Celtic Evil: A Fitzgerald Brother Novel: Roarke Page 15

“Don’t know yet,” Roarke admitted but did feel better than he had in a long time. “Probably be better after I’ve seen Jessica.”

  Nodding, Kerry let go and lightly tousled his long black hair as he had done when they’d been kids. “Go see her then. I’ll be up soon.”

  “Kerry?” Roarke stopped to look back and for the first time since returning home, he met his brother’s eyes fully. “Thanks.”

  “It’s what older brothers are for, lad,” Kerry returned, waiting until the door closed fully to sink down into his father’s chair and place his head in his hands.

  Expecting the aftereffects of what he did, what Kerry hadn’t been expecting was his own emotions as he had picked up on things that his brother hadn’t considered or thought about.

  Running a hand over an obsidian ball sitting on his desk, he closed his eyes and forced his emotions down in order to concentrate on the image in his mind as he thought of all that had been happening and finally to the person he was thinking of. ‘We need you.’

  “Kerry?” Deirdre spoke from the door, appearing concerned. “I passed Roarke who said he was checking on the lass. Ryan’s still up there while Miss Cavanaugh’s gotten Mac to take a bit of a lie down, and Ian’s ruining his dinner,” she reported, frowning as she looked at him. “Are ye alright, lad?”

  “No, I’m not.” Her young Lord replied after a long silence, finally shoving to his feet and moving around the desk. “Tell Ryan I said to watch over Roarke and ask Cam if his people could double-check security. I’ll handle seeing to the magical shields when I return.”

  Deirdre’s eyes looked surprised. “Return?” she repeated, surprised. “Return, from where?”

  Kerry just reached his usual leather jacket and did the spell in his mind. “From County Mayo. I need to handle something,” he returned evenly, anger tinting his words as he cast the teleportation spell and he shimmered out.

  “Oh, this isn’t good.” The housekeeper whispered.

  Roarke Fitzgerald had stopped by his room to grab a clean t-shirt before going next door.

  Even before he entered, he sensed the tension but couldn’t tell who it was coming from as Peter Daniels paced the room while muttering in German, and Cameron Young was between Nick O’Malley and Ryan Fitzgerald.

  “My employer isn’t supposed to be lunch for some hellhound,” Nick was complaining, motioning to the bed. “Any deeper and I would have had to call my brother in to deal with that bite, and none of us want Sean here.”

  Ryan was pleased that he was keeping his temper controlled when he saw his younger brother in the doorframe.

  Just a brief look told him that something had happened because he didn’t feel the same angst or unease in Roarke.

  “Hey there, brat. O’Malley’s griping as usual.” He turned from Nick with a smirk as Roarke came in fully.

  “Hey,” Roarke nodded, still a little wary around Ryan, but right then he wanted to concentrate on his friend.

  Jessica Hadley still looked pale to him as she lay under a quilt he recognized as one of his mother’s handmade ones.

  Sitting down on the bed, he gently eased the quilt down so he could look for himself. Her injured arm was lying across her chest with a white bandage wrapped around the wound.

  “How bad?” speaking because he knew his brother was close, Roarke’s eyes remained on the girl’s face as if looking to see any distress, but she seemed to be resting easily and he knew that had been Ryan’s doing.

  “The bite was minor and because you had cast a protection spell, not too much of its poison went into the bite.” Ryan leaned on the bedpost easily while the merc leader got his mystic out of the room. “Her arm will be sore and it may take another go at healing it to take the pain away, but that’ll be fine.”

  Seeing the bandage on her head reminded him of the blood he’d seen, and Roarke gently brushed his fingers over it and then down her face. “Her head was bleeding.”

  “She fell and hit it on cobblestone and since you were always fond of falling on those and taking layers off your knees, you should know what that feels like,” Ryan replied, wondering if his brother knew that his hand was shimmering as it lightly touched or stroked.

  “Mild concussion is what Daniels said before lapsing into German or something,” he went on then stayed silent.

