Night Games (17 page)

Katy glanced around. “Looks like Cap's gone.” She turned on her spelunkers headlight. “Let's get this show on the road. I'm going up those stone steps to the top and see if I can spot whatever it was I saw hanging around earlier.” She frowned. “Too bad Cap made up that stuff about Black Liam. Sure would've liked to have seen a vampire. But maybe I can see a banshee since the O'Neills have one.”

Katy paused to look at the Old One, who hadn't moved and was busily grooming her whiskers. “Coming with us, Boss?”

The Old One kept on grooming. “Scaredy-cat,” Katy grumbled.

Brian smiled at Ally's sigh of resignation as she walked with Katy toward the stone steps spiraling up into darkness. He brought up the rear.

“The banshee only cries if an O'Neill is about to die, Katy.”

“Hmm. Guess at my age I don't want to see her then. Maybe I'll spot . . . Tell me again what I could spot. You're the one who loves all that research stuff.” Katy adjusted her headlight and started up the worn steps.

Ally stood at the bottom of the steps and watched Katy. “Okay, let's go with something not so well known as a pooka or leprechaun.”

“Don't want to hear about that dullahan guy either.” Katy paused at the curve of the stairs.

“How about the gancanagh? You'd like him.

He's sort of like a leprechaun, but he spends his time making love to shepherdesses and milkmaids.” Ally peered into a large opening in the wall that had been a doorway at one time.

“Don't know about a milkmaid, but I could be a shepherdess. What do you think my chances are of meeting up with this gancanagh?” The pool of light from Katy's headlight bobbed across the stone walls with every word.

“Not too good.” Ally sounded distracted as she gazed through the opening.

“Hmmph.” Katy turned back to her climb. “Why don't you stay here and see if anything shows up. I'll go on up to the top, look around, then come back down. And no, I don't want you trailing after me. Any spirit that hears a mob clattering up the stairs isn't going to stick around.”

“Okay, but be careful.” Ally still seemed distracted as Brian joined her at the opening. “This might sound crazy, Brian, but something about this spot feels . . . strange.”

Brian glanced through the doorway and tried to recall the pictures of what the keep would have looked like whole. “This would've been a doorway into the great hall.” Now it opened into nothingness. All that wasn't stone had long ago disappeared. He looked up at the overcast night sky, clearly visible where the roof had once been. Below, everything was shrouded in darkness.
Shrouded.
Maybe that wasn't a great choice of words. “On the night they died, I wonder if they were sitting in there drinking and eating, a roaring
fire in the fireplace, talking about ordinary things. Never suspecting that this night would be their last.”

Ally shivered and moved closer to him as the wind picked up. It moaned and whistled through the cracks and crevices of the ancient building. Funny, there hadn't been any wind when Katy started up the steps.

Then he heard it. A distant booming that settled into a slow rhythm carried to him on the wind's currents.

“Drums? They sound like kettle drums.” Her voice quavered.

Brian pulled her into his arms and wrapped her in whatever strength he could offer. He held his breath: waiting, listening. His heart echoed the hollow pounding of the drums as the sound of something being slowly dragged across a floor reached him.

“No. This is
not
happening. I can't believe they starred this place on the map. Tourist-friendly attraction. Hah! Tell the Irish Tourist Board to lose the star. Tell them those were my last words before I keeled over from fright.” Ally's voice was a shaky whisper.

He felt a powerful surge of an emotion that caught him by surprise. Protectiveness? He hadn't needed to protect anyone during his whole adult life. Before that? He'd always taken care of himself, and everyone else could go to hell.

But something in Ally's brave attempt to joke
about her fear reached him. He understood fear, a silent predator that couldn't be fought because it couldn't be seen, any more than the drama being played out in the great hall could be seen.

