

Eire of Intrigue

### By Gavin Green

Book One of the Eire Series

(Version 1.1)

Smashwords Edition

Also by the author:

Eire of Mystery (book two of the Eire series)

Eire of Hostility (book three of the Eire series)

Eire of Aggression (book four of the Eire series)

The Way of the Beast

The Language of Winter

Copyright 2013 (2016) Gavin Green

"This is a work of fiction. All the characters in it, human and otherwise, are imaginary, excepting only certain of the fairy folk, whom it might be unwise to offend by casting doubts on their existence. Or lack thereof." - Neil Gaiman

Eire of Intrigue

-Prologue-

A circular alabaster table sat in the center of a dim, enclosed room, supported by a thick cylinder of the same hard, milky material. All surfaces except for the top were roughly hewn, only to serve the simple purpose of strength and support. The top of the white slab, however, was polished smooth, the light from a single candle's steady flame illuminating it. The entire flat top was inlaid with finger-width grooves, some in geometric patterns, others in curving and spiraling designs, all creating a bizarre mosaic.

A figure moved from the shadows to the table and reverently brushed gloved fingers slowly over the surface. A long, spindly fingertip began tracing configurations within specific grooves, leaving a faint glow in the chosen hollows.

The figure spoke in raspy whispers, as if to confirm information. "Cellar keeper... his stores held more than he knew." The thin, clothed finger continued its path. "The one saved from mortal peril will save the gifted middle child from inner corrosion..." The finger began to trace with fluidity and building speed which caused the sheen of the pale stone to glow of its own accord. "Storms brew in the fog... but coming this way, yes..."

The finger came to a sudden stop within a groove and slowly lifted away, and the gathering glow began to dissipate. "There will be visitors. I must prepare." With that, the lean form turned and briskly walked away.

Chapter 1

Brody Lynch was overwhelmed, and not in a good way. He put his large, callused hands together on the desk and laid his forehead onto them. With a sigh, he tried to relax, sitting in his boss' soft leather office chair. 'The helm', Don Keller called it, usually with a small smile that nonetheless expounded his deep facial wrinkles.

Brody shifted minutely, trying in vain to make the new suit less restrictive on his large frame. The slacks and jacket fit perfectly well, but they didn't fit who Brody Lynch was. He was certainly not a suit and tie type. If old jeans and scuffed work boots were appropriate, he would have worn them; Don wouldn't have minded. Brody sniffed and muttered, "Dammit, Don, I already got you a birthday present."

Not one to let feelings marinade in pity, Brody sat back into the comfort of the 'Keller helm' and let his red-rimmed eyes roam over Don's old office. The broad, deep desk held all the normal office supplies, if a bit scattered. The rolodex of contacts and suppliers, inspectors and city officials still remained defiantly; Don never wanted to rely on his "damn fancy pocket phone". The silver frame holding the picture of Don's wife, Marie - gone two years already - was ever present next to the blocky desk phone.

Beyond the desk, all dimmed by the single lamp glowing in a corner, were the file cabinets and full shelving units that Brody had never paid much attention to. On the walls were a mixed compilation of framed photos; accolades, construction sites, company parties and picnics, and another pleasant shot of Marie, this time with Don next to her. It seemed he made it back to her side again, Brody thought with a bittersweet smile.

A smaller picture caught his eye, one taken by Marie in that very office. There sat Brody of a few years back, in his early twenties, lounged in one of the reception chairs. A smiling Don sat at the helm. They were both leaned in towards the other, toasting beer bottles over the desk. Brody vaguely remembered the photo being taken, but never noticed it up on the wall before. At that time, the company had just landed a great contract, allowing greater internal investments and much-wanted business exposure.

Brody was a team foreman then, even at his young age. He was a talented stone mason early on, taking on most of the rock work and letting his team tackle wood decking and pavers and such. It appealed to Brody's artistic nature, carving and shaping out of rough elements, creating impressive designs in the form of retainer walls, stone planters, and outdoor fireplaces. As such, his talents were noticed. That contract propelled Keller Concepts from working on upscale homes to include commercial buildings, creating inviting aesthetic in wood and stone at a tidy profit.

The opportunity also meant that everyone was busier. More qualified employees were hired, more crews assembled, more contracts being created and signed. Yet even with the company expanding, Don Keller always took some time aside for just himself and Brody, mostly sitting in that office, catching up on both work and personal scenarios.

Don would reminisce of his and Marie's antics in their youth, or larger matters that would affect their Midwest way of life, or even wistfully discussing dreams of travel and vacations. He'd also inquire after Brody, reminding the big young man to take some time to enjoy life and sow some oats. Brody remembered back then, much as it still was presently, that while he had his share of dates and sexual liaisons, no ladies had as yet meant anything significant to him. Don would always grin and say, "Still a lot of piss in the dating pool, same as always." Brody was already missing those chats.

Those thoughts led Brody further back, when the Keller's took him under their wing. He was barely nineteen when his parents had that fatal wreck on an icy November afternoon. The oncoming semi simply lost control on the untreated street. Brody's father, Jerry, was killed instantly. His mom, Rose, lingered for a week in the hospital before she finally succumbed.

Brody was an only child with no other relatives for hundreds of miles. He knew he had uncles from his mother's side down in the bible-belt, but wanted nothing to do with them from his mom's rare, unkind words. A few relatives of his father - strangers, really - showed for the snowy funeral, but didn't linger. Brody was alone.

The Keller's filled that void to some degree. They assisted Brody with funeral arrangements, and were there through his grieving. Don gave him room to mourn and work through his feelings, but made the time to be available anytime the big young man needed to talk. Marie often sent meals with her husband to pass on to Brody at work. The standing offer of Sunday dinners at the Keller home was often accepted.

Don even got his own lawyer to go after the trucking company on Brody's behalf. An out-of-court settlement was accepted, just to be done with it. He still remembered the guilt-stricken driver crying through his apologies; Brody held no animosity to the man himself, just the situation. Outside the lawyer's office, he even consoled the man over the accident. Brody's conscience wouldn't let him do otherwise.

Money came from the sale of Brody's parents' modest home, plus their moderate insurance policy. Added to the sizeable legal settlement, it left a good sum that Brody simply tucked away in a bank for the time being. With that horrible chapter of his life concluded, except for the pain, Brody slowly tried to return to his simple lifestyle. He delved into his work, keeping only one or two external friendships, and clung to his labor and paternal boss. Brody received raises and promotions at work through his efforts, and was happy to be making Don proud; not much else mattered at the time.

Only a year and a half later, Marie Keller suddenly passed away. The crushing loss seemed to drain Don of vitality and inspiration. He asked Brody to take over some of the sales and acquisition duties. Talking to his favorite employee and surrogate son, he said that, despite his size, the young man put people at ease.

"You're built like a bull," Don said, "but I've seen how clients respond to you after you start talking. You've got that mellow, confident thing going for ya, and I sure could use a little help." Brody couldn't say no; he surely wanted to, but he saw the pain and loss lingering in Don's eyes. The man was a friend, a mentor, as good as family to Brody, and was owed nothing less than whatever was in his power to do.

Now, two years later, Don finally fell victim to the cancer that had quickly metastasized, being laid to rest next to his beloved wife on a warm and sunny late August day. A large crowd attended - employees, friends, suppliers, other business associates, and even other contractors. Those who knew how close Brody was with the Keller's offered him their condolences.

At the conclusion of the burial, Don's lawyer informed Brody that the company was being left to him in Don's will. The lawyer said there'd be an official reading of the will for all parties involved, but he wanted Brody to know at least that much beforehand. The Keller's, childless, apparently thought enough of Brody to gift him with the company whose growth he'd had an integral part in. He was touched beyond words at the posthumous present, but other emotions crept in and made his heart race with anxiety.

The unexpected responsibility was a bit much for the normally reserved young man. The last person he had let himself be close with, perhaps the strongest bond at that, was now gone. Despondency and anger swirled within him in a chaotic mix, barely held in check. And now he was supposed to run a thriving company? In fairness, Brody did help get Keller Concepts to its current success, but he knew little of the company's inner workings. Brody didn't have Don's connections or reputation, nor did he have much confidence in keeping the books. This added pressure made him feel tempted to somehow escape.

There were others to think of, though. Overall, the Keller employees were dedicated, loyal, and good assets, as well as good people. Just like anyone else, they were dependent on their jobs, and someone in charge who couldn't run the business like Don - or any professional with education and experience - wouldn't be fair to them. Brody's father, a warehouse manager, had a good head for business. He wished his dad was there now, and for more than just advice.

There was only one person left to turn to, a friend that Brody kept occasional contact with since high school. He and Jamal Harris played football together on the high school team, and were good friends for those fleeting few years. Jamal was one of those smart and meticulous types, did well in college and landed a good job in a brokerage house as soon as he graduated.

About four years ago, at a celebration for Jamal's acceptance and induction into his financial career, that Brody asked his friend to do them both a favor. Investing Brody's impressive nest egg would alleviate him the guilt of just letting the money sit there, and it would look very good to Jamal's employers to have him bring a well-funded client in on his first day.

Since that time, Brody received quarterly and annual reports from the firm, only glancing at them long enough, if at all, just to make sure the money was still intact. Considering that the money was only technically Brody's - acquired from unfortunate circumstances - it left him passive in respect to its status.

Notices of profits were a nice bonus, but Brody wasn't consumed with money. He was more than content with his work and the paychecks it provided. He and Jamal would call each other from time to time, sometimes even meeting up for a meal, or a night out bar-hopping, or even just going for a jog. Brody kept the topic of his finances simple so that he and his friend could get on to more frivolous conversation.

At somewhere into a casual evening hanging out, Jamal would often attempt to interject the topic of Brody's monetary status. It wasn't even his own money accruing interest, yet Jamal was apparently more enthused about his friend's financial situation than Brody was.

The big man's nonchalant reply was usually, "Unless you ran off to Vegas and blew it, and didn't take me, then I'm not worried about it. Just keep doing your thing with the loot, Jammer."

Now everything else, from the mundane to the important, was on hold. Brody had found himself here, at the Keller offices, after driving around town aimlessly since Don's services concluded. After the loss of his loving parents, Don and Marie gave him the support to regroup and heal. Now here he was again, at his home away from home, looking for that guidance after another severe loss.

This time, though, there was no earnest conversation, no heartfelt words or warmth there to console him. Brody's emotions were only hindering him; his limited analytical and business sense would have to get things accomplished.

Brody retrieved his carelessly flung tie and locked up behind himself. He was determined to get a good night's rest, if possible, and then make some calls in the morning - the most important being Jamal.

Chapter 2

The next morning found Brody at his kitchen table that held his paperwork, notepad, a trusty pen, and his charged phone. His night was restless and soured with memories, but he replaced what sleep he did get with a pot of coffee and a morning cigarette to get him through what was going to be a long day.

Crew leaders and secretaries were called and told to pass the word that everyone had the rest of the week off with pay. Brody then called all open contract holders, shortly telling them of the situation and that work would be temporarily suspended. With another call, he learned that the reading of the will would be held at Don's lawyer's office late that afternoon.

Finally, after hours on the phone, too much coffee and a few snacks, and three bathroom breaks, Brody was down to his last call. He and Jamal just talked of generalities at first, with his friend being concerned for Brody's welfare. The conversation then turned toward business matters of the company and Brody's options or strategies to follow.

Jamal could easily tell that his friend was hurting, besides frustrated and a little lost. It was suggested that Brody see what transpired at the lawyer's office first, then he and Jamal could discuss everything over a nice dinner. Somewhat mollified, Brody agreed and ended the call soon after. The dread of hearing Don's will quickly returned, though.

The situation, as it turned out, left Brody quite relieved. The majority of Don Keller's personal estate either went to the church he attended, to some charities, or to some old blood relatives of both he and Marie. The company, as mentioned to Brody before, was now his.

But Don also made some other arrangements just in case Brody felt overwhelmed with the mantle of ownership and all it entailed. A contract was tentatively drawn up with a large local construction firm with the capital and desire to offer a buy-out. This contract would allow all current employees to keep their respective positions, with pay grades and bonus incentives to stay in place.

If agreed to, the lawyers would handle transactions, money transfers, and deeds of ownership, with compliance by Brody. He quickly agreed to that proposition, relieved to be free of the burden that he was not ready to carry.

Brody sat back in a richly padded chair, taking in the gleam of polished wood and chrome of the office, and immediately realized that he would not resume his old position with the company. If it didn't belong to Don anymore, he had no inclination to stay on. Brody's professional devotion lived and died with the Keller's. So now he was free, but free to do what? Vague ideas came from the back of his mind, but his overbearing grief kept them faded.

Brody and Jamal agreed to meet at a franchised steak house, asking for a back booth to get some minor sense of privacy. Jamal was relieved to see that Brody was in better spirits since their last conversation, and he hoped he could add to that with more financial information that Brody never seemed interested in before.

Over appetizers, the will reading was discussed with a few projected numbers and sums thrown around. Jamal quickly studied the proposed amounts, personally liking what he saw. "Are you happy with this offer?"

Brody washed down a bite with a sip of cola, shrugging. "It would sure as hell make me rich."

Jamal rolled his eyes. "You're already there, buddy. I keep trying to tell you..."

"I get that, man, but I'm no high roller. I don't know what to do with the leftovers of my paychecks. You know I'm not into gambling, or expensive hobbies like cars or hookers or meth." Brody ended his explanation with a faint grin.

Jamal finished a bite of his own, looking Brody in the eye. "Okay, listen up, and get your head around this. My firm has done quite well by you. You've let your money ride in moderate to high risk ventures, and for the most part we've been very successful. That's for over four years in accumulation. Now, add the proposed amount of this company purchase, and your net worth is currently, well, in a very high tax bracket. At this point, you could hire someone just to sit around and dream up ways for you to spend it while you sit on a beach drinking margaritas."

Pushing his appetizer plate away, Brody huffed, "Well hell, when you put it like that, you make it sound like... a lot." Seeing Jamal's frown, he added, "Dude, listen. I'm no idiot. Normally I'd love to have that kind of money - hell, who wouldn't? But I don't like how I came to have it. I'm not comfortable with it, that's all."

Jamal hadn't thought of it like that; all of his friend's money was a reminder of loss and pain. "Brody, I know you'd gladly give it all up, and more, just to have your parents and the Keller's back. I'm sorry, but that's just how it played out, man. Luckily, this is what you got in return."

"It's a poor trade."

"Yeah, it is, but it's still something - something potentially great. And most people don't get crap. Don't you think your parents would want you to make yourself happy with it? Besides, the kind of money you're now worth allows a lot of freedom to do whatever you please."

"Jammer, you know that's not me. Don't get me wrong, having that kind of money could make someone pee their pants, but honestly? I have no ambition to start my own company, or sit in some mansion ordering servants around. I'd turn into an asshole."

Jamal paused with his response as their main course was being served, then continued after their waitress departed. "So don't do that, but at least move out of that apartment."

Brody grinned. "Fine, then what the hell do I do?"

Jamal, chewing a bite of steak, thought about that. With a gulp, gesturing with his fork at Brody, he answered, "Keep at least half of it in low risk ventures. Who knows, you might even have kids someday. You'll want to leave them with something, even if you blow the rest." With a moment's pause, he added, "Which I do not recommend."

"Okay, any future brats are covered, and then some; now what?"

Jamal cocked his head, perplexed. "Are you saying that you have no desire to go get all the things you ever wanted, or dreamt of having or doing?"

"Of course I do, but those were just big dreams. Now that they can become real, it's a different ballgame."

"How so?"

Brody held up his hand as he chewed and swallowed, then said, "Travelling abroad on some fancy holiday trip sounds great, right?" Jamal nodded while tending to his meal. "Right now, without a significant other or family that I'd want to take, it means I'd be going alone. I'd visit this place or that, take some pictures, and then I'd come home with no one to share it with. And that's just... pathetic."

"Damn, yeah, I guess it would be," Jamal replied. He thought a moment, and then suggested, "Okay, how about you get into a new routine, find a fresh perspective? Try something different, at least as a hobby to start."

"A hobby," Brody repeated dubiously. "Are you suggesting I go bird-watching or start collecting stamps? Why don't I just get a lobotomy while I'm at it?"

Jamal threw a steak fry at him. "No, smart-ass, I mean something like a... Hey, I got it. You always had one hell of a talent with sculpting. I still have that little soapstone rhino head you gave to me a few years back. It's on my desk at work; everyone who's seen it said it's really good. Are you still into that?"

Brody shrugged. "When I could, but work always kept me too busy."

"Not to be obvious, buddy, but you have time now."

"Yeah, don't remind me," Brody replied, sighing. "I don't know, Jammer; I've gotta be in the right frame of mind to sculpt. I have to be relaxed to get into it, and relaxed is about the last thing I am right now."

"Alright, put that on hold for a while. What about all those pipe dreams you and your boss used to talk about? Something about buying land? You know, property investment isn't a bad idea."

Wiping his mouth, Brody answered, "Well, I always wanted to. . ." An idea had suddenly struck him, one he'd never truly contemplated before. The thought both surprised and thrilled him.

The extended pause made Jamal look back up from his plate. "Wanted to what?" It was then that he saw Brody staring distantly out of the restaurant window, lost in thought.

Before his friend could urge him to complete his thought, Brody uttered, "Could I just move there?"

"Uh, Brode, you skipped ahead. Help me out."

Brody refocused his eyes on his tall, well-dressed, dark-skinned friend. "Jammer, Could I just move to Ireland?"

Jamal blinked once and then sat back in the booth, ignoring the remainder of his meal. "Okay, uh, wow, I didn't see that coming. Where the hell did that come from?"

Suddenly captivated with the idea he didn't know he wanted until then, Brody pressed. "Do you think I could just, you know, go? Is it possible?"

Jamal frowned in thought. "Huh, well, yes, I think you could eventually attain permanent residency, but you should investigate. I'd bet there are some hoops to jump through." He paused. "Ireland? Are you sure, man? That's a big move."

"Yeah, I really think so," Brody said with a smile on his face that Jamal was glad to see in the midst of all of his friend's turmoil. With growing enthusiasm, he continued. "My dad had all this Irish stuff, knick-knacks and posters, that I have decorating my place now. It always got me interested to read up on it, or surf the net for it. Looking up the Lynch family crest, or reading up on Irish myths and shit, looking at all their stone work and old architecture." Brody knew his explanation was just rationale for an unexpected impulse, but the thought of it blocked some of his emotional anguish. "Do you remember seeing some of that Irish stuff on the walls at my dad's house? There were maps and those old quotes in the hallway, remember?"

Jamal smiled. "You mean proverbs, and yeah, I remember seeing some of that at your parent's house a long time ago. But, Brody, I don't remember you ever staring at it."

"That doesn't mean I never thought about it. Every now and then I'll read up on Irish history and current events. You know, like when I'm bored, but it's actually pretty interesting."

With a surprised expression, Jamal said, "Wow; I remember you sucked at history in high school. I even let you cheat off me a couple times. What happened?"

"Hell if I know, man. Uh, how does that quote go? It's something like, 'I'm always ready to learn, although I don't always like being taught'. I think that's it."

Jamal shook his head with a grin. "Damn, man, just when I figure you for a muscle-head..."

Brody frowned in return and replied, "I'm nowhere near as brainy as you, but I'm not a complete moron, okay? If it makes you feel any better, I have no idea who said it."

"It was Winston Churchill; my dad had that quote framed in his study. That's probably where you remember it from." Jamal hesitated a moment before going on with a smirk. "I'm just surprised you thought of it, let alone to use it in context."

Scowling at his friend's ribbing, Brody replied, "When you're done mocking me, can we get back to the topic? I'm serious about this, man."

Nodding, Jamal said, "Sorry; Ireland, got it. So, is this an all of the sudden type thing? Or maybe you just feel the need to get away for a while? And you'd be going this alone, which is a 'pathetic' concept, remember? So, convince me, Brode."

Brody took a deep breath before trying to explain. "I've always wanted to go there, Jammer; I probably mentioned it a time or two in the last ten years to you. And, out of nowhere, I have this urge to break out of my routine and just go. Just some sudden need to, I don't know, jump in hip-deep and start all over. This wouldn't be some touristy bullshit, and I'd want to be on my own for it. It's the real deal, all or nothing." Brody took a big swig of cola, and then ended with conviction, "Jamal, this is exactly what I want. Maybe it's even what I need right now."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then I can always move back, and we can eat steak dinners 'til I figure out my next big idea."

Jamal waited a moment, wanting to look at the radical idea from all angles. He then said, "But what about your life here?"

With a wry grin, Brody replied, "What life, Jammer? For a long time now, my world was my job. Now that's over and gone. Other than you, I don't have any real friends or girlfriends. There's not much I'd miss, and a lot I wouldn't."

"What about just taking a little vacation there first, just to make sure?"

"Nah, man, I already have an idea what to expect. I don't wanna fuck around with going back and forth. There's..." Brody looked out of the window again with a sigh, and then back to his friend. "There are too many reminders here, ya know?"

Jamal nodded solemnly, letting Brody have a moment to regain his slipping composure. He wiped the corner of his mouth and said, "Don't hit me for this, but I have to ask, alright?" When his big friend simply nodded, Jamal quietly asked, "Is this big move just a means of escape? Running away from pain won't alleviate it, Brode."

"I'm gonna deal with Don being gone, just like I did with everyone else in my life, but staying here would make it that much harder. And maybe I am just trying to escape, but something down deep is telling me that Ireland is just, well... right. It's the only answer I have."

Nodding his head, contented to see Brody with a drive and a goal, at least for now, Jamal said, "I wish I could share your enthusiasm. I mean, going back to my ancestral homeland would mean heat and jungles and civil wars and my life insurance premiums going through the roof." Brody grinned as his friend went on. "But if this really motivates you, and if you think it'd be cathartic... then I say go for it. But," Jamal said sternly, "research all this while your financial affairs get wrapped up, okay?"

"Of course I will, man." Brody sat back and sighed. "I think it really will be a good thing. And I really need to get a new environment, clear my head, start fresh. The only thing here I'd miss is you and American football, and I can get a satellite dish for the games."

Unsure of where the impulse originated or when it began to form in his head, Brody simply felt that Ireland was as he said; the right move - the only move. It wasn't until that conversation over dinner with Jamal that the idea, the desire, concreted itself in his mind and heart - like stray pieces of a puzzle suddenly coming together to form a fresh, green picture.

The decision wasn't based on logic, despite some of his stated reasons. It was a self-serving compulsion. And not just a visit for a temporary escape; Brody's urge was for a completely clean slate in a land of simplicity and chosen solitude. Not one to overthink matters, he decided to simply run with the euphoric concept and see where it led him. He was resolved and eager for a momentous change, ready to answer a mysterious call from a distant land.

Chapter 3

Over the next week and a half, Brody kept himself quite busy. All the finances were seen to and in place. Jamal was of great help there, and his efforts were rewarded handsomely at Brody's insistence. The money was simply a necessity to move forward with his vague plans, not the pleasure it might've been if he'd somehow earned it through effort.

Brody searched deeper into Ireland; it's politics, the culture (noting how the 'Celtic tiger' was now considered dead, the housing market should be pretty soft). He even studied up on its geography, export markets, and parlance. Overseas calls were made to a number of Irish government offices, making arrangements for a smoother transition once he arrived.

Brody also made time to call or get together with acquaintances, mostly co-workers, to say his farewells. He also had a couple more meetings with Jamal (and his fiancée, Carla) in casual settings to discuss finances and final plans.

The Irish government had an 'investor' provision, in which a healthy monetary venture into one of their options would grant a five year visa, to start. Suggestions were offered in that regard, and the friends' meeting eventually came to an end. Even though the two were going to keep in regular contact, Brody and Jamal still made their short, masculine goodbyes.

With a final handshake on the front porch of Jamal's house, Brody said, "I need to get going. I still have to call airlines for short-notice flights."

Jamal smiled. "Screw all that, buddy - hire a private jet. Live a little."

"Hell, man, that's a great idea."

"You should start thinking outside of the box every now and then. You're wealthy, but just don't let everyone know it."

Brody nodded. "That's my plan exactly... or at least it's one of them."

"It's a good thing your dad kept slapping common sense into you. I think he'd be proud."

Brody stepped back in mock indignation. "Don't go getting all gooey on me now, you weepy little girl."

With a chuckle, Jamal concluded. "Get yourself set up soon, and give me a call when you do. I'll be sending some emails, okay?" Brody nodded in assent. "Good, now get out of here before you start lowering the property value."

The day before his departure, Brody felt he had everything in place. A reservation at a Dublin hotel was already made. A quality vehicle was on order through a reputable Ireland dealer; a bit expensive, but roomy enough for his big frame while compact enough to navigate those narrow Ireland roads. And after searching property sites, Brody contacted a realtor, inquiring after a house and property on the market that looked perfect to him.

For the sake of ease, Brody offered his furniture and truck to local charities. The only items that he cherished, pictures and small memorabilia from both the Keller's and his parents, were gathered from home and work. That box, along with whatever else he could think of to bring, was barely enough to fill a luggage trolley. A chartered jet would be ready for him at the major airport not far from his apartment in the morning.

