. Her cousin, Kelly Karney, had promised amazing festivities, despite the recent death of Kelly’s uncle, Collum Karney—the real reason they had come.
A heart attack, plain and simple.
Then why was Collum discovered after the screeching, terrible howl of the banshee with the look of horror upon his face described by Brendan?
“They say,” Gary the Ghost intoned, his voice rich and carrying across the fire, and yet low and husky as well, “that Castle Karney carries within her very stone the heart and blood of a people, the cries of their battles, the lament of those lost, indeed, the cry of dead and dying…and the banshee come to greet them. Ah, yes, she’s proven herself secure. ‘Castle Karney in Karney hands shall lie, ’til the moon goes dark by night and the banshee wails her last lament!’ So said the brave Declan Karney, just as the steel of his enemy’s blade struck his flesh!”
Devin turned to look up at the castle walls.
Castle Karney.
Covered in time, rugged as the cliffs she hugged, and… Even as Devin looked at the great walls, it seemed that a shadow fell over them to embrace them, embrace Karney. A chill settled over her as she looked into the night, blinking. The shadow as dark and forbidding as the…
As the grave.
As Gary said, as old as time, and the caress of the banshee herself.
Chapter 2
“Devin?”
The grip of cold that had settled over Devin immediately broke; she felt Rocky’s warmth and turned back to him.
“Hey, my love, forget me already?” Rocky asked softly. “Any ghosts yet?” His eyes, as darkly green as a forest in the campfire light, held concern.
“No,” she whispered back and forced a smile. “But, of course, I have heard the story about Brianna and Declan before.”
“No self-respecting castle would be complete without a tragic love story,” Rocky said softly. “You’re worried. It may all be fancy. Collum, from what I understand, was a very big man who loved red meat and ale and might well have been a prime candidate for a heart attack,” he said gently.
She nodded, squeezing his hand. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”
She meant her words to be a statement. There was a question in them instead.
Rocky pulled her back against him. “We’ll find the truth,” he said with assurance. “And we’ll see that Kelly is fine.”
She nodded.
Tragically, Kelly’s mother—Devin’s Aunt April—had been killed in a car crash when Kelly had been ten and Devin just nine, but Seamus and Kelly and Devin’s family had maintained a close and caring relationship, despite her death, and despite the fact that Seamus wasn’t actually Devin’s mother’s brother but her brother-in-law.
Devin and Kelly had both been way too young to understand the difference in how a person was an aunt or an uncle—they just were.
Devin had always adored her uncle Seamus and even when she’d been older and known the difference, he’d been just as good as any blood relation as far as she was concerned. Seamus kept their young lives filled with wonderful tales at all times, many of them, naturally, about Castle Karney.
Devin’s family had joined Seamus and Kelly once, when the girls had been young teens. Devin had met the two older Karney brothers, Collum and Brendan, at that time.
Collum, the oldest, had inherited the castle. He and Brendan had lived and worked there together—neither having married—and both discovered that in modern times, castles demanded a lot of love and elbow grease.
But neither Collum nor Brendan had procreated—which left Seamus Karney and then Kelly Karney to inherit the estate, a complicated state of affairs, or it might have been had Ireland not made many changes in the past decades and if Seamus had not seen to it that his daughter had carried dual citizenship from the time she was born.
Kelly had loved her Uncle Collum dearly—just as she loved her Uncle Brendan.
Devin loved Kelly and Seamus—and that was why they were there.
Brendan had called Seamus and asked that he and Kelly come to Ireland after the death of Collum.
He didn’t like the way that Collum had died.
Not that anybody liked it when someone died, but Collum had died strangely, to say the least—in Brendan’s opinion.
In a way, that seemed to make Gary’s stories especially chilling.
They’d heard the banshee wailing at midnight, or so Brendan had told Seamus and Kelly.
And the following day, Collum had been found in the old master’s chambers, sitting in one of the antique, high-backed, crimson chairs—eyes open in what was surely horror—just staring at the hearth.
A heart attack, the doctor had said. No nonsense, a heart attack.
And it might have been.
But Brendan hadn’t thought it was right, not one bit. So Seamus and Kelly had come. What they’d found when they’d arrived and all they’d been told had been enough to set the wheels in motion that had brought she and Rocky to where they were right now.
“We have to find the truth,” Devin said, her voice low but passionate. “Kelly and Seamus are very precious to me. Of course, so far, we’ve not had much chance to see or speak with the living—much less, um, anyone else. All we’ve done is drop off our bags. We haven’t even seen Kelly and Seamus yet. Just Brendan.”
Kelly and her father had been down in the village when they’d arrived, at a dinner with a marketing friend who arranged for the creation and delivery of their special “Karney Castle” soaps and shampoo and conditioner, and all the little amenities that hotel guests liked to take with them.
