Read When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella Online
Authors: Heather Graham
Tags: #Paranormal Romance, #Heather Graham, #Krewe of Hunters, #1001 Dark Nights
When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella
When Irish Eyes Are Haunting
A Krewe of Hunters Novella
By Heather Graham
1001 Dark Nights
Copyright 2015 Heather Graham Pozzessere
ISBN: 978-1-940887-34-0
Foreword: Copyright 2014 M. J. Rose
Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
The Silenced Text Copyright © 2015 by Slush Pile Productions, LLC
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
When Irish Eyes Are Haunting
Devin Lyle and Craig Rockwell are back, this time to a haunted castle in Ireland where a banshee may have gone wild—or maybe there's a much more rational explanation—one that involves a disgruntled heir, murder, and mayhem, all with that sexy light touch Heather Graham has turned into her trademark style.
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Heather Graham has been writing for many years and actually has published nearly 200 titles. So, for this page, we'll concentrate on the Krewe of Hunters.
They include:
Coming in Summer and Fall of 2015
(All available through Amazon and other fine retailers, in print
and digital—and through Brilliance Audio as well.)
Actually, though, Adam Harrison—responsible for putting the Krewe together, first appeared in a book called Haunted. He also appeared in Nightwalker and has walk-ons in a few other books. For more ghostly novels, readers might enjoy the Flynn Brothers Trilogy—Deadly Night, Deadly Harvest, and Deadly Gift, or the Key West Trilogy—Ghost Moon, Ghost Shadow, and Ghost Night.
Out next for Heather the second book in the Cafferty and Quinn series, Waking the Dead—which follows Let the Dead Sleep. Go figure! (I guess they've slept long enough!)
The Vampire Series (now under Heather Graham/ previously Shannon Drake) Beneath a Blood Red Moon , When Darkness Falls, Deep Midnight, Realm of Shadows, The Awakening, Dead by Dusk, Blood Red, Kiss of Darkness, and From Dust to Dust.
For more info, please visit her web page, theoriginalheathergraham.com or stop by on Facebook.
Dedicated with love to my cousin, Patrick DeVuono, who grew up with me in the family where leprechauns were real and the wonderful tales our elders told could leave us in awe—and give us the chills!
In memory of my Mom, born in Dublin, the most intelligent and wonderful woman I ever knew. When she couldn't give us a real answer, she would smile and say, “Let's look it up!”
And for Granny, who was about 4’11”—and could convince us that indeed, the banshees would be getting us in the outhouse if we didn't behave—even when we didn't have an outhouse.
For Aunt Amy and Katie (and Sam! Who made marrying an Italian a good thing!)
For all my mom's family, the wonderful Irish Americans.
And, for Ireland, of course. I'm an American and I love my country.
But, I also enjoy every second of being in Ireland, and loving the land that bred so many people I adored so very much.
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1001 Dark Nights story
The First Night
by Lexi Blake & M.J. Rose
Table of Contents
An excerpt from The Silenced by Heather Graham
One Thousand and One Dark Nights
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian:
شهریار
, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
“Ah, you can hear it in the wind, you can, the mournful cry of the banshee!” Gary Duffy—known as Gary the Ghost—exclaimed with wide eyes, his tone low, husky and haunting along with the sound of the crackling fire. “It’s a cry so mournful and so deep, you can feel it down into your bones. Indeed. Some say she’s the spirit of a woman long gone who’s lost everyone dear in her life; some say she is one of the fairy folk. Some believe she is a death ghost, and come not to do ill, but to ease the way of the dying, those leaving this world to enter the next. However she is known, her cry is a warning that ’tis time for a man to put his affairs in order, and kiss his loved ones good-bye, before taking that final journey that is the fate of all men. And women,” he added, looking around at his audience. “Ah, and believe me! At Castle Karney, she’s moaned and cried many a time, many a time!”
Yes! Just recently,
Devin Lyle thought.
Very recently.
Gary spoke well; he was an excellent storyteller, more of a performer than a guide. He had a light and beautiful brogue that seemed to enhance his words as well and an ability to speak with a deep tone that carried, yet still seemed to be something of a whisper.
All in the tour group were enthralled as they watched him—even the youngest children in the group were silent.
But then, beyond Gary’s talents, the night—offering a nearly full moon and a strange, shimmering silver fog—lent itself to storytelling and ghostly yarns. As did the lovely and haunting location where Gary spun his tales.
The group sat around a campfire that burned in an ancient pit outside the great walls of Castle Karney, halfway between those walls and St. Patrick’s of the Village—the equally ancient church of Karney, said to have been built soon after the death of Ireland’s patron saint. A massive graveyard surrounded the church; the Celtic crosses, angels, cherubs, and more, seemed to glow softly in a surreal shade of pearl beneath the moon. That great orb itself was stunning, granting light and yet shrouded in the mist that shimmered over the graveyard, the castle walls, and down to embrace the fire itself—and Gary the Ghost—in surreal and hypnotic beauty.
Gary’s tour was thorough.
They’d already visited the castle courtyard, the cliffs, the church, and the graveyard, learning history and legends along the way.
The fire pit they now gathered around had been used often in the centuries that came before—many an attacking lord or general had based his army here, just outside the walls. They had cooked here, burned tar here for assaults, and stood in the light and warmth of the blaze to stare at the castle walls and dream of breeching them.