Brody sat on his bed, grimacing at his passport photo. He was in a hurry, and the photo seemed to capture his haste: unruly dark brown hair, a three-day shadow, thick brows in a scowl over his grey eyes. "Shit," he murmured to himself, "I look like a back-alley thug." With a sigh, he tossed the passport onto the tidy pile of luggage near the bedroom door, then sat back and opened his laptop. There was one new email, from Jamal:

This is a non-financial note, and something for you to ponder, my friend.

I've done a bit of homework, and this is a sample of what you will forfeit with your European excursion (this is with the assumption that you will not be residing in any of the major cities, if you want to call them that):

Fast-food drive thru, pizza delivery, women sunbathing in bikinis (middle-aged ladies in speedos on a cold beach doesn't count), Wal-Mart or any other one-stop shopping, gentle hum of distant traffic, rock concerts, clothing stores that carry your size, any export (gasoline, tobacco, etc.) selling for a reasonable rate, a choice of good radio stations, a wide variety of dating opportunities, sunlight (buy stock in umbrellas there), emergency services within 10 minutes of you (varies by location), decent local television programs (American reruns excluded, depending), and my sparkling personality.

If you can get by without a majority of the items listed, then you might just survive. Otherwise, improvise.

Fair travels, Brody. Look after yourself. Get in touch when you're settled in.

Jamal

Brody smiled at the note, and then admitted to himself that there was sure to be some acclimation to contend with. He was even nervous about the flight in the morning. Besides him not having much experience flying, it was a major expense, and he wasn't used to throwing that kind of money around.

He conceded to himself that this was a form of escape, leaving a city that was always his home, but now seemed filled with reminders of good times now soured. It was a good place to live, but this move gave Brody a purpose and a diversion from some of his melancholy. The weather of Ireland certainly was appealing - hardly any ice or snow, no more sweltering summers - and he actually enjoyed rain in most of its forms.

Having picked up good habits from his mother, Brody made hand-written lists of things that needed to be accomplished or seen to. Of course he had fed those into his phone and laptop, but he kept the papers folded in his pocket, concerned about getting the details correct. Just as in stone masonry: measure, measure, measure, cut, and then measure again. Brody may not have had the intellectual tools in comparison to Don Keller, and certainly not Jamal Harris, but he was meticulous and careful. Brody felt he was ready, at least on paper.

The next handful of days went by in a whirlwind, and on the last evening of his stay at the hotel in Dublin, Brody felt both exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. The luxurious flight, with a quick stop on the east coast to top the tanks, went smoothly. The same could be said for when he went through customs. A nice gentleman from the government offices was there to greet him, discussing the overview of Brody's particular visa procedures and procurement. Investment choices had already been made, and it would only take a few days for the legal workings to be filtered.

A phone and contract for 'local' calls was purchased; the new number was sent out to Brody's short list of contacts. The vehicle he purchased, a new Range Rover Evoque SUV, was ready for him to pick up. While he loved his new vehicle, he had to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road.

A small amount of time was given to explore Dublin. Brody browsed a number of quaint shops and made more purchases than he had originally planned to, but all felt justified. Most of the people were friendly and helpful, if a bit reserved. Brody wondered if his stature played a role in that, or if it was simply that he was obviously a newcomer to the land. He visited restaurants and pubs to acquaint his palate with Irish cuisine, and engaged in many conversations; many of them were with fellow Americans.

When approached by a particular middle-aged couple, Brody asked how they knew that he wasn't a native. "Well, to be honest," they chuckled, "you're too big to be Irish."

Chapter 4

Brody's last pub venture came with unexpected results. The place wasn't too busy, so he found a seat at the bar, taking in a Gaelic football game up on the mounted screen. In the midst of nursing a draft of Guinness, a young lady came up to the bar, between his stool and the next empty one over.

"Give us another pint o' the black stuff, Mick," the gal said to the bartender in a peppy and heavily accented tone.

Brody, noticing bouncy blonde curls in his peripheral, turned for a quick look to the woman that was nearly brushing up against him. He turned his head and was taken momentarily off-guard to see her gazing intently at him.

"What's the craic, big boy?" she began, turning to fully face him as she received her drink.

Brody took a quick mental appraisal: pretty, without overdoing the make-up; fair figure, as far as he could tell by her simple top and snug jeans; early twenties, judging by the looks and energy of her; more bold than just liquid courage, but it was tough to tell - these people could drink.

"Um, just enjoying a drink and the game," Brody replied with a smile, trying to keep it light. "And you?"

"Ah, a yank; my money was on that, or maybe a swede. Looks like I win." She said quickly with a smile of her own, and a wink to boot.

"You had a bet... on me?" She nodded in reply, and then gestured back behind her with a slight toss of her head, sending her curls into another bouncy dance. Looking back, Brody saw two other women standing at a tall table a short distance back, looking in his direction while they carried on a conversation of their own. His attention was brought back to the bar, as current company put her hand on his upper arm.

"You're a bit of a fine beast," she said huskily. "Do you play American football or something?"

Brody was a bit surprised and yet appreciative of the woman's brazen demeanor. "No, no - only when I was in school." He paused for only a moment while she slowly grazed her hand on his arm. "You've seen American football?"

His question brought her eyes back up to meet his. "Once, a few years back," she answered nonchalantly. There was a few seconds as they just gazed at each other. "I'm Maggie, by the way," she finally continued. She didn't extend her hand - it might have seemed a bit formal at that point - and so Brody decided to follow her lead, turning in his seat to face her.

"I like that name - Maggie. It fits you well. I'm Brody."

"The pleasure's all mine. So," the bold blonde continued as she leaned in a bit closer. "Is there a missus Brody?"

He set down his drink after another sip, proffering both hands. "No rings here, dear."

"Hmm; how long are you visitin'?"

"Actually, I'm moving here; I'm getting a place out west."

"Oh, a new cultchie - fuckin' grand," Maggie said with a soft giggle. "Better chance for you to come round the city now and again, then."

"That's very possible," Brody replied with a grin.

After another few seconds of her eyes roaming over him, and Brody feeling the sexual tension gather, Maggie licked her lips. "Here's the score, love," she announced quietly as she pressed her thigh to his, placing one hand onto his chest. "I know I'm being a bit of a fuckin' chancer, and don't go thinkin' I'm always a sally, alright? But you're quite the ride, and maybe you'd fancy a bit o' fun, 'coz I sure fuckin' would."

Brody had experienced some aggressive women in his past, but nothing like Maggie. He smiled at her expectant and amorous expression, looking into her heated eyes. "I hate to ask this, but does this fun come at a price?"

She backed up a fraction, her smile momentarily fading. "What do... Oh, I see." Maggie smiled even wider, and moved in even closer, their faces only inches apart. "No, sweets, I'm no pro. I'd only ask that we get some grog and johnnies from down the way and head off."

"Some... I'm sorry, what?"

Maggie laughed lightly, putting a hand to Brody's cheek. "Leave it to me, big boy. Are you campin' near? My flat mates will be fuckin' stumblin' in jaded soon enough, and ruinin' our ride. Can't have that, now can we?"

Brody, getting a crash course in the slang, was keeping up just enough to get the gist. "I have a nice room nearby. Let's get your grog and I'll lead you to it."

Finishing off her drink, Maggie wiped her lip and replied, "And johnnies, to be sure."

Learning more of the local slang, Brody quickly found out that "johnnies" were condoms. He spent the rest of that evening releasing pent-up anxiety, and also tried to make sure Maggie enjoyed his company. Her candor in that regard satisfied his efforts, and stoked his ego a bit. Admittedly, the liaison was a rather sudden turn of events, but Brody light-heartedly justified it by telling himself that he did, after all, want to make a good impression when he got there.

Maggie was a fun gal, full of fire and confidence, but Brody felt no connection to her other than a willing partner in bed. She was a bit brash and loud, but lively company nonetheless. His only apprehension arose as she was departing in the early morning. She seemed a bit possessive, and sternly warned him that he should call her soon. She left her number, groped him again, and then traipsed out of his door.

Brody was a bit concerned over Maggie's post-coital demeanor. He assumed she just wanted to have a fun night, as did he; her initial conduct gave him no reason to think otherwise. He had no inclination for romantic entanglements, nor did he currently have the time. Besides all that, Maggie was not the type of person he would normally pursue beyond hedonistic adventures. He hoped it was her own way of attempting to bait Brody to reciprocate her own aggression, and would soon forget it after never receiving a call.

The most important activity to finalize was when Brody would meet with the property broker to secure the house he wanted. A plan was made to travel out to meet the local agent in northern County Roscommon, and then go to the location itself to look things over and go through all the details. He decided to drive out in his new car, giving him a chance to enjoy the scenery and get a better feel of his new vehicle. It was a long drive, but an enjoyable one, with only a touch of rain to impede him.

Brody's destination was off to the northwest, not too far from the city of Sligo, and only twice that distance to Galway. The landscape was beautiful, full of rolling fields, old paddock walls adorned with moss and creeper vines, and patches of wild heath and woodland. It was good planning to have studied his simple route extensively, as the road signs sometimes left a bit to be desired.

Jamal appeared to have a point: there wasn't much that appealed to Brody on the radio, but he kept it on to get used to the verbiage and familiarize himself with current affairs. The realtor he was supposed to meet had a small office in the same village that Brody had researched, Ballaghadaere (they pronounced it as "Bala-dare"). It was the closest place near his new home, and had all of the amenities to meet all of his primary needs. Something about that little town also somehow intrigued him; he felt drawn to it simply from the maps he'd analyzed.

Brody didn't realize that he'd begun to smile as he approached the village. On a whim, he decided to tour its streets a bit before finding the estate agent's office. Ballaghadaere felt comfortable; safe, secluded, inviting. This time of the year in early September still had a fair number of tourists adding to the traffic, even in that area to a lesser degree.

Brody felt a sort of relief that most of the tourists were only passing through this cozy little town, making their way to different areas of the west coast, the rest only stopping in for a bit of shopping or a quick meal. Brody wasn't sure why he initially felt that way until realizing, as he parked his car and strolled to the agent's door, that this quaint place was going to be his main source of human contact from then on. He was already protective of it.

Despite his previous plans of seclusion, Brody found himself forming vague plans to ingratiate himself as a new member of the area. The property he was buying, only five miles or so to the north, hopefully justified that new and unplanned hope. Brody had been telling himself that he needed a fresh start, a place to let himself heal, and this certainly met those criteria.

The house and property were everything Brody had hoped for; all in good condition, but with room to make any changes he wanted. The house, a roomy whitewashed stone cottage with thatch roof, was built not very long ago, and so was fit with modern conveniences.

The place was being sold with furniture included - not too uncommon with rural homes there - and the majority of it was sturdy, aesthetic, and comfortable. One of the beds was even big enough for Brody's frame. Three of the four bedrooms were snugly fitted with en-suite facilities. That would be convenient if Brody had anyone to invite for a holiday, but the rooms could easily have other uses as well. The living areas were open and airy, and the large fireplace in the living room was another big selling point.

Brody then took a stroll on the acreage, unconcerned by the light rain. There were a number of unused grazing paddocks, most of which had frontage to a very large lake. The majority of the land was level, dipping to the waterfront. The nearest neighbor was a quarter mile up the private lane, hidden by the rising lay of their land and a row of trees.

Brody stood on the manicured lawn, next to the patio, taking time to let the serenity and quiet soak in. He had plans for some of the extensive property, both short-term and long, but for the moment simply basked in the contentment this simple place offered him. It was home.

All details were in place and to be settled legally with a solicitor, with Brody getting a better price than anticipated as he was paying the entire sum immediately, and with a certified check. He made his way back to Dublin to finish his affairs there. Financial investment and visa arrangements complete and in hand, Brody packed his car with current luggage and new purchases, with just enough room to fit everything into his rugged-looking SUV.

The only chore remaining was to retrieve the legal documents from the solicitor out west, with no rush to do so as implied by the estate agent.

'Well,' Brody thought as he sat in his car, 'the bullshit is out of the way. A fresh life starts in less than three hours.' With a relaxed sigh, he pulled out into the Dublin traffic and made his way to his new world.

Chapter 5

The first order of personal business was a pet. Brody enjoyed the idea of solitude to a degree, but also wanted some form of simple companionship as well. After unpacking, arranging, and taking a couple of days to get used to everything, he looked up the nearest animal shelter and made his way there.

Brody had a dog early in his teen years, so a pet would not be new territory for him. Unfortunately, that beloved pet fell into the pattern of things, or rather was the start of them - it passed away after only a few years from a heart disorder. Despite that, Brody felt that it was a time for second chances.

At the shelter, there were a number of animals to choose from, but one in particular pulled at his heart. A pretty, if somewhat thin and wary, female Eurasier breed was abandoned with her pups, but only two of the four had survived. The handlers surmised that the mother was a few years old and had only had this one litter, which were about seven months old. The pups were a mixed breed; the sire was possibly an Akita. Aside from color (she was fawn; they were striations of grey and black), the male and female pups resembled their mother.

Shelter employees also pointed out that, by the size of the paws, the pups would be larger than a pure Eurasier, which would make it even more difficult to place them. The nice handlers were reticent of splitting the family up, noting the mother's protection of her remaining offspring.

Brody drove home with a canine family in the back of his wagon, grinning at the memory of his decisions at the animal shelter. After learning of his basic situation and living arrangements, the folks at the shelter were happy to have Brody as an 'adoptive parent', but were elated when he wanted all three. They were even more surprised when he made large purchases of their available supplies for sale, and then a large donation to their services. They asked him to keep in touch, wanting pictures and notes of progress, then bid him farewell.

The shelter had named the mother Honey, which suited her color, and she responded to it as well. After a bit of deliberation, he named the male pup Keller after his former boss, and called the female pup Pearl because one of her eyes was a striking light blue, almost silver, color.

Brody got the trio of new pets home, letting them adjust to their new surroundings, and immediately began their training with positive reinforcement. As long as Honey took him as the alpha, then her pups would follow suit. He had to gain the mother's trust before he began handling the pups to any lengthy degree.

Happily for Brody, it only took a few days for Honey to be at ease and even show affection. The pups, showing intelligence and following their mother's example, were soon housebroken. He took them on several strolls in those first few days, walking the walled boundaries of his property, letting them know not to stray, and become territorial of the grounds.

After a couple weeks of settling in, Brody felt it was time to get to know 'his' village better. He visited Ballaghadaere only twice, and only at a few shops for groceries, toiletries, and simple housewares. Shopkeepers stared due to his size, but returned his smiles with their own.

A stop at the local bank was a logical first order of business. Not only did Brody want to rearrange his substantial personal funds that weren't invested back in the states or for his visa, but also to meet the bank manager himself, who was noted online as being on the town's council of development. A financial gesture of local affinity might put Brody on the road to ingratiation and good standing with the community he wanted to be connected with.

The sun was out and luckily not too chilly yet on a Friday in late September, so Brody didn't have to bundle up as he made his way around the small town on foot. Stepping into the pleasant confines of Ballaghadaere's branch of Ireland's national bank, Brody asked a teller for a quick meeting with the manager. Aiden McNally, leading Brody into his office shortly thereafter, was short and round but well-dressed, with reading glasses seemingly attached to his bulbous nose. He gave the impression of a miser.

The meeting went smoothly enough, although Brody didn't divulge his hopes to contribute or help with any needed civic construction. He tended not to trust McNally, which was disappointing. While the manager talked about financial options, Brody began thinking of who else he could make inroads with. Leaving the arrangements only partially concluded, he made his way back out and on to his other planned stops.

Chapter 6

That was when Kate McCarthy saw him, and stumbled to a stop. Coming out of a back supply office, her attention was brought up from her files to see a man, tall and powerful, shaking hands with her boss before walking toward the doors of the bank. She felt as if she'd been hit in the chest.

The stunning stranger's upper body looked thick and muscled, even under his thin jumper, with hips narrow by comparison. He had dark hair of moderate length, strong shaven jaw and sharp features over a stout neck. The man's light-colored eyes, further enhanced by thick brows and lashes, were almost alarming. Kate momentarily wondered what her reaction would be if those eyes were settled on her.

As she watched with a captivated gaze as the stranger walk out, Kate thought the big stranger gave off an impression of serenity and composure, despite his obvious strength. She stood there motionless with her mouth slightly agape, even after the large man had left the building.

"Quite the strapping lad, eh?" said Mary, the sweet old teller sitting nearby. The words jarred Kate out of her reverie, reminding her to blink. "Kate, dear, are you with me?"

"Oh, eh... sorry," Kate's tongue stumbled, trying to collect her thoughts. She glanced at Mary, then back to the doors, then back again to the white-haired woman. "Do you know who that gentleman was, Mary? I haven't seen him before."

"Can't say that I do, dear; I would've remembered that one if I'd seen his big shadow lurking about." She noticed the young woman still standing in place, an almost stricken look on her face. "If you feel up to it," continued the older lady with a serene smile on her face, "we could give him a tackle out in the road and pry some answers out of the strapper there."

The surprisingly saucy statement caused Kate to come completely back to her senses, and laughed out loud before clamping a hand over her mouth, darting a glance at Mr. McNally's office door. "You're so wicked, Mary!" Kate whispered before moving on to her desk.

***

Brody sat at his dining table the next morning, with Honey laying nearby while Keller and Pearl played in the living room. He studied the multiple print-outs of his property, most with red marker notes displaying various ideas of construction locations.

Brody decided he may need some help with his plans; some of them simply were not one-man jobs. He planned on visiting a pub or two that evening, so perhaps he could inquire as to a local contractor at that time. He thought it might at least be a conversation starter, if nothing else.

Hiring a company, or at least just another mason, would free up more of Brody's time to get into his horticultural plans. With a sigh, he admitted to himself that he didn't have much experience in that field, but was more than willing to give it a try.

And then there was his finances, and Mr. McNally. Brody had no faith in the man to be objective with his suggestions. The money was safe, to be sure, but it simply came down to a matter of trust. With Aiden McNally, Brody didn't think trust would become an eventuality. He'd chatted with Jamal a few days earlier, but didn't want to bother him again so soon with just a gut feeling.

A routine of sorts had evolved around the cottage, but nothing Brody would jot down on a daily planner. It mainly involved spending some time in the fields with the dogs, a light work-out, a little digging and prep work down at the lake for a future boat dock, making building plans and gathering information for materials. And there was, of course, an acclimation to the smell of burning peat logs in the fireplace.

If work was strenuous enough, Brody would allow himself a short nap, lightly chiding himself for becoming an old man and not even 30 yet. He was really beginning to appreciate the casual and refreshing atmosphere in his new surroundings. There were things to do, but now he had no pressures or time tables.

However, this freedom gave Brody more time to reflect on his losses, both recent and past, and melancholy sank in from time to time. He realized from past experiences that this kind of pain would take a while to heal, so he occasionally had to force himself to focus on all the positives around him.

A part of Brody's heart really wanted that closeness again, that feeling of belonging and warm reception. He felt at home and secure at the cottage already, but it wasn't the same as having interaction with those he could care for, and have that devotion reciprocated. On the other hand, he was terrified of that exact scenario. Brody continuously lost those close to him, and was quite reticent to go through that anguish yet again.

Chapter 7

Saturday evening near sunset, Brody found a spot to park in town near a pub he planned to visit. The place made up in depth for what it lacked in width, and was well-lit over the piano near the door as well as back by the bar. There were tables to the front, then booths stretching back along the left side, and scattered with patrons sitting in those darker recesses. Even with the door open, the pub was warmer than the cooling air outside.

The smell of old wood and beer met Brody as he entered. No music was playing at that time; just the background noise of conversations and the clatter of mugs, but Brody hoped to see some local musicians start up soon.

He made his way back to the bar, shaped in a half-U, with two older gentlemen and the barkeep in casual conversation. The two patrons, sitting near one end of the small bar, were bickering in Gaelic and paid no attention as Brody approached. The bartender turned from his friends to serve the new customer, but then stopped as he took Brody in.

"Praise be!" the bartender barked, causing a few heads to turn, especially the two elderly patrons. "Finn MacCool has returned!" Brody, having read that particular legend about the Irish giant, smiled as the older men laughed. The bartender stepped up and offered his hand with a smile. "Gil Collins. Welcome to me pub."

Brody shook the stout older man's hand, noting the firm grip and shine bouncing off Gil's balding head. "Brody Lynch. It's nice to meet you."

"What'll it be then, sir?"

"A draft of Guinness would be a fine start, and do you have a menu?"

As Gil was pouring a mug and retrieving a small, greasy menu, Brody noticed the two older patrons casually looking his way. He acknowledged them with a small smile and a nod of his head as he reached in his pocket for some money.

Just as Brody mentioned his thanks for the drink and was about to peruse the small menu, one of the older patrons leaned forward and asked, "On holiday by yourself, are ye, Mr. Lynch?"

Brody looked up and replied, "No, sir. I plan to stay; I already bought a place outside of town."

The old man grinned, and waved his hand for Brody to join them. "Then have a seat here and tell us all about it, ye giant bastard!"

The two old gentlemen, Archie Walsh and Flinn Sweeney, were friendly and funny and asked Brody about himself. They were well past the age of working, and apparently were regulars in that pub. Brody, although answering pleasantly, didn't want to divulge too much of his reasons for moving there - he simply wasn't ready to casually explain his more painful motives.

The two elders gabbed away, and Brody kept up with most of what they were saying. Realizing the large young man had a mellow approach, the elderly patrons felt comfortable making sport of him here and there, and happy to hear it when he would return the favor with a grin.

After humorously inquiring of Brody's sexual orientation, they started trying to name eligible single women in the area, and a few not so single, and sometimes quarreling about the status of this gal or another.

Brody, while entertained, told the two old gents that he was just focused on fixing his place up and settling in for a time before complicating his life with a woman. That led to more questions and suggestions from the two, giving Brody a chance to mention that he was looking for another local mason to hire, if there was one.

Archie, with his long lobes and crooked ivy cap, turned around towards one of the booths and barked, "Jack McCarthy, to the bar, ye cheeky skitter!"

*

Kate McCarthy sat on the inside of a booth, her sister-in-law Fiona next to her with her brother Jack, Fiona's husband, sitting across from them. Even from her vantage, she saw the stranger from the bank as he joined old Archie and Flinn. At that point, Kate paid no attention to the talk at her own table, only eager to hear any scraps of the conversation at the bar not far away.

She barely heard bits here and there; a cottage, dogs, the Midwest (obviously the states, from his attractive accent), and construction. It was difficult to hear much more, as he was mostly facing away from her. Still, she turned her head in the man's direction almost constantly, admiring the build of him and trying to catch her breath.

Kate surmised that the captivating man was for some reason staying nearby, probably for an extended time. That he had dogs gave her at least some small impression of him; she loved dogs, cats, even donkeys, but no pets were allowed in her flat, nor could she have one when she lived in Dublin. A man with pets must have some good qualities, at least in Kate's mind.

Also was the fact that the man was keeping conversation with Archie and Flinn. The two, while being fun and good-hearted old farts, could be a bit cheeky and sarcastic. And so the big American must be a fairly relaxed type to be talking and laughing with those two.

Then Archie turned and called for Jack to join them. Jack, discussing the antics of one of their kids with his wife, stopped when he heard his name and a curious frown formed on his face. He turned and leaned out, seeing Archie waving him over, and began to depart the booth, grunting that he'd be right back.

As Jack approached the bar, both of the women saw the big stranger turn and stand as he held out his hand to greet Jack. Fiona, craning her head out of the booth and seeing the stranger for the first time, could only utter, "Jaysus, I'd hate to see the womb."

Kate couldn't tell if she was excited or mortified when she saw that, after a brief chinwag, the American was following Jack back to the booth. She was nearly in a panic, and silently prayed, 'O Lord, please don't let me puke'.

Her day had gone bad enough as it was. She was called in to do a few extra hours at work (unexpected as that snide yolk Aiden was cutting hours), broke a heel in her hurried walk to the bank, and found that she left the kettle on when she returned home.

But the two earlier calls from Mitch (that dossing tit) harassing her was the breaker. She rang Fiona just after, asking to come over, even offering to watch the kids as she knew Jack normally took his wife out for a bite and a sip on Saturdays. Fiona informed Kate that the kids were already at the grandparent's and she was welcome to join them out.

Fiona, hearing Kate's edgy voice on the phone, asked if her ex-boyfriend was bothering her again. It had been over a month - why did the rotten plonker have to keep being ill set and causing her headaches? All he did near the end was drink and spit spite at her, but Kate being the soft kind, only ended it with Jack and Fiona's support. They were tired of seeing her upset.

And then this: a striking stranger - the same man who invaded her every thought since she saw him the day before \- was standing at their table, saying something and smiling at her. Her heart was pounding, her ears filled with the thrum of its frantic pace. She realized the answer to her reaction if those eyes were on her; she didn't want to see rejection in them, and was ashamed for it. The best Kate could hope for was not to hurl on him or set loose a serious ratbark.

*

Brody felt he had run into some good fortune. He was introduced to Jack McCarthy, an energetic guy with an infectious grin. Jack ran a small stone masonry business - small meaning two employees - based in the village. Brody mentioned some larger projects he had in mind, and might make a lucrative offer if it all worked out. He was invited back over to Jack's booth to discuss the matter further.

