Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) (19 page)

Dr. Ailís Dwyer wasn’t pleased. It was near noon as she hurried from her practice to the police station without knowing why. Jimmy Grogan had arrived at her office with an urgent request from Sean Maher.

“That’s all he said?” the doctor asked.

Out of breath from his run up the street, Jimmy answered, “Aye, Doctor. Sean said to come quick. That’s all I know.”

The doctor pulled her wool shawl close around her slender shoulders and, with a sharp breeze biting her face, continued on toward the station house.

Arriving, she raised her hand to knock, but before her knuckles could touch the wooden door, she heard Julian’s voice softly calling for her to come in. Ailís forehead furrowed and wondered how he always knew she was there.

She entered and hung her shawl by the door. The station curtains had been drawn. The only light was from a turf fire. She overheard Sean say, “I really wish you wouldn’t do that! I’ve told you, knowing who is at the door before you should know anyone is at the door, well, it isn’t the sort of thing a Christian gets up to.”

Both men were seated in the rocking chairs before the fire. Ailís approached and welcomed the warmth of the fireplace. She took a seat on the long bench and turned to ask the nature of the problem. Sean motioned her to stay still and nodded toward Julian.

Julian sat transfixed. His eyes were heavy lidded as he stared into the fireplace. His face wore a weary and painfully sad expression. He was distant and distracted.

Ailís sat a long time watching Julian. The only sound in the room was the occasional pop of the peat and the ticking of the station’s wall clock.

She moved to him slowly and knelt beside his chair taking his wrist as she did. “Julian,” she said. She had no difficulty locating his pulse, it was fast and matched his rapid shallow breaths. “Look at me.” He shifted his attention from the fire to focus on her face. His smile was slow and slight.

“Tell me what has happened. When did this start?” She exchanged a look with Sean who only made a hapless, concerned gesture.

“I’ve asked, but he won’t tell me. He wasn’t well at George’s wake yesterday. He took the death hard and he had the drink on him by the end of the evening. I left him here in the chair last night and he was this way when Oi got here this morning. We were going to talk about Georgie Sullivan, but, well you can see for yourself,” the big man said.

Julian’s voice was low and slow. “I’m fine. Really. Probably just tired. I’ll be okay after I get some sleep. Please, don’t worry – either of you. There is no reason to talk about George though.”

“What do you mean, Julian?” the doctor asked, but he did not respond. “I want you to come with me. Sean, help him up,” she said. Julian continued to look into the fire as though he hadn’t heard. She saw something, a flicker in Julian’s eyes. She relented and shook her head when Sean began to move to his friend.

“Julian,” she said with whispered softness. “Do you know something about George Sullivan’s accident?”

With an aching slowness, Julian said, “Wasn’t an accident. George was murdered. Three men beat him nearly to death. The hay bale didn’t fall. It was pulled down onto him.” The way Julian said it was definite. He said it with absolute assurance. It was as though he had just read it in the newspaper or seen it on television. For reasons neither could explain, Ailís and Sean believed him. They were troubled before, but Julian’s friends were nearly frantic with worry now.

The room was warm, but Julian rose slowly and threw more peat on the fire. He sat and distractedly looked at the doctor, then looked back to the fireplace. Julian said, “That will be for you, Doctor. You’ll need to go quickly. He is in a great deal of pain and he is very weak. Sean, go with her, please. I would like to rest if you don’t mind. I feel so desperately tired.”

Ailís’s concern was palpable. Sean was afraid for his friend. “Julian,” Sean said gently, “What are you talking about?”

Julian never looked away from the fire. He raised his hand and pointed casually at the station door.

A young boy pushed the door open without knocking causing Ailís and Sean to jump. “Come quick, Doctor. There’s Farmer Monahan and he’s hurt bad. They’ve taken him to your surgery. He’s bleedin’ somethin’ awful.”

Ailís turned slowly and looked carefully at Julian. His features hadn’t changed. He sat and stared intently into the fire with the hope the flames might burn the images he saw from his mind.

The doctor and Sean started to leave and Julian spoke again. “You’ll need to stay at your office, Ailís. Another injured man is being brought to you. I think it is Tommy Ryan. He’ll be here shortly. Sean, you’ll want to be there. Both men have been attacked.

