Guarding the Treasure (10 page)

“Anya, meeting with us can help you understand. As far as what you are feeling between Colleen and me? That is the Spirit. We both have willing hearts and have vowed to allow something stronger than we are to lead us no matter what we go through.”

Anya's eyes narrowed. “I have heard upsetting stories of spirits, Olivia. But what you and Colleen share does not seem unkind to me. So how can one know this Spirit as you say?”

Olivia glanced at Colleen and smiled as Anya continued with her questions.

“You and Colleen have experienced something different at your meetings than my mother. I think of her and wonder what she really knew of religion when she spoke not a word about it?”

“I do not know about your mother, Anya, but I do know about you. You can know far more than a simple religion. The Spirit we speak of is more than just one. He is Three.”

Anya's brows shifted in surprise. “What? There are three?”

Olivia giggled. “Your knowledge of the Spirit has no maturity, but you will learn of him, and not only will you learn, but you will grow to depend on Three for many things, perhaps, Anya, for your very life.” Her voice softened even more, her demeanor taking a serious, thought-provoking tone.

Anya studied Olivia's face for a long minute. She was caught in a moment of time that held witness to what she had just said. “Can you tell me more about Three, Olivia?” Anya asked, intruding into her thoughts.

Olivia blinked, a gentle expression returning to her lips. “Here, let me show you,” she said, reaching into the shoulder bag she had brought with her. She opened a book with a black cover and laid it on the table. This book tells us all we need to know about Three. Look here, a letter, thousands of years old. It tells us that the Spirit Three was sent to this earth to be our guide and protector.”

Anya studied the writing. “I see the words, but I do not see what you see,” she said, as sweet silence fell among the young women. “Colleen, have you seen a book like this in Mother's collection?”

Colleen's eyes dimmed in disappointment. “Sorry, Miss, your mother did not have a book as this. I do remember at her mention that she had heard readings from the priest and then the priest would convey the meaning of the words to the people, but this is not of your mother's understanding.”

“But I do not understand. You have words about this Three,” Anya said, concerned excitement in her voice. “Olivia, you read the words and know their meaning. Was Mother deceived by her religion?”

“I will not speak against her religion. Nor do I believe your mother was deceived.” Olivia leaned onto the table, grasping Anya's hand. “I have letters and was taught from them as a small child. You must know that anyone who desires can learn for themselves the meaning of Three.”

“So what do we have here?” Sean said brazenly as he pushed on the gate, allowing it to swing freely and crash onto the inner fence of the garden.

Colleen quickly rose, gathered the cups onto the tea service, and made her way from the garden.

Surprise filled Anya's face, and her smile tipped as she watched her brother enter the garden, his eyes on her dark-haired guest. “Sean, I did not think you would return from your day's work so early,” she said, an anxious tone to her voice.

“Early? Dear sister,” he said dryly.” It is already three in the afternoon, and we have a very important invitation to keep this evening. Certainly you have not forgotten,” he said, his eyes fixed solidly on Olivia. “And dear one, were you going to be so rude and not introduce me to your friend from school?”

Anya glanced at Olivia, who gave a reassuring smile. “No, dear brother, I would not do that to you. Miss Neely, I would like you to meet my brother, Sean. He is in charge of Father's affairs during his absence.”

Olivia's head hung low out of respect as Mr. O'Connell had approached them. She now slowly raised her head to meet his eyes. “Nice to meet you, sir,” she said with a warm smile and a soft voice.

Sean stood, not moving a muscle, instantly enthralled by her indescribable beauty. Her lip, skin, hair—all so uncommon—but it was her eyes that caught him. They pierced deeply, right to his soul, and her smile cut at his very flesh. He attempted to breathe deeply, but it was impossible. What was he feeling from her? He needed to look away as quickly as possible, shift his eyes from her. He glanced at the table where a book lay open. He cleared his throat, not looking back to her face.

“What were you girls reading? Spooky things about the she-banshees?” he asked, reaching with a shaky hand for the book.