Jack made quick introductions of both his wife and his sister. The latter, Kate, had Brody trying to untangle his tongue. While Jack was a very pleasant and gregarious guy, and his wife Fiona was a slightly plump but cute woman with a warm smile, it was Kate that Brody had trouble pulling his eyes from. His intentions of solitude disappeared at the sight of her.

While trying to be attentive of Jack and Fiona's pleasant company, Brody's eyes kept gravitating to Kate's pure beauty. Her face was elfin, framed by silky, shoulder-length burgundy hair. She appeared to be slim and curvy under her conservative clothes. Aside from her angelic features and apparent modesty, Kate's large brown eyes were the main source of Brody's fascination.

He immediately noticed a problem, though. She looked at him only fleetingly, and when she did, her expression was one of fear or repulsion. Brody was invited to sit, but he didn't want to cause that gorgeous woman any more discomfort than he was already causing. Professing that he had to leave soon, Brody spoke with Jack only briefly of his masonry needs.

With business card in hand, Brody said he would call Jack soon, and gave farewells to Archie, Flinn and Gil on his way out. Driving home without even experiencing some local music, Brody kept wondering what Kate looked like when she smiled... Smiled at him. He then wondered if he'd ever be the same if she did.

Chapter 8

It was quiet at the booth for about an entire uncomfortable minute. Fiona was biting her lip, knowing that Jack was fuming and trying to regain his composure before he said anything rash - something that Fiona was helping him work on.

Kate sat there, her eyes downcast, guilty and upset about the whole scene. She knew her reactions put the American off - that was the last thing she wanted, but couldn't help herself. Kate also knew that Jack and Fiona were angry with her for it. Her brother's company had been suffering lately, and they could use all the new business they could get.

And most importantly to her was what that man, Brody Lynch, must have thought of her. Kate's desire was yelling at her to look at him, return his smile, something! Then a sudden feeling of inadequacy stepped in, freezing her and making her look the fool.

Jack, formerly a bit hot-tempered, simply sat there and gazed at his drink while he clenched his fists under the table. He finally let out the breath he was holding and stared intently at his sister. "Kate," he said as calmly as he could, "what the fuck?"

She sat there for a few moments, knowing she had no good explanation. What had that big American done to her? "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You don't know?!" Jack retorted, his voice gathering in strength. "Besides just being flat rude, that could have been a big help to me right now! How could - "

Fiona cut her husband off, simply putting one hand down on the table in front of him. Turning on the bench to face her sister-in-law, she asked, "Kate, did you know that man from somewhere? Did he do something to offend you?"

Kate, with her head still down, staring at her hands folded on her lap, shook her head. "No, nothing like that; I... I'm very sorry. I know it was important for you, Jack, and... and I don't know what happened." Kate felt herself on the verge of tears, wondering why all this was happening, and then blamed herself.

Jack sat back in the booth, angry and dumbfounded. He stared at his sister, whom he loved dearly, but had never seen act like this before. "Are you gone in the head, Kate? Have you lost it?!" He practically barked the last words out.

Fiona interjected, sternly stating, "Jack darling," then resumed a softer tone, "please go fetch us another round?"

Jack stared at his wife for a moment, and then grumbled to himself as he tore out of the booth in frustration.

Fiona turned back to Kate, brushing the wavy brown hair off her cheek. "Alright, sister, what's going on? We at least deserve an explanation." She looked closer as Kate still sat unmoving, and noticed her eyes getting watery. Putting her hand on Kate's arm, Fiona softly implored, "Katie, why are you so shaken? I've rarely seen you in this state."

Kate finally looked up with remorse at her sister-in-law. "Do you think he hates me now?"

Fiona huffed. "Don't be daft, he's your brother. We just can't understand - "

"No, I didn't mean Jack," Kate interrupted. "I meant Mr. Lynch."

Fiona sat back, looking at Kate's forlorn expression and haunted eyes. It was clear to the intuitive woman. Just then, Jack returned, toting drinks. Without taking her eyes from Kate, Fiona asked her husband, "Would you put my purse in the boot, love?"

Jack hesitated and almost spoke his objection, then saw that this wasn't where he wanted to be for the moment, anyway. Grabbing up his wife's handbag, he turned and headed away again.

Fiona resumed her train of thought, taking one of her sister-in-law's hands into both of her own. "Kate, I'm going to make some guesses right off, but don't stop me unless I'm in the wrong field."

"Alright," Kate replied softly.

Fiona took a deep breath and then continued. "Mitch was a decent sort at first, but then turned into shite. No one thought he was in your league from the start, not even him. But you thought, because your mirror has a bad film on it, that he was about your speed. Some of that is your mam's doing, always coming down hard, God love her. She was the same with Jack, but hopefully not so much with little Jane. Point is, you always had a bigger heart, so you took her words to bed with you."

"I suppose," Kate mumbled.

"Then Mitch lost his job, and started being a true eejit. Him knowing you outclass him anyway, he got more scared. Not being man enough to admit it, it turned into him being a shit to you. Even from him, you took the bad in. How am I doing so far?"

Kate had hung her head back down hearing Fiona's words. At hearing the question, she kept her head lowered, but shrugged and nodded.

Continuing, Fiona then said, "And then comes along Mr. Lynch. And you thinking even less of yourself, you figured he wouldn't even look at you cross-eyed. Now let's face it, he's right sharp, but that's only part of it. Something about the big Yank grabbed hold of that soft heart of yours, besides putting your panties in need of a wash."

Kate looked up quickly. "But how can that be? I don't even know him, for fuck's sake," she swore uncharacteristically. "Why was I such a coward? You know me, Fiona; I've always stood my own. I'm not one to scatter, yet I became the startled deer."

"A deer, is it?" Fiona asked with a grin. "Did you think of bounding off into the woods?"

"... It crossed my mind," Kate sullenly admitted. "Jack is right," she sighed. "There's something wrong with me."

"Sometimes a thunderbolt hits, Katie. Start thinking you're worthy of it."

Kate dipped her head back down. "I feel like a child. He must think I'm daft now."

Fiona squeezed her hand. "From the eyes I saw him laying on you, I'd bet not." After a second for thought, she added, "But if you get a chance, clear it up before he does start thinking that."

Chapter 9

Brody went through his morning routines as he wondered about the previous night, but still intent on following through with his plans. It was a beautiful morning, and made him feel like getting out and exploring some more.

Mostly, he wanted to keep learning about Ballaghadaere, so he thought attending Sunday services would achieve both. It wasn't with a religious frame of mind that Brody would go with; he still had a grudge against his maker. He was raised catholic, but was never enthused about it. Then, after his parents' death, Brody began attending again for a while, looking for answers and not finding them.

No, it wasn't religious motivations; Brody had more than once noticed the cathedral in the village, intrigued with its architecture. Not to mention that he had never been in an actual cathedral before, and only slightly wondered at the parallels and contrasts between Irish and American religious services.

There was also the possibility of some interaction; maybe Archie and Flinn would be there with their biting yet entertaining wit. Brody thought that Jack McCarthy and his wife might be there as well; Jack seemed like a good sort, and reminded Brody of his father a bit with his gregarious style and easy grin.

As for Jack's sister, though, he wasn't sure how to feel. He wanted to see Kate again - almost ached for the sight of her, actually - but maybe only at a distance this time, so as not to upset her again. Maybe he reminded her of someone, an unpleasant someone. Watching Kate trying to avoid him wasn't what Brody thought of as a success in making friends there.

*

The church was filling up, still with some time for hellos before services began. Near midway down the pews on the left sat the entire McCarthy clan. Jack and Fiona sat with their two little dark-haired children between them, with Fiona and Kate's friend Alana sitting with them. In the pew behind them sat Liam and Cora McCarthy, with their daughters Jane and Kate.

Jack was trying to keep young Ella and even younger Shey under control. The older parents Liam and Cora were chatting lightly, looking over the church bulletin. Fiona and Alana were turned and talking about recipes with Kate and her younger sister, Jane.

Alana Quinn had been a friend of the family for years, running with Kate since they were children. Audacious in comparison to Kate's calm reserve, with chubby cheeks, wild light brown curly hair, and a winning smile that always appeared to be bent on mischief, she and Kate always got along famously. Single like Kate, and with none of her own kin living there, Alana and Kate kept in close contact.

During their conversation in church, Alana's attention was drawn past Kate and Jane. A large man had walked into the nave, making Alana's eyes widen before she blurted out, "Lord help me - I need to go to confession again."

"Alana Quinn!" snapped Cora McCarthy with a hiss.

Both Kate and Jane looked over their shoulders to see what Alana was talking about. Before even realizing that she did so, Kate moaned, "Oh, hell's bells."

"Kate McCarthy!" snapped her mam again, causing the teenaged Jane to giggle.

Jack glanced up from his children at the slight commotion, following the stares of Alana and his youngest sister Jane. He saw that Brody Lynch had taken a seat towards the back on the other side of the aisle, and then noted that Kate had quickly turned back around and was looking intently forward.

Jack and his wife shared a long look, then grabbed up little Shey as he was beginning to chew on a bible. Recalling the short talk he and Fiona had when they got home the night before, Jack had no better understanding of Kate's behavior even after his wife simply said that Kate fancied the American. Nonetheless, seeing Mr. Lynch again so soon gave Jack a chance to repair any damage that might have been done. Besides the big fellow being an amiable chap, he might also have been serious about contracting Jack's company.

*

Brody was impressed with the cathedral, from outside and within. More than just the old architecture, the building resonated a feeling of peace. Beyond the obvious religious overtones, it felt to Brody like a place of sanctuary and contemplation, like he felt at the cottage in front of his crackling fireplace. He relaxed into the aura and took in the remainder of his surroundings as mass commenced.

A few curious heads had turned in Brody's direction during the service, and he tried to return their glances with a smile and a nod of hello. Most of the new faces nodded back with their own small smile, while the few familiar ones added a short wave.

Brody had also noticed the long, straight, glossy wine-colored hair of Kate McCarthy sitting further up ahead, with Jack and his family in front of her. Between noting the grandeur of the cathedral and paying attention to the mass itself, Brody kept glancing in the woman's direction, hoping to see more of her if she were to turn one way or the other.

Near the end of services, Brody looked up from his bulletin in Kate's direction to find her head turned and staring back at him. They held the gaze for a long second, but she turned away before he could offer a nod or a smile. From her own stare with those lovely big brown eyes, Brody couldn't discern if it was hopefully one of interest, or if she wanted to stab him with a dirty steak knife.

Services concluded as the old priest made his way to the narthex to greet parishioners as they exited. Brody hurried to chat with the priest before the majority of the congregation made their way out. He shook hands with Father Doyle, mentioning his knowledge of the church's affiliation with the community center, senior services, and day-care activities.

As Brody spoke, he quickly handed the venerable priest an envelope - his name, number, and a sizeable cash donation within - and offered his assistance if the church needed anything. Father Doyle, subtly noting the thickness of the envelope, craned his wizened head up and thanked Brody earnestly.

Parishioners had begun to file out, and so Brody made his way outside and down the wide steps to the large parking lot. Only a few steps beyond the cathedral, he was greeted with a hearty hello from behind. Brody turned to see the village barber, whose shop he had visited once, walking up with family in tow to greet him. Brody had to admit, Roy the barber was an unattractive man, with a likewise homely wife and children, but they all were sociable and polite. Just as the quick greeting concluded, Brody saw Jack McCarthy coming toward him.

*

Jack had seen Brody Lynch depart quickly but was determined to catch up with him. Leaving the children in Fiona's care, he hurried on ahead to find that the potential client was just outside, chatting with Roy O'Neill and his ugly family. Jack paused to let them conclude their goodbyes and then approached.

Jack noticed that, standing one step higher, he still didn't match the American's height, but was never one to be intimidated. He quickly and vaguely apologized for his sister, and then asked in more serious tones if Mr. Lynch still had interest in hiring help for his projects. He added that his company could offer a fair deal.

Brody asked Jack to call him by his first name, and asked if he could do the same. He put Jack's mind at ease, telling him that hiring McCarthy Masonry was almost a certainty, perhaps for a series of projects.

As Brody was promising to call Jack in the morning, the rest of the McCarthy's approached. He noticed that Kate hovered back at step or two, standing next to a round-faced, curly-haired woman. Brody greeted Fiona again, mentioning the cuteness of her children, and then was introduced to Jack and Kate's parents, as well as Kate's little sister. Liam McCarthy seemed to be a 'lemon-aid on the porch' kind of gent, whereas his wife Cora was more direct.

Shaking Brody's hand, Cora McCarthy asked, "And what trade are you in, Mr. Lynch?"

He hesitated and then responded with a smile, "I currently have my fingers in a number of pies." Noting a few confused looks - except for Jane, who kept staring up at him with a constant grin on her face - Brody went on to explain. "Right now I have some small interests in various Irish markets, and I plan on getting back into the crafts trade."

"Ah, a renaissance man; well done. But I wonder," Cora continued with a stern set, "could any of those prove lucrative in these hard times, Mr. Lynch? There are no leprechauns here, so your pot of gold might be difficult to find about now."

Wrapping a shawl around his wife, Liam said, "Cora, don't pepper the man. We just met him."

"We were merely chatting," she replied, claiming innocence.

Liam put an arm around his wife and began moving her towards the parking lot. "Good day to ya, Mr. Lynch," he said with a smile while his wife gave a short nod of farewell.

"Thank you, sir, and a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Jack was likewise moving his family off to depart, but Brody noticed Jane still standing there, smiling up at him. He guessed her to be sixteen or so, with long brown hair mixed with copper strands. She wasn't the beauty Kate was, but still a cute young lady.

Jane put her hands behind her back as she asked, "Are you married, Mr. Lynch?"

Brody smiled. "No, miss. Not at the moment."

Jane had time to sweetly reply, "I'll keep that in mind," just as Jack reached in and took her gently by the arm to lead her off.

Kate had waited to say anything until her family moved on, confidence bolstered with Alana by her side. She had been watching Brody interacting politely with her family, all the while hoping he couldn't hear her heart pounding in her chest. Kate allowed a few seconds to let the embarrassment of Jane's flirting die off, intending to step forward while resisting the urge to run up and kiss him. But before she could take a step, he did.

Brody quickly introduced himself to the woman standing next to Kate, and then turned immediately to her. Seeing her clearly, he noticed Kate's slim yet femininely curvaceous form. Her hair literally shone in the early autumn sunlight, and those large warm eyes didn't appear to hold any malice, as they had done before, but perhaps still showed a hint of fear. Of what, he had no clue, but it bothered him to see it nonetheless.

The main thoughts in Brody's head were that he wasn't expecting to be so attracted to someone, especially then, and that the beautiful woman in front of him could potentially do his heart some damage. Still, he couldn't deny the powerful effect she had on him, and didn't care about much else when she was near. Kate hadn't even spoken to him yet, but he was hooked.

"Miss McCarthy," Brody said without realizing he was smiling, "I wanted to ask how you were feeling. Your brother said you caught a dose. Whatever that is, it doesn't sound good."

Kate was momentarily confused, but managed to keep contact with his mesmerizing grey eyes. "What? Oh, yes, thank you. I'm feeling much better today."

"I'm glad to hear it." There was an awkward silence as she stood there mute, simply looking at him. He liked being in Kate's presence, but he couldn't tell if she was showing interest, or if she was staring down some fear of him... or something that he reminded her of.

Not knowing how to continue, Brody decided to end the clumsy moment. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Quinn, and very nice to see you again, Miss McCarthy." With that, he stepped back. She still said nothing and just continued to look up at him, so he turned to go to his car, more confused and troubled than before.

Kate knew he mentioned her being ill, and knew that she replied with something nonchalant. Then she was lost in those eyes. Not just the grey eyes of the handsome man, but his lips and slightly crooked smile, the soft wave of his sun-touched brown hair, the thickness of his neck, the fullness of his eyebrows, the deep timbre of his voice.

She came quickly back to reality when Brody began to walk away, barely registering his last words. "Kate," she said loudly, causing him to stop and turn. Then calming herself, she explained, "Please, call me Kate."

Brody saw her smile; his daydreams of it paled in comparison to the real thing. The warm melting feeling in his chest almost made him moan like a fool. As calmly as he could, he smiled back and said, "I'm Brody." With a small bow from the waist, he added, "Have a great day, ladies." Then he turned and made his way out into the car park. On the way to his SUV, he found it physically difficult to walk away from the most alluring woman he'd ever met.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Brody took a deep breath and tried to regroup. He'd only met some woman twice, and he was already crazy about her. It was too soon, too quick. Decorum and pride kept him behind the wheel; otherwise, he'd already have hurried back to her without a shred of dignity. There was no escape, though - the way Kate made Brody feel... He was thrilled. He was scared.

Alana lightly bumped Kate's shoulder with her own and said, "Shit, girl, you're in deep."

They both watched Brody get into his metallic grey SUV and drive out of the lot. Kate sighed. "Do you think I even have a chance?" She became exasperated with herself. "For fuck's sake, listen to me! I sound like I'm back in secondary. All the same, you took a good look at him. Admit that he's finer by far than those men on the covers of your steamy romance novels."

Alana grinned. "Granted, he may have won the DNA lottery, but you're no pile of shite, Kate. And if you don't give it a try, then someone will. Lucky for you, Greek gods aren't my type."

Kate turned to her friend. "I'm serious, Lana. I can't tell if he's interested or if he's just polite. If I pursue it, only to find he's just being nice, that'll be twice I scundered myself."

Alana took Kate's arm in her own, walking out to their respective vehicles with a mischievous grin on her cherub face. "Maybe you missed it while you were making sappy, take-me-now, love-eyes at him."

"I was not!"

Alana laughed. "Please! The only time I've seen anything close to that look was when we saw that Brad Pitt picture when you were riding your pad! And that was naught compared to what I just saw."

They both took a few more steps in silence before Kate asked, "Missed what?"

"He was lookin' back the near the same. Only difference was, he managed not to drool."

Chapter 10

The lug nut continued to hold its place, defiant down in the engine of the old Chevy. Needing to work the kinks out of his back, Ben Wagner straightened out from under the car's hood. He wiped grease and grime off his hands with a rag and then flicked damp, shaggy black hair out of his eyes.

The hot Louisiana sun of late summer beat down on him in the middle of the expansive salvage yard. He glanced around, not seeing an oasis of shade anywhere near. Nor was one expected, not as well as he knew this damned place - his family's business.

Ben was tempted but unwilling to head back to the air-conditioned office, not with the surly moods his dad and uncle were in. Who knew what set one of them off this time, and who cared? Always within close proximity - with his dad living in one of the ramshackle add-ons to the office trailer, and his uncle Pete in the other - the brothers seemed to pass along their sour moods to each other like a virus.

Sometimes their attitudes would pass along to Ben, and it ruined his chances of escape. He'd bring their moods with him to school or out on the streets, which got him expelled from one and spent his share of overnight visits in a holding cell with the other.

Ben had little choice. He was out of WD-40, and knew he didn't have any in his own small shack on the far side of the lot, leaving only the meager supplies in the cramped and cluttered office. Lack of choices seemed to be the story of his life.

Ben hated his predicament - he should have been starting college, like some of the kids he used to know. The emotional bile of bitterness and frustration burned at him, and not for the first time. Unluckily for Ben on that hot Monday afternoon, the choice was made for him.

"Benny!" his father's voice boomed and echoed out into the ugly lot of piled cars and winding paths. "Get your sorry ass in here!"

Resigned to his fate, and menial paycheck, Ben trudged his dusty boots back to the office. He felt the cool, conditioned air hit him as he entered, and quickly shut the door behind him. Joe Wagner was near the door, sneering down at paperwork in his dirty hands. Joe was a stocky man in his later forties, his face hardened with a perpetual scowl under around dark blue eyes. Ben was obviously his son, minus the beer gut and scattering of grey hair.

Ben had picked up from various sources, mainly older cops, that his dad used to be a decent sort, but married the wrong woman. "Your whore of a mother", as Joe usually referred to Ben's mom, apparently wasn't one to play happy homemaker. She was caught by his dad in a cheap motel with some poor bastard and that, as they say, was that. Joe Wagner got the murder charge of his wife pleaded down to second degree manslaughter and only served five years. Ben was returned to him from his mother's parents when he was eight, and the relationship was never a loving one.

Uncle Pete, on the other hand, started out bad, and stayed that way. He joined the military to avoid the law when he was near Ben's age. He served for a couple years before doing a long stretch in a military stockade - for what, he never said. Pete was only out for eight months before doing more time in a federal lock-up, and again never offered the reason. He got out a few years ago; lanky, head shaved, with ugly prison ink and sporting a goat-tee. He kept the look, apparently liking the added air of menace it gave him.

Pete sat back in a recliner that was ten years past its prime and flipped through a magazine while Joe stood at the stained wooden counter. Ben's father looked up from his ledger and glanced at his son while nodding his head in the direction of the computer on the other end of the counter. "Get over here and punch in the parts that dumbass bought yesterday."

Ben couldn't help himself. "Hell, pop, they're all dumbasses from what I hear, so which one do you mean?"

Joe's scowl deepened and he threw an empty beer can at his son with poor aim. "The Toyota, smartass, and keep it shut or you'll taste my shoe polish from the wrong direction."

*

What a little treasure he had found; such dark thoughts, such primal emotions. Lorcan always kept his senses open for a combination such as this - relatively weak minds, full of poison, and no good avenue to meet their potential for some real fun.

It was the perfect opportunity for a 'nudge'. If Lorcan was to come across just the right blend of circumstances, at just the right time, then... my, oh my, the prospects seemed endless. It was rare, but the mischief available was worth the long rambles.

In the past couple of centuries, Lorcan had to expand his searches, and the Americas became more and more enticing. The states especially had harsh seasons that grated the nerves, and locational overcrowding that added pressures to their little, scurrying lives.

Some situations had less potential than others, but he'd take what he could get. Playing on the impulses, the fears, the selfish wants, all led to chaotic conclusions. Lorcan wasn't able to look ahead at outcomes of minds he'd 'nudged', but therein laid the thrill of it. Sometimes, all of the little factors he craved culminated into a scenario full of possibilities, like the one he had just found.

Lorcan pulled off his maroon porkpie hat, raked long, wavy, carrot-colored hair out of his dark, beady eyes, and reset it back on his head. He sat back with a too-wide, unnerving grin on his youthful face and rubbed his hands together, like a musician warming up to play his instrument. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun.

He viewed them with a glance; the petty things were easy enough to sense. The eldest, a thick-set man full of spite and pain, ironically had the weakest mind. The youth was sharper, not as drained by disappointment nor as jaded with avarice as the elder. He would have been tougher to sway, if not for the other two that kept him in check with intimidation. The last one, though, he was a shark - primal passions, hammered by life into hardness, clever but not bright. They all had strong hungers, but the bald one had no confines of slaking his selfish thirsts, save further incarceration. Well, that could be easily remedied.

Lorcan swung his muck boot-clad feet back and forth with glee as he sat atop their television box, unseen by choice and their lack of vision, giddy with the game he was about to set afoot. Given the impetus - and majority of the 'nudges' - the shark could lead this trio into untold fun and mischief.

That impetus would have to come from the feeble-minded elder, to get the ball rolling. The youth had a lingering of higher expectations, and the shark had simple urges to take and inflict. The elder, though, had greed - covetous greed - and that was always easiest to work with. And it would begin with a little nudge, just... like... so.

*

Joe looked over the ledger again while Ben slipped past him. The elder Wagner felt a sudden swell of frustration of his surroundings and lot in life, the injustices he'd been served, the humiliations suffered. "Shit, Pete, these numbers suck. We need newer rust in the yard," he griped at his younger brother.

Pete, without looking up, lazily replied, "I told you, Joe, I'd go liberate some machinery for ya, but the local blues are keeping a close eye on me."

Joe thumped the books with a fist and released another expletive. "If we had some of Rose's death money, like we shoulda got, we'd be covered. I mean, her kid got all of it? How fuckin' fair is that? We're her brothers, for Christ's sake."

Pete continued to keep his view on the magazine. "That shit again? Damn, Joe, you sure can hold a fuckin' grudge. She croaked years ago."

Joe scowled at his blasé younger brother. "You sayin' you didn't feel ripped off? I'm tellin' ya, Pete, if Rose hadn't hooked up with that Lynch asshole, she wouldn't be worm food right now."

Pete shrugged noncommittally as he licked a fingertip and turned a page. "That's what our sweet sis gets for lettin' that beanpole drive on ice. Their kid, what's-his-name, probably blew it all by now, anyway."

"Brody," Ben offered. He wanted to be as agreeable as possible, given the strange and disconcerting turn the conversation had taken.

"Yeah," Joe grumbled, "Brody - stupid fag name. We should talk to him, get what we're owed."

Pete mumbled in nonchalance. "If you know how to find the little bastard, I'll go shake that money tree with ya."

There was a moment of silence before Ben suggested, "So just google him."

Both his dad and uncle stared at him in irritated confusion. Joe barked at his son, "What the fuck does that mean?"

Ben sighed, exasperated. "I mean, if he's done anything worth mentioning, it'll be on the web somewhere."

"Shit, I doubt it," Joe sneered. "When I was up north a long time ago, I stopped in to see Rose. That kid was running around her house - I thought he was a retard then. I bet he still couldn't pour shit from a shoe if the instructions were on the heel."