“They’ve been set upon by the same three men who killed George.” He closed his eyes tightly and pain was etched deeply on his face as George’s death scene played out before him again.

Sean Maher, a man afraid of very little, crossed himself and was afraid for his friend. He held the door for the doctor.

“Julian,” Ailís said as she gathered her shawl from the peg by the door, “we’ll talk about this later.”

He looked up and smiled kindly, almost tenderly, cocked his head and said, “Talk about what?”

“I watched a man die, Moira. George Sullivan – I watched him die. The images wouldn’t stop coming. I feel like I’m stuck in some endless loop. I’ve been watching him die over and over,” Julian said and closed his eyes trying to will away the images in his mind.

“There have been other assaults and I’ve seen some of those attacks, but never so close and never in such detail. I was there this time. If this is a talent, I don’t want it.”

Moira had been watching Julian intently since he entered her house and sat down. With palpable compassion she said, “I’m sorry, Julian. I’m sorry you have been thrust into this position so soon. I am sorry I can’t take the bitterness away. As for the other, sadly, lad, the return window is closed.

“Under normal circumstances you would not experience anything close to this for many years. Even then, it would have been slight and you would have built up to it. You have come so far, farther than I thought possible for anyone. I was fully three years getting to where you are now and I was considered lightening quick.”

“Is this the Sight, Moira? I’m serious, if it is I honestly don’t want it.”

“The Sight is it? What would the likes of you know of such things?”

“I’ve seen it. My friend in Dublin has it. You have it. I don’t know how you live with it,” Julian said.

“Well then, it is time we put some things to rights. As to your friend, I can’t say if she possesses the Darna Shealladh or not. If she does, she is one of the few. As for me, there you are mistaken. That is a gift I do not possess and am thankful for that. It is something a person is born to and a dreadful responsibility it is. It takes a person of rare character to bear it.

“I see things, ’tis true, but what I see are bits and pieces only. Sometimes I see it all very clearly. At other times, I see scenes or an image and nothing more. Honestly, I’ve found it useful at times but a great distraction for the most part and like you, sometimes what I see has been agonizing.

“As for your good self, you may trust me, you do not possess that gift. You may be able to see only into the past. Some can only see into the near future, while some see nothing at all. It is different for everyone,”

Moira said and then continued. “I’m mindful of what you said, son. Seeing a horror like this is not easy. It will not get easier. If it does, if ever it isn’t painful to you to witness the suffering of another, quit. Get out. Set your burden down and never pick it up or speak of it again.

“If you had the Sight you would be there. You would have heard all and felt everything. You would have walked around watching everything with no way to stop it or change its course. They say the Sight is a thing nearly past enduring.

“It’s not all darkness though. You saw it happen. You saw the vipers that did this. That is a start toward finding justice for George, aye and the others.”

“I wish that was the case,” Julian responded. “I couldn’t move. I was in a sort of fixed position so I couldn’t see their faces. I couldn’t hear their voices. I could only watch as George’s life was snuffed out over and over again.”

They sat in silence for a long time. The evening shadows began to fall across the village. Men returned from the fields, meals were prepared, tables set, families gathered. The pulse of life continued unmindful of a man who sat and wept in the company of a woman who understood.

***

An hour passed. Moira made no attempt to move or speak. She wanted Julian to set his own pace. Julian rose without a word and walked into the garden. Moira followed.

“The attack on you, what was that? How did it happen?” Julian asked and let out a ragged breath.

“That is for you to tell me.” Moira smiled and continued, “I was distracted.” Julian snorted.

“I was going through an exercise,” he began. “I’d done pretty well and was preparing to move onto the next step when it happened. I suddenly felt unsteady. I’d never felt anything like it before. I looked back to see if you felt it and, well, you weren’t in very good shape.

Moira nodded and watched her student carefully.

“I ran back to the grove. The closer I got to you the stronger the…” Julian groped for the right word.

In a soft gentle voice Moira prompted, “The stronger the – what?”

“Hatred,” Julian said. At the word, Moira’s eyes narrowed. “At first I wanted to think it was something else, that I was mistaken. Hatred is the right word though. The intensity was painful. More painful was watching what it was doing to you. Then it happened. I don’t know how, but I knew exactly what to do and I did it.