  Roarke looked for himself, taking her hand in his and holding on as he finally let himself relax. “I was afraid that if I ever told her that I loved her, shut up, that something would happen and my failures or whatever would get her hurt.”

  “That attack would have happened even if you hadn’t told her, brat,” Ryan spoke firmly, not resorting to his usual arrogance since he could feel the boy’s honest fear. “So you did tell her?”

  “Shut up, Ry,” Roarke muttered but did smile a little, as things seemed to balance between them as it had years ago. “I’ve loved her for so long that if anything hurts her because of me or this…”

  This time Ryan reached out to grip his brother’s shoulder hard enough that he looked up at him, expecting to see censure or the typical sneer, but all Roarke saw were his brother’s eyes locked on his.

  “Nothing is going to happen to Jessica because you aren’t going to let it happen, and because we’re going to kick Sebastian’s butt back to where it came from,” Ryan declared firmly, then smiled his normal cocky smile. “Now, I’m going to go flirt with the little red-headed witch until Mac kicks me out, then I’ll be back with some juice for you two.”

  “I’m a little old for juice, Ryan,” Roarke decided then winced at the light tap to his head.

  “I’m still your older brother, brat,” Ryan shot back as he went out the door to head downstairs, seeing Deirdre coming up he could tell something was wrong. “What now?”

  The older woman was worrying her lip. “Kerry’s gone off to Mayo, lad.”

  Ryan blinked at that, actually surprised by this move and not certain what to do since his older brothers had always been the calm ones or the ones who had the answers.

  Now Kerry’s rare temper had taken him off to see the people responsible for hurting their brother while Mac was probably out to the world for the next few hours.

  “This is bloody wonderful,” he scowled and being a natural betting man, he could have placed wagers on how that would turn out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was mid-afternoon at the farm in County Mayo that Kerry Fitzgerald arrived at. Looking around at the run-down equipment and small fields, but it was the rickety barn that drew his attention first as he neared it.

  It didn’t take a lot of energy to pick up the leftover images that places and things can hold over the years, and this place held a lot more horrors than his brother had remembered clearly.

  By just touching the rotting wood, he could pick up on the past. See the events that stained the wood inside as he entered.

  Closing his eyes, Kerry let the images, voices come, and he could see clearly his little brother, still grieving and alone, locked in here to sleep. Rusty chains further in showed him this was the spot the Walshes would chain Roarke to beat him or…

  “Bloody hell, Roarke. What haven’t you shared with even Jess?” he whispered, waving a hand violently to push the images of the more sadistic attacks away when he saw the small utility closet close by, and knew now why his brother couldn’t be closed in as he saw images of the small boy being beat, starved and locked behind this door. Kneeling down, his fingertips lightly touched wood that seemed scoured by what he knew were ridges from his brother’s fingers.

  By the time Kerry had examined the whole barn, his already seething temper was ready to boil over as he exited it, forcing himself not to cast a fire spell to burn it to ashes.

  “Are ye lost?” a reedy harsh voice asked from behind him.

  Even though it had been many years, several even before his parents’ deaths that Kerry had been to the Walsh farm with his Grandmother, he knew he would recall the voice of Ida Walsh.

  A tall, s
kinny woman even in her youth, hard work on this farm hadn’t been easy on her aging as he saw gray hair in a tight bun, worn clothes, but it was a hoe in her hand that drew him.

  “No, Ida. I’m not lost,” he spoke quietly, surprised that his voice was this even and quiet with the way his temper was pounding.

  Staring hard at this tall, well-dressed man with a proper accent, Ida Walsh blinked at his use of her name. “You know me, boyo?”

  “We met once when my Grandmother visited you,” Kerry replied, still seeing his brother’s life here, still hearing the screams from inside the barn. “You should recall her pretty well since she gave you and your family a perfect slave for two years,” then his voice hardened. “You should recall him well enough, my brother Roarke.”

  This made the old woman stop short. “Yes, I recall that one,” she sneered, turning to walk back to the house. “Nothing but trouble from day one he was and then he threw my family’s hospitality back at us by running away.”