Ben shrugged. "Your call, pop; best of luck otherwise."

Joe grimaced. "Go peel the doors off that '93 caddy, and bring me the starter off that chevy like I fuckin' told you to, then get back here and goggle your fag-tard cousin."

"You mean google."

Joe punched his son in the shoulder, hard. "Correct me again, smart-ass; it'll give me another excuse to kick your ass. Now get outta here."

Chapter 11

Brody felt optimistic about how well things turned out the day before in the village. The church was a place he'd be returning to, religion notwithstanding. He thought that Father Doyle would be a better contact than Mr. McNally when it came to putting some money to good use, and he instinctively trusted a priest more than a banker any day of the week.

It seemed that Jack McCarthy was enthused to work for Brody, which raised his confidence a bit. Finding a few snapshots of the company's work online set Brody even more at ease; they reflected quality and skill.

As for Jack's sister Kate, he still wasn't sure where he stood with the alluring woman, but things seemed to be progressing for the better. She smiled at him; he took the simple gesture as a good step forward.

Other than the assumption that Kate was single, Brody knew next to nothing about her, and wondered where he could bring her up as a topic. He had plans to visit the bank again to discuss other savings options. Maybe while in Ballaghadaere, Brody could visit a pub or the barber shop and make some casual inquiries.

Brody then admonished himself in a moment of rational resolve; romance was not his reason for making this huge move. He clung to that thread of determination until one of his mother's sayings came to mind: "Good or bad, half of everything that happens is beyond your control".

Calling McCarthy Masonry, Brody talked a few things over with Jack, offering to discuss a deal over dinner. It would have been rude not to invite Fiona, so he made sure to do so. Besides, she mostly kept the books for the company. A restaurant was agreed to for the next evening, Tuesday, in the hub of the village.

Brody then drove back to the village with torrential rain coming down, waiting in his car outside the bank for the downpour to relent. When it did, he went into the bank and froze. There was Kate, sitting behind a desk. She looked up from her paperwork to him, and appeared as if she was caught off-guard as well.

He approached her desk and noted that her plaque titled her as a funding officer. When Brody redirected his gaze back to her, Kate was surprisingly smiling at him. He melted all over again.

"Good morning, Kate," he said, managing not to fumble the words.

Kate took a deep breath. "Hello, Brody. What a nice surprise." She hoped he couldn't see the desperate craving in her eyes. "You're here to see Mr. McNally, I expect?" Kate wanted to be positive, hating that she had been a mute or mumbling fool in the past.

She spent the last evening remembering the words of confidence that Fiona and Alana had separately given her. Two different sources, both telling Kate they thought Brody had more than just being polite on his mind. Added to that, she was currently in a professional environment; it bolstered her composure.

Brody grimaced. "To tell the truth, I'd rather not, but I have a few things to figure out."

"I see. Shall I ring him?"

Brody waited for a moment before he asked, "Actually, could you help me?"

Kate smiled brightly. "Sure, I'd love to." The response came out a bit too enthusiastic, so she toned down. "I'm sure Mr. McNally knows your financial records. Are you sure...?"

Brody gestured toward a chair, asking permission. With a simple nod and smile in return, Brody sat down and leaned forward on his edge of her desk. "Quite sure; you're much easier to look at, if you don't mind me saying so." He hoped the comment wasn't too bold.

Kate looked down with a smile as she felt her face heat up, then back up to him. "So, um, what was on your mind? I, eh, mean with your account?" She damned herself for continuing to blush.

Just then, Mr. McNally came out of his office and over to her desk. Noticing Brody sitting there, he quickly handed her a slip of paper, formally greeted him, and then moved on.

Kate glanced at the note; Brody caught her short, exasperated sigh. She then turned back to him. "I'm sorry. Shall we continue?"

Brody's curiosity set in, wondering if the memo might've been a hasty note about Kate handling his affairs instead of McNally. "Is there a problem?"

Kate leaned forward. "The bank is making some schedule cuts, is all," she quietly replied.

Putting a hand to his chin, Brody said, "Oh, sorry to hear it. Does it go by seniority or position or something?"

"I think it goes across the board," Kate said, looking troubled.

Brody sat up straighter. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

She tried to smile. "It's alright. I just wasn't expecting this when I came back here."

He frowned. "Back here?"

Kate leaned forward again and put one hand under her chin, leaning on it. Staying focused, she looked into his eyes as she explained, "I went to university in Dublin and had a job there for two years before my da got sick. I came home a little while back to be close to him and my family.' She stopped, realizing she'd stopped talking and was staring longingly at him. "I - I'm sorry, I rambled. I didn't mean to bore you. We can get back to your account."

Brody leaned toward her again. "No, no. Please, I want to know." The fact was that he wanted to learn more about her than anything else, let alone discussing his banking options. "What did you attend school for?"

Kate smiled again while she shuffled and stacked papers nervously. "International banking; I landed a fair job when I graduated as well. Unfortunately," she said as she rolled her big brown eyes, "this was all I could find when I came back home. At least I'm very close to my family again." She readjusted into her chair. "Sorry, you got me rambling again." She wanted this to go on forever, wishing that all of the other bank employees would walk out to leave them alone.

Brody smiled and looked deeply into Kate's eyes, hoping to prove his sincerity. "No need to be sorry, I like talking with you. And," he scooted his chair closer in, "it gives me an idea, if you'd like to hear it."

"Of course I would," Kate said eagerly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm meeting with your brother tomorrow night to talk business, just across the street there, at Doolin's." Brody pointed to the establishment through the window, "And I was wondering if you might join us."

Kate's smile faded a bit. "I don't want to intrude on your business with Jack. I turned it a bit arseways the first time."

Brody chuckled at her chagrin. "I guess maybe I scared you the first time we met. Sorry. Sometimes I forget that I'm kind of a bigger guy."

"You're 'kind of a bigger guy'?" Kate repeated incredulously. She thought he was the ideal of masculinity, a towering sculpture carved by a horny female artist. "I wasn't scared, honestly. I was - eh, you were just a bit unexpected, is all."

"Oh, okay, good," Brody said with obvious relief. "Anyway, come with us. Please, I want you there. I, uh..." His gaze shifted when he suddenly lost his nerve.

Kate thought she saw a hint of pink in his cheeks, and fought the desire to lunge over her desk and attack him. "You were saying?" she asked softly, hopefully.

Brody met her eyes again, determined to stop acting like a damn fool. "I like you, Kate. I'd like to see your smile again, and I'm really enjoying your company. Besides, I may have a business offer for you as well."

His words made Kate's entire body tingle, and pushed her heart up into her throat. She took a deep breath and said, "An offer... for me? Really, now that piqued my interest."

Brody grinned wide. "So my company and a nice meal wasn't enough for you to come?"

Kate's pretty, innocent smile turned quickly to a look of alarm. "Oh, no! That's not it at all! I only meant... Honestly, I'd love to..."

Brody, still smiling, held up his hands. "I was just playing with you. So, you'll be there?"

Kate visibly relaxed. "Yes, it sounds grand. Can I meet you there? I have a bit of running to knock off tomorrow."

"Sure, that's fine." Brody began to stand. "Now I'm really looking forward to it."

She chided herself for being off-balance every time he said something nice, and then noticed he was preparing to leave. "Oh, em, about your account - you wanted to discuss it?"

Brody finished adjusting his jacket, and then put his large hands on her desk. He leaned over to her and said conspiratorially, "This has been nice, talking to you. I don't want to spoil it with my boring account. I know you have to get back to work, and I'd rather leave on a high note. Maybe we could discuss it some other time. It'd give me an excuse to visit again."

Kate involuntarily held her breath. "Oh?"

Leaning back up, he asked, "If that's alright with you?"

Smiling nervously, she answered, "Yes, of course." Brody smiled warmly at her reply and then headed toward the doors.

Watching him exit, Kate suddenly called, "Brody?" He stopped and turned back, a happy but curious expression on his face. "Tomorrow, then?" she asked.

Brody assumed she was speaking of the business dinner for the next evening. Smiling, he confirmed, "Tomorrow." Then he walked back out into the reformed rain.

Kate was still smiling in the direction of the door when Mary strolled by, documents in hand and heading towards Mr. McNally's office. She said without pausing, "I can see by that twinkle in your eye that you still mean to tackle him."

Chapter 12

With the day's list of demands finally seen to, Ben Wagner was filled with unease, but resigned to go back to the office for his last chore. The computer slowly warmed up, its glow another minor illumination in the dim office, and waiting for it gave Ben a chance to scrutinize his dad's and uncle's mood. Both of the middle-aged men sat back in their individual old chairs as they watched the small, wall-mounted television. They seemed relaxed enough, so Ben assumed at least his dad had taken a 'soother' - hard liquor, pot, or both.

Ben's uncle Pete was tougher to read - he always acted calm, even when tensed up, which kept people on their toes around him. Pete's soothers were whatever he could get his hands on, but still kept that scary calm face. While both of them were calloused from various prison terms, his father Joe was just a bitter fool and figured the world owed him. His uncle Pete was just built with mean bones, and took what others couldn't stop him from taking. At least for the moment they were mellow, which relieved Ben in case his search bore no fruit.

Ben got on the internet and typed in his cousin's name. After a bit of filtering, he found two sites that fit. One was for some accolade from a Midwest builders association, and the other made his mouth gape. More to himself, he mumbled, "Holy shit."

His father called over, "You found something? No shit."

"Oh hell yeah - it says that he was willed some company, and then sold it."

Joe and Pete glanced at each other with matching grins. They both turned to Ben, who was still reading. "What else does it say? Where is he at?"

"It doesn't say any more about him, but it gives the firm that handled the sale. Shit, it even gives the lawyer's name that oversaw the whole thing."

Joe's grin quickly turned into a grimace. "That's it?"

"Hold on, let me read this," Ben mumbled. "Uh, does anyone know what a legal processor or, uh, an equity backer is?"

Joe sniped, "How the hell would we know that?"

Ben studied the screen for another second. "Well, that's it."

*

Lorcan sat cross-legged on the floor between the brothers while he tainted the enclosed and dirty trailer with the faint aromas of money and testosterone. He'd done well enough with the one called Joe; that one was easy enough to manipulate. Now it was the other's turn. Lorcan wiped his small hands on his dirty overalls and up looked at Pete with squinting, black, malignant eyes. He thought a 'nudge' of initiative and inspiration might help the other brother out of his mental mud and on the way to some hilarious mayhem.

*

Pete frowned, and then asked, "What was the lawyer's name?"

"It's, uh... Howard Marchek."

Joe turned to look at his brother. "How the fuck does knowing the lawyer's name help? He doesn't have our money."

Pete laid back and folded his fingers across his chest. "But he does have info, Joe. We're owed Rose's death money? Now we can get it, plus interest." The scary grin got even wider on his slightly pocked face. "Who's up for a treasure hunt?"

Chapter 13

Her delicate bejeweled fingers lightly played over the rough stones of the ruins as reflections from the topaz, emerald, and glossy opal gemstone rings caught the last rays of the setting sun. She stopped, and with a sigh bent down to snag a candy wrapper as it tumbled in a breeze across the rough grass.

The ruins of Ballinfol Castle had been one of Oriana's favorite retreats for decades, centuries even, until it had fallen under the modern contamination of... tourism. The auras of solitude and untamed freedom lost to postcards and packs of well-meaning visitors looking for free souvenirs.

Oriana would look after the curious humans from time to time, making sure they didn't hurt themselves, or helped their eyes catch some piece of interest they may have otherwise missed. She regarded them as children, and she felt obliged to offer minor assistances where she saw them. Sometimes a hard hand was needed as well, and Oriana felt no regret for a harsh reprimand of a mild curse or bad luck. She would even forgive them this curious molestation. She had to; this realm was in constant change and she, like the living things here, had to adapt.

It wasn't all bad, though. There were still many patches of wood, groves, and wild fields for Oriana to visit and enjoy. It wasn't quite the same as a refuge made from the elements such as a keep, or the time-ravaged remains of such (and with a hearth, wouldn't that be lovely), but the placid wilderness had its own joys.

There was also the intrigue of that nearby village that had formed in an area where crossing realms was easier \- Ballaghadaere, it was called - where there were still pockets of land that drew her kind. Oriana resolved to look more thoroughly in the area and find new refuges and havens for whenever she visited this land of Eire, which was often enough. Perhaps locations near the lakes, which held a much-savored serenity.

That thought of tranquil shores caused reminiscence to only a short time ago, of the cottage on a serene lakefront held by old Maira Finnegan. Oriana had eventually allowed herself to be seen by the gentle, sad lady when strolling through the fields of her lakefront property, and even befriended her. The friendship was brief, for Maira was well on her way to her natural end, but there was kinship in the love of music, and also quiet beauty. Oriana was even present in the final moments to help ease Maira's passing.

It was that reverence for peace and simple pleasures that drew Oriana to take interest in one of the young residents of the village, the one named Kate. Her shared love for tranquility and the charms of nature was to be admired, but Kate was also born with a touch of fey sense - or at least some form of higher reception. It was unfortunately more curse than blessing.

The poor child was sensitive to and affected by the energies around her, both the creativities and the drudgeries. Whatever joys Kate found in music, in art, in soothing environs, in the dreams and hopes she saw or felt around her - those things would enliven Kate. She also was unfortunately sensitive to the dull monotonies of life, the dark moods, the tedium of the uninspired, the banality of forsaken dreams and wishes, and it caused Kate to withdraw.

Sadly, there had been more of the dark than light in Kate's world thus far, which was the cause of her confusion and partial reclusion.

The malady may well have intensified while Kate was in Dublin (the mere thought of a big city made Oriana shudder), but a reason was created to prompt her return. Kate's father was one the few sources of her happiness, and the illness that Oriana induced was only temporary. There was no malice or remorse in the simple scheme, only an action toward a greater good.

Oriana, in her musings, felt for Kate's current mood, and found it surprisingly bright. That was something worth investigating.

Chapter 14

The following late morning, Ben found himself standing out front of the salvage yard in the gathering heat. His uncle Pete had earlier taken all of their I.D.'s and suggested they start packing while he ran an errand. Pete had just returned while Ben's dad was packing the last of the duffel bags into the trunk of the rusty yet still capable mid 90's Buick. Ben felt uneasy with what he knew of the plan, which wasn't much; for him, there was no trust or concern.

Ben's first casual protestations of having to go with them either fell on deaf ears or ended with threats. He tried to appeal to Joe's sense of monetary avarice by saying that he could run the place while his dad and Uncle Pete took care of their debt collection. Not only did Joe colorfully suggest that his boy couldn't run diarrhea down his leg, he also made it abundantly and somewhat violently clear that this was a family matter and Ben was going to help see it through.

Pete went to each of them, handing back new, false I.D.'s, and said something about erring on the side of caution. Ben sighed in defeat as he got in the car with two apparent sociopaths.

The drive up to Kansas City was a long one. The sky was dark by the time they all groaned out of the car in a motel parking lot. The interior of the car had begun to reek of nicotine, marijuana and beer, and Ben was glad to be free of the confines just to escape that alone. Hours on end stuck in a small and smelly, if comfortable, box with the likes of Joe and Pete Wagner was no picnic, either.

Time together only reinforced Ben's opinions that his dad, while quick with an insult or a smack, was an idiot, and his uncle a clever and depraved schemer. Ben felt he was better than those two, but weaker at the same time.

He had tried to block out most of the mundane or disturbing conversations with headphones on and volume up, but still inadvertently caught bits here and there. Joe had voiced concerns of the money being spent for their venture, soothed by Pete's assurances that they wouldn't go home empty-handed. That last concept was what bothered Ben. He'd had his own share of illegal fun and actions that might have been deemed morally grey, but this undertaking had the potential to go far beyond his petty criminal experiences.

And, by the tone of his uncle's words, it was going to.

***

The next evening came, cloudy and cool. Brody met with Jack and Fiona at the restaurant; they were seated and only had to wait a few minutes for Kate to arrive. As early conversations went around the table, Brody noticed that Kate acted a bit withdrawn and distant. The meals came and went while the talking flowed easily, and eventually Kate warmed to the levity being had by the others.

Over dessert, Brody gave a basic layout of intended projects; retainer walls for an extended lawn, reforming some property walls, two small stone barns, and a new expanded patio area. Brody was hoping Jack could begin on the following Monday, and promised to let them come see the site beforehand.

Brody then asked if they knew anyone in the horticultural field. Jack said that Fiona had no professional experience, but promised she had the greenest thumb in Roscommon, to which Kate concurred. Brody mentioned that his planting plans didn't need a pro; he just was looking for someone with knowledge of when and what to plant. He offered Fiona a shorter-term job to assist him with it. She initially declined because of the children, but Brody made a simpler offer to come out when convenient and he'd pay her on a daily basis.

Brody then handed the couple an envelope containing cash in the amount of about half of the initial estimates, which stunned and elated them. He said that he knew contracts made it legal, and of course he would sign one, but Brody was more concerned with a handshake and offering his word. It meant more to him. Fiona asked if hugs counted as well, before she came around the table and gave him one.

As the evening was nearing its end, Brody turned to Kate and asked if he could contract her financial services. Without going into his worth or any specific amounts, he mentioned that he had an investor friend in the states, but wouldn't mind seeing what other markets had to offer. Brody understood if Kate wanted to keep her position at the bank, and so offered a part-time position if that was the case. She was offered to look into it to give herself a comparable pay scale, or they simply could discuss it at her leisure.

Kate was surprised and appreciative of such an offer, and asked if she could mull it over and get back to him. Brody readily agreed, saying it was a no-pressure offer.

Everyone had risen and were donning their coats when Jack mentioned running Kate home.

Brody turned to her and asked, "You walked?"

Kate nodded, straightening her coat. "My little place is only a few blocks off. Petrol is too high for that short of a drive, and I like to walk besides."

Brody waited a moment, and then asked, "Then if it's alright, may I walk you home?" Kate turned to look at him, but Brody had already turned to her brother. "But only with your blessing, of course, Jack. I give you my word to be nothing but a gentleman and see her home safely. That's all."

Fiona was already grinning when Jack glanced at her. He then turned back to Brody. "In truth, I'd appreciate it if you would. If Kate accepts, that is."

Brody looked at her again. "So again, Kate, may I walk you home?"

A slow grin formed on her face as she looked up at Brody. She stole a quick glance over to her family; Jack had a smirk, and Fiona was nodding her head emphatically. Kate then gazed up at him him. "That sounds grand, thank you."

Brody and Kate parted ways with an energized Jack and Fiona, and then turned to make their way in the direction of Kate's flat. Brody walked on the outside of the path with Kate close next to him, slowly strolling in the dim of the occasional street lamp. Kate thanked him for making her brother an offer, mentioning that Jack's work had been a bit sparse lately. Brody asked her not to be too thankful; he planned on making them earn it, and even had the slave whips at home ready to go.

Kate asked another question or two of the offer Brody made to her. He only said that the offer was valid and it would be beneficial to both of them, but only as long as she didn't run off with his money and spend it on anyone but him.

Brody was quite happy that the conversation was going as well as it was; it was leaps and bounds over a few days ago. He sensed that Kate was still shy, or cautious, or something - and there might be something that still nagged at her - but she seemed willing to be near him, which could only be seen as positive.

Kate was excited at the turn of events, and Brody's multiple offers of the night. She was elated to walk next to him and to have him to herself, if only for a few minutes. One of her concerns was foremost on her mind, though she didn't want to mention it and possibly ruin the end of their evening.

As it turned out, Brody had noticed her early discomfort and brought it up it as they approached the short walkway to her door. "Kate, was something bothering you tonight?"

She stopped and looked up at him. "It was nothing, really." She forced a small smile at the end.

"If you'd like to say something, then please do," Brody implored.

"Well..." She lifted her brows up to him questioningly.

"Please, go ahead."

Kate dropped her head back down between them. "It was just... I thought you were coming to visit again today, is all."

There was a moment of silence before Brody took her hands in his. The thrill of his large hands gently holding hers almost made Kate shiver. Brody said her name once, softly, and waited for her to look back up at him. "I misunderstood. I am so sorry. I'd be happy to come by sometime soon to make it up to you. Would that be alright?"

Kate looked intently at him and felt he was being sincere. "Of course, that'd be grand. I was just being silly. Sorry about that."

Both of them were wearing genuine smiles for the other when their eyes locked. Not just Kate that time; they were both lost in the other. Kate honestly didn't know how long they stood there, but she became aware of her passion filling and warming her. Hesitantly, she asked, "Would you care to come in for a spot of tea?" Never one to have the initiative in romance, she scared herself with the offer.

Brody was torn, but finally said, "I'm afraid I can't."

Kate felt her heart fall at his words as her eyes lowered. "Oh, alright, then," she mumbled, but then looked back up into his eyes once more and asked, "Why not? Is it something I did?"

Wearing a sad smile, Brody said, "No, not at all. You didn't do anything except make tonight even better. Unfortunately, I promised your brother I'd be a gentleman, and I keep my word. If I accepted your offer, I might break it."

Kate's grin grew anew. "I understand, and I don't want you breaking your word."

Brody leaned over as he lifted her hands, and kissed them. "Goodnight, Kate. Thank you for a great evening."

Kate gripped his large hands before he could pull away. "I never did repay the compliment you gave me yesterday at my desk," she said. "I'm - I'm quite fond of you as well."

Brody's chest swelled with his deep breath. A moment was spent fighting the urge to wrap Kate in his arms and kiss her, but he had to keep his word to be a gentleman. "That means more to me than you know. Thank you," he replied with a long exhale. "I don't want to, but I should go." He reluctantly slipped his hands out of her soft grip, and then strolled away.

As wonderful as the evening was, Kate thought that it could have been even better if Brody had accepted her courageous offer.

Chapter 15

Kate was at her desk the next drizzly day when a plump, middle-aged woman with short blond hair approached and set something down behind her paperwork. Kate looked up to see a dozen roses, ranging from light to dark pink, surrounded with baby's breath, set in a burgundy vase ; it was simply beautiful. She looked up, surprised.

The floral delivery woman smiled primly, saying, "Those are for you, Miss. The card is buried down in. Enjoy." With that, she turned and exited.

Kate glanced around when she noticed that the other bank personnel had taken notice. A smile was forming on her face as she brought the bouquet in front of her. She inhaled deeply of the sweet fragrance and was pulling out the small envelope while Mary, the sweet old teller, made her way over.

Kate glanced up at Mary with a hesitant smile. She hoped it wasn't from Mitch, and would be surprised if it was; he was a non-gifting wanker if there ever was one. She pulled out the note, and Mary noticed that the young woman's smile went from reserved to beaming.

She read the words silently. The note simply said, "This is as close as I could get to describing you. -Brody-" Scribbled underneath the words was his phone number. She tucked the note away and resumed her appreciation of the beautiful gift.

Mary leaned over to take in the scent when offered by Kate, and then said, "They're from him, then?" Kate looked up, still smiling, but with a touch of confusion thrown in. "The big strapper, I mean." Kate nodded heartily in reply. "They're lovely, dear." Mary, noting the soft shimmer in the young woman's eyes, then asked, "Does this mean we're not taking him to the ground now? I've already purchased gear for the occasion."

Kate's appreciation of the flowers remained, but concerns and insecurities wormed their way in, pestering her even after she returned home from work. Why her? What were his motives? Trying to put the pressing doubts out of her mind, Kate decided that the least she could do was call to thank him for the flowers. She also thought that perhaps she could glean Brody's true intentions from his voice, without his presence - especially those eyes - to distract her.

She let the phone ring, ready to hang up before it went to voicemail, when Brody answered. As he greeted her, she heard dogs barking in the background. He quieted them and apologized, explaining that they'd never heard the phone ring before. She teased him by asking if all of his other lady friends don't get his number. He teased back by saying that he had all of the others just text him.

Kate then thanked Brody for the gift, telling him how it brightened her day. She then said she had other things on her mind, and wanted to clear the air. Confused, Brody nonetheless agreed with whatever she wanted. She asked if she could visit him after work to talk face to face. He agreed and gave her the simple directions.

*

Brody decided to do some more work before Kate showed up, and so went out in the drizzling rain to dig a hole near the driveway for a future bush. He had just begun digging when he heard the loud muffler of a car coming down the private drive. Kate stopped her older-model car directly in front of him; Brody didn't expect her so soon after she called. She got out and left the door open, stepping up on a railroad log bordering his drive to bring her a few inches closer to his height.

Hands draped over the shovel handle, Brody said, "Wow, you made good time."

"I called off early." Kate was studying Brody in his long-sleeved t-shirt. It was soaked through and conforming to his muscular build, distracting her. She blinked her eyes in the mist and asked, "What the hell are you doing out in this?"

He looked down at the hole, and then back to her. "It's easier to dig when the ground is wet, and I didn't expect you so soon."

Kate shook her head. "Well I'm here now, so I'd rather just get this out."

Brody stepped closer. "Would you rather go inside and get out of the weather?"

Kate watched him move closer, and took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve. "No; if we go in I might lose my focus, and I just need to follow through."

Brody hadn't seen Kate like this before - her thin brows were pulled together into a scowl, and her mouth had a stern set to it. He watched her take another deep breath as her hair began to glisten from the mist. Moving to stand directly in front of her, he asked, "Are you angry with me about something?"