“Listen,” Julian said. “I know I am talking about this in the wrong way. I don’t know the words that would frame this in metaphysical terms.”

“Don’t worry about the words, son, just use the ones you know,” Moira said.

“I deflected the attack or as much of it as I could, then started an attack of my own. I can tell you at first my efforts were pretty poor. Anyway, I focused and somehow was able to follow a sort of mental pathway to the source of the attack.” Julian went quiet for some moments.

“There was a man, Moira. He was filled with hatred and he was alone – no, not alone, empty. His anger had pushed everything in him aside. That’s just the way it felt, but there was something else. I don’t know what and wouldn’t know how to explain it if I did.”

“We’ll leave that for now. What did you do next?” she asked gently.

“At first nothing. I had trouble maintaining the wall I’d put around you while watching the attacker. That was taking everything I had. Then I felt it. I literally went blind, but not in the way I think of blindness. My world didn’t go dark, it went stark white. That’s when it happened. I felt this surge. I let it build up in me. Then, just for a moment, he faltered. It was as though he was taking a breath before mounting another assault.

“I’m sorry, but I went with a feeling that came to me. You were right, I acted without regard to reason or logic or analysis. If I’d been wrong it would have been bad for us both, but mostly for you.” Julian drew a breath and said, “I dropped the wall and focused everything on him.

“I could feel the confusion in him. He couldn’t reconcile what was happening. He was disoriented and bewildered. Moira, just for a moment he was afraid, terrified. That was replaced quickly by an unbelievable rage. I never imagined one person could carry so much hatred.

“I had no idea someone could be so consumed with malice. Never have I seen raw evil and madness, but I saw it then. I didn’t think that kind of intensity existed. I concentrated everything I had in me and it broke his focus I guess. I waited for a moment, but he didn’t move.

“I called off my attack to get back to the wall. I knew if it fell completely, I wouldn’t have what it took to build it again. If the wall was down and he had recovered and renewed his assault on you, we would have been good and truly screwed.” Julian lapsed into silence.

Moira Hagan was shaken. It was Julian’s description of the hatred. That made this attack a personal one. She had witnessed attacks before, but they were nearly clinical in their execution. This one was bristling with malevolence.

She already told Julian he had come a long way along his path and done it quickly. When she had said that, she never imagined he had already arrived.

She watched her student and smiled. Julian was rough. There were sharp edges to his thoughts. His application of what he had learned was overly muscular. He lacked finesse. He hadn’t had the luxury of time. He hadn’t spent years studying and years more as an apprentice.

She knew Julian had done the only thing he could think to do. He had grabbed the ancient wisdom by the throat, wrestled it to the ground then rifled through its pockets to extract everything he could.

“Good and truly screwed,” Moira Hagan thought to herself. “Colorful to be sure. I can work with that.”

***

Johnny Doyle, a local farmer’s son, had been attacked in the same way as the others. Ailís sent a note to Julian outlining the extent of Johnny’s injuries and giving her opinion. Based on the damage done, she felt it was the work of the same men who had assaulted the other two farmers.

Her note went on to detail her frustration and concern over Julian’s condition. She wrote, “We will talk about your physical and mental condition and I’ll not let you get away fobbing me off with answers that aren’t really answers at all.”

Julian knew this time she would not be put off. He thought it prudent to avoid the doctor for the time being. He reasoned that if he could stay out of her way long enough, the problem would go away of its own volition. He reasoned wrong.

Julian ratcheted up his efforts. He blanketed several valleys in all directions with flyers describing the suspicious activities and the white truck that has been seen in the areas of the digging.

He talked to everyone who would talk with him and received information on new dig sites for his efforts. He drew a map of the area and marked excavations and sightings of the people doing the digging.

He organized nighttime patrols and when no one would go with him, Julian went by himself. He and Sean bicycled to opposite ends of what they defined as their territory and haunted the areas around the mounds. At every opportunity, Ailís Dwyer went looking for him. Each time, he escaped. Barely.

***

Three times the digging team had been out and three times they had been chased off. Four more farmers had been punished for their interference. But three sites had been left only partially explored. That was more than a man intent on pillage was willing to endure.

