He took off the headphones and got to his feet. There was only one thing to do—get rid of the damned thing. Dump it in the ocean and let the fish eat it.
He looked up, aware suddenly of a noise that didn’t fit, something he shouldn’t be hearing. He realized that he hadn’t really been listening at all. He knew the sounds of the sea and wind. Knew that sound could actually bounce over the water from the wharf far away or the traffic on the bridge. He knew all those sounds, but this was something else.
The bird distracted him again. That eye. That frigging eye. It had caught the reflection from his lantern, and now it was gleaming, as if the bird had come back to life.
He swore again, moving away from the rock.
He heard a whizzing sound, and the pain that blossomed in his back was instant and staggering.
He fell down on his knees, instinct kicking in as he reached around, trying to grab whatever had struck him. He could still see the bird, but something about it was different now. It had been splashed with something red. In fact, it was lying in a pool of red.
He tried to reach out, but his hands wouldn’t obey. He could see them, though. They, too, were covered in red. In blood.
What an idiot he’d been, letting someone attack him from behind.
Knife? Hatchet? Axe? What had made that sound?
What the hell difference did it make? All that mattered was that it was something steel and sharp and lethal.
He swore again, internally now; he didn’t have enough breath left to make a sound.
Life sucked, but he’d still planned on living it.
Death sucked worse. He hadn’t even fought; he hadn’t even faced his enemy. He was just going to die, and he was never going to know why.
He pitched forward.
He couldn’t stop himself. Numbness came sweeping through him as he fell, landing on his side.
One eye visible, he thought.
One eye.
The bird was staring at him with one bloodstained, gleaming eye.
And there lay the irony.
Because he knew he was staring back at the bird…
With one bloodstained, gleaming eye….
15
Michael was seated at one of the booths in the coffee shop when Caer arrived. He was reading the newspaper. He wore a heavy sweater and jeans, blending right in with everyone else in the rustic, oceanside town.
He knew Caer was there as soon as she slid into the booth opposite him, but he still took his time to finish whatever article he was reading.
“Coffee?” he asked her when he finally looked up. “We have a lovely waitress. I’m sure she’ll be right here.”
“Michael, you’re not here just because of me, are you?” she asked.
He set the paper down. “Well, one might have hoped you’d be further along by now.”
She frowned at him fiercely. “You know, I don’t have a badge or a license to go snooping around. I’m here as a nurse. I’m observing people, and I’m doing my best to follow Zachary Flynn around and learn what I can from him. He does have an investigator’s license, and he’s on the trail of whatever’s going on. If you had given me better credentials to work with, I might have been able to beat down a few doors.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s your job to study people, to understand them. You need to discover how they think and why—and, most importantly, when they’re lying and when they’re not. But, since you brought it up, no, I’m not here just because of you. I’m here because there are a number of items that need my attention on this side of the Atlantic.”
“Great. I’d hate to think that any failure on my part to move swiftly enough brought you out on a journey to the New World,” she told him sarcastically.
He shrugged. Michael was not easily goaded. “You’re usually very good at what you do, Caer.”
The waitress arrived with his food, and it looked to her as if he’d ordered half the breakfast menu. The waitress set down a plate that held an omelet, hash browns and toast. Smaller plates held side orders of pancakes and biscuits.
Caer ordered coffee.
“What, nothing else?” Michael asked her, already cutting into the omelet with gusto. “Pancakes. Will you look at those pancakes? Light and fluffy. I’ll bet they’re delicious,” he told their waitress, whose name tag identified her as Flo.
Flo blushed with pleasure. Michael’s smile could be absolutely charming. “We make the best pancakes in the state, I swear.”
“There you go, Caer. Pancakes.”
She forced a smile for Flo. “No, thank you. Just coffee for me.”
Flo lingered a moment. “I just love hearing you talk. My great-grandfather was Irish.”
“Lovely,” Caer assured her.
Flo walked away. Michael seemed to be giving his attention to his food when he told her, “Let’s see, not so thrilled with the concept of breakfast. Foods that tease the taste buds and the palate. Hmm. There’s a flush about you. Something in your face, in your movement, that I find intriguing. Is it…could it be…dare I suggest that you might have discovered a few of the other joys of the flesh during your time here in Rhode Island?”
She gritted her teeth, trying hard to stare at him with an unreadable expression. “That’s really none of your business.”
“You’re right.” He set down his fork. “It’s none of my business. But you are my business, and I’m getting worried about you.”
“Why?”
“You can’t stay here. I’m seeing far too much emotion in you, you know. I think that you believe, or wish to believe, that you might have some kind of future here, and you do not.”
She looked down, startled, and suddenly feeling vulnerable.
“I’m trying to save a man’s life, remember?” She waited as Flo returned with her coffee, thanked the woman, and waited until she was gone to lean in and say, “Michael, there are black birds everywhere. Crows, ravens, black birds.”
“I see,” he said. “So it’s drawing closer.”
She shook her head. “It? Nice euphemism. Michael, it’s becoming more and more evident that Eddie was murdered, so it’s not closer—it’s here.”