After arriving in Dublin, going through customs, getting their rental car and making their way to Karney, Devin and Rocky had arrived at the castle just in time to be warmly greeted by Brendan, drop their bags, and head for Gary’s Ghosties and Goblins night tour—at Brendan’s insistence.
Devin had been there before, but Rocky was new to this wondrous part of the Emerald Isle, and the tour was a great way for him to get an in
tro, so Brendan told them. And Devin had been a “wee” little thing at the time she had been there.
Devin was pretty sure she’d been thirteen or fourteen when the family had come, and she’d been five-five or five-six by then, but to Brendan—a great bear of a man at about six-four—she supposed that was “wee.”
Brendan had seen to it that she and Rocky had a chance for a quick look at the old master’s suite where they’d be staying, time to freshen up and make sure they wouldn’t mind where Kelly had wanted them to stay, and then head out.
Their room in the central tower was called the old master’s suite because there was a new master’s suite—created in the Victorian era with all the niceties that came with the more modern day. Collum—now dead and buried—had lived in the old suite; Brendan was in the new suite. Kelly and her father, Seamus, had rooms in the main tower as well, which was always reserved for family.
Only there wasn’t much family anymore.
Tavish Karney—Kelly’s grandfather—had been one of two boys; Tavish’s brother, Brian, twenty years his junior, had gone on to procreate late in life, leaving Kelly with two Irish second cousins, Aidan and Michael, close to her own age. When the cousins came to stay—they were due in late the next day, always there to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at the family castle—they were also housed in the main tower.
As Brendan had sadly told them, the family was down to himself, Seamus, Kelly, Aidan, and Michael. Not many left of a once great and mighty family. Family needed to be keepers of a great and historic castle. Of course, Ancient City Tourism was forever trying to buy them out, put a nightclub in the old castle, and shake everything up.
Brendan—as Collum before him—meant to keep Karney Castle in the Karney family. Devin knew that Seamus and Kelly felt just as passionately that their heritage must be preserved. Castle Karney deserved the best and while its place on the historic register might save it from destruction, it just might not be enough to keep it from becoming a gimmicky attraction.
“You’re right; we’ve just arrived,” Rocky told Devin softly, his words bringing her back from her thoughts. They were both seated cross-legged on the soft, rich green grass of the lawn area that surrounded the pit and the grating. Rocky took her hands, his eyes on Gary across the rising yellow flames of the fire between them. “And,” he added, lowering his voice still further, “this is an excellent way for me to begin, to understand the lay of the land, so to speak.” He hugged her more tightly to him, as if he was aware of the chill she’d felt earlier when looking up at the walls.
He was aware, of course. He was Rocky, intuitive—and much better at this than she, much more experienced.
“So then tonight,” Gary announced, “eh, you’ve learned about the Tuatha Dé Danann, the great race of Irish supernatural kings and queens, gods and goddesses, if you will, those of the distant past, revered ’til the coming of Christianity! Ye’ve learned of Dearg-Due—an Irish female vampire known long before Bram Stoker—an Irishman, I might add—created Dracula. We’ve talked about our Irish headless horseman—the Dullahan. Many more, and of course, those well-known, our leprechauns and our banshees! I’m now Gary the Ghost, signing off, wishing you sweet dreams—and reminding you, of course, that gratuities are not at all necessary, but deeply appreciated.”
“There’s a man worthy of gratuities,” Rocky said, coming to his feet and reaching down a hand to help Devin up to hers. He pulled her into his arms. “Love it here. So far, it’s a great honeymoon,” he told her, green eyes dancing.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Devin promised.
Rocky laughed. “I mean it—I love it. Who gets to stay in the haunted master’s suite of a family-owned castle? Sit beneath a crystal moon and hear old-fashioned storytelling in such atmospheric conditions? Then again, who gets to bathe in a great old claw-foot tub like the one up in our room? Okay, maybe they have those other places, but it’s pretty cool looking, don’t you think?”
Devin grinned. “Definitely. Yes, we’ll put that on the evening’s agenda.”
Rocky might have been about to say something a bit risqué, but Gary Duffy finished speaking with some of his other customers and came to shake hands with Rocky and smile at Devin.
“So?” he asked, sounding a bit anxious, looking from Rocky to Devin. “I hear you’re the American cousin.”
“I’m Kelly Karney’s cousin, yes,” Devin said.
“Lovely to meet you. Or meet you again. I think I saw you once before—when we would have both been kids,” Gary said.
“Possibly—I was here once as a teenager,” Devin said.
“And how do my tales match up with family lore?” Gary asked.
“Wonderfully,” Devin assured him.
“The night was great,” Rocky told him. “You’re really entertaining. Certainly one of the best guides I’ve ever seen.”