The sound drew closer, and he ran shaking hands through her hair, making soothing sounds that had no meaning. He should grab her hand and run like hell. But where? Away from the keep? They couldn't leave Katy alone. Up? They'd be trapped with no escape. Besides, he felt incapable of movement, frozen against the stone wall by a force that seemed determined they witness the castle's ancient agony.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “We'll be okay, Ally. This isn't about us. This is about something that happened a long time ago.”

“They're coming this way.” She burrowed her head into his chest. “I never watch the scary parts of movies.”

Coming this way.
The door. They'd have to drag the body past Ally and him to reach the door.

No way out now. The wind shrieked and whipped in fierce swirls, coming from everywhere and nowhere, pulling at them with insistent fingers. A jagged streak of lightning lit the scene for a moment. What had once been the great hall remained eerily empty. Thunder rumbled, punctuating the warning of the distant drums, a warning that Cromwell was coming, a warning that had come too late.

As the bumping and scraping sounds grew closer, other noises intruded. Shuffling steps,
heavy breathing. Brian pushed Ally against the wall, then placed himself between her body and whatever horror was approaching. He flattened himself against the wall as best he could without crushing the life from her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on.

They were with him now, moving past him on their torturous reliving of that terrible night. Their harsh breathing sounded in his ear, the unspeakable emotions they felt, blood-lust, terror, horror, filled
him.
He wanted to scream into the gale, rid himself of the stench of blood and death that seemed to cling to him.
And the cold.
Frigid air skittered down his spine, seeped into his blood, and chilled him from the inside out.

Just when he felt he couldn't stand another second, it ended. The wind died, the drums faded, and silence closed in.

He shut his eyes for a moment, feeling the pounding of Ally's heart slow, giving himself time to recover before he pushed himself away from the wall.

Drawing in a deep breath, he stepped back.

She dropped her arms to her sides and stared up at Brian. “I feel so sorry for them.” Her voice was soft, raw emotion in each word.

That was absolutely the last thing he'd expected her to say. “Sorry?”

She nodded. “I don't know which they were, the good or bad guys, but to have to relive the horror over and over . . . That's the true meaning
of hell.” She offered him a shaky smile. “I'd end it for them if I could.”

“Yeah, I know.” He now knew more than she'd want him to know. He knew that Ally O'Neill had been the giver in her marriage. He knew that no matter how hard she denied it, she'd always be a giver, of her emotions, of her sympathy for others, even if those others lived centuries ago.

Brian smiled into the darkness. He wouldn't tell her what he knew.

“On that night, maybe there was a man and a woman like us, hiding in the darkness, watching the bodies being dragged out, wondering if they'd be next.” She shook her head. “Okay, so I'm a writer. I like to deal in what-ifs.” Her gaze grew distant. “What would they do, think, as they saw their world collapsing around them?”

Her words triggered his own imagination. What if there was no contract, no promise? What if he was free to do what he wished with Ally O'Neill? His thoughts were no longer with the lost spirits who'd touched them only moments ago. He could only think of what he wanted,
needed.

“The man would've lain with her on the cold stones and covered her with his body. He would've pulled her gown down to her waist, then put his mouth on her breast, warming her flesh with his, feeling her nipple harden as he teased it with his tongue. He'd hear her groan as she arched her back, wanting more. Then he'd push up her gown, slide his hand along the inside
of her thigh, feel her legs spread for him. When his fingers touched her, he'd find her already wet for him, open. He'd touch her there, and she'd buck beneath him. And as he slid his fingers in and out of her, he'd cover her mouth with his to smother her cries. At last, when he couldn't stand it anymore, when his arousal became painful, he'd move between her legs and thrust deeply, completely.” He moved closer, bracing his hand against the stone wall, absorbing its coldness to remind himself that
this
was reality, not the fantasy he wove.

“Then what?” Ally's voice was a warm whisper, fanning his need.

“She'd wrap her long legs around him as he found his rhythm. With each thrust the wire holding them in time would stretch tighter and tighter until it snapped, freeing them from all the horror that surrounded them. At that moment, it wouldn't matter if heaven or hell came for them. They wouldn't be there.” Surprised, he realized his breathing was hard and fast.