He studied her for a while, and then spoke softly. “Caer, you’ve seen the world for a long time. You know how it works. Bad things happen. The birds come when evil grows, when tragedy threatens, when the death toll will be high. When the normal order is seriously disturbed. You have a lot of work to do.”
“But…you’re here,” she said.
“This is your assignment, and you must handle it. And it’s not going to be any easier now that you’ve allowed yourself to become so involved.”
“It’s not fair,” she said. “Michael, this isn’t a place I know, it isn’t home, and now you’re here. You have more experience, and you have much more power. And—”
“Whoa. Who ever said that life and death were fair?”
“I’ve always done what I was asked to do, and I’ve done it well.”
“Human flesh is weak,” he said. “Take me—I do relish a good pancake.”
“Pancake!” she protested.
“Temper, temper,” he warned.
She let out a sigh of aggravation. “Michael—”
“I saw that you were attracted to the man, to the picture alone. It’s a natural thing, perhaps. He’s a handsome man, with strength of purpose and real decency, but, Caer…a fling with the man was fine. Now you’ve become far too involved. You’re dreaming of a life with him, and it isn’t to be. Cannot be.”
“I’m not dreaming—”
“You are. And you are forgetting the havoc you can cause if you upset the natural order.” His features grew harder. “There are birds. All around. They foretell great evil. You will remain here and do whatever is necessary to complete your assignment and keep that evil at bay. Most importantly, you’ll not let that evil take on a life that will create only agony in what should be gentle and natural crossings. You know that. I know you know that. Ah,
Caer! I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you.”
She sat silently staring at him. She hated having a heart. It was just an organ, she knew. An organ of the human body. Hearts didn’t really break. Emotion lay in the soul. In the essence that made a man a man, that raised human beings above the other creatures sharing the earth.
He reached into his pocket and handed her a slip.
“Back to regular business…this one is yours.”
She looked at the paper he had handed her. Then she stared at him with pure horror in her eyes.
“No!”
“Aye, my dear. And don’t look so stunned. What did you think? No one lives forever.”
“You’re a monster,” she told him.
He smiled sadly. “No, I’m not, and you know it.” He gripped her hand and stared at her seriously. “I am counting on you. And when the time comes and evil must be bested, I know you’ll remember that it cannot be set free in this world or the next.”
She looked at the paper in her hand and asked him dully, “When?”
“Now.”
Zach had left the house early, grabbing coffee and a scone and taking them with him. He drove to the wharf, arriving so early that the office wasn’t even open yet. He was glad. He boarded the same boat he had taken the day before, gunned the motor and navigated out of the channel, then let the throttle go.
The day was colder than the one that had preceded it. He felt the bite of the wind, the spray like needles against his face, but he hardened himself against the elements. He planned to start digging again, and to spend the day at it.
He drew close to Cow Cay, dropped anchor and waded in. There were two boats anchored nearby, both small motorboats. Both the cops Morrissey had hired must be there; the night man had probably stayed on chatting to the day man. He didn’t really need someone here while he was working, but it wasn’t such a bad idea, either. If the treasure were here, whoever had killed for it might well return, and it surely wouldn’t hurt having a man to watch his back.
He stripped off the waders and headed for Banshee Rock.
Before he could reach it, a young man in jeans and a rough-weather jacket came rushing toward him.
His face was white.
“I can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find him.”
“Who? You can’t find who? And who are you?”
The man regained his composure. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five; beneath the huge jacket, he was slim. He had tawny hair that topped a somewhat bony face.
“I’m Phil Stowe. Officer Phil Stowe. Detective Morrissey hired me to come out here for the O’Rileys. I was supposed to relieve the guy who was here last night—Gary Swipes—but he isn’t here. I’ve looked everywhere. But that’s his boat. It’s as if he just vanished.”
“Men don’t just vanish,” Zach said.
Stowe suddenly backed away. “Who are you?”
“Zachary Flynn. I’m working for the O’Rileys, too, and I’m an old family friend, as well.”
Phil seemed to relax. “I swear, he has vanished. There’s no sign of him anywhere.”
Hell, Zach thought. First Eddie Ray had vanished.
And now a man Zach hadn’t known, but who had been hired on his say-so, had also disappeared.
He started past the young policeman and headed for Banshee Rock.
As he walked around it, he saw the bird.
Dead. Talons curled, one eye wide open.
Wide open and blood-covered. As a matter of fact, the bird’s entire body was covered in blood.
He hunkered down to study it.
Stowe had followed him. “It’s just a dead bird,” the young policeman said. “I found it, but no sign of Gary.”
Zach rose. “There’s a sign of Gary all right,” he told him. “That isn’t the bird’s blood. I’m willing to bet it belonged to Gary Swipes.”
Phil Stowe was fumbling in his pocket. “I’ll…I’ll call this in.”
“Yeah, do it. Right away. Let’s get Morrissey out here. Tell him to bring the crime scene team, too.”
Stowe kept staring at him. “It’s a bird. Just a dead bird,” he said.