"No! Please, Brody! Just let me say my peace!"

He nodded, startled that she was yelling at him, and for no reason he could think of.

Kate took another deep breath. "You're making me mental!" Realizing that she just alarmed him again, she tried to continue in calmer tones. "I'm partly upset at myself, truth be told. I was never one to shy off people. I might be quiet, but that doesn't mean weak. Then you show up, and I'm hiding in corners and losing my tongue! You sound sincere, both in person and on the phone, but that doesn't mean you are."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Brody interjected sternly. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"I don't know! Let me finish!" Kate's insecurities had rapidly come into full bloom. "I want you to see me, notice me, but then I'm scared shitless of what you see when you do. I used to be in control of myself... I still am, but not with you near. I look at you and I almost start brickin' it! That isn't me... Wasn't me; I used to be stronger than that!"

"What the hell did -" Brody's question was cut short by Kate's glare. Sighing, he gestured for her to continue.

Kate took another deep breath. "Since we met, you looked at me like no one else ever has. But now I wonder, what for? Are you really interested? Are you just trying to play cat-and-mouse before you bed me and then just move on? Is it just some game you play on women who have stars in their eyes for you? Play them out and leave them broken and crushed? I came to you hoping for the truth of it. Why would you of all people want someone like me?" Kate drew in yet another damp, shaky breath and waited for him to respond.

Brody stared at her incredulously; his eyes squinted against the mist. "Are you fucking kidding, Kate? Do I seem like a good actor or something? You show up and yell at me, pretty much accuse me of being an asshole, and then, what, I'm somehow supposed to prove my intentions? You asked for truth, but I don't think that's what you're here for."

"I just want you to be honest with me, Brody. I can't go on like this, not knowing."

"Alright, fine," he replied heatedly. "You want honesty, Kate? Okay, here it is. I can't figure you out. At first, I thought I was somehow hurting you, and it really bothered me. Then you smiled at me, and it was like the world got brighter! We had a great time last night, or at least I thought we did. And now, this ... Whatever the hell this is."

"I only..." Kate faltered.

"Hold on, it's still my turn." Brody took a moment to calm down. "I've never been attracted to someone like I am to you. Never, not even close. Yeah, I think you're sexy as hell, too, but that doesn't mean I'm just trying to get laid." He took a quick breath. "Now here's my big secret: the way you make me feel scares the hell out of me! Not that you're helping yourself out here, but why wouldn't I want you?" He was almost panting from the emotional release.

Kate's face almost looked pained as rivulets of gathered mist ran down her soft cheeks. "Why? Look at us, Brody. You're the big Yank that causes heads to turn. Not to be shallow, I'd say you've done fairly well for yourself. You're entertaining, and mannered, and charming, and you're such a fine thing it makes me mental! And I'm..." Her posture seemed to deflate. "I'm just Kate."

The praising speech that ended with such a sad note calmed Brody's flared emotions. He moved even closer to Kate and studied her beautiful eyes for a moment. "Kate," he began softly, "Your opinion of me is too high, but thank you." His expression then turned curious. "Now where did you get such a bad view of yourself? Whoever put that in your head, they're dead wrong."

"It's not a 'bad view'. I know my own merits and flaws. I'm simply realistic."

Brody shook his head. "You really don't see it, do you? You're more than 'just Kate', so much more. Do you have no idea how gorgeous and smart and classy you are? Or how much I think of you? Was I not being obvious enough?"

Kate could feel the tears rolling down her face, mixing with the rain. "Brody, I can't be a toy you play with and throw away. You could have anyone."

Angry passion overtook Brody's own fears. "Dammit, Kate, do you think I'm just fuckin' around here?! I want you, only you, for as long as you'll let -"

Kate grabbed his shirt and aggressively pressed her lips to his. The kiss turned from soft to passionate to almost desperate, like a wildfire. They stood there in the quiet mist, locked together, writhing in heat.

When Kate broke the kiss, Brody felt stunned. He took a step back to gather himself, tripped over the shovel, and landed on his back in the wet grass. As he propped himself up on his elbows, Kate was jumping into her car and roaring off in reverse a few seconds later.

Chapter 16

After a restless night's sleep in the motel - Ben with disturbing dreams, Pete and Joe's rife with intent and avarice - the three found an electronics store, buying the cheapest laptop available. Pete handed the purchase to Ben and reminded him it wasn't his, but just to use it as his dad and uncle instructed. Back at the motel, which had free Wi-Fi, they found the address of the law firm that employed Howard Marchek. The drive to the location was quiet and tense, but they found the building easily and parked on the street not far away.

Pete told his brother to go in and ask for that lawyer specifically. "Once you're in with him," he told Joe, "just be smooth and say you're a relative of Lynch, and you're trying to get hold of him." The older brother nodded. "If he won't tell or doesn't know, make sure you get a good look at him before you leave."

"Okay, then what?"

"Then walk out like it's no big deal and come back to the car. We'll just follow Marchek home and see if he remembers anything else by then."

Joe nodded in thought, just following the plan. He exited the car, and walked toward the law office.

Pete turned to face his nephew in the back seat. "I'm gonna take a look around. You stay in the car and no stupid shit or I'll beat you fuckin' bloody."

Ben looked away from his uncle but gave a quick nod of submissive acquiescence; Pete always followed through with his threats. He stayed in the back seat, nervous of how far his psycho uncle was going to take it. Ben's only mollification was a promised fortune; a little while longer in close quarters with his dad and uncle seemed worth it to soon escape them forever.

Joe came back to the car about 45 minutes later, and Ben told him that his uncle was out scouting the area. Pete came back after another 20 minutes and gave his brother an inquiring look. Joe said, "The slick prick said he didn't know how to get hold of Lynch, that their deals were done. I don't think he was shittin' me. I got a good look at him; hair, suit, all that. No problem."

"Good, good," Pete murmured, slow and calm. "The building parking lot is on the other side of us. We should see when he walks out from a spot I found on the next block over." He turned the engine over and said louder to both of them, "There's a fast food joint back a ways. Everyone hit the can and get some grub \- we might be in the car for a little while again."

*

Lorcan was quite happy with the turn of events. Pete, the one he labeled 'the shark', had gotten right into the swing of things. Who knew where that criminal mind would take them? While Lorcan couldn't far-see the fool and the shark anymore, he hadn't tainted the young one yet. Lorcan sure wasn't going to wait this out with the trio, but he had a made a connection with the shark and would know of an emotional spike.

While he was still there, though, he gave a nonchalant glance into the fate of the one called Ben. All Lorcan saw was a large man, and some sort of building or house under cloudy skies in the background before it abruptly faded. Curious; Lorcan could usually hold those sights open for longer. No matter. He only needed to release a touch of glamour to make sure the trio remained inconspicuous before venturing off. They'd let him know when the game was in action again.

*

A few hours passed before Joe spotted Howard Marchek - middle-aged, grey thinning hair, dark suit with a light blue tie - walk toward his car. They easily followed the lawyer out to his upscale, two-story colonial in a quiet neighborhood. It was still daylight when Marchek pulled into his garage, so Pete casually drove around until twilight had set in. He pulled them up one house over and had noticed that only upstairs lights were burning.

Pete got out and told the other two to wait in the car and look for a signal to approach. Ben's uncle strolled toward the house and then to the backyard.

Within just a few minutes, the front porch light flickered. The two got out quickly and went up to the door, which was ajar with Pete waiting just beyond. With obvious hand signals, Pete told Ben to stay there and Joe would follow his brother up the impressive staircase. The elder Wagner's went up quietly while Ben glanced around the foyer and tried to notice anything of value in the dark rooms beyond.

There was a yell and a crash somewhere upstairs, which caused Ben's already unsettled nerves to fray. There were a few more loud unintelligible words that finally lowered into a faint drone of conversation. A few more minutes passed before Ben heard footsteps, and he turned to see a hastily-dressed Howard Marchek goaded down the stairs by Joe, who casually wielded a screwdriver.

On their descent, he said to his son, "You stay here and keep an eye on the street. Me and ol' Howard here are gonna take a ride. The old broad is gonna stay upstairs with baldy for insurance."

They brushed past a stunned Ben on their way to the garage. Ben tried to keep his mind off of what might be going on upstairs and took a better look around the main floor. He thought it was a good sign that there wasn't any noise from upstairs the entire time his dad and the lawyer were out. Ben was just inspecting how his uncle had disabled the house alarm, set inside the coat closet, when he heard the garage door open.

Joe hurried the bloody-nosed Marchek back into the house and up the stairs. There was more muffled conversation that went on upstairs for a while. At one point, Ben's scowling dad came down, went straight to the garage and then went back up with duct tape and tools in his hands. There was another long wait, with the occasional faint voice or thump, so Ben busied himself with glancing out curtained windows or looking for anything he could pocket.

Joe finally came downstairs by himself, and looked a bit haggard. He said Pete would be down in a minute and then asked if Ben touched anything, which his son shook his head in reply. Joe jogged off toward the garage and was gone for a few minutes, tucking a rag into his pocket as he returned. He then handed Ben a piece of paper and told him not to lose it.

Just then, Ben's uncle came down with a gym bag in one hand and wiped down the bannister with a wash cloth with his other as he descended. Pete stood with the other two in the large foyer to discuss things with Joe before they moved on.

"From what he pulled for us at the ATM and the credit cards we'll run up in the morning, that'll handle the simple shit. All his cash outta the safe plus all the jewelry I can hock tomorrow sets us up good."

"Okay, good. Do we make this look like a burglary down here, or set the house on fire, or what?" Joe asked.

"No need," Pete replied with a grin. "We just walk on out."

His father and uncle turned toward the door when Ben asked, "What about them?" as he motioned his head up the stairs.

"Relax, Benny," the uncle said as he smacked his nephew on the shoulder. "No witnesses means no worries." The nonchalance of those words made Ben's skin go cold and prickle.

As the two elder Wagner's opened the front door and wiped the handles down, Ben glanced at the piece of paper and turned to read it by the glow of the upstairs hall light. There was an address and phone number scribbled down, along with the name 'Jamal Harris'.

*

Lorcan reclined on the big bed of the very-recently late Marcheks, and studied the prone and bound forms face down on the bed next to him. He sat up and adjusted them, so that they appeared to be looking at each other in their last moments. How poetic, how morbidly romantic. How entertaining. He sat back with a grin of his wide mouth and let his large, blunt teeth part as he sighed with satisfaction.

With just a simple nudge of intensity, the shark had taken the interrogation and brought it to the edge of madness. First came the promises of pain, then the ravaging of the woman, but when the others returned... My, oh my, how the game shifted. Anything the two could think of to inquire of - especially the shark - was vigorously extracted with blunt tools and metal grips. Oh, the mayhem! Marvelous! But not a drop of blood spilt, more's the pity.

Lorcan feasted on the audial memories of cracking bones and muffled cries, and the lingering auras of fervor and despair that persisted. He almost shivered with anticipation at how this game might progress. The Wagner's certainly had the impetus to continue - at least the shark and the fool did - and Lorcan debated creating a bit of a challenge down the road, to test their resolve. He licked his lips with an obscene tongue as he relished the possibilities.

Chapter 17

Brody lay there, listening to the rough motor of Kate's car fade into the distance, completely bewildered. The drizzle had stopped, so he opened his eyes to stare blankly into the grey heavens with his heart still thumping and the scent of her still fresh.

"Let me see if I have this right," he said out loud to the sullen, late afternoon sky. "First I make her sick. Then I think she likes me. Then she lets me know she's been crazy about me from the start." Sighing, he continued, hoping that saying it out loud would make more sense to him. "Now she's got me up on some pedestal that she thinks she can't reach. I start telling her how I feel. She kisses me then runs away." He mulled over the spoken words as if they lingered in the air. "Is this the Irish version of neurotic?"

The dogs weren't keen on being out in the rain other than if Brody called for them. Unless it was to romp along the shores of the lake in the shallows, they were content to lounge in the house on rainy days, periodically peering out windows to inspect their property.

One of them had seen their master lying on the lawn up near the gate. Seeing as how the rain had stopped, they all felt compelled to make their way out the dog door to join him. Brody, still trying to make sense of things and wondering what he should do then, noticed the dogs padding out to him.

They investigated for a moment and then settled in. Honey lay down near his head, Pearl curled next to him with her head on Brody's stomach, and Keller sat nearby, facing the gate as if on guard duty. "Where in the hell were you guys when I needed you?" Maybe the dogs were smarter than he was; they were calm and happy. And dry. "Fuck it. I hear Austria is nice."

*

Oriana sat atop one of the stack-stone posts that bordered the entrance to the Finnegan cottage, as she had come to call it, letting her bare feet sway while she watched the interaction between Kate and the big, healthy foreigner. So this was what had Kate in such upheaval. it must have been alarming to so suddenly have something with such illumination appear in her world of sprinkled glows amidst the swirling dull eddies.

Kate must have felt emotionally drawn to the man's inner light, yet afraid that bright radiance would scorch her. And of course Kate's lust added into the mix, which created a confusing yet intoxicating concoction in her hungry heart.

And as for the man, he did indeed flare a surprisingly resonating light with an abundance of goodwill, creativity, and warming desires. His intent and ability to carry out his plans were what made his essence all the brighter. Most others were hindered either by a lack of options or desire, or sometimes both.

This one, though - a quick look into Kate's surface thoughts garnered the man's name - was just coming into the realizations of his freedoms and capabilities. Oriana was intrigued by him, and would visit the now 'Lynch' cottage more often.

There was not much to be done for Kate, not without intrusive manipulation... and that was an unnatural tampering. She would have to battle her own emotions, hopefully to shun the shadows she knew so well and create an illumination of her own.

After the noisy car had carried Kate off, Oriana gracefully hovered to the ground and strolled slowly along a nearby low stone barrier of a paddock, breathing in the environment. It still had the feeling of a haven, that place, but with old Maira Finnegan it was forlorn and bittersweet with lost memories. But under Brody Lynch's care, it had revitalized.

Oriana let petite fingers linger on the stones and listened to their echoes. So full of newfound dreams of beauty and creation that Oriana became heady with its allure.

She strolled back toward the gate and saw the large man lying there in emotional turmoil. Sensing the pets within the cottage, she beckoned them to come give comfort to their master. The big male pup kept a curious gaze in her direction as Oriana departed, and she distantly whispered for it to remain vigilant for all who would visit its home - a home with potential to glow bright and inviting, like a warm hearth.

*

The rest of that evening was a wash for Brody. No matter where he tried to invest his focus, his mind kept going back to Kate. And that kiss. He'd never been kissed like that before, Hell, most of his sexual encounters didn't compare to it. On the other hand, he was still confused. He had a better grasp of her earlier reactions to him, and her emotional outburst out on the lawn helped to shed more light on the subject. However, he had no idea what to do from that point.

Brody thought that Kate was holding him to an impossible standard, and the only way from there was down. It wasn't fair to either of them. Was she doing it on purpose as some twisted game of her own, or was a woman like Kate really so insecure? Should he change his number and start doing business in the village up to the northwest, or should he just go quietly on with his own affairs and let it blow over? Should he contact her, or wait until she reached out to him, if ever?

He would have been willing to let it all go if it weren't for certain memories that kept coming back to him. Somehow that beautiful woman had come to mean more to him than Brody was comfortable with, and in such a short span of time.

Chapter 18

The next morning, Brody's cellphone rang while he was out strolling with the dogs on the lakeshore. He sighed, seeing it was only Jack. If Kate's brother knew anything of this whole mess, Brody thought it best to explain himself to the protective older brother, if need be. "Good morning, Jack."

"Howya, Brody. Doing well enough?" Jack sounded a touch hesitant.

"A poor night's sleep, but I'll make it."

"Hang in, mate. I was ringing for plans to knock ya up sometime soon and take a look at the grounds. You set a time good for yourself and I can be there."

Brody was somewhat relieved that he hadn't caused waves that reached Jack; he liked the man, both he and his wife in fact, and didn't want to lose their blooming friendship. "Oh, okay. I have an idea there. How about you and Fiona come out tomorrow for a while? If you can get a sitter by then, I'll treat you to an American cook-out. I can show you the things I have in mind, and then we can sit back and relax. We'll make an evening of it, if you like."

There was a moment's silence on the line before Jack responded. "Are ye sure? I mean, that sounds like grand craic, but I thought you might still be fuming over me sis..."

Brody was confused. "Wait a second, Jack. I thought Kate was upset with me. I - "

"Look, I'm only aware that Fiona got a ring from Kate blusterin' last night, and then she headed over with Alana for some great chinwag. Me missus rang me later sayin' Kate was a mess, and that she was likely sendin' you off your nut. Not to be a wanker, but... That is, I was hoping, with all of us getting along famous so far, that all this didn't end our deal as well."

"No, Jack, not at all. I want to keep the deal... and I like your and Fiona's company, so I want to keep that, too. Is that alright with your wife?"

"All good, mate. She was hopin' you hadn't lost the head over me sis as well. Don't get us wrong, we love Katie, but if she hashed it with you, then that's her worry."

Brody sighed. "Then why don't you two come out tomorrow afternoon around four and we'll make the best of it."

He thought he could hear the relief in Jack's voice. "Grand plan. Cheers."

While the dogs were content enough to nap the day through, Brody felt restless, even after some strenuous work out on his property. He assembled the wheels onto his mountain bike, wanting to push himself a bit further in hopes of clearing his mind a bit. He raced south toward the village, but had no intentions to venture in, only to be tempted to go to Kate's work.

Luckily, the cathedral was toward the north end of Ballaghadaere - Brody hoped a different style of serenity might ease his troubled mind. He could see the bell tower from a distance, and finally, with legs burning from the pace he set, he arrived and made his way in. There were only a few parishioners in the cathedral, and they mostly sat toward the front. Brody chose to sit in the same pew as before, wanting to recapture that same peace of mind as before.

Just as Brody's breathing was returning to normal, someone sat down right beside him. Father Doyle eased in slowly, looking toward the altar, his appearance casual with his wispy grey hair in disarray and collar loosened.

"I know a heavy heart when I see one," Father Doyle said in a soft, aged voice, continuing to look forward, "even one so well hidden in that big chest."

Brody turned his head forward again. "I guess there's no fooling you, Father."

"Not at my age."

Brody let out a long, slow breath. "Can I run something past you, Father?"

"I hold confessions on Fridays," the small, older man said with a touch of levity.

"Actually, I don't think I did anything wrong."

"I see, I see," said the priest in a softer tone. "And does she think so as well?"

Brody turned to him. "How did you know it was about a woman?"

"When isn't it?"

That made Brody pause. "I guess you're right." He looked forward again and said, "She's got me in knots. I've had relationships before, but nothing like this, and it became a mess so quickly. I mean, it's not even really a relationship yet."

The priest waited a moment to let the big American dwell on his own words. "Are you asking a priest about women?"

Brody grinned. "Well, I'm running out of options, Father."

Father Doyle slowly spun on the wooden pew, turning toward him, putting a thin arm along the top of the backrest. "Son, do you get much fishing in?"

Brody turned his head to the frail priest, confused. "Not much, Father."

"I did in my youth - like a sailor, I was. Not so much nowadays, with the arthritis creeping in. Me da took us along the banks as a boy, teaching me the ways. A great fisherman, he was. He'd have won tourneys if there were any back then. And then one day he says we should boat our lines from then on. He said we couldn't catch much worth keeping while standing on the shore. The big ones keep themselves in the deep, ye see. Well, my young heart set to pop. I couldn't swim, deathly afraid of the water, I was. Me da said the big ones wasn't going to swim up and jump on me hook - we had to go to them. I could've stayed behind, but I plucked me nerve and went out with me da. It was important that I did, for him as well. It would never have been the same with us if I stayed on that shore."

Brody frowned at the ending of the story. "I'm glad it turned out well for you, Father, but how does that help me?"

Father Doyle rubbed his chin. "Well, if ye think the lass is more than something to be caught from the shore, then knock yer fears down a notch and go hook that fish."

Chapter 19

Brody pedaled home at a much more leisurely rate, still feeling anxious but nevertheless inspired. He thought of calling Jamal - he'd probably be waking up just about then - to get his perspective. Jamal was really the only person who knew of Brody's unlucky past, and so could empathize with his concerns, however superstitious they were.

With a grin, easing his way along under pockets of sunlight through fast-moving clouds, Brody already second-guessed the conversation. Jamal would be surprised of a romantic interest so soon, and then tactfully ask of any other motives the woman might have, meaning money.

From how he figured it, Brody guessed that Kate was interested before even assuming that he had a few euros in his wallet. Jamal would be cautiously satisfied with that. Then, listening to Brody's telling of his track record of losing people close to him, Jamal would scoff at him, and would probably have used the words, "damn fool." Still, Brody should at least send an email once he saw how this... whatever it was, would work itself out.

Brody arrived home, saw to his pets, ate a light lunch and then sat out on his patio, cell phone in hand. He had his message in mind to leave with Kate's answering service, after retrieving her number from his caller I.D. He had decided to keep it simple and was arranging the words in his head when she unexpectedly answered her phone with a soft hello.

It caught Brody off-guard, and he bumbled his first few words. "Oh, hi, Kate... I didn't expect you to be answering."

"I called off work earlier - didn't think I'd be much use today." She sounded quiet and forlorn, and it stung Brody to hear her like that.

"Okay, sure. Well... I was thinking it was my turn to ask to talk with you this time."

There was a pause before Kate answered. "Are you sure you want to?"

Brody felt his heart lift a bit. "I'm quite sure. Would you care to meet me somewhere?"

"Maybe it'd be safer like this; there's much less chance of me turning things arseways on the phone. I might not even end up barking at you again this way." She ended with a light sniff, but Brody sensed a smile.

"Okay, I understand - whatever you want."

"Look," Kate said with an audible breath, "I know we haven't even had a proper date... but if you decided to move on, I'd understand." Brody was about to object when she continued. "I mean, I must seem mad to you! First I come off daft, and then eager... I bark at you on your own lawn, and then I attack you and run off like a gouger!"

Brody almost laughed out loud at her explanation, but composed himself. "Kate, about that 'attack'..."

"I'm sorry!" She blurted. "It was impulsive, and I scared myself with what I'd done. I never fly off like that, but... those things you said to me, and, the way you were... I'm sorry."

"I'm not sorry that you kissed me at all. I - I've honestly never felt anything like it."

"And I've never - It felt like..." Kate took a moment to regain composure. "I'm glad you feel the same," she finished with a sigh.

Brody braced himself, intent to get to the heart of the matter. "Kate, we hardly know each other, but I don't want things to stay that way. I hope you don't, either. I also know you have your own fears, and I have some pretty strong ones of my own, but the question is if we can get over them. Personally, I don't want to be standing on the shore, wondering 'what if'."

"Standing on the shore ...?"

"Don't worry about it," he said quickly. "The thing is... I can't prove my intentions unless you give me a chance to. Would it be better for you if I didn't come around as much?"

Kate took a deep breath, followed with another sniff, and answered, "No, no, I really do want you to... come around. But I've frustrated you, and confused you, and maybe even hurt you. It's killing me that I might have." She said the last words softly, her voice slightly cracking.

"Please don't feel that way, okay? I admit that most of the time I didn't know what the hell was going on, but there's really only one thing you did that bothers me."

"What did I do?" she asked with a fragile tone.

"You made me out to be some perfect man, and it made you even more afraid of me. I've got my fair share of flaws, trust me. I'm just a guy, Kate, so I'm bound to fuck something up; it's what we do. Give me a little time, and I'll piss you off or do something stupid sooner or later."

Kate laughed, and it sounded like music to Brody. "Well then, I can't wait!"

"So," he had to ask, "Do you really believe I'm not just playing some twisted game?"

"... I suppose I could do with some convincing," she said in a more cheerful tone. "But these feelings are all so unexpected and scary. Could I ask that you be patient with me?"

"Kate, we've got all the time in the world, okay? Does this mean you'll boat your line with me?" he asked with a smile.

There was a pause, one he expected. "Sorry?"

Brody couldn't stifle his chuckle that time. "If you'll see me again, I'd ask a favor. Um, two favors, really, since you took the day off."

Kate's voice sounded nearly giddy when she replied, "I'd love to... and just ask."

"Just a second, ok?" Brody held the phone away from his face and stared at the blustery sky. His head felt clear, his heart felt light. He told himself to give another donation to Father Doyle sometime soon, and then brought the phone back to his ear. "There's a drive involved. Can I just come pick you up?"

"Oh. Do you mind if I came out to you? I didn't look closely the first time, but your gaff and paddocks seemed a grand sight."

"You'll get a chance after we unload my car later. Besides, I don't want you wasting your 'petrol' on that clunker. I'd be worried about it making the trip back home."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Kate conceded. "Just give me a few to freshen up."

"Um, how long is 'a few' around here?"

Kate answered with a light huff. "If you know anything about women anywhere, it means we can be ready in half an hour, but could use up five times that if offered."

"See you in half an hour," he said with a grin, then disconnected.

Chapter 20

Thirty minutes later, Kate stood outside of her stack flat on her miniature lawn, anxious for Brody to arrive. She believed the rouge and light application of eyeliner concealed her formerly puffy and red-rimmed eyes. Donning clothes that were both comfortable yet snug in certain places, she was hoping to further warrant his attention.

