Night of the Dark Horse (An Allegra Fairweather Mystery) (16 page)

The Highly Commendeds were announced first with both being won by high school seniors. Siobhan had a tight hold on Liam’s hand, more nervous than he was. I wanted to tell her to chill. What were the chances of this kid winning anything in his first contest? I even started thinking it was better if his parents didn’t show up.

The MC stepped up to the mic. “The second prize of fifty pounds and private lessons with renowned local artist, Moonbeam Lyons, goes to Liam O’Reilly.”

He didn’t move. Siobhan gave him a little prod. “You have to go up and accept. You got a prize.” He looked so tiny and lost as he made his way up the aisle to the stage. Then he stepped up to the mic and whispered, “Thank you.”

Loud cheering erupted from the back of the room. Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly and even the golden twins were making quite a racket. Dad stood beside them. I gave him the thumbs up.

On the stage, Liam caught sight of his parents. Grinning from ear to ear, he yelled, “Thank you,” and punched the air

After the prize giving, Dad and I went to the Black Shamrock. I didn’t know what he intended, but I planned to get totally wasted. And not in a good way. I mean what did I have to celebrate? Sure, Dad and I were reunited, but there were plenty of unresolved issues in our relationship. Then there was the case and the tiny fact that although I knew a lot more about Sharina, I still hadn’t stopped the pooka. And let’s not mention the whole Casper-disappearing-in-the-River-of-Dreams thing. I totally could not deal with that. Getting wasted was looking better every minute.

My first drink was going down without touching the sides, when Dad said, “How did I do?” He was referring to the minor miracle of getting the O’Reillys to the prize giving.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Well,” he said, ignoring my lack of enthusiasm and going for lighthearted, “I am a wizard now.”

Curiosity forced me to ask, “Have you always been a wizard? Is that why you went away on so many trips when I was a kid?”

“No, I began my wizard’s training seven years ago.”

“What did you do before that? And don’t give me any of that traveling salesman crap.”

“Okay,” he said. “I was a paranormal investigator.”

I spat my drink across the table. Dad thumped my back. When I stopped choking, I asked, “Why did you give it up?”

He studied his blunt fingernails. The sturdy hands reminded me of childhood, and safety. My heart softened, but I fought the feeling. I was still pissed off at him. So not ready to let him off the hook.

“Being a PI cost me too much.”

“So why become a wizard? Why not something more, well, normal?”

He answered with another question. “Why did
you
become a PI?”

“I solved some mysteries in school and it just kind of snowballed. The career chose me, I guess.”

“That’s how it is with me. I’m attracted to the unusual.”

“Do you like being a wizard?”

“Very much.”

“And yet you’re missing the conference.”

“To be with my daughter. There’s no place I’d rather be.”

Could he get any more corny? Since I wasn’t ready for a schmaltzy happy ending, I asked, “Why did you run from me the first time I saw you at the castle?”

He spread his hands and gave a small shrug. “I wish I knew. With hindsight it’s one of the most stupid things I’ve ever done, but seeing you there was such a surprise. The last thing I expected. I didn’t know whether you’d welcome my approach or hate me for being absent so long. I’m ashamed to say I panicked and made the snap decision to run. I was wrong.”

He wasn’t asking forgiveness or even for my understanding, he was telling it like it was and manning up to his mistake. I respected that, but I stopped short of reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. I noticed it was deeply tanned as though he spent a lot of time working magic in the desert. I was planning to ask him about that when I noticed the old Chinese guy sitting at a booth in the corner of the pub. He had a glass of clear liquid in front of him. His eyes were half closed, but I sensed he knew exactly what was happening in every corner of the room.

A voice came from across the pub. “Oi, Niamh, drinks now.”

“In a minute, Colum,” Niamh had two other customers waiting, both elderly and unlikely to make a fuss if Colum butted in.

“Niamh, darlin’, we’re dyin’ of thirst here.”

“I’m going as fast as I can.” Her hand slipped and she knocked over a drink.

“You’re clumsy as shite,” Colum laughed, “but I still love ya darlin’.”

I looked around for Aedan, and was relieved when I couldn’t see him. After only one lesson from Casper, he wasn’t nearly ready to fight Colum.

But I was. My jaw tightened. My fist clenched.

Dad said, “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

“She is.”