  “Running away or escaping?” Kerry challenged as he followed her, seeing a large, barrel-chested man coming from the house.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ida demanded in a higher voice, whirling but was surprised when he was holding the hoe before she could raise it. “That little bastard was a liar and a thief. He deserved whatever Felan and I had to do to punish him and don’t you tell me different.”

  Seeing his mother arguing with this upper class stranger brought Shay Walsh down the house steps. “What’s the problem, Mum?” he asked, swaggering as he sought to intimidate this new arrival.

  “My brother was eleven years old and small for his age. Sure as hell smaller than your children were,” Kerry stared hard at the woman then shifted his gaze to the man when his eyes caught sight of the polished obsidian stone with a hole in it that he wore around his neck. “Don’t tell me he deserved what you sick sons of bitches did to him.”

  “You don’t talk to my mother like that!” Shay snarled, drawing back a huge fist when Kerry’s eyes flashed and lightning flashed into the ground. “Saints preserve us!” he breathed.

  Kerry sneered, temper sparking. “The Saints wouldn’t have you,” he snapped, reaching down and jerking the stone from around his neck. “My father gave Roarke this lucky stone for his sixth birthday. When did you take it from him?”

  “You’re wrong!” Ida snapped, nerves showing now.

  Kathleen had assured her that no one would care what happened to the boy. It had been years since she had even considered anyone coming about their mistreatment of him, much less one of his brothers.

  The stone seemed to glow in Kerry’s hand, which silenced her. “Roarke would fight to keep this since it was from our father, so I want to know when you took it from him,” he looked at both coolly. “One of the times you beat him raw after chaining him in that barn, or when you were assaulting him?”

  This made mother and son look at one another but before either could speak, Kerry’s eyes flashed. “I should make you both feel what he has felt. I wish you, your children and whoever else you may have sold him to could know the pain he has known and I could do that,” his voice was cold and flat.

  “Boy, your Gran told me and my sainted Felan how to handle your brother,” Ida spoke quickly, sensing the danger and knowing this one’s power. “Kathleen was my longest friend but I feared her if we didn’t…”

  Lightning flashed again, striking the ground near the woman. “He was a child!” Kerry snapped, motioning to the barn. “No animal, much less a child, should have been treated like you treated him.”

  “Been years since it happened, let it go,” Shay sneered but didn’t move from the ground. “Besides, why would a bloke of your importance care so much about a bloke whose probably only use these days is what me folks used him for…Hey!”

  Kerry’s eyes went from smoke to black in a second as Shay found himself yanked from the ground and slammed down a few feet away. “You’re still alive only because I want you to know suffering of some kind, and I won’t sink to that level,” he snapped, glaring at the man.

  “I got what I came for in his stone. However, I promise you, Ida Walsh, that for what you did to my brother you will always be marked and I assure you that the grandmother you should fear isn’t Kathleen Fitzgerald but Fiona Kerrigan. She will learn of this and if you or yours ever touch what is mine again then I may forget my vow.”

  With this Kerry walked away, knowing if he didn’t leave then his temper would cause him to do something he’d regret.

  “Your Gran will hear of this, laddie!” Ida screamed at his back. “You can’t come to my home like this! Kathy will…”

  Shifting slightly to look back at her, Kerry simply smiled. “You tell her what you like because I have plenty more to say to her myself,” he replied before disappearing and reappearing in the office.

  “Tell me you turned someone to ash,” Ryan’s voice spoke from the side.

  Looking to see both Ryan and Ian waiting for him, Kerry shook his head before sitting on the sofa with a sigh. “It’s too easy to match violence with violence, Ry.”

  Ian handed him a glass of Scotch since he could see how weak his brother seemed, but also saw his temper and pain. “Why would you go there?” he asked.

  “I wanted to see them. I wanted to see the place,” Kerry sighed, hissing at the liquor then dangling the obsidian stone from his hand. “I also went to get this.”

  Ryan recognized the black stone as the one their father had given Roarke. Taking it, he didn’t care for the feelings. “It needs cleansed before he gets it back.”

  “I can do that,” Ian offered, figuring it was time he did something to help.