The Pale Man whose long, cold fingers manipulated the coin in his pocket had come to this part of Ireland for the purpose of securing a treasure and his progress was being blocked.

The coldness of the manor house fed his icy rage. The drafts of chill air that wafted through the high ceilinged house whipped up his frustration and deepened his hatred. The influence of this meddling American was going to have to be removed permanently. Nothing less would satiate this fury.

***

The wind drove in from the Irish Sea and bit hard against Julian’s face. Arriving earlier than his teacher, he had already begun his mental exercises. He was meticulous in the application of his skills.

Julian stood in the meadow and the wind shrieked down on him. He set his hands away from his sides slightly, closed his eyes and exhaled fully.

At first, Julian felt the wind as short, violent jabs that stung his face and tore at his shirt and pants. As he stood in the exposed pasture, the wind roared down causing his ears to ring.

No part of him was unaffected. The smell of the sea, the bite of the cold, the sound of the wind screeching in his ears, all tried to blot out his senses. “There is one sense you can not touch,” he said to the wind and little by little that single sense lifted him out of the din.

It wasn’t through an act of will. He did not raise himself above the tumult through the force of his mind. Rather his spirit, his true self as Moira called it, found a space in time and reality that was set aside from the forces of the physical world. For a fraction of a moment, his world went brilliantly white.

He dropped his hands to his sides and opened his eyes. The tall grass was bent with the wind as were the tops of the trees, but he could detect no sound or movement. He turned and looked back toward the grove and saw Moira Hagan looking at him with a curious expression on her face.

He walked toward her and called out, “What’s happening to me?” Moira did not respond. Julian noticed her glance never wavered and she continued to stare as if she were frozen looking at the place in the meadow where he had been.

When Julian reached the shelter of the trees the wind suddenly rose again and the familiar din and smell returned to him. The Hagan seemed slightly startled to find him standing next to her, but she smiled. “Sometimes I think you’re too fast for your own good. I must remember to watch you with more care, my boy,” she said.

“Watch me, why? What just happened?” he asked again as they sought shelter deeper in the woods.

Moira thought awhile before she said, “It is difficult to explain. On the one hand, you could think by what you experienced that you had frozen time, but that didn’t happen. It would be silly and arrogant to think you could. Closer to the matter would be that you, just for a moment, perceived the true nature of time.”

“Using the senses of your spirit and not your mind you captured your place in the universe. None that I know of are able to hold it for long, but you did right well today,” she added. “Today’s experience – now that was of real importance. For you that was truly a step forward – far forward.

“You have advanced, though without understanding and that we cannot allow. What you’ve glimpsed today is too important, too vital to your purpose to allow it to go without a full understanding.” Julian nodded his head in agreement.

He thought,
“I need to know what just happened, how it works and how and when it is to be used and how in hell it can be controlled.”

Moira heard Julian’s thoughts clearly. She smiled and said aloud, “To be sure, you are making progress. There in an instant you have asked every important question. Do you realize a few months ago you would have been rushing around thinking you were losing your mind on the one hand and on the other wondering how you would use this talent to spy on your delectable Ailís Dwyer?”

Julian looked at the ground suddenly like a schoolboy caught out. His ears were aflame.

“Think nothing of it, my boy. Wasn’t it I who was just pointing out known facts. That is, they are facts known by everyone but you and her. That’s right, a greater set of eejits I doubt there ever has been. You are perfectly paired.”

Julian tried to look incensed, but it was no use. Moira just laughed at him and said, “As for your impure thoughts with regard to the doctor, anyone who doesn’t know about that for two valleys in any direction, well, is either pickled in alcohol or simple minded. But that is all a discussion for another time, eh?”

“In fact,” Julian said, “it is not a discussion for another time. There is no truth to it. We are good friends and nothing more.”

The crack of the Hagan’s laugh set birds high up in the trees flying. “Good thing for you your Catholic God does love a simpleton, otherwise he would strike you down for the liar you are,” she said and continued to laugh at Julian’s expense.

“No matter, no matter, let’s get back to the subject at hand. I’ll not have you drawing me off with stories of your sordid love life,” she said and grinned devilishly.

***

After taking his supper with his clan gathered about him, Sean Maher decided to stroll through the village. Wives and children were fine, but there were times a man needed solitude. He walked the streets of Cappel Vale rattling doors and making sure everything was locked up for the night. This had been his habit since he took on the mantle of police work.