“There’s going to be a dead man somewhere, too,” Zach told him. “Tell them to get out here as soon as they can.”
Bridey knew the time had come.
She had known for a while now that it was coming, and she wasn’t afraid.
She’d seen Eddie by the cottage down the emerald slope, and she’d felt the rattle in her chest. She had loved her time on earth, loved her nephew Sean, her beautiful Kat, and so many of those who had surrounded her.
There were others who had gone before her, and they, too, would be waiting. Her father, her mother, brothers…so many friends. The years, the rough ones and the easy ones, they had all in their way been good. But her time had come.
She wasn’t afraid.
Aye, she was, she thought, laughing at her own brave lie.
There was a flurry of activity all through the house, and she was aware of it. They thought that she had slipped into a coma, and that she couldn’t hear them. But she could.
The doctor was there, and her priest, Father O’Malley, was intoning the last rites in Latin.
Sean was there, sitting gravely at her side, holding her hand. Kat was sobbing, and Bridey wished that she could do something, say something, to help her. Bless Kat; she knew how to love.
Amanda didn’t come into the sickroom, and she had heard someone say that Zach had left early that morning. She missed Zach, of course. He was such a support to her, and to the others. But it was Kat and Sean who mattered most.
They were certain she was already beyond them. The doctor had given her morphine to ease the pain in her chest. He had told them that it was just a matter of time.
Caer was there, too. She wasn’t in the room the way the others were. She was there as she really was.
The others couldn’t see her; they didn’t know.
She was holding Bridey’s other hand, and she was with her as they rose above the others, as the room and all those in it began to fade into the distance.
“I am here,” she told Bridey. “I’m here with you, and it will be an easy voyage, I promise you. You’ll smell the earth again, the sweet flowers of the fields. The air will be soft, and you’ll ride through the heavens. You’ll feel the warmth and comfort, and you’ll touch love, all the love of the ages, of all those who knew you and have gone on. You’ll feel no pain, not ever again, and you’ll cross into a world of beauty, a reward for all the kindness you’ve shown others. You’ll have my hand and my strength while you need them, and you will find only glory.”
How sweet her voice was! So many never understood. They thought the banshee came in darkness and evil. But the banshee came as a mourner, one who loved, one who helped.
“You won’t leave me yet? Please, I know I shouldn’t be afraid, but—Lord, help me, I am,” Bridey said.
“I’m here, and the coach is coming. It’s a grand coach, Bridey. Plumed horses will pull you through the darkness to the light. The coach is black, because it blends with the shadows of life and death, and it is hidden from mortal eyes. Don’t fear the darkness, for it brings you to the light.”
“There were birds, but I knew they weren’t for me.” Bridey frowned suddenly; looking downward, she saw her body—so frail and thin—on the bed far, far below, and she was even more afraid, but not for herself. She looked at Caer, who was dressed in long black silk, her beautiful dark hair blowing in the breeze where they stood on a great green hill above the world. She was so lovely, her features filled with such gentle compassion and tenderness. “I can’t go. Not now. There are birds. It is my time, I know, but Sean…it isn’t his time. And my precious Kat…”
“I will be there to guide and protect them.” Caer looked at Bridey. “And Zach is there, too. He loves your family. You and Sean were there for him and his brothers, and now he’ll be there for them. He will not fa
il them.”
As she looked down again, Bridey heard Kat let out a sob, saw Sean move to hold on to his daughter.
She wanted to touch Kat so badly, to comfort her.
“Lean down,” Caer said. “It’s not as far as you think, and you may touch her cheek, help her understand that you’re all right.”
Bridey reached down and stroked her great-niece’s cheek.
Kat looked up, wonderingly, and touched her face where Bridey’s hand had been.
“She felt me,” Bridey said, awed.
“Aye, she’ll know,” Caer assured her. “And look at you! Already, I see the youth and strength returning to you.”
Bridey heard the horses then. Heard the coach approaching. There were eight black horses, beautifully plumed. They pawed the air in a strange majesty. Then they set down upon the emerald hill, and the coach door opened.
Caer led her over. The step might have been high to her once. No more. And there was a warmth and light within the coach that beckoned.
Bridey turned, and hugged and kissed Caer. She was ready. She stepped into the coach, then turned, looking into Caer’s eyes. “If you ever need me…You love him, I know. It must be so hard, knowing you’ll have to leave him. Protect him. Protect them all, and especially protect Sean.”
“I will,” Caer vowed.
“I will be watching over you. Somehow, I know I will be watching over you,” Bridey said. She did. She knew it. Already she felt so strong. Like running again, skipping, laughing…
The carriage would take her to the emerald hills, and there she would see so many people she had missed so badly for so many years, and she would run and skip and laugh.
Caer smiled. “Aye, I know you will be looking out for us.”
Bridey took her seat in the coach, no longer afraid.
As the coach took to the skies again, she looked back, and she felt a little pang. Caer was still standing on the hill, the breeze catching her beautiful dark hair and lifting it around the porcelain sculpture of her face. The air caressed the black silk mourning gown she wore, outlining her form. Caer lifted a hand, smiled and waved.