When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella (3 page)

But Brendan hadn’t thought it was right, not one bit. So Seamus and Kelly had come. What they’d found when they’d arrived and all they’d been told had been enough to set the wheels in motion that had brought she and Rocky to where they were right now.

“We have to find the truth,” Devin said, her voice low but passionate. “Kelly and Seamus are very precious to me. Of course, so far, we’ve not had much chance to see or speak with the living—much less, um, anyone else. All we’ve done is drop off our bags. We haven’t even seen Kelly and Seamus yet. Just Brendan.”

Kelly and her father had been down in the village when they’d arrived, at a dinner with a marketing friend who arranged for the creation and delivery of their special “Karney Castle” soaps and shampoo and conditioner, and all the little amenities that hotel guests liked to take with them.

After arriving in Dublin, going through customs, getting their rental car and making their way to Karney, Devin and Rocky had arrived at the castle just in time to be warmly greeted by Brendan, drop their bags, and head for Gary’s Ghosties and Goblins night tour—at Brendan’s insistence.

Devin had been there before, but Rocky was new to this wondrous part of the Emerald Isle, and the tour was a great way for him to get an intro, so Brendan told them. And Devin had been a “wee” little thing at the time she had been there.

Devin was pretty sure she’d been thirteen or fourteen when the family had come, and she’d been five-five or five-six by then, but to Brendan—a great bear of a man at about six-four—she supposed that was “wee.”

Brendan had seen to it that she and Rocky had a chance for a quick look at the old master’s suite where they’d be staying, time to freshen up and make sure they wouldn’t mind where Kelly had wanted them to stay, and then head out.

Their room in the central tower was called the old master’s suite because there was a new master’s suite—created in the Victorian era with all the niceties that came with the more modern day. Collum—now dead and buried—had lived in the old suite; Brendan was in the new suite. Kelly and her father, Seamus, had rooms in the main tower as well, which was always reserved for family.

Only there wasn’t much family anymore.

Tavish Karney—Kelly’s grandfather—had been one of two boys; Tavish’s brother, Brian, twenty years his junior, had gone on to procreate late in life, leaving Kelly with two Irish second cousins, Aidan and Michael, close to her own age. When the cousins came to stay—they were due in late the next day, always there to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at the family castle—they were also housed in the main tower.

As Brendan had sadly told them, the family was down to himself, Seamus, Kelly, Aidan, and Michael. Not many left of a once great and mighty family. Family needed to be keepers of a great and historic castle. Of course, Ancient City Tourism was forever trying to buy them out, put a nightclub in the old castle, and shake everything up.

Brendan—as Collum before him—meant to keep Karney Castle in the Karney family. Devin knew that Seamus and Kelly felt just as passionately that their heritage must be preserved. Castle Karney deserved the best and while its place on the historic register might save it from destruction, it just might not be enough to keep it from becoming a gimmicky attraction.

“You’re right; we’ve just arrived,” Rocky told Devin softly, his words bringing her back from her thoughts. They were both seated cross-legged on the soft, rich green grass of the lawn area that surrounded the pit and the grating. Rocky took her hands, his eyes on Gary across the rising yellow flames of the fire between them. “And,” he added, lowering his voice still further, “this is an excellent way for me to begin, to understand the lay of the land, so to speak.” He hugged her more tightly to him, as if he was aware of the chill she’d felt earlier when looking up at the walls.

He was aware, of course. He was Rocky, intuitive—and much better at this than she, much more experienced
.

“So then tonight,” Gary announced, “eh, you’ve learned about the Tuatha Dé Danann, the great race of Irish supernatural kings and queens, gods and goddesses, if you will, those of the distant past, revered ’til the coming of Christianity! Ye’ve learned of Dearg-Due—an Irish female vampire known long before Bram Stoker—an Irishman, I might add—created Dracula. We’ve talked about our Irish headless horseman—the Dullahan. Many more, and of course, those well-known, our leprechauns and our banshees! I’m now Gary the Ghost, signing off, wishing you sweet dreams—and reminding you, of course, that gratuities are not at all necessary, but deeply appreciated.”

“There’s a man worthy of gratuities,” Rocky said, coming to his feet and reaching down a hand to help Devin up to hers. He pulled her into his arms. “Love it here. So far, it’s a great honeymoon,” he told her, green eyes dancing.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Devin promised.