Olivia placed her hand swiftly on the book and slid it from his reach, then put it in her bag for safe keeping. “No, just some old writings I thought your sister would be interested in, sir,” she said, lifting the bag to her shoulder.

“Thank you for tea, Miss O'Connell. I hope we have the pleasure of coming together again soon,” she said, meeting Anya's eyes with a sincere slant. “I will show myself out…oh, and nice to have met you, Mr. O'Connell. Have a lovely evening.” She gave him another soft smile before she turned to leave.

Sean sensed something foreign in her presence, and he didn't want to admit it, but he was glad she was gone. He turned his attention to Anya. “What power does that woman possess, Anya. Tell me this instant,” he growled his voice deepening as he spoke.

Anya saw evil emerge from the wildness in his eyes. She breathed out a nervous laugh of self-concern. “I know not of what you speak, dear brother. You say power…what power? Miss Neely is but a friend. She possesses no power.”

Sean grabbed her arm and pulled her firmly to himself. “I felt something when she looked at me. Who is she?”

“I told you, Sean. She is Olivia Neely, now let go, you are hurting my arm.”

He dropped her arm from his grip. “Where did you meet her, and what old writings were in that book?” he demanded, moving in close to her again.

Anya watched his chest rise and fall as if he had just run a great distance. Why had Miss Neely's presence caused him so much agitation?

“Dear brother, I met her in town, and the writings she brought are unfamiliar to me. We did not have the chance to look into them.” Anya searched his cold eyes for satisfaction and watched his breathing slow, but his look was unconvinced. “I must go and get ready for the gathering, Sean. I will be down in one hour.” She turned, not knowing if he would allow her to go or if she would be forced to remain for more questioning.

“Yes, be ready in one hour,” he called after her.

Anya could hear faint, frigid laughter echoing in the hall as she made her way to her bedroom. Why was Sean laughing? Was it at her, her obvious displeasure with him? The feeling of safety enveloped her body and soul as she quickly opened the door and stepped inside, closing the heavy door firmly behind her. Her head gently rested against the polished wood. She closed her eyes for a brief instant to think. Who was Miss Neely, and who is this Three she talked about? Anya shifted her feet to move from the door, and as she did, she felt something underfoot. Her eyes moved to see several small pieces of paper resting on the floor.

“How did these get in here? What in the world are they?” she asked quietly, reaching for one of the pieces. Gasping, she ran her fingers along the edge. It was jagged. “This is a page from the black book on the table. Olivia must have ripped them from her book, but why would she do that?” She tried to reason, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She plucked the rest of the pages from the floor and picked up her mother's diary, tucking the fragments among the pages for safe keeping. She would read them when she returned later from the gathering. Yes, the gathering. A new fear gripped her as she unbuttoned her dress to bathe, another unknown tonight. She resigned herself unwillingly, feeling the bitterness of earlier creeping back into her heart. She tested the bath water with her fingertips. “I hate you, Sean,” she said, stepping into the warm water.

A gentle breeze pushed lightly on the long linen curtains hanging on the great windows near Anya's bath. She closed her eyes as she turned, allowing the same breeze to caress her face.

“The merciful one doeth good to his own soul; but he that is cruel troubleth his own flesh.”

She gasped, almost losing her breath. Her eyes opened in panic, shifting from side to side. “What? Who said that?” she asked, gripping the sides of the clawed bathtub. Her eyes widened, her hands now grabbing for the bath sheet. Anya could see no one as she frantically looked around the room, her wet body now standing on the floor beside the tub of water. Was she hearing voices, or was it the wind? Her mind raced back to Olivia's words about Three, and how there is a Spirit, and that he talked with her on a regular basis. Were the words she heard from the Spirit? She didn't know Three as Colleen and Olivia knew him, so how could the Spirit speak with her—and even more baffling, why? She tightened her towel and tried to breathe at a normal rate. Anya knew Sean would be expecting her to be on time. But her mind was crashing in all around her. Her body calmed as she continued to prepare for her brother's inspection, but her mind became increasingly troubled by the words she had heard.