“
Why?
Why would he do that?” Ally's question was a harsh whisper.

His control restored, he gazed at her. And answered for himself. “Because there'd be no promise to keep him from her.” He smiled. “Because it would be the right memory to hold in their minds.”

Silence stretched between them, and Brian felt that something important needed to be said, but he wasn't sure what it was.

The sound of Katy descending the steps broke the tension.

“Can't believe I climbed all those steps to see nothing. Must've been a thousand of the damned things. Sure didn't build these places for senior citizens.” Her words echoed off the stones, proclaiming her dissatisfaction ahead of her arrival.

Ally glanced at Brian. “I'm not going to say anything to Katy. She'd camp here every night if I told her what happened. It could be dangerous. She could fall down the steps or . . .” She looked away.

Brian nodded, aware of what Ally
hadn't
said. These hadn't been friendly spirits. They'd scared the hell out of him.

Katy huffed down the last few steps. “Can you believe it? A clear starry night, not a breath of air, not a ghost in sight. I can't write a book if nothing happens.” She continued past them down the steps.

Ally smiled weakly and followed her greataunt. Brian cast a last glance out the doorway to where the great hall area was now bathed in moonlight.

Could he travel back to the time of Cromwell? Would he be allowed to change history? He shook his head to clear it. It was a moot point. The white stags never went to a time where they might be injured. They were too valuable. If a stag was threatened or injured during a visit, they never traveled to that time again.

He followed Ally and Katy out of the castle.

Katy strode over to where the Old One waited patiently for them.

Brian walked to Ally, who stood in the moonlit shadow of the keep's wall.

Ally sighed. “She's bending the Old One's ear. Telling her that she didn't miss anything. Why were we the ones, Brian? Katy's the one who wanted it to happen.”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Eamonn would probably say that one of us has the power to end it. I don't believe that.”

The night was suddenly split by a feline cry. It wasn't a cry of anger, but of terror.
And warning.

Startled, Brian glanced at the Old One, then followed her gaze to the top of the keep.

And froze.

 

 

 

 

A huge chunk of stone from the top of the keep was hurtling toward them. Instinct took over as Brian shoved Ally away from the wall, then as she fell, clasped her to his body and rolled away from the point of impact. The thud of the stone burying itself in the damp earth where they had stood a moment before gave his heart a mega-shot of adrenaline.

Ally lay beneath him, her breaths coming in quick gasps, her eyes wide with shock. “Tell me this castle isn't cursed.”

Katy rushed over with the Old One beside her. Brian rolled off Ally, but remained flat on his back in the damp grass. Ally sat up and brushed grass from her jeans with shaking fingers.

“How did that happen?” Katy put her hands on her hips and stared up at the keep. “I was just up
there, and I didn't see anything loose. How could that big chunk of wall just fall like that?”

“No sign of the person you thought you saw earlier?” Brian narrowed his gaze on the Old One, who determinedly crawled onto his stomach, then plunked her furry behind on his groin. She glared around her, daring anyone to damage “The Franchise.” “Get off me, Boss. It's my head you need to protect. Understand?”

The Old One's expression made it perfectly clear she knew exactly what she should protect.

Katy shook her head. “Didn't see a soul up there. Of course there were lots of shadowy corners I didn't look into. Figured a spirit wouldn't be hiding in a corner. It would be up-front about wanting to scare the crap out of me.”

Brian rose to his feet and helped Ally up. “Did anyone see where Cap went?” He didn't want to acknowledge the tiny suspicion lurking in his mind. But two accidents so close together made him uneasy. He took a deep breath. Maybe his imagination was working overtime. Who could blame it? This whole night had been bizarre. He should go up and check, but if there had been someone, he'd had plenty of time to escape down the steps on the other side of the keep. Besides, Brian didn't want to leave Ally and Katy alone.

Ally rubbed her eyes. “Don't go there, Brian. They were just accidents. We're tired. Everything will look different in the morning.”