Rocky laughed. “I mean it—I love it. Who gets to stay in the haunted master’s suite of a family-owned castle? Sit beneath a crystal moon and hear old-fashioned storytelling in such atmospheric conditions? Then again, who gets to bathe in a great old claw-foot tub like the one up in our room? Okay, maybe they have those other places, but it’s pretty cool looking, don’t you think?”

Devin grinned. “Definitely. Yes, we’ll put that on the evening’s agenda.”

Rocky might have been about to say something a bit risqué, but Gary Duffy finished speaking with some of his other customers and came to shake hands with Rocky and smile at Devin.

“So?” he asked, sounding a bit anxious, looking from Rocky to Devin. “I hear you’re the American cousin.”

“I’m Kelly Karney’s cousin, yes,” Devin said.

“Lovely to meet you. Or meet you again. I think I saw you once before—when we would have both been kids,” Gary said.

“Possibly—I was here once as a teenager,” Devin said.

“And how do my tales match up with family lore?” Gary asked.

“Wonderfully,” Devin assured him.

“The night was great,” Rocky told him. “You’re really entertaining. Certainly one of the best guides I’ve ever seen.”

“Ah, now coming from an American, that is a great compliment,” Gary said. He was an engaging man of medium build, in his late twenties, with a thatch of red hair, freckles, and a contagious grin. “I hear you’re staying in Collum’s old suite—the old master’s suite.”

“It’s where my cousin has asked us to stay, yes,” Devin said.

“I guess you’re not the scared type then,” Gary said. “No, you’re not. To be honest, I looked you up. Krewe of Hunters, eh? You’re FBI. I am a bit confused. Collum died of a heart attack. And the FBI has no jurisdiction here.”

“Kelly is my cousin; we’re here to be with her,” Devin explained quickly.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Gary said. “We’re all hurting from the loss of Collum. St. Paddy’s Day won’t be the same without him, but—tradition. Time marches on and cares little for any one man, eh? Well, I’m curious, I must say. Some call you people the ‘ghost unit.’ Are you a ghost unit? Does the American government really believe in such a thing?”

“That question from a man who goes by the moniker ‘Gary the Ghost,’” Rocky said lightly.

“I make my living telling such tales,” Gary said. “And real history, too, of course—stranger and sadder than most ghost stories. But, alas! The world enjoys a good scare and luckily for me, Irish folk are full of fancy. I apologize again—I didn’t mean to be rude. But…I am a historian and a curious type. Like I said, when Kelly told me that you were coming and that you were with the law in America, I looked you up.”

“When we’re working,” Rocky said, “we investigate cases that have something unusual about them—something unexplained. We find the explanations. But, I assure you, I’ve never heard of a case of a ghost murdering a man as of yet.”

“So, you’ve heard the suggestion that a ghost might have murdered old Collum?” Gary asked.

“Everyone seems to be edgy—with lots of talk about the banshee,” Rocky told him.

“That’s the rumor,” Gary said. He shrugged. “Forgive me. I try to take Mondays and Tuesdays off, but I’m here seven days a week sometimes. I grew up beneath the great castle on the hill—loving it. The family is like my own and naturally, I know what’s going on most the time. Sadly, Collum was like a bull—and his habits were not at all healthy. Dr. Kirkland said heart attack, and it’s not much of a mystery. But, if you will. Come—let’s head to the Karney Castle Pub. I’ll buy you a beer. You can entertain me a bit with a few or your tales.”

Rocky glanced at Devin. She realized that they’d both been looking forward to getting into the massive old bathtub—but they’d also planned on waiting to see Kelly and Seamus. It didn’t seem at all a bad idea to spend the time waiting with the man who supposedly knew the history of the castle better than any other.

“We’ll be doing the buying,” Rocky said, “after such a night of entertainment. In fact, we’d love to buy you dinner, if it’s available at this hour.”

Gary grinned. “Tour ends at nine; dinner goes ’til ten. I’d be deciding on fish and chips or shepherd’s pie as we walk!”

They did so. Some of the other members of Gary’s tour group, those staying at the castle, walked in groups ahead of them. The massive gates at the great wall were open—permanently, now that hostile invaders were no longer expected—and led into a vast courtyard where vendors had been setting up for the coming festival days; their carts and stations were now dark, many covered in tarps.