“Ah, now coming from an American, that is a great compliment,” Gary said. He was an engaging man of medium build, in his late twenties, with a thatch of red hair, freckles, and a contagious grin. “I hear you’re staying in Collum’s old suite—the old master’s suite.”
“It’s where my cousin has asked us to stay, yes,” Devin said.
“I guess you’re not the scared type then,” Gary said. “No, you’re not. To be honest, I looked you up. Krewe of Hunters, eh? You’re FBI. I am a bit confused. Collum died of a heart attack. And the FBI has no jurisdiction here.”
“Kelly is my cousin; we’re here to be with her,” Devin explained quickly.
“Ah, yes, of course,” Gary said. “We’re all hurting from the loss of Collum. St. Paddy’s Day won’t be the same without him, but—tradition. Time marches on and cares little for any one man, eh? Well, I’m curious, I must say. Some call you people the ‘ghost unit.’ Are you a ghost unit? Does the American government really believe in such a thing?”
“That question from a man who goes by the moniker ‘Gary the Ghost,’” Rocky said lightly.
“I make my living telling such tales,” Gary said. “And real history, too, of course—stranger and sadder than most ghost stories. But, alas! The world enjoys a good scare and luckily for me, Irish folk are full of fancy. I apologize again—I didn’t mean to be rude. But…I am a historian and a curious type. Like I said, when Kelly told me that you were coming and that you were with the law in America, I looked you up.”
“When we’re working,” Rocky said, “we investigate cases that have something unusual about them—something unexplained. We find the explanations. But, I assure you, I’ve never heard of a case of a ghost murdering a man as of yet.”
“So, you’ve heard the suggestion that a ghost might have murdered old Collum?” Gary asked.
“Everyone seems to be edgy—with lots of talk about the banshee,” Rocky told him.
“That’s the rumor,” Gary said. He shrugged. “Forgive me. I try to take Mondays and Tuesdays off, but I’m here seven days a week sometimes. I grew up beneath the great castle on the hill—loving it. The family is like my own and naturally, I know what’s going on most the time. Sadly, Collum was like a bull—and his habits were not at all healthy. Dr. Kirkland said heart attack, and it’s not much of a mystery. But, if you will. Come—let’s head to the Karney Castle Pub. I’ll buy you a beer. You can entertain me a bit with a few or your tales.”
Rocky glanced at Devin. She realized that they’d both been looking forward to getting into the massive old bathtub—but they’d also planned on waiting to see Kelly and Seamus. It didn’t seem at all a bad idea to spend the time waiting with the man who supposedly knew the history of the castle better than any other.
“We’ll be doing the buying,” Rocky said, “after such a night of entertainment. In fact, we’d love to buy you dinner, if it’s available at this hour.”
Gary grinned. “Tour ends at nine; dinner goes ’til ten. I’d be deciding on fish and chips or shepherd’s pie as we walk!”
They did so. Some of the other members of Gary’s tou
r group, those staying at the castle, walked in groups ahead of them. The massive gates at the great wall were open—permanently, now that hostile invaders were no longer expected—and led into a vast courtyard where vendors had been setting up for the coming festival days; their carts and stations were now dark, many covered in tarps.
The central tower—stonework built circa 1000 over original earthwork foundations founded around the year 300—stood before them with the north wing—built circa 1200—to the left and the south wing—built circa 1400—to the right. The Castle Pub was in the right wing with the floors above it containing a museum on the second floor, and storage and household items on the third floor and in the attic. The guest rooms were all in the north left wing. The main hall of the oldest part of the castle, the central tower, offered check-in, and a lobby area while still maintaining historical truth. The coat of arms of the Karney family held prominence over a great hearth that stretched twenty feet. The crest was surrounded by mounted weapons from swords and shields to dirks, staffs, and more. Two mannequins in full armor—one from the eleventh century and one from the sixteenth—stood guard at either side of the hearth. There was no counter—check-in was done at a seventh-century desk that sat discretely just inside the double doors to the main hall.
They entered through the main door. A note on the desk advised guests to “Ring if ye must; bear in mind ’tis late! Pub that-a way!”
They followed the sign to the pub.
It was charming, with lots of carved hardwood, many of the images at the six small booths those of creatures and beings from Irish myth and legend. A long bar offered ten different beers on tap and a sign on the bar offered the pub’s limited menu of bangers and mash, shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, vegetarian salad, and vegan salad.
There was an especially atmospheric little cover of benches in the pub, right where the old family chapel—now deconsecrated—had once been; the Karney family had worshipped at St. Patrick’s of the Village for centuries now. Double wood doors—always open—led to the little section and beautiful stained glass windows that looked out. A small altar had once stood before those windows; now they offered a tinted and fantastic view of the courtyard. A small door near the great stained glass window was roped off; Devin knew that it led down into the castle’s catacombs, basement—and one time dungeon.