“Yes,” said Dad, “but if you solve this now—next week or the week after that guy will harass her again and you won’t be here to step in. The people of Dingaleen have to sort this out themselves. Your job is to stop the pooka.”

“Actually, Dad,
you
have to stop the pooka.”

“You’re Lorcan’s half-sister. Will you welcome him into our family?”

The reality of the situation hit me like a yeti’s fist. I was going to get a brother. Would my relationship with him be easier than the first twenty-five years with my sister? It had taken Lily and me that long to bond over our shared loved of her daughter, Little Allegra. I hoped it wouldn’t take as long for me to bond with Lorcan.

“I’ll welcome him with open arms,” I said, although my fingers were crossed, “but Mom will have a fit. And speaking of Mom, you two really need to get a divorce. Like yesterday.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“I have to be. This whole messy situation of Mom being a bigamist has to end.”

“I don’t think the law will be too harsh on her, since I was declared dead. Sondra made an honest mistake.”

“At least you guys won’t have to pay legal fees. We have a lawyer in the family now. Lily married Steven’s son. SJ will do right by Sondra. They get along really well.”

“Well, bugger me,” murmured Dad. “Sondra must be tickled pink.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Sondra always belonged in a family of politicians and lawyers. She never got the whole paranormal investigation thing.”

And Dad had got it too well, becoming involved with a fairy and all. Still, Sharina was gone now. “Dad, is there someone special in your life?”

“Not since Sharina.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have had a happy ending with her,” I said, but I was really thinking of Casper. Dad and I had more things in common than his former profession of paranormal investigator, which, by the way, I really wanted to ask him about. Before I could frame a question we were interrupted by Colum loudly asking Niamh, “Where’s your boyfriend tonight? Has Unlucky Aedan got lucky yet?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Niamh wearily.

“Can’t say I blame ya. He’s a sad apology for a man.”

Niamh looked around as though hoping another customer would claim her attention. No such luck.

“Ya ready for a real man yet?”

“Colum, I’m workin’.”

“Sure, I know that darlin’, but I’ll be here ’til closin’ time. I’ll wait for ya. ’Cause I know ya want a bit o’ this.” He grabbed his crotch.

“That’s it,” I said springing to my feet so fast the table wobbled. “I’ve gotta shut that guy up.”

I was moving toward him intent on inflicting grievous bodily harm, when the pub door banged open. Aedan entered like a sheriff in a Wild West town.

“Here he is,” said Colum. “The hero of Dingaleen and he has the wounds to prove it.”

It was true. Aedan did bear the cuts and bruises from past encounters with Colum, but there was something different about him. He walked a little taller. The nervous moments had gone and he seemed grounded in a way he hadn’t before. The effect of that one lesson from Casper? Unlikely.

His tone was measured as he spoke to Colum. “Let’s take this outside.”

“You sure about that, little man?”

They stared each other down, tension palpable. Neither of them moved, until Aedan turned abruptly and headed for the door.

“Leaving already?” taunted Colum.

Aedan glanced over his shoulder. “Not leaving. Taking this outside. While Niamh’s in charge, there’ll not be a brawl in this pub. You comin’, Colum?”

The bigger man didn’t hesitate. With a tilt of his head he beckoned his hangers-on to follow. Three against one. Typical. I hurried after them to ensure the fight was a fair one. Dad followed. Actually, everyone in the pub followed, including Niamh.

A circle formed around Aedan and Colum. Light from the pub windows spilled onto the ground, creating a boxing ring. Colum danced around, mouthing off. Aedan stood patiently waiting for his opponent to attack.

“Come on.” Colum swaggered. “What ya waitin’ for? Sure, I’ll even let ya throw the first punch.”

Aedan waited. Statue still. His stillness rattled Colum. “Come on, dammit.” In the end it was Colum who threw the first punch.

Aedan blocked it and made a swift movement, connecting with Colum’s arm. It threw the bigger man off balance and he went down on one knee. His mates rushed in, coming at Aedan from different directions. I caught hold of Eamon and held him back. “Don’t even think about it. This will be a fair fight.”

Davin was also being held back by the old Chinese guy, who had a grip of steel if the expression on Davin’s face was any indication.