At the far end of the village, he recognized Julian walking slowly toward the police station with his jacket over his shoulder. Sean called to his friend who turned and cocked his head.

Julian’s condition had improved, but Sean saw the changes. His friend was more deliberate, more thoughtful and occasionally not as much fun, but that was improving steadily. It seemed that Sean only blinked and when he looked again, his friend was gone.

“It is a lovely evening, Sean.”

The big man nearly soiled himself. Standing behind him was Julian Blessing with a pleasant smile on his face and an evil look about his eyes.

“What!” Sean shouted, his fist cocked back and ready for battle.

“I commented on the fact that it seems to be a lovely evening.” Julian smiled.

“Wouldn’t Oi be knowin’ what you said. How is it you were there and now you are here?”

“I don’t know what you mean. You waved and I thought I would join you on your rounds so I walked up here.”

“’Tis a lie! It is deviltry you are up to and for it you will surely burn, Julian Blessing. I’m begging you. Come with me now to see Father Fahey. It is sure I am that he can drive the devils out of you before your immortal soul comes to any more harm.” Sean was so sincere and the sentiment so heartfelt that Julian had to chuckle.

“Fine. Dance to Satan’s tune and ’tis the fires of eternal damnation that will be roasting you. Then we will see how funny you think it is. Still, me and mine will look down on your sorry condition and shed a tear for the man who was my friend in life,” Sean said in a huff and marched off to O’Gavagan’s with Julian’s laughter singeing his ears.

The big man took hold of the pub’s doorknob, but it was as if knob was welded in place and the door wouldn’t budge. He turned the knob and pushed again, nothing. Julian stood in the road at a distance of fifteen meters watching his friend do battle with a door Julian was holding shut. With feet set wide apart and his arms crossed over his chest Julian thought, “This is so cool! I am never gonna get tired of this!” He smiled broadly, turned back to the police station and released the door as Sean gave it one more try and found the knob turned easily. He turned and saw Julian wave over his shoulder.

***

“I’ve been watching the two of ‘em peelers for weeks just like you told me. The American knows Georgie Sullivan was kilt. Oi knows he contacted the Garda, but they said they was busy. In any case, the Yank is going about investigatin’ on his own. Maher is a lazy, drunken swine and so is no help. It’s that Yank who is the active one.”

The Pale Man walked to the tall windows, pulled aside the heavy drape and looked into the gray-green countryside toward Cappel Vale. “The American has become an inconvenience. Although you’ve brought me no news, what you say confirms what I already suspected. Ireland would be better off without one more American tourist.”

“Ach, your Lordship is right as always. I’m glad to be of service. I can say nothing takes place here abouts without my knowin’ of it within minutes,” Liam McMaster said with the chest thumping pride of one who tells the truth only by accident. “That’s what makes me so valuable if you know what Oi mean.”

The Pale Man turned toward his visitor, “I wonder, McMaster, do you have any principles at all? Is your loyalty all bought and paid for? Never mind. It was just an idle thought. I really don’t care.” He knew very well what motivated Liam McMaster – greed and fear. Either, applied correctly, would elicit the desired response.

“Oi was thinkin’, yor honor, that a man of my talents might be of real use to you if Oi would be knowin’ a bit of the plan.”

The Pale Man’s eyes turned to granite. “You seem to have an unnatural desire to know my business. If you knew my plans what would keep you from selling me to the highest bidder? I’ve dealt with quislings like you before, McMaster. I know all about you. I know what you will do and when you will do it and I always understand why you will do anything you do.

“Do you know when I will share my plans with a little prick like you? Never! Now get out and count yourself lucky I don’t just pop your head like a grape.”

“Didn’t mean to give offense, yor honor. Only trying…”

“I know what you are trying and would suggest you never try it again with me or you will find yourself in a ditch on the side of the road. After you suffer some, of course. For now, keep an eye on our American friend.”

Liam McMaster backed out of the room without further prompting.

As McMaster left, Tom Lynch entered the study and stood before his employer.

“You heard of course.”

“Oi did.”

“See to it.”

With those three words, the fate of Julian Blessing was irrevocably fixed.