Impatient and watchful for any sign of Brody's car, Kate's attention was nonetheless diverted by two of the neighbor ladies, who were discussing some of the local young rowdies. Iris and Deirdre were frumpy older ladies who went about most of their days in housecoats and worn runners. They spent a lot of time chatting each other up with narky craic, meeting outside on most decent-weather days to also go on about the shape of the tomatoes in their tiny gardens.

They saw Kate standing outside her own door, just one lawn away From Deirdre's, looking a bit jittery. "Getting up to some mischief, Kate McCarthy?" Iris inquired with a smile.

"Just waiting for my ride," Kate replied while she dabbed at her lipstick with a tissue from her small purse.

Both of the ladies merely nodded. They assumed it would be that Alana Quinn, the wild tart, off to corrupt the sweet young Miss McCarthy with some escapade or another. It was said that if the manky Miss Quinn spent as much time in church as she did on her back, she'd have been a saint by now. Thankfully it wouldn't be that rat-arsed git Mitchell Kelly, whom they assumed Kate had finally told to hump off.

Kate saw Brody's car pull on to her short lane, moving swiftly. She only took a few steps and then noticed how his car parked quickly, and he exited it with haste. She immediately noted that he was sharply dressed; pressed slacks, suede coat, and a new ivy cap. Kate then stopped short when she saw that he came at her in long, aggressive strides, his face set as he quickly closed the gap between the two of them. She took an involuntary step backwards as she watched the stunning yet huge man descend on her, like a hawk with a hare in sight.

Brody's big arms enveloped Kate as he took her assertively in a passionate kiss. It was soft and firm and insistent, all at once. She had only vaguely realized as the kiss continued that her arms were around his bull neck. Her feet left the ground as he straightened his back, taking her up with him. Before Kate wanted it to end, Brody was gently letting her back to her feet. She felt momentarily drunk, and kept her hands on his firm arm and broad chest for support.

In a breathless tone, Deirdre croaked, "You giant cheeky bastard."

Kate looked up to Brody in breathless ardor as he kept one arm around her, but moved the other to tip his hat to her neighbors. "I apologize for Miss McCarthy's behavior, ladies," he said. "She's an animal." Before Kate could protest the statement, he easily whisked her off toward his car.

As Brody drove them out of town, he requested that they avoid any serious talk for a while. That conversation did need to happen, but he wanted to talk with Kate without any stress and get to know her better; it would make that serious conversation easier.

Brody brought up that he invited Jack and Fiona out for the next evening, and therein were the two favors he asked of Kate. One was to direct him to another market for some items that the shops in Ballaghadaere didn't carry. Brody had made the invitation without having the groceries already on hand. Kate said there was a bigger market in another nearby town.

On their way there, Brody said the other favor was if Kate would join come to the cook-out. Before she could answer, he quickly interjected that it still wasn't a proper date, but he wanted to make amends for that very soon.

Kate happily agreed, and stated that her being present might put Jack and Fiona more at ease. The couple was still concerned that the business deal and their personal relationship with Brody might have been damaged by her.

Kate was elated to be with Brody without the stresses that weighed her down before, but sometimes she regarded his profile while they rode along, and her insecurities would nag at her. Still, she was happy to be able to amend any hard feelings that her brother and his wife might harbor for Kate's recent actions.

Most of all, Kate was still stunned and overjoyed that Brody called her, came to her, kissed her - wow, that kiss - when it was she that almost hashed it. She felt she owed everyone involved for putting up with her, and considered herself lucky for those people.

On their way back from stocking up on food (Kate was surprised at how much Brody bought), the conversation of the business offer made to her was brought up. Brody asked if that topic could be included into their serious chat in the near future, which she agreed to.

Other light topics were made for the rest of the drive; local sporting events and activities, other nearby amenities, tastes in food, and simple preferences on trivial subjects.

As Brody pulled through the electric gate, he remembered that the dogs hadn't had any other human contact since he brought them home. As he opened her door for Kate - and she noted his gentleman's manners - he explained that he wasn't sure how the dogs would react.

With bags in hand, Kate came around the SUV with Brody to see his three larger-sized dogs standing there, wary. Honey was flanked by her two young, near her size already and still growing, especially Keller. Kate understood the beautiful dogs' unease of a stranger on their property, and waited unafraid.

After Brody had soothed the dogs, they relaxed in their own way. Honey remained protective of her master, while Pearl became her natural gregarious self after shown that Kate was welcome. Keller, while not as affectionate, assumed a role of sentry and followed Kate in and out of the house as she helped bring all the groceries in.

Kate was given a quick tour of the house, and then a majority of the property. Brody noticed how she stood in one particular spot, just off the path down to the lake, saying how she loved the view from that angle. He made mental note of it before they moved on.

There was a lingering, tender time back in the kitchen, filled with soft kisses and whispers and touches, and Brody had to force himself to refrain. He wanted things as good as they could be, but rushing into sex usually didn't help in that regard. He mentioned the urge of offering her 'a spot of tea'; the humor broke some of the gathering sexual tension. Kate was glad for his decorum. Her own normally-strong restraint may have crumbled.

They both agreed that Kate should get back home - she had work in the morning, and he had chores to see to before the next evening. On the drive to drop Kate off, she informed Brody that she would just catch a ride with Jack and Fiona back out. That way, she could more easily show them the already-simple route to the cottage, and it would save on petrol as well.

Brody came around the SUV to open Kate's door, walked her to her flat, and gave her a long and slow kiss goodnight. Kate strolled lightly through her little place, humming a tune. Brody made his way back home with a wide smile. They were both thinking about the fact that the day had started so miserably, and had ended so delightfully.

Chapter 21

He sat back and slumped into his computer chair and removed his glasses to rub at his strained eyes; Jamal Harris had another long day. With the weekend almost upon him, it couldn't come fast enough. The extra work he just completed at home cleared the path for a casual Friday. He'd just sent Brody a quick email explaining that all of his capital with Jamal's firm was safely in low-risk ventures.

Jamal also to text Carla to say he might get out of work early the following day. They had plans to spend the weekend together and continue formulating their plans for their wedding.

Jamal was absently perusing fonts for the invitations in his mind's eye, and was surprised when his doorbell rang. As he got up, he noted that it was after nine at night and that none of the neighbors on his well-kept street were apt give unplanned social calls, especially at that hour. At a glance on his way to the front door with phone in hand, Jamal saw no vehicles parked out front, and so assumed it was a neighbor with an emergency.

A young man stood beyond the peephole, waiting calmly. He was white, possibly a touch Hispanic from the tan skin and thick black hair. Clean cut, he wore a denim vest over a casual, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Average in height, fairly broad in the shoulder, the stranger held the stance of an agreeable fellow, perhaps with only some mild distress. For safety's sake, Jamal left the chain on when he answered the door. "Can I help you?"

"Hey man, sorry to bother you so late. My car didn't quite make it to the gas station just down the road there." The young man gestured to his right, where Jamal's street connected to a larger avenue, which was zoned commercially a few blocks away. "Yours was the first house I saw with lights on. I was hoping maybe you had a gas can I could borrow before I had to walk all the way down there and back."

"I don't think I have - "Jamal's reply was cut short. He just caught a glimpse of a thick, ugly gun as the hand that held it quickly reached in and pressed it to his neck.

Another voice, the one of the unseen gunman, quietly said, "Let us in or I blow your fucking head off."

Jamal, only frozen in fear for a moment, tried to stall while his deft fingers blindly dialed 9-1-1, and kept his thumb over the small phone speaker. "I - I can't... The chain - " He was again interrupted when the young man pulled a pair of mini bolt cutters from his back pocket and brought them up to the chain of his slide-lock.

"Careful now," the gunman said as he slowly leaned into view, his goat-tee stretched by a wicked smile. "I think my finger is faster than you tryin' to slam the door. So you let the boy do his job and there won't be a mess, alright?"

Jamal stood still while one side of a chain link was cut and then the other. The younger man stepped back as the bald gunman filled the space, forcing Jamal back as he entered. Jamal held the phone away, hitting the 'end' button with the knowledge that they would return the call, and hopefully the operator somehow heard some of the short conversation beforehand.

The young man entered just after the bald one and took the phone out of Jamal's hand. He dropped it and smashed it with the heel of his boot, while yet another man entered and quickly but quietly shut the door behind him. The force of the gun barrel forced the frightened Jamal further back until his legs hit the edge of a living room chair, and fell into it.

The unpleasant looking bald man kept his gun and eyes forward on his captive, but asked of one of the others, "You got everything?"

The last man in came into view beside the gunman. Stocky, dark-haired, he stunk of cigarettes and liquor, and carried a plastic shopping bag heavily laden with items. "It's all here."

"Well then, Mr. Harris - yeah, we know who your black ass is - we're gonna have a nice little chat." He gestured for Jamal to stand and then turn around. His arms were pulled behind his back, wrists held together. Zip ties, by the feel of them, secured his hands, one over the other. The bald man grabbed him by the collar of his expensive shirt and leaned in. "Okay, stretch, show me to your basement." As they began the short, terrifying walk, Jamal heard the leader say to the others, "Same plan, boys."

*

Lorcan flipped through the television channels using only his finger. He sat back with a sigh in the semi-finished basement of Jamal Harris' house with boredom setting in, and found the game with the trio had gotten a bit dull. They had gotten careful. How tedious. Where was the mayhem? Where was the action?

All he'd done lately was a trifle at the pawn shop that morning; the blunting of the owner's scruples to sell the gun under the table was a minor thing. Lorcan considered it an investment for future mischief... and they hadn't done a single bloody thing with it!

Which brought to Lorcan's mind, 'Couldn't they keep that money-man's howls of pain down a bit'? The room behind him was loud enough with the shark's demands and Harris' bellows of anguish, but did that idiot boy from upstairs have to keep stomping as well? The fool tore out of the interrogation room and up the stairs. Ah, right! The young one was to signal if something was amiss upstairs. He was intrigued again... lucky for them.

Lorcan took a quick glance through the fool's view; what an erratic, dim mind. What's this? Were those constables? Marvelous! Finally - a nice bit of mayhem. That was when heard the home owner croak out in agony, "Near Ballaghadaere!"

Ireland? Their prey was in Ireland? Lorcan floated up and spun wildly with glee, then quickly came back to his senses. The shark ran past and to the stairs in haste, but was only given a moment's notice.

With Ireland now on the table, it wouldn't do to have it all end now. The potential for chaos those three could create as they rambled through sleepy villages and left them in blissful chaos was thrilling. Perhaps he could even recruit while there? The possibilities were grand.

Lorcan glanced into the back room, where the tall banker seemed to have passed out from his injuries. All that was needed was to preoccupy the constables - and possibly temporarily negate the shark's growing fervor - so that the trio could continue their journey.

*

Ben was in a panic. The patrol car had pulled up, and two officers slowly got out. They had circled the block once before parking out front, but Ben had signaled from their first pass. His dad had finally heard the stomping and came up, with Pete only a few seconds behind. His uncle told them all they'd break for it, and, with a sinister gleam in his eye, said he'd take care of the cops.

Before Ben was prepared, he was shoved out the front door and broke to the left toward their car down the street. His dad passed him as Ben hesitated, his head turned in horrified awe as he watched Pete go toward the surprised cops, gun raised at them.

What then happened caused Ben to stop completely, stunned. His uncle somehow slipped on the dry, level lawn. The two patrolmen didn't even notice him, but rather frowned at each other in confusion. Pete tried to fire at the cops from his prone position, but the gun jammed. He got up and ran past Ben, who watched in disbelief as the patrolmen started searching their pockets as if they'd lost something. Ben heard the old Buick roar to life, so he turned and sprinted for it.

Joe Wagner drove as quickly as possible out of that neighborhood without raising interest. Pete sat next to him and muttered curses as he checked the bullets and cylinders of the .38 snub-nose. Ben sat still in the wide backseat, eyes wide while he took deep breaths to slow his heart rate.

"What the fuck was all that?" Joe asked of no one in particular.

Pete slowly shook his head while he checked the gun again. "Not a clue, man."

"Benny, you okay?" Joe asked. With no immediate answer, he used the rearview mirror and also glanced over his shoulder. "Benny!"

Ben was brought out of his shock by his dad's surprising concern. "Yeah, pop, I'm good."

As Pete reloaded the gun, he said back to his nephew, "If you're done shittin' yourself back there, kid, fire up that laptop."

Glad to be given something to do with his shaking hands, Ben retrieved the laptop from the floorboard, turned it on, and plugged in a dongle. "Hold on a sec." As soon as it was powered up and connected, Ben asked, "OK, what are we lookin' for?"

Pete turned in his seat toward Joe as he lit a cigarette. "First we figure out where we are. Then we find a place to buy a hoodie for when we hit ATM's with Harris' card and pin number. After we do that, Joe, you check a map, make sure we got a full tank, and we head to Chicago." He turned his head to his nephew. "After you look that shit up, you find an easy way to get passports and then book us on the earliest flight to Ireland you can find... and remember to use our new info."

"Ireland!" Joe exclaimed. "Why in hell are we goin' to Ireland?"

Pete faced forward again and took a long pull off his cigarette. "Because, jackass, that's what Harris mumbled right before he told me the funky-ass name of the town." He released smoke in a long exhale. "Balladare or some shit like that. We'll figure it out when we get there."

"Are we takin' this too far?" Joe asked with mounting apprehension. "I mean, look, we're a lot better off than we were already. We can just hock the little shit we just lifted and be done."

"Joe, relax," his brother said casually. "Lynch is a goldmine. If you wanna get paid your due, then you gotta go where the gold is. Hell, just think of it as a vacation."

Ben was silently excited by the idea of travelling so far away, even if it was unfortunately with his dad and uncle. Still, time away from the hellhole they called home was fine by him.

As he made his internet searches, Ben found himself hoping that they wouldn't find his cousin, even though the thought of a fat wallet appealed to him. Hurting people to get what he wanted just wasn't his scene, but there was no backing out now. His dad and uncle were calling the shots, besides keeping a tight grip on the money, so he couldn't just split. Uncle Pete would want to shut him up permanent if he tried, anyway.

So when the whole ugly hunt was over, Ben could take his share, even though he'd probably only get a small cut, and move on. He yearned to be out of the south, out of the heat and sweat and bugs, and away from his family.

Chapter 22

Friday started overcast and breezy, but Brody's hopes were eventually realized; the clouds cleared and the wind relaxed as the day progressed. In a bedroom that he deemed his office, he had his work plans laid out, including an estimate of materials and labor timetables. It was left flexible for modifications and better suggestions than those he had in mind. He also had made another simple topographical map of the horticultural plans; placement or relocation of plants and trees, and a manageable garden for his own vegetables; the small apple orchard already on site would of course remain.

Dogs were groomed, clutter was removed, wood furniture was polished, the lawn was clipped, and all food was prepared for serving or cooking. He felt the place was acceptable for guests.

Brody had never hosted a gathering before (although many times as a guest) and he felt the rush of anticipation and pride. This was all new to him, and he found himself reveling in it.

He remembered when he first came here; human contact and close interaction might be an eventuality. Now, though, it was just as important as his desire for serenity. Maybe he was wrong, and it was connection that was the greater healing tool. Brody felt it was good fortune in meeting good people - no, great people - to help him realize that.

The three McCarthy's showed up and Brody saw them in the good spirits he'd hoped for. He greeted them all warmly \- if reservedly by the dogs - and the quick kiss in greeting to Kate confirmed assumptions that things were much better on that front.

After a quick consultation over the maps, Brody and Jack walked out on the property to review sites, with Honey and Pearl for company. The ladies stayed in for a bit, looking over the house and then down toward the lake to take in the scenery as the growing Keller watched over them.

Everyone made it back to the cottage, where music wafted through the house and food was prepared. They mostly sat out on the patio as Brody grilled steaks; drinking, talking, and laughing went on with easy comfort. On as many occasions as Brody and Kate could easily manage, the two found a quick moment for a stolen kiss or gentle word when alone.

The dinner went over very well, and the drinks and stories continued late into the evening. As Jack and Fiona had indulged copiously, Brody insisted that everyone stay over. There were enough rooms and beds for all, with abundant supplies besides.

Kate stayed up a bit longer after the other McCarthy's went off for much-needed sleep. She and Brody sat close together on the couch, with her mostly speaking of the great hosting and of the enchanting property that the pretty cottage held. They both took the hints of multiple yawns, and finally made their way into separate rooms for the night.

Brody was sorely tempted to ask Kate to share his bed; just to sleep, he told himself, but knew without a doubt that would never happen. Her reluctant goodnight said the same.

***

It was of little surprise to see Neela and Moyna in flittering attendance when Oriana came to visit the Lynch cottage that evening, but she was nonetheless a bit disappointed. She felt slightly covetous of the place and wished to savor the gaiety and fellowship of the small gathering on her own. The two airborne pixies couldn't be blamed, though; the clamor of bliss from this unexpected place must have rippled through the ether, and lured their attentions from the meadows and glades that the two small ones called home.

Oriana slowly approached the cottage patio, where Kate and the others were gathered in the glow of a tabled fire pit. Overhead, the fair-haired Neela and brunette Moyna danced and flowed in a smooth yet random ballet, their backdrop a stunning starlit night sky. They were half Oriana's petite size, always in the sinuous shifts that aimlessly faded from one delicate hue to another. The pixie's wings, akin to a dragonfly's, were in respective size to their diminutive forms, with pastel, translucent coloring, nearly invisible when in flight. Their demeanors were matching, always distant yet passively gracious.

The pixies veered and circled Oriana, gave smiles in greeting, and then returned to the revelry. Inspired by their vantage, she hovered up to sit on the slanted, soft thatch roof. Legs pulled up with her arms around her calves, Oriana rested her chin on her knees to bask in the pleasure of the party below.

Suddenly, and by no cause of the humans, the dance of Neela and Moyna became erratic and reckless. They spun and shot away, like timid beasts attempting to evade a predator. Oriana watched them in quiet alarm as the pixies flew off in a fast, swirling pattern over the lake and then off into the night. She turned to make sure Kate and her party was undisturbed, glad to see them blissfully unaware of the calamity above them.

Oriana was about to search for the source of the pixie's fear when a faint but unnatural breeze wafted in, and with it carried the scents of deep forests and approaching storms. Rich and ancient, that scent, also forbidding, and it foretold the arrival of Aldritch of the Old Wood. He emerged from the inky blackness under a copse of trees at the far end of the lawn, all seven feet of him.

Oriana crouched tighter in apprehension, but determined to hold firm. Aldritch was a force to be reckoned with amongst the fae, and near-legend in these northern islands. With the few passing greetings she had shared with Aldritch over the centuries, he was exceedingly polite, but his manners were tinged with darker moods.

Reclusive and aloof, few knew his haunts - said to be in remote timberlands. None cared to trespass and test his wrath. Aldritch was usually only seen or met with others when there was some form of precipitation. Rumor was told that Aldritch called down rain when he traveled, which explained his appearance, and supposedly part of the reason for Ireland's wet climate.

Aldritch crossed the lawn in steady, even strides, his large oaken staff only an affectation. The walking staff itself, gripped in his large hand, lured Oriana's eye. It was gnarled and curled at the top, with tiny tan mushrooms that dotted its upper curve, while the lower end was layered in moss.

Aldritch was slightly hunched in a long russet trench coat that was cinched with live vines, which sprouted tiny leaves in autumn colors. The length of the coat, which appeared damp and sprinkled with moss along its lower hem, draped near his ankles, with brown boots underneath. Aldritch's hair likewise appeared damp, each strand the color and thickness of yellowed grass, and pulled straight back to fall in generous length down his back. His face was long and lean, seasoned and clean, with high cheekbones under luminous mint-green eyes.

As the great fae walked along, breezes churned in his wake, as evidenced by colorful fall leaves appearing, dancing about, and dissipating continuously.

Aldritch of the Old Wood was imposing, to be sure, but Oriana found his emergent presence to be in some way calming, and admittedly somewhat fetching. Not that she had ignored the tales of his power, or the rumors of his temper, but Aldritch also held an air of reason, and only to be feared if crossed.

Oriana watched the tall, gaunt fae stop at the soft perimeter of the fire's light. Whether he was patiently waiting to socialize with her or to simply study the gathering from his own vantage on the far side of the patio, she wasn't sure. Not one to be rude, Oriana glided her petite form over to stand next to him.

They both gazed forward upon the oblivious humans for a long moment before Aldritch began in a low, craggy voice. "Good evening, Lady Oriana."

"And to you, sir," She found her voice very soft and feminine in comparison.

He turned slightly to her, pivoting as he leaned on his long staff. "It would please me for you to call me Aldritch. Such fine company as yours is rare in my travels of late."

Oriana returned his look, and with a slight bow, said, "Thank you, and for the kind words as well." His looks lingered on her in solemn regard. She wasn't sure where those strange eyes played; to her own inhumanly large amber eyes, or her pale skin, or even her charcoal black hair, with its gold and grey streaks. Whatever he momentarily fixated on, Oriana tried to take it as a compliment, and tried not be unsettled by the height of him seemingly looming over her small frame.

Aldritch, possibly sensing her slight apprehension, crouched down, coming to the level of her alluring eyes, and held the staff for support. He realized his regard may have unnerved her, and so turned his eyes back to the ongoing event. "Quite the bright affair, yes?" he asked.

Oriana refocused her eyes as well. "Very much so, and quite welcome in a place that was formerly so somber."

He nodded. "And luckily the weather fell in their favor. I believe all of the stars are making an appearance tonight." He glanced at Oriana with an earnest expression. "They pale to you, of course, milady, yet still enchanting."

She caught his glance and returned it with a small, warm smile. "I think this night sky humbles me." Oriana realized his platitudes were simply consequence of his formality, and he was in no way being forward, so the offer of such compliments was appreciated. "Strangely, I had thought more rain would be coming tonight. Did you have a hand in that for some reason?"

His contemplative demeanor remained. "Me? No; just the luck of the Irish, they must have."

"I see. And, if I may test rumor, don't you normally travel about in the rain?"

Aldritch gave a low, dismissing noise. "Only when I'm in a mood; please don't take to heart of all you hear with my name attached, milady. You'll think me no better than a beast."

"Had I thought you a monster, Aldritch, I would not have braved this meeting." There was a minute as they listened to the human's conversation on the patio, and realized the four would soon be adjourning to rest. "Do you know one of them?" Oriana queried. "Is that what brought you here?"

He looked over to her, then back as the humans were getting up - two of them with minor difficulty - gathering items and dousing the flame. "I just... happened to notice the glamour of their elation as I passed by. Going south, I was. It was simple happenstance, milady."

She watched Brody follow the others back inside the cottage. Aldritch had begun to stand to his full height when Oriana said, "Then your notice was fortuitous. Thank you for your genteel greeting on this fine night."

He turned to her and gently took one of her small, jeweled hands in both of his, the vast reach of his fingers partially covering her yellow-sleeved forearm. He then bowed and said, "The pleasure was mine, Lady Oriana, and I hope to have that pleasure again soon." Aldritch released her hand and continued. "If you'll pardon me, I must continue on my trek."

With that, he turned and strode with long legs back to the darkness under a tree canopy, leaves flailing behind his long, moss-speckled coat, and disappeared. Oriana lingered another moment in the dark silence of the night and mulled over their chat. 'How would the locals phrase it?' she thought to herself, 'Happenstance, my arse.'

Chapter 23

Kate finally woke, having slept for so long after such an emotional day. She had simple dreams of that wonderful man Brody Lynch, one even quite erotic, and she wallowed in those thoughts as long as possible before nature demanded her attention. Refreshed, Kate came out into the hall to hear hushed conversations and found everyone else already in the kitchen. Brody was apparently up before the others, having stoked the fireplace early on that chilly morning and was already serving food by the time she arrived.

Kate was greeted with warm smiles, then bacon, eggs, juice, and the delicious aromas that accompanied them. Jack and Fiona appeared none the worse; in good spirits, if a bit subdued. Kate was teased about how late she slept in, and took the light pokes with a smile.

There came a moment in time that Kate's tumultuous emotions had a moment of clarity. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a half-eaten serving in front of her. Jack and Fiona had quickly ventured out for a better view of the thick fog that blanketed the lake and crept onto the paddocks. Pearl was at Kate's side, hoping for a scrap, with the attentive Keller sitting nearby. Brody was leaning over the sink scrubbing a pan, his muscles flexing under his t-shirt as he removed a tough spot. Basking in the comfortable silence and peaceful setting, Kate's sudden yet deep love for him was unfettered by her own fears, and she had never, ever felt so happy. She longed to live in that moment forever.

When Jack and Fiona came back in, shrugging off the chill, Jack said, "Mate, I've got a flight of fancy in my head. Mind if I lay down a sketch to get it out?"

Brody gestured in the vague direction of his office as he sat next to Kate. "Help yourself."

Settling in across from Brody and Kate at the recently cleaned kitchen table, Fiona said, "Brody, I hope you don't mind me asking, but you have the look of being used to labor. Won't you get itchy puttering around out here?"

Brody laughed out loud, warm and deep to Kate's ears. "Once I put you to work, Fiona, you'll see my version of puttering."