The central tower—stonework built circa 1000 over original earthwork foundations founded around the year 300—stood before them with the north wing—built circa 1200—to the left and the south wing—built circa 1400—to the right. The Castle Pub was in the right wing with the floors above it containing a museum on the second floor, and storage and household items on the third floor and in the attic. The guest rooms were all in the north left wing. The main hall of the oldest part of the castle, the central tower, offered check-in, and a lobby area while still maintaining historical truth. The coat of arms of the Karney family held prominence over a great hearth that stretched twenty feet. The crest was surrounded by mounted weapons from swords and shields to dirks, staffs, and more. Two mannequins in full armor—one from the eleventh century and one from the sixteenth—stood guard at either side of the hearth. There was no counter—check-in was done at a seventh-century desk that sat discretely just inside the double doors to the main hall.

They entered through the main door. A note on the desk advised guests to “Ring if ye must; bear in mind ’tis late! Pub that-a way!”

They followed the sign to the pub.

It was charming, with lots of carved hardwood, many of the images at the six small booths those of creatures and beings from Irish myth and legend. A long bar offered ten different beers on tap and a sign on the bar offered the pub’s limited menu of bangers and mash, shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, vegetarian salad, and vegan salad.

There was an especially atmospheric little cover of benches in the pub, right where the old family chapel—now deconsecrated—had once been; the Karney family had worshipped at St. Patrick’s of the Village for centuries now. Double wood doors—always open—led to the little section and beautiful stained glass windows that looked out. A small altar had once stood before those windows; now they offered a tinted and fantastic view of the courtyard. A small door near the great stained glass window was roped off; Devin knew that it led down into the castle’s catacombs, basement—and one time dungeon.

Once a year, the Karney family had a cleaning company head down to sweep out the spider webs and then they would allow tour groups down. The liability for doing it more than once a year was just too high.

Above ground, however, the tiny old chapel area was charming.

They chose a table there.

A friendly waitress with a white peasant blouse, ankle-length skirt, and wreath around her head came their way after tending to a group ahead of them. A lone, busy bartender stood behind the long bar pouring a number of beers at once, worthy of a reality show.

Devin noticed that little had changed since she had been to Castle Karney when she’d been about thirteen.

“Ah, Gary! So ye’ve tricked some new friends into dinner again!” the waitress said.

“Indeed, but these are special friends, Siobhan!” Gary said.

“Oh?” Siobhan asked, smiling, and waiting.

“I’m Kelly Karney’s cousin, Devin Lyle,” Devin said. “Nice to meet you, Siobhan. And this is my husband, Craig Rockwell.”

“Ah, very American, you keeping your name, eh?” Siobhan asked, grinning. “I’m Siobhan McFarley. A pleasure to meet you both!” She frowned. “Sorry about the latest troubles in the family, eh?”

“You mean Collum’s death?” Devin asked.

“Aye, that I do,” Siobhan said, and shivered visibly. “Scary, now, weren’t it? I heard it, you know, the banshee’s cry the night before. You heard it, too, right, Gary?”

 “Ah, now, luv, that’s nonsense!” Gary said. “I heard nothing—but then, I was away from the castle that night. Finished me tour and headed on home, down in the village. I heard nothing.”

“We’d just cleaned up here—closes at ten, but we’re known to cheat a bit on the side of the patron, you know, so it’s closer to eleven when we close the door,” Siobhan said. “At twelve—it was twelve exactly—I heard the sound of her wailing away! I tell you, the goose bumps rose all over me. Creepiest sound I ever did hear.”

“Wolves,” Gary said. “They cry from the forest sometimes, you know.” He looked at Rocky and Devin. “Beyond the road here, and away from the sea, there’s a great forest. You must have passed it on your way.”

“We did, indeed,” Rocky said. “But, if the wolves were howling that night, wouldn’t you have heard them in the village as well?”

“Not if you’re sleeping, which I must have been,” Gary said. He looked at Siobhan with a teasing eye. “Some of us work around here.”

“Aye, and that would be me!” Siobhan protested. “Not running my mouth as if I’d kissed the Blarney Stone like a lover! Hauling pints here and there and what have you for hours on end!”

“Teasing, me luv, but I must have been asleep,” Gary said. “Two weeks ago tonight; Collum has been in his grave but ten days now.”