Aedan didn’t fight dirty. He waited for Colum to get up. The bigger man pretended to stagger then suddenly launched himself at Aedan. This time Aedan didn’t bother to block. He ducked out of Colum’s reach, spun around and next thing you knew Colum was on the ground out cold. I glanced at the old Chinese guy, who seemed satisfied with the result. I guessed he’d been giving Aedan lessons. I’d only seen those moves once before. They belonged to an ancient martial art, which was so secret no one knew its real name. I had only ever heard it referred to in whispers as The Art.

I sidled up to Aedan. “Who’s your friend?”

Aedan whispered, “He’s The Master.”

“The actual Master? The one who invented The Art? But he died over a thousand years ago.” Well, well, well. It looked as though Aedan had his own guardian angel. I couldn’t help thinking that
Lucky
Aedan had a very nice ring to it. And if the way Niamh was looking at him was any indication, Aedan was going to get lucky real quick.

As for me, maybe I’d get lucky too—not in
that
way—but maybe Aedan’s angel knew what had happened to Casper.

I searched for The Master, but he was no longer among the crowd outside the pub. I hurried inside, but he wasn’t there either. When I came out again, I saw him heading toward the lane where Dierdre lived. No prizes for guessing he was looking for a quiet place to spread his wings and return to Cloud 9. I sprinted after him.

“Hey! Stop! I want to talk to you.” At first he pretended not to hear, but I ran fast, overtook him and blocked his way. “I know you’re an angel. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I just want to know where my own angel is. He’s disappeared and—well, nothing is right when Casper’s not around.”

The Master held up his hand to stop me. “Casper?” He spoke English without an accent. “I don’t know anyone by that name. He isn’t one of us.”

What the—? Oh right, I got it. “Casper isn’t his real name. I meant Ulrich. He’s Germanic. Died fighting the Romans around 1AD.”

The Master’s expression cleared. “Ah yes, a great warrior.” He folded his hands and said serenely, “But Ulrich is lost to us.”

“What do you mean lost? Missing? Or—” I pointed upward, “—gone to a better place?”

“It is not for me to say.”

“Please. Casper—Ulrich—has disappeared. I can handle it if the Powers-That-Be have taken him to Heaven, but I can’t handle not knowing what’s happened to him.”

The Master was silent for long minutes. His expression slowly changed from inscrutable to sympathetic.

“All I can tell you is that Ulrich is no longer one of the guardians.”

“He’s in Heaven?”

“I’ve already said too much.” But he didn’t need to say anymore. I got it. Casper was gone. He’d once promised me he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. So much for promises.

The Master moved on. I didn’t try to stop him or beg for more information. What would that achieve? It wouldn’t bring Casper back. Moments later I heard the beating of wings.

I headed back to the Black Shamrock. The night was very still. A breeze whispered through the village. It gathered strength, whipping fat rain drops against my cheeks. I started to run, thunder rumbling at my heels.

The crowd outside the pub had gone. Even Dad had gone inside to escape the rain. I sprinted for the door, pushed it open. Colum and his morons weren’t in sight. Niamh was busy serving drinks. Dad was talking to Aedan. I hurried toward them. Dad’s eyes met mine.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The pooka’s coming.”

Everyone froze as the sound of hoof beats circled the pub. The pooka snorted and whinnied as though working himself up to something really special. His deep voice filled the night.

“Harrison Rafferty Fairweather. I call you to ride.”

Dad put on his jacket. He zipped it up. He threw back his head draining the beer from his glass. He headed outside. I didn’t try to stop him. He had to confront Lorcan and not just to solve the case. In essence, Lorcan was a kid with a broken heart. Dad—my dad, Lorcan’s dad—was the only one who could heal it.

I followed Dad outside. The pooka stalked back and forth. With every step, he snorted, and thin streams of flame trickled from his nostrils. His black coat gleamed like polished ebony.

Dad whispered, “Magnificent creature,” with more than a touch of parental pride.

“Harrison Rafferty Fairweather. I call you to ride.”

“Don’t,” I said, grabbing his arm. “You’ll give him the advantage. Best to work this out with your feet on the ground.”

“It’s okay, Allegra. I know what I’m doing. He won’t hurt his father.”

“Don’t bet on it. He didn’t cut me any breaks. And I’m his sister.”

“He didn’t know that.” Dad crossed the tarmac with slow footsteps, hands spread in a gesture of peace. “Easy, mate. Easy. Your name is Lorcan, yeah?”