"I take it back," she said with a rueful grin. "Both Jack and I can see all the new work you've been putting into the place. It looked like you've even gone after all the work yourself down at the lake for a landing and a permanent dock, true?"

"Yep; I've been 'puttering' with that spot since I first moved here. It just needs some heavier construction, but a dock is ready to be set whenever I find a company that does that kind of work."

"And a boat, I imagine?" Kate chimed in. "Like what?"

Brody smiled serenely, looking at her. "I was thinking of a pontoon. You know, comfortable, and good for some fishing."

Fiona brought his attention back to her. "I guess to be plain, what I wonder is what your plans are once most of the big work around here is finally completed?"

"Oh, I see," Brody said, taking a sip of juice before he answered. "Well, I wanted to get involved with village activities on some level. You know, get to know people better, that sort of thing."

"Never fear, Brody Lynch," Fiona said with a smirk, "many of the folks in this area already know a bit about you."

"Me?" Brody was surprised. "I haven't made any public speeches or anything."

"You don't need to," Kate interjected. "You were telling a bit of your tale to auld Archie and Flinn down at a boozer, and that's public enough for word to pass. You've also been showing up now and again, meaning you're not just some lingering tourist. Plus," she said with a wide smile as she put her hand on his, "a big, handsome man visiting the village has turned some heads."

Brody looked intently into Kate's large, dark eyes. "I'm only interested in turning one."

"Job well done," she said with a soft sigh.

They continued gazing at each other until Fiona interrupted with a polite cough. "Brody, that sounds grand - civic pride and all - but it doesn't exactly pay the rent, now does it? If you're to be courting my Kate here, I'd want to be sure she wasn't tangling with some charming dosser."

Kate glared at her. "Fiona!"

Brody patted Kate's hand. "It's okay; I appreciate Fiona's honesty... whatever dosser means."

Fiona shrugged without much remorse. "Brody, I already think highly of you, both Jack and I do, but we worry for Kate being happy down the road. She's already had her run of muppets."

"I'm sitting right here, if you'll remember," Kate growled.

"Oh?" said Brody with a smirk, looking from Fiona to Kate, even if not familiar with what the term meant to them. "A run of muppets? Really."

Kate glanced at Brody, then back to Fiona. "That's none of your affair, nor one to be tossing about!"

Fiona sighed. "I only ask out of concern. I'm your sister, Kate, even if just by law, and I will always worry after you."

"Muppets?" Brody asked of no one in particular.

They both shot him a stern look, then back to each other.

"That's some fine gratitude, Fiona, after all the kindness and help he's offered!"

"And I do appreciate it, Kate, with all my heart, but one has nothing to do with the other," Fiona fired back.

"Ladies," Brody interrupted as he reached out, putting one large hand over each of theirs. "Let me see if this helps, okay?" Seeing he had their attention, he continued, turning first to Kate. "Fiona has a point. I can see she is asking out of love for you. She's direct, and I respect that. Then again, I agree with you that it's not her place to dangle your past in front of me." He then turned to Fiona. "All I'd ask of you is to respect the feelings of everyone here while in my home.

"Now, all that crap aside, I had a plan for the future. It's just something I haven't mentioned yet. I want to get into sculpture. I like it, and I've been told that I'm pretty good at it too. After I've built up enough pieces, I was thinking of renting a small shop in the village to showcase it, ya know? I think I have enough resources to cover all that. Hopefully it would draw tourists; it'd be a fresh attraction to the other trade work I've seen around here. Maybe even advertise in city papers." He retracted his hands and reclined. Kate was quick to place her delicate hand back in his. "Does that make you feel any better, Fiona?" he asked.

Fiona sat back as a smile formed, dimpling her plump, rosy cheeks. "I have to say, Brody, I'm impressed."

"You like my idea?"

"Oh, the plan is fine enough, and you might even do quite well for yourself, but that's not what I mean." Seeing two puzzled faces looking back at her, Fiona went on. "You handled that well, calm as deep water. You don't appear to be a gentleman with much of a hot temper. Which, with a man your size, is a brickin' notion. You remind me of Kate's mild auld da, Liam, only doubled," she added with a smirk.

Kate added, "Fiona has always held high affection for him, so it's a grand compliment."

Brody was glad to see smiles all around the table again. "Okay, you were testing me. Fair enough. I only have one question." Then he said loud enough that the distant neighbors could hear, "What the hell is taking Jack so long in my office?"

The ladies were chuckling and Brody was grinning when Jack came back to the kitchen soon after. "Sorry about that, mate. I just was puttin' another idea in your head for later." He grabbed up his and Fiona's coats. She saw his intentions and began to stand. Jack, helping his wife into her coat, said, "Brody, that was grand craic. Cheers again for having us out. Look for me to knock you up come Monday morn," he finished with a smile as he shook Brody's hand.

They were all slowly making their way toward the door as Fiona commented, "The hospitality was better than a B and B, and all the meals were grand." She then turned after her coat was settled and gave Brody a short hug.

Kate was just shrugging into her own jacket and said, "It was delicious, wasn't it?"

With that, Brody took Kate's hand and stopped her. Jack and Fiona went another few steps before noticing. Brody looked into Kate's eyes and said, "Since you enjoyed the last couple of meals, I was hoping if you might want to come back for another, just you and I and the dogs."

Kate grinned up at him. "Is that the official date you mentioned earlier?"

"It's the first one, at least."

She turned fully toward him and took both of his hands in hers. "I accept. When is this date?"

"Whenever is best for you."

"Tonight?" she chirped hopefully.

Brody looked down at Kate, thrilled with her enthusiasm. "Perfect, can't wait." He then turned back to Jack and Fiona. "Thank you for coming out. I can't remember when I've had a better time." As he said it, Brody found that statement to be more honest and true than the casual remark usually implied.

With the dogs by his side, Brody stood outside the cottage and waved at the McCarthy's departure. "Shit, why did I agree to tonight?" he muttered to himself. Once Jack's car rolled out of sight, he turned hastily back toward the door. "C'mon kids, we got some work to do."

Chapter 24

After clandestine chores were completed, Pete, Joe, and Ben Wagner began another long car drive. There was not as much monotony for Ben on their second big journey; they took turns driving throughout the night. Ben also kept himself busy with computer searches and making arrangements.

Chicago was a logical choice, as not only was it far away from their recent actions, but also they could get a non-stop international flight. They arrived in the windy city early Friday morning, found a motel near the airport and then went to the closet pawn shop as soon as it opened. With some luck, Pete was able to sell Harris' watches and other expensive small items, plus the gun, before they came up on the hot sheet.

Ben was surprised at how the other arrangements fell into place. All with fake information, Joe opened a bank account using some of their ill-gotten gains, added Ben's name to it and put in enough to cover their travel expenses. Immediately after, Ben ordered passports through an expediting service to be delivered to the motel address Saturday morning.

He juggled the estimated time of the passport's arrival with the earliest flight to Dublin, finally booking three late morning seats. They all caught up on sleep before Joe and Pete ventured back out in search of more 'soothers'. Ben was relieved to have time away from them, and spent his freedom in the motel doing random searches on Ireland.

The check-in at the airline counter the next morning gave Ben cold sweats; unlike his dad and uncle, who acted mellow and content. It was more than likely an artificial cheerfulness, but he wasn't going to complain. Ben remained nervous until they were in the air, paranoid that officials would come on board to recheck their credentials. However, the flight attendant's Irish accent had a soothing effect as she often checked in on the youngest Wagner, assuming that his obvious distress was due to air travel itself.

The flight was eight hours long, landing in Dublin after midnight dur to the time-zone shift. Hotel rooms and a car rental was part of their expensive travel package, but evidently the costs were easily covered by what had been illegally acquired thus far.

After a short taxi ride to the hotel, the Wagner's dropped off their meager luggage in the rooms and went back down to the hotel bar. It was quite crowded, but Ben only wanted a couple beers to calm his nerves and then retire to bed. He knew that the business coming up wasn't going to be pleasant, but it was his ticket to freedom. For that reason alone, he had to follow through with the unsavory plan. Ben grunted, "As if I had a fucking choice." into his pillow before he drifted off.

***

Alana sat on the old couch in Kate's living room, sharing a kettle of tea with her best friend. She'd brought over a movie for them to watch on that rainy Saturday, but never so much as put the disc in the player. Rather, Kate had quickly pulled her in and had been excitedly recounting events since they had spoken last. Kate was just into her story over the last evening's revelry when her text alarm on her phone sounded. She saw that it was Brody and gave Alana a giddy grin before reading the message.

Notes: 1. List any food allergies, or other consumables that you find disgusting. 2. Bring an umbrella. 3. Dress casually, although anything you decide to wear (or not) will be acceptable. 4. Requested arrival time is five p.m. 5. I saw you giving bacon to my dogs this morning. There will be consequences.

Kate pulled up to Brody's cottage just before five. The rain was still steady, so with umbrella ready she jogged to his door, somewhat surprised and a little deflated that he was not right there to greet her. Rather than Brody himself, she saw a sign stuck to the large front door: COME IN, FOLLOW SIGNS.

Curiosity piqued, Kate slowly entered. Once inside with the door shut behind her, she heard the dogs barking from behind a closed door down the hall. She then saw another note on the far end of the entry hall: KEEP UMBRELLA, GO TO KITCHEN.

She opened the courtesy door to the kitchen and was greeted with tasty aromas. There were pots on the stove simmering over minimum heat. On the kitchen counter was another sign: TASTE, STIR - GO TO BACK DOOR.

She looked back to the stove, and with a wooden stirring spoon first tasted a meaty spaghetti sauce. Moving to the other dish, Kate saw that it was colcannon, her favorite. There was a final sign on the back door that only said: TAKE PATH TO LAKE.

Kate had her share of dates, at least as far as she was concerned, but this was by far the most intriguing. As she walked across the lawn and toward the path, something unexpected was easily visible through the rain. A makeshift shelter of poles and a tarp had been erected, near the end of the level ground before it dipped toward the wooded shore. Brody's large silhouette stood under it, waiting for her.

As she came closer, peering from under her umbrella, Kate could see all that Brody had done. A roughly 10' by 10' area had been cleared and hastily fine-graveled, and bordered by a very low wall of loosely-stacked field rock, with small entries on all four sides. In the corners were posts that held the corners of the tarp. In the center of the small area was a round patio table, but where the umbrella stand should have been was another, taller post, tenting the tarp to shed the rain.

Brody stood by one of the two padded outdoor chairs at the table, pouring a white wine. He was dressed simply in faded jeans and a thick navy sweater. Set on the table were various bowls and trays that held apple slices, grapes, assorted nuts, squared cheese cuts, quartered slices of a thin local bread, and honey for dipping.

Around the center post on the table was a simple wooden vase holding wildflowers that Kate had seen growing in some of Brody's paddocks. She then realized that this was the same spot she stood at a few days before, where the view of the lake and the hills beyond was grand.

Brody came around the table, and pulled out a chair for Kate. "Welcome to stage one: appetizers." He noticed that she was simply standing there, barely under the shelter of the tarp, so he took the umbrella out of her hand as she continued to gawk at his hasty construct. With one hand gently on her back, Brody urged Kate to the chair. "Please, have a seat."

She slowly eased into the chair while looking around. "You - you did all this today? Wow."

He came back around and settled himself in his own seat. "Try some of everything. We can't leave the kitchen unattended for too long."

"Tell me you were planning to make a sitting area here before today. Tell me you did not go through all this work just for tonight... for me."

Brody dipped an apple slice into the honey. "Actually, I got the idea for this a few days ago, and I wanted to impress you."

She moved the wine bottle out of the way. "I was already impressed, if you couldn't tell."

"I admit, I had to work fast, so this is just a rough finish. It'll be better once I put some time into it." Brody sampled another bite. "Mm, try the bread and cheese."

Kate tried a few various samples. "Alright, then," she said between bites, "this has made top of the list as best date ever."

He smiled at her as he put his wine glass down. "But we've just begun the date. Give it time; I'm sure I can make it go horribly wrong if you give me the chance."

Smiling, she shook her head. "Sorry, too late. No one has ever gone out of their way for me like this before. Not even close."

Brody busied himself with some more of the light fare and then asked, "Did the sauce and potatoes taste okay?"

Kate finished a bite. "The sauce could use a pinch of salt and a shake or two of oregano, but the colcannon was perfect! Did you know that's my favorite dish?"

"Yeah, kinda - I cheated."

Her brows lowered. "Ah, so who did you call?"

Brody sucked a drop of honey off of his finger. "Fiona; I was too scared to call your mother."

Kate laughed before taking a sip. Setting the glass down, she wondered, "You said this was stage one? What else have you built for me?"

With a grin, Brody replied, "Sorry, nothing. Stages two and three are in the house. We should probably get to it before the sauce burns." He looked at her and said apologetically, "Your view would have been better if it weren't raining."

Kate squinted at him in mock puzzlement. "It rains in Ireland? I've never noticed."

After collecting all the food and dishes, stacking them in a box Brody kept behind his seat, they made their way back in. Brody let the dogs out of his bedroom, and they rushed out to find Kate helping to get the meal ready and served.

Boxed food refrigerated, soft music set - and Brody welcoming Kate to stage two - they sat and enjoyed the meal and each other's company with lighthearted conversation throughout.

Kate educated Brody on some of the parlance he was confused about, and then asked more about living in the states. She mentioned that she'd want to visit there someday, but not New York, being told it was crowded, dirty and unsafe by those who had gone. He asked her if she favored living in the village as opposed to Dublin, to which Kate said she ultimately preferred a less hectic life. They then compared notes of the sights they had separately seen there.

While other simple topics such as pets and music continued, the level of comfort to the intimate setting continued to rise around them. Internally, Brody was especially enjoying the simple interaction, noting how Kate's responses and level of affection remained steady. There were other times in the last few days when her reactions to him fluctuated from shy and unsure, to clingy and possessive. He assumed it was just her slowly coming to face her fears, whatever those may have been.

After the meal was finished and dishes were set to soak, Brody felt it was time to move the evening along. He stood, made quick mention of 'stage three', asked for Kate's hand, and led her into the living room. After seating her, he found the disc he burned from his computer and played it as a DVD on the big screen television.

He settled in beside her and, in reply to Kate's query, said it was more of a slideshow rather than a movie, and hoped she would enjoy it. Photos appeared on the screen, slowly fading from one into the next, all showing shots taken from the Lynch family collection, and a few shots offered from Don Keller's office.

Brody had to occasionally halt the slideshow to explain certain images, or allow Kate to study something. It began with grandparents, all passing on in various years between his third and twelfth birthdays. There were a few photos including the family dog, Bandit, who expired when Brody was seventeen, and many shots of his parents through the years before they were killed.

Mixed in with those shots were a number of scattered photos of Brody, from his early youth to well into his teens (even two with Jamal in them); random photos of Christmases, parties, vacations, high school football games and graduation. After those were work snapshots that included Brody and Don; ending with a few of the Keller's that included Marie.

Brody turned to Kate after it ended. "That's where my fear came from, Kate. I know it's crazy and superstitious, but when the people I loved, or came to love, kept dying, I began to believe the pattern. It kept me from getting close with anyone else. It's why I moved all the way here, leaving a home full of ghosts and emptiness. I figured I could find some peace somewhere far away, just start over, clean slate. In my idiot's way of thinking, I figured I would eventually make friends no matter where I went or what I did, but if I kept them at arm's length that they'd be safe... that I'd be safe.

"And then I saw you. At first I couldn't read your reactions, but then you gave me signs that you were interested as well. While I was trying to get to know you better, I kept reminding myself that getting close to someone was the reason I started over in the first place. I couldn't get you off my mind, and I've met great people like Jack and Fiona... I've been fighting with my stupid demons ever since. And then I got some great advice, and a story to boot, and it changed everything. So, here we are."

Kate let his short speech sink in. "You'll soon learn over here that someone explaining a story's origins before telling it is a story unto itself."

"I just wanted to explain why I was cautious at first. I just hope you don't... um." He gave a quick look away in thought. "Don't think me daft... for my fears."

She looked up into his eyes and placed a soft hand on his cheek. "I don't think less of you at all. How could I? I'm just sad for your losses, and that I can't meet your family. I'm sure they were all quite sound - that means good sorts. They made you who you are, and I would've wanted to thank them for that." Kate brushed her lips softly on his and leaned back with a gentle smile.

He mirrored her expression. With her small hand in his large, enveloping grip, he said, "There's a bit more, okay?" She nodded. "Kate, I think that trust is earned, but it has to start with a little faith. What I see in your eyes gives me that faith - faith in you... and offered from you, I hope."

Kate leaned closer with a smiling sigh. "Oh, to be sure; there's faith, and more. I'm glad you could see it, because I'd have trouble voicing it."

"I hope you don't mind us talking about important things like this so soon. It's just that, to me, this is something more than infatuation and lust. I know we're still finding out about each other, but I want to learn everything, and wouldn't hold any secrets back if you asked... Not that I have much to tell. The thing is, I like having you near me, and I'm starting to get greedy for it."

Smiling with a rosy blush, Kate remembered to breathe before she replied, "I'm pleased more than you know that you feel that way. You've put words to my own thoughts. Sorry if I'm not very eloquent about it; I've never felt a connection like this before and I'm not sure what's proper." She looked down at her hands, and then back up into his eyes. "But I know I'd rather not be anywhere else than here with you. Like you said, I feel that this is more than first date fumbling and sexually driven curiosity."

"Well," Brody said with a grin, "that's part of it, too."

"True," Kate said with reddening cheeks. "Along with those urges, though, there's something more. I've felt it from the first. It's... intoxicating. I'd like to see you as much as you'd let me."

Brody leaned in and found her soft lips with his. The slow, sensuous kiss lingered until he gently pulled back and said, "But what if I told you I spent most of the money I had; moving here, this house, the car, hiring Jack? That I had little else, and maybe started looking like the 'dosser' that Fiona warned of?"

Kate happily rebuked. "I think you're a capable man, Brody Lynch, and you'd do well enough for yourself in any circumstance. I can't see a dosser sign ever being hung on you. And if your funds were slim, then I'd say sell your slick car, get a shite-on-wheels like mine, and make your way. But," she pointed her finger her finger at him, "Do not ever sell this home. It is simply brilliant."

"Then you wouldn't mind going forward with someone without much going for him?"

"I'm going forward with you, not just someone. I didn't fall for your wallet, Mr. Lynch. As I said, I think you could always find a way for whatever you wanted." Kate resettled into the couch cushions, reclined back as he was. "Honestly, I didn't even think you might be a man of means until you offered to hire my brother's company. And even then, it wasn't the first thing on my mind - far from it, to be honest."

Brody's wide smile was genuine. "That's very good news." Kate returned his warmth with a smile of her own as he continued. "The thing is, I still want to offer you a job, and I think I can afford it." He took a deep breath. "To be honest, I'm not poor. But I want my money to do something meaningful, not blow it on useless crap. I'd rather be happy than rich, and I came here to see if I could find some peace of mind again."

Kate's eyes shifted from Brody's and down to his hand, where she began tracing her delicate fingers along his large knuckles. "You don't sound very fond of your wealth."

"Well, think of how I got it," he replied, noticing that her eyes stayed focused on her caresses. "I suppose you could say I was lucky, but it's basically compensation from losing everyone I ever loved." Kate's head turned up to him, eyes formerly filled with esteem suddenly shot through with sadness. His grin was melancholy. "Loses some of its luster now, doesn't it?"

"You don't want it?"

"I never said that," he answered. "I can imagine what both of my parents would be saying. My mom, always giving her time to others, offering her famous pies and cookies to one event or another, would be telling me to help my neighbor, to give if I could. My dad, on the other hand, would tell me charity is all well and fine, but no one is going to look after me but me. Be careful, spend on what matters, enjoy some, but plan ahead. And," he went on, remembering back to what was only a short time ago, "my friend Jamal reminded me that getting rid of it wouldn't exactly honor my parents' memories."

"And yet you want me to help make you more?"

Brody leaned in and kissed her, reclining with a smile. "Only for a purpose; you'd be my guide there, and help keep some things anonymous."

"Your desire for anonymity is logical," she replied, "and I give you my word that what you've shared with me stays with us, but you've lost me on the rest."

"You know the village and county a hell of a lot better than I do. I want to help improve things where I can, but don't have many options to start. I don't trust your boss, and I've already given a bit to the church. On the other hand, you'd know where to go and how to handle it. I figured sooner or later people would learn you're working for me, so I couldn't really stay anonymous with any financial support around here. Then again, if you arranged for donations outside of the area as a contact for an unknown patron, I could at least stay off that radar."

Kate shook her head. "I'm sorry, but you've underestimated the speed and range of gossip. It would get to curious minds anywhere that I worked for you, sooner or later. So if you worked through me to be a secret Santa, it wouldn't last long."

"Well, shit."

Kate put one hand on Brody's thigh; the other found his fist and intertwined her fingers into it. "The best way for you to reach out to others - which completely warms my heart, I'll have you know - is to be strictly anonymous to keep your name out of it. But didn't you say that you wanted to be part of the village? Integrate yourself?"

"Yeah, I did, but I don't want a line of people at my door with their hands out. This is my refuge, and I want to keep it that way."

Kate nodded. "Then for the majority, silent donations are the way to go. And I'd be happy to help you on both fronts - the markets, and giving to the right people. But I certainly do not expect to be paid for it. Assisting you - or doing anything with you - is pay enough."

Brody's heart swelled. He slid a hand around her, pulling Kate onto his lap, her thighs and calves on the outside of his own. "That's why you'd deserve it." He caressed her slender shoulders, followed by a slow, smoldering kiss.

Finally pulling back, Kate lightly admonished, "The only connection I want with you going around is of the romantic nature, Brody Lynch."

Their glowing gaze cast the world aside, leaving only those two in that safe place, held in intimate purity. Then Brody remembered something, and his eyes squinted at her. "What you said earlier... You said you didn't fall for my wallet...?"

Kate blushed furiously. Her head lowered and she leaned into him. Finding courage in the face of her fears, she lifted her eyes to his and raked her fingers through his hair. "And what did you say not long ago? Have I not been obvious enough?" Their mouths melded together again, lingering and sensuous. Their contact finally broke; Kate breathed deeply, trying to keep her racing heart in check. She softly leaned her forehead against his and whispered, "This hit me so quickly, so suddenly..."

"Too soon, you mean?" Brody asked as he leaned forward and tasted her neck. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I'll wait, Kate, as long as you need."

With a groan of pure emotion escaping her lips, Kate cradled his head and planted her lips on his again. After a time of writhing and moaning into each other's mouths, she broke the kiss and whispered, "Brody, I'm - I'm afraid of the words... but my heart is singing them. The thought of being without you scares me to death."

Brody wrapped one arm firmly around Kate's slender form. He braced his other arm and used powerful legs to stand with her still wrapped around him, her ankles crossed behind his back and arms around his neck. He brought his other hand to her delicate features and brushed the hair from her eyes. "Then you have nothing to be scared of. Be with me. Stay with me."

His low, hungry voice sent shivers through Kate. She felt his heart pounding with hers, the abundant swell of his need pressed against her, and the firm warmth of his muscular arms surrounding her. Denying her fears and giving in to her rampant desire, she said, "Don't wait."

Their lips molded together once more as Brody carried Kate to his bed.

Chapter 25

Wrapped in the heat of their mutual hunger, Brody was delighted in Kate's erotic dichotomies: slender, yet with ample curvature; hesitant, yet assertive in her desire; shy at times, then alternately bold; yielding to his initiations, then wanton in her reciprocations. Kate felt unskilled in carnal pleasures, yet truly uninhibited in Brody's presence. Initially unsure of herself, she let him lead her to that sense of freedom, his large and masculine body goading her to heights she never imagined. Brody had never felt so desired, and Kate never so complete.

They smoothly writhed, pulling and straining, kissing in desperation or panting and moaning with blissful exertions. He willed himself to endure as their perspiring bodies took their need of each other. She could never before have imagined feeling so wanted, overwhelmed with bliss, and she lost herself to his firm manipulations over and over. It was, for both of them, more than sating their lusty cravings; the connection, the heady intimacy, quelled both of their fears and let Brody and Kate finally and fully bond without reservation.

Sometime later in the night, Kate found herself next to Brody as he lounged next to her, propped on one elbow. She kept on her back, panting and replete. Her last memory was of a final crescendo building while he gave his final efforts into her.

She only found the strength to turn her head to him as she tried to catch her breath. "Hi." With her blurry yet acclimated vision to diffused moonlight through the window, Kate could still discern the sheen of sweat on his corded arms. His hair was disheveled, and he wore a crooked grin on his handsome face. His broad chest rose as he took deep breaths.

Brody brushed a strand of her damp hair from her face. "I lost you for a second there."

"Oh. Should I apologize?" she panted, "Or can I just lay here and enjoy this for a bit?"

Brody pressed himself alongside her prone, delicious body. "Don't worry about it. I was kinda gone for a second myself."

They lay there in silence, basking in the afterglow. Finally, Kate caught her breath, but still in wonder at the intensity of their lovemaking. "I've... never experienced anything so amazing before. I couldn't even have dreamed it."