“I must show mercy to have a good soul?” She laughed, trying to interpret the words still sounding in her ears. “Then who will show mercy to me tonight?” she whispered as she finished preparing for the evening's gathering. “If you are here, Three,” she said, looking in the full-length mirror at her reflection, “then you will be here when I return, if I return.”

“Dear Ms. Hanes,

“I am pleased with the diary you have allowed me to interpret. I have found the first fifty pages interesting—no, intriguing. As you may or may not know, after page thirty, there is a change in authors. The new writer is Anya, the daughter of Mrs. O'Connell, the owner of the diary. Anya has experienced some new and traumatic situations since she started writing in the diary. The unpleasant encounters come at the hands of her brother, Sean O'Connell. But in spite of her disturbing situation, I find it fascinating reading and will wait for the next fifty pages. I do need to warn you, the writer is graphic in describing her first encounter with a French businessman. He is a much older man associated with her father's business. She is brought to Mr. Dubois to serve as payment for a business deal. I find the situation most amusing and memorable. From what I can gather, the son is attempting to destroy his father's empire, which has taken a “hit” of sorts from fires. You may refer to the information of such in the earlier writings of the mother. Sean is using his sister, which you will read about soon. Anya also mentioned a young woman named Olivia Neely whose beauty is by all standards incredible. There is one last person, or should I say Spirit. She calls the Spirit, Three, and has had one encounter with him. I think you can see why I am anxious to get the rest of the diary.

“I'm making plans for your arrival. I see you have rented a cottage near Dool. That's fantastic as the Castle Goregoo, where the diary originated, is not far from the village. I will arrange for a visit. Ms. Hanes, I am anxious to meet you and promise your stay in Ireland will be memorable, perhaps so much so that you will find it hard to leave. Sincerely, Professor Smith”

“Knock, knock,” the words gave Sophie a start, causing her to jump. She turned to see Kevin opening the front door. “You really should keep this locked Ms. Hanes,” he said, admiring the way her body moved in the yellow skirt as she came to greet him.

“Hey, how are you tonight?” she asked, taking his hand.

He stopped, kissed her cheek, and worked his way down to her shoulder.

“Better now,” he said, focusing on her shiny pink lips.

She knew what he meant and smiled. “I made egg rolls if you're interested in dinner?” Sophie knew he would be and left for the kitchen.

“That sounds really good,” he said, noticing a message on her laptop from Professor Smith. He looked Sophie's way then back to the message. He didn't mean to be nosy and read it, but he used to be a reporter, after all. After a quick skim, he decided the e-mail seemed okay, except for the questionable enthusiasm about the abuse to the girl in the diary and the final line.
Your stay will be memorable, so much so that you may find it hard to leave
. He was sure he had read that somewhere else once—but everyone says that when promising a good time, right? Still it was too familiar, and the vibe didn't feel right.

“Since when did I give you permission to read my mail?” Sophie asked, shutting the lid of her computer and sitting down in front of him. Her eyebrows flattened as a determined look filled her dark brown eyes.

Kevin felt the sting of her displeasure.

“Sometimes I revert back to my reporter days and do things that can get me in trouble. I'm sorry, babe.”

Her facial expression didn't change. He'd have to do better than “sorry” with her—she was too smart for a sappy apology like that. “Sophie, this trip you're taking in two weeks has really got me bothered.” He reached over, taking her hands in his. Kevin traced the lines on her palms and admired the way her nails rounded. Should he tell her about having Professor Smith checked out? No, maybe not. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be, and he was already skating on thin ice when it came to prying into her business. “Sophie, Ireland is not the states.” He hesitated. “I'm wondering if you really know what you're getting into. I think I should go with you,” he said, squeezing her hands tightly.

Sophie's face brightened as she gave him a warm smile. “Listen, Kevin, I'm glad for your concern, but I'm going on this trip solo,” she said, squeezing his hands back. “I love it that I see you almost every night of the week. I swear, Kevin, I'm lucky to have such an intimate, caring friend, but—”