  As the boy left, Ryan sat on the sofa arm. “So, is he coping?”

  Knowing what he meant, Kerry could sigh. “I hope, because we have things to handle.”

  After Ryan had left the room, Roarke had remained sitting next to his friend; his gray-blue eyes settled on her face. “I love you, Jessica,” he whispered, lightly brushing hair from her face.

  Thinking about going to check on Ian, since he hadn’t had a proper chance to see his younger brother yet, Roarke was just moving when the first glimmer from across the room caught his eye.

  Blinking, he frowned as what he saw slowly became clear and his blood ran cold. “Oh, God,” he breathed, “not again.”

  “Using your memories and fears against you was a cruel thing even for Sebastian,” Brenna Fitzgerald spoke as she looked at her son with the same loving smile she’d given the others. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the longest time, Roarke.”

  Staring at his mother’s image, Roarke blinked but he moved away from the bed so nothing would endanger his friend if this was a trick. “Last time I saw an image of my Mum it didn’t turn out well for me, so you’ll forgive if I’m a little wary.”

  Smiling in amusement, Brenna sat in the chair across from him. “You look like your Da but got my wit I see. Toryn always said I’d teach one of you to have my sarcasm.”

  “Mum?” Roarke moved a little closer, his powers not picking up anything wrong, and his mind remaining clear unlike the night in New Orleans.

  “Hello, my sweet darling,” Brenna smiled, letting her head move so she was looking fully at him. “I never guessed all my wee ones would grow into such handsome young men, even if you and Ryan do need your hair cut.”

  Nearly snickering at that, Roarke stopped a little bit away from her then slowly dropped down by the chair. “I’m so sorry, Mum,” he whispered, emotions he’d buried coming out. “I never meant for you and Da to die and if I could have given my…”

  “Stop, Roarke,” Brenna soothed, her hand rising as it would to brush his hair and even though he knew it didn’t touch him, he felt the brush. “Toryn and I knew what we were doing that day and though I fear you’ll learn things soon that may hurt, I never want you to doubt how much Toryn and I love you and your brothers.”

  Looking down with sad eyes, she watched him fo
r a moment. “You need to let go of the guilt, my boy. Only you and your brothers can stop Sebastian this time and stop the rest but you need to let others in to help. You need to love again and learn to trust again.”

  Looking up at his mother, Roarke thought he knew what she meant as he looked back to the bed. “I will, Mum,” he promised, thinking of something. “Are you and Da ashamed of me?”

  Fire lit in her soft eyes and this time he did feel the touch of her hand against his skin. “Roarke Michael Quinn Fitzgerald, your Da and I will love you always. What happened when you were a lad wasn’t your fault and eventually all evil gets what it deserves, so let go of the shame and fear and live, my sweet boy,” she smiled as a slim hand rose to wave and slowly candles lit in the room to cast a soft glow, as did the fireplace. “Now, go to her,” she urged softly, laying a kiss to the top of his head. “We love you, Roarke.”

  “I luv you, Mum,” he whispered, surprised by the burning in his eyes as he blinked, but then his attention was drawn by the soft sound from the bed.

  When Roarke went back to sit on the bedside he watched as Jessica’s eyelashes blinked a few times before slowly opening to meet his eyes.

  “Welcome back, a gra,” he murmured, letting his hand rest on her face since he knew she’d be disoriented when just waking up. “Just rest now.”

  It was his soothing voice and touch that assured the young British woman that she was safe since the last thing she remembered was a large black creature.

  Slowly Jessica was able to bring her eyes to clear on Roarke’s concerned face, noticing right off how tired he looked, but wasn’t picking up the same unease as she had been.

  “Big ugly doggies gone?” she asked, trying to sit up but only his arm supporting her allowed her to partially sit up, leaning against pillows as she saw her arm.

  Laying a hand over the bandage, Roarke found it easy to ease any minor pain his friend had left over. “Aye, they are,” he wasn’t aware that his accent was coming back more as it did when it was just the two of them. “Kerry and the others dealt with ‘em.”