He laid his head next to hers and gazed up in wonder. "Same here; I - I knew it'd be intense, but I didn't... I mean, damn, Kate."

They both stared at the ceiling for a moment, fingers intertwined. Kate managed to say, "That was beyond... I never imagined that it... I - You've stunned me."

Brody took another deep breath as a wide grin formed. "Well, I told you there'd be consequences for giving the extra bacon to my dogs."

Kate found the strength to attack him, and he allowed her to pin him under her, relishing her warm, smooth skin on his.

With her mouth directly over his, eyes searching each other in the near dark, she said, "What am I going to do with you, Brody Lynch?"

He gently pulled his arms free and wrapped them around her. "Take your time, you'll think of something. If you don't, I'll give you some ideas." Their kiss was long and slow and playful. He pulled back gently and moved her body off of his own. As Brody got up, strolling comfortably naked toward the door, he said, "Freshen up, I'll be right back."

Kate sauntered into the en-suite bath, finding herself embarrassed yet giddy as she sponged away the sweat of their loving toils and proof of their passions. Rinsing the wash rag, she remembered those first mumbled words as he settled them on his bed. He quickly inquired, "Johnnies?" between kisses, and she in turn grunted, "Pill," as his hands had begun to roam. Where did Brody learn that term, 'johnnies'?

Kate heard a toilet flush from the hall lavatory, and then some distant rummaging in the kitchen before Brody reappeared. She admired his naked body as he strolled back in with his thick, muscular arms curled around cups of juice and a few of the appetizer containers. Setting them down on the bedside table, he grinned at Kate and then hesitated as his eyes stayed on her.

"What?" Kate felt a bit self-conscious, standing naked in front of him, even in the dim glow.

"God, you're beautiful." She felt the heat rise from her chest to her face. "Here," he said, hopping onto the bed, "have a drink, and help me eat this."

Brody had already begun snacking as she sat back on the bed and retrieved a cup. "I could certainly use a drink \- I'm parched." She took two long pulls and then looked over to him while he sampled. "Why all the food, though?"

"It's to get our strength back up." He leaned toward Kate with a morsel in his fingertips, as if to feed her. "I'm not through with you yet."

Chapter 26

In one of Dublin's more dodgy areas, he watched from an alley as the bar fight spilled out onto the small side-street. Lorcan only instigated it as a recreational break from his ponderings. He sat on a waste bin with only a passing interest in the brawl, unsure of how to proceed with the three Americans. Normally he'd let the chaos flow where it may, but Lorcan had set them on a quest, and without another nudge in the right direction they would surely flounder. He could simply let them do so and see where their frustration took them, but those fools would be apprehended quickly on their own.

If Lorcan kept them on a proper course, however, the mayhem might be more substantial. Not only would Lorcan gain some prestige - or infamy - from those he knew here in Ireland for directing such a play, but it would also be a damn lot of fun.

The problem was, even when the trio got to Ballaghadaere, they had no idea who to look for, and he had no faith in them to proceed on their own wits. Lorcan had only one logical choice, as much as he disliked it. He'd have to go see the oracle.

There was no high regard held for the uncanny witch, only a grudging respect... and perhaps a touch of wariness. But once the haggling was over and a bargain struck for information, then my, oh my, the party would roll on. Lorcan, remembering the simple, subtle means of asking for an audience from other fae long ago, hopped down and began a search further into the alley. He found what he needed along a wall where two buildings butted unevenly. The spider was almost invisible as it hung just below its web, but the distant street lamp gave enough light to reveal furtive, elusive movement.

Lorcan captured the small arachnid in his cupped hands, and brought them to his lips. In a hushed tone, he spoke to the spider in his loose grasp. "I seek a meeting with Enochia." He then repeated it twice more, as per the custom. Beyond that, Lorcan had no idea how to proceed. He'd made a proper request; he could only wait.

An image suddenly formed in Lorcan's mind, one not of his doing. The vision of a door clarified; old wood, held with rusty strap hinges, and a circular knocker painted blue, chipped and faded. With the image came a sentiment of allowance, as if a head nodded. Lorcan knew he could simply travel to that door in an instant without knowing where it was. He thought to himself, 'That crafty bitch probably knew it as well; that's why she only sent the door.'

Knowing the invitation would quickly pass, Lorcan willed himself to the door. He found himself directly in front of it, and barely took notice of the small and crumbling stone farmhouse that sat alone in the deep night, surrounded by desolate fields.

With his small stature, Lorcan had to reach for the knocker. After a few hasty taps, the door silently eased open to a small receiving room, cluttered with piles of random, dusty items and the skittering of insects He stepped in and saw a narrow doorway past an old book case. Lorcan thought little of the front door shutting behind him as he made his way to the next room.

The size of the gathering room defied the outer dimensions of the old house, but such was the way of some fae manipulations with their havens. In the center of the large dilapidated room sat Enochia at a round, black-draped table with a single lit candle in the center.

Lorcan stepped in and took a seat on the other Victorian chair across from her. He paid little notice of the musty smell and utter silence of the place, instead focusing on the renowned seer illuminated by the candle's steady flame.

Enochia's pale, blue-tinted skin accented her wild thatch of cobalt hair, with longer uncut strands blending into a light blue. Her face was inhumanly thin, defined by angular features and large indigo eyes, with long tapering pointed ears that flowed up and away from her skull. A straight, long nose and thin lips gave the impression of a stern demeanor, with little patience for banter or levity. Over a simple black dress, Enochia wore a shawl that once may have been a hunter green with intricate designs, but had faded and tattered.

Her slim, lithe form sat in a reclined pose, with hands kept on her lap. With a serene face, Enochia lifted her thin brows as if waiting for her guest to speak.

Lorcan snorted with a wide sneer and a voice that belied his preteen appearance. "So much for a warm welcome, eh?"

Enochia replied with a soft, feminine contralto voice. "I've allowed you audience. Be content with that."

"Fine, let's get to it, unless you already know what I want."

Her expression remained passive. "I know you want two pieces of information. I didn't care to remain in that vile little mind of yours to learn more. You may simply ask."

"Not a fan of mine, I see," he sniggered. "Well enough - I'm not here to gain your admiration. Now, on to it; first, I've got a running game afoot and wondered if any others might want to join in. There's a lot of potential with my plans, and a larger cast might make for quite a show. "

Enochia cocked her head minutely. "You've manipulated your agendas well enough thus far, and yet you wish to share the glory of your endeavors of havoc and share recognition?"

Lorcan's expectant grin drooped on his obscenely stretched mouth. "No... I wouldn't..."

"There's nothing wrong with doubting your abilities in a game of raised stakes. It's perfectly natural to have reservations if you find yourself lacking."

A frown gathered on his strange face. "No, I... don't..." He then realized her implications. "No! I have no doubt - none at all, if you must know. I have escalated battles. I have turned peace rallies into anarchy. I simply... Wait; what do you mean, 'raised stakes'?"

Enochia stared off for just a moment before answering. "Simply that you've been at this particular quest for longer than your usual mischief-making, and it could prove to end with quite the calamity. And," she continued, "This is a lone endeavor, unlike with the riots not too long ago."

Lorcan's grin widened. "Yeah, yeah, that was great fun."

"So," Enochia said, snapping him out of his revelry, "do you wish cohorts?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, let's forget that."

"Very well, then we shall settle the account for the first question as we proceed."

"Huh? What first question?"

"You asked what the raised stakes would be. You certainly weren't aware of the potential, and I made you aware. Not to worry, I would only ask a small boon in return... and one well within your talents."

Lorcan snarled. "Very well... but no more trickery with sly words; I could easily enough have mortals come and tear this crap-house down around you, so watch yourself."

Enochia leaned forward slightly. "You have no idea where you are, and would therefore have no idea where to send any you influenced. And, do not doubt, I could just as easily make you forget you were fae." His flinch was enough for her, so she reclined back into her seat. "Now, if you would, please watch your surly tongue and we may continue."

Lorcan slumped in a pout. "All I really want is how to locate a man named Brody Lynch."

She responded immediately. "On this Monday evening, be at Collin's pub in Ballaghadaere."

"That's it?"

"Keep your eyes and ears open. He will become known to you. Now, in return..."

Lorcan sighed. "Get it over with."

"My price for the latter is that you cause no personal, direct delay or damage to your target."

His face stretched in surprise. "What! Why not?"

"This should be no imposition for you... unless you doubt your power to motivate your clients to do your bidding."

Lorcan shook his head in disgust. He looked away and asked, "And the other?"

"My price for the former is that you use your powers of persuasion, while not inducing harm or fervor, to send a woman named Cora McCarthy to me tomorrow after sunset. Her location will become known to you when needed."

"What the hell for?"

"My reasons are my own," Enochia said with a serene smile. "Is this a bound pact?"

Lorcan pursed his lips and then finally followed the etiquette of the fae. "This is a bound pact," he grumbled. "But if I do not find the man on the night and place you named, then the curse on you will be at my discretion." He sneered again as he sat back.

"The only reason for you to fail in finding him is if you were struck blind and deaf beforehand. And the curse and its naming apply to both parties, if you'll remember. Now," Enochia nodded, "you are welcome to leave."

Lorcan scrambled out of the chair and growled, "Gladly." He stomped off, out of the room and to the front door. He opened it and saw the alley he was in earlier, in Dublin. He shook his head again and stepped through, muttering, "Crafty bitch."

Chapter 27

The rain fell soft and sure, adding a chill to the following Sunday morning. Brody lounged on the couch with a newspaper in his hand that he wasn't really looking at. All of the dogs lounged nearby, just fed, with Honey curled next to the foot that wasn't up on the coffee table.

Brody normally never bothered to bring the heat up in the house as much as that morning, but he didn't want Kate feeling cold whenever she finally woke. 'Damn, that woman can sleep,' he thought to himself, and sighed. He did have to concede, however, that the last evenings exertions, and early morning's, were draining. Brody had always been an early riser, habits of his former life carrying over.

There he sat, pondering the fact that he'd been in this new land, in his new home, only a month; good pets at his feet, a beautiful woman that he adored in his bed. He'd been keeping his hands and mind busy, in part to deflect the pain of his losses, yet also thinking of his loved ones often and hoped he was making them proud.

Keller's reaction to a small noise alerted Brody that Kate was finally up. Still reclined, he looked up expectantly, and was not disappointed. She slowly glided into view, wearing nothing but ankle socks and one of Brody's t-shirts like a nightgown. Kate paused and turned her head his way, letting a big, shy smile raise her pink cheeks. With just a moment's glance, Brody took in her mussed dark red hair that fell around her face and over her slender shoulders, the swell of her breasts under the thin garment, the curve of her pale calves.

Kate continued on her course into the kitchen, and from the sound of it went directly to the coffee maker that held a fresh pot for her. Carrying a steaming mug, she joined Brody on the couch, sat next to him and folded her legs underneath her.

"Good morning, darlin'," Brody said, placing a hand on her knee.

"Darlin'?" Kate asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

"Yeah," he replied with a simple shrug. "You walked out here, looking so delicate and sexy. It just sorta fell out of my mouth. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, I'm rather fond of the way that word sounds when you say it." She then leaned toward him for a quick kiss.

"I tried to keep the dogs quiet. Did you sleep well?"

After a sip, Kate said, "Very well, thank you. I could use a bit more, but I'll be all caught up if I slept in 'til, say, Tuesday."

Brody frowned. "Oh, that's too bad. I was forming other plans for us." She lifted her eyebrows with innocent curiosity. Brody chuckled at her reaction. "How is you aren't used to being lusted after? I mean, look at you."

Kate's soft cheeks gained a rosy hue. "I've just never had eyes on me like yours." Her words started quiet but then gained a dreamy quality, looking at him intently.

"You better get used to it, woman. You know what I felt like when I saw you walk by just a minute ago?" he said as his hand moved up her thigh. "I felt like a lion... and you were a gazelle; a radiant, wounded gazelle."

Kate voiced her soft, musical laugh. "Now I know you're daft, sir. I would hardly describe this look as edible."

"You look pretty delicious to me," he said softly and moved closer, leaning in to taste.

She reveled in his attentions as he gently feasted on her neck. After a moan of delight, Kate firmly pressed Brody away. "Please... that felt wonderful - too good, in fact. I just don't think I have much more to give you at the moment."

Brody smiled to assure her that he wasn't disappointed or offended. "Honestly, me neither. It was just some affection, darlin'. Get used to it."

Kate returned the smile, relieved. "Then do me a favor and relax it a bit or I won't be able to function properly."

They were interrupted as Pearl hopped up on the couch, laying her shaggy head on Brody's lap, allowing Kate to revive herself a bit more with the coffee's help.

"I have to say, that was a top-notch first date." She paused to blow some heat out of the mug. "I fear you'll be pressed to top it."

"Oh, so you'll see me again?" he smirked. "I thought you'd had your fun and you'd be moving on." Kate gave him a stern glare, about to respond when he continued. "I was just trying to put my best foot forward. I don't plan on all of our dates to be so... thorough."

"That sounds just as grand. If it's alright, I might even come up with a plan now and again."

"That's fine by me. But speaking of plans, may I escort you to church today? I wouldn't mind showing off my lady."

"No offense, but this is still more my town than yours, for the moment anyway. So you have it backwards; I'll be the one parading my fella, thank you very much."

With the press of time, they both agreed it was best to shower separately to avoid temptation. Brody Followed Kate back to her place and waited in her living room as she got a proper change of clothes and primped. Before he even had to remind her of the time, she was ready to go.

They made it into the cathedral as its bells began to ring. They noticed that, as always, the McCarthy clan was all seated together. Brody and Kate went to sit with them; her parents scooted over in their pew to make room.

There were a variety of reactions upon seeing Brody accompanying Kate. Jack, like his father Liam, simply gave a small smile and a nod. Jane was openly grinning. Both Fiona and Alana wore happily surprised faces, apparently seeing with their intuitions. It was supposed that Kate's mother Cora saw through that same lens; her disapproving scowl remained throughout the entire mass.

Another person that occasionally looked Brody's way was an average-sized, sandy-haired man near his own age. The stranger kept glancing back with angry glares, sometimes whispering something to a man next to him - his brother or relative, at a guess from his looks. That one also peered back as well, but not as often. Kate seemed oblivious, content with holding Brody's hand and participating in the services.

After the mass concluded, Father Doyle was in the narthex greeting parishioners as usual. Brody wanted to have a quick word with him before their departure. Kate and her family were still back by their seats chatting with others, so Brody made his way over to Father Doyle and shook his small, frail hand, remembering to keep his grip gentle.

The pastor smiled up at him. "I saw you might be in league with the McCarthy's, especially young Kate."

"Yes sir," Brody grinned back. "I went and got the best fish in the lake. I just wanted to thank you for the encouragement."

"Good for you, me boy; she's a fine lass, respectful and bright. But you can be thanking me by answering when I ring sometime soon. I might be able to put that generous heart of yours to good use."

Kate approached just ahead of her family as Brody replied to Father Doyle. "Of course; you just let me know what you need."

Kate wrapped her arm around Brody's and nodded to the old priest, not wanting to interrupt.

Father Doyle's eyes drifted down from the big American to her. "Kate McCarthy, you look after our new friend here, will ye? I'd take it as a favor if you'd keep this man in better health, him being so sickly."

They shared a quick laugh before Brody and Kate moved aside for others to pass. "You met up like you're fast friends," she commented to him. "Do you have any other new mates or ladies that I've yet to learn of?" She said it in teasing fashion, but Brody noted hint of insecurity.

He decided not to mention it. "Actually, I'd like to speak with your parents." Kate's expression was of mild surprise to Brody's request. "Yes, both of them; pretty brave of me, right?"

She shook her head slowly, as if already mourning his passing. "You have no idea."

"But you'll be there, which will help things go a lot more smoothly."

"Fat chance, that."

Brody stayed back and waited for the elder McCarthy's, who were sharing a few words with Father Doyle. Kate moved nearer the doors to chat with her niece Ella. Jack came up to Brody, shook hands, pointed out a few details of the next day's commencement, and then moved off.

During that brief talk, Brody noticed the sandy-haired man and his kin walk by, eyeing not him but the unwary Kate as they exited. Brody was about to approach Liam and Cora, who were issuing farewells and about to depart, when a woman stepped in front of him. His mind was trying to place a name to the curly brown hair when she spoke.

"Mr. Lynch? Howya, I'm Alana Quinn, if you'll remember?"

"Oh, right, Miss Quinn. How are you?" he replied distractedly as he watched Kate's parents moving off.

"Right as rain, thanks," she piped right along. "I just wanted to say, Kate is all but glowing today, which means you horsed it right in. Well done." Brody didn't quite follow, but let her continue. "Now, and I hope you'll take this will all due respect, but if you cause my Kate any tears, there'll be skin and bones flyin', alright?" Surprisingly, she voiced her threat quietly and with a pleasant, rosy smile. "But on a good note," Alana said as she patted him on the chest, "I've never seen her so tickled, so you keep up the good work."

Brody blinked. "Um, sure; I plan on keeping Kate happy." Alana simply nodded and moved on.

He inadvertently followed Alana out in attempts to talk with Liam and Cora, noting the rain had relented. Brody saw them just outside with Kate, apparently at her request to wait for his arrival. He nodded to each of her parents in turn. "Hello again, Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy; thanks for giving me a minute of your time."

"Can we be of some help, Mr. Lynch?" Liam inquired with a pleasant smile. His wife however, gave Brody a sour look, as if he'd just farted in church.

Undaunted, he continued. "Yes sir, you can. I've begun courting your daughter," Kate took his hand at that point; he flashed her quick smile, and then turned back to her parents. "And I wanted to invite you both to dinner and hopefully earn your consent."

"I see - trying to buy our acceptance," Cora said haughtily. "No surprise, coming from a Yank,"

Liam turned to his wife and said, "Cora love, if you're to be like that, then you can wait in the car." He then turned back to Brody with that same easy smile. "That's a fine offer, but do I have to ask ... Aren't ye just here on the short term?"

"No sir. I have an extended visa and can easily make it permanent once it expires." He paused for a deep breath. "I'm very interested in your daughter, and I think she feels the same." Brody felt Kate's hand squeeze his at that. "I just want to get to know you as well, and do right by her. I'm just trying to do the honorable thing here."

"So, you're honorable," Cora's simple words dripped with sarcasm.

Brody thought that if Kate hadn't had such a happy demeanor, her mother might have been none the wiser. Or he was misinterpreting Cora's disdain, mainly from the awkward situation of having Kate in his bed and then a short time later sitting near her parents in a church. Whatever the woman's assumptions, Brody thought hers would be for the worst. Hell, it wasn't like he brought farm animals into the bedroom, or offered sacrifices to the pagan god of debauchery. But, he conceded, gaining favor with one out of two was still good enough.

"It sounds fine by us, Mr. Lynch," Liam said as he ignored his wife's venom.

"Great, thank you. I'll just let Kate handle getting the best time for you, and please feel free to pick the restaurant."

They nodded their farewells, and Brody released a deep breath. Kate pressed against him. "I don't understand it," she said, watching her parents drive off. "You have the opposite effect on my mother that you do on me."

"She's not that lovely all the time?"

"Hmm; she's normally disapproved in some fashion of the few men I've brought around, but nothing like this."

"Aren't I the lucky one," he grumbled.

Alana traipsed up casually. "Brody, if I may?"

He nodded with a mild grin. "Alana."

"I'd like to steal your bird for the day, if I might; a bit o' time for the ladies."

He glanced at Kate, who wore a simple, questioning look. "Don't let me mess up your routine. I have some things to do before Jack comes tomorrow, anyway." With a quick smirk, he added, "You two have fun talking about me behind my back."

Alana chuckled. "Never fear, your ears will be in flames before you arrive home. I'll release her later, once I've squeezed the details out of her."

"We'll just be gone for the afternoon," Kate offered. "Can I meet up with you later?"

"I won't be interfering with your plans?" They both shook their heads amiably. "Okay, give me a call and I'll come pick you up. We can go get a bite or something."

"Sorry, nothing will be open." Kate stepped up to him. "Can I just knock later? I can help finish off your leftovers."

"You'll have to fight the dogs for them, but that's fine by me."

Kate tiptoed and gave him a quick, wet kiss. "Until then, my sweet man," she said longingly. The two women then walked off, already conversing on their way to Alana's car.

Chapter 28

Ben Wagner spent his Sunday brunch alone in a hotel dining room while his dad and uncle were sleeping off their late evening at the bar. He sat at a corner table with the laptop and a mostly forgotten plate of food. Some searches were made of the town closest to where his cousin lived. The name of the place was written on a bar napkin left next to his bed; his dad and uncle must have inquired of the town the night before. It was spelled 'Ballaghadaere', but an internet pronunciation site spoke it differently.

Ben knew that his dad and uncle had individual plans for the day, so they'd all probably make their way out to Balla-whatever the next morning. His dad wanted to do some 'financial planning', more than likely to mean that he was making plans so that Ben had no further access to any account come the next day, when banks were open. His Uncle Pete said he needed to do some shopping for specialty items, which couldn't mean anything good.

So the plan was, they'd be going to some sleepy village in a foreign country and somehow extort money from a relative he'd never even met. Odds were that it wasn't going to be so cut and dry, thanks and bye, not with how Uncle Pete was handling business.

Ben had also done a bit of research on his cousin, Brody, which wasn't much on paper. Parents died in an accident. Ben never met his Aunt Rose, rarely heard her name from his relatives, and knew nothing about her. Then his cousin earned some builders award thing, which was some sort of proof that he wasn't a slack-ass. Then Brody's boss died and leaves the whole fuckin' thing to him, the lucky prick.

Maybe this cousin was a decent guy, maybe a world-class ass-kisser. Ben thought that if his dad and uncle died, like Brody's parents did, he'd be gone so quick he'd have whiplash. Then again, he was pretty sure his pop would have had nothing to leave behind except four acres of rust and dust.

Overall, Ben was trying to figure out if his greedy ticket to freedom was justified. His dad always said that family sticks together... So why did Aunt Rose move away? And wasn't this stranger family? So maybe if Lynch was an asshole, Ben might be okay with all of this. But what if he was a cool guy, and didn't mind helping out relatives? Would his dad and uncle change their tunes then? Hell no.

Ben realized that it truly didn't matter how he felt; the shit would hit the fan no matter what.

***

After returning home, Brody wanted to enjoy some time with his dogs. Walking the property also gave his mind time to wander, gathering ideas and formulating future plans. As he strolled and absently watched them investigate unfound scents, Brody found that he was currently in a holding pattern: for Kate to arrive and discuss where some funding might help; for Jack to come in the morning so he could finally get into some highly anticipated projects; for an appropriate way to figure out why Kate's mother was so hostile to him.

Brody felt a bit helpless, being reactive instead of creating his own initiatives like he had envisioned even before arriving there. Like tapping a stone into place, he finally resolved to do just that, if only in small gestures. He had time to scour the net and do a bit of research on minor community-assistance programs before Kate arrived. They were always trying for donations and government grants, and Brody started thinking of ways to help without causing much of a stir.

He opened the door when Kate knocked and immediately took her hand, leading her into the house. Her smile faded into concern as his firm grip led her into the kitchen. He silently pulled out a chair, gestured for Kate to sit, and took a seat catty-cornered, facing her. He reached out for her hand again. Kate, seeing Brody's expression - serene yet set, like he had made his mind up about something - gladly offered it.

"I'm going to clear the air about a few things. I would normally let some things work themselves out, but this is too important to me to wait for any misunderstandings, okay?"

Kate nodded. "Of course; I'd like to hear it."

"Okay, here we go." Brody took a deep breath. "One of my passions is to build, to create, but don't ever feel that I'm choosing that over you. I'll just want to be on my own to do those things from time to time. That's just how I work, and I'll want room for it. That goes both ways. If you have stuff to do on your own, go do it. I want you to live your own life. I just want to be part of it. I'm not possessive or demanding or even very jealous, but don't ever think that I'm not always thinking about you."

He took a breath. "Here's the big thing. Every now and then I can see you feeling insecure. I don't know what hurt you before me, and that's up to you to tell me about that or not. Just get this in your head, okay? I am crazy about you. I have never been so attracted to a woman, inside and out. I will treat you like the lady you are, but I'll also lust for you no matter where we're at or what we're doing." He shrugged with a light grin. "Sorry, it's a guy thing.

"Anyway, I am giving you my word that I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want to." He let out a long sigh. "That's all I got."

Kate took a minute to look at him while petting Pearl, who was pressed against her thigh. She felt a strong reaction to Brody's heartfelt words, and wanted to compose herself. "You keep surprising me. We've only spent a fair bit of time together, and I have no idea what you'll do next. I don't want to stifle your creativity, but I'll take all the time you might offer. I - I'm very flattered by what you said. And you're right, I'm sometimes scared - scared of how you make me feel. But it's an issue I'm facing, and the more time I spend near you is surely helping. So be patient, please; I've never dealt with the frantic pace you've set my heart in." She squeezed his hand as a tear rolled down her cheek. "That heart is yours, if you'll have it."

Brody's free hand reached out to wipe Kate's sudden tear, and a smile grew on his face. "Mine for yours? Sounds like a fair trade."

Their smiling faces came together, letting the contact on their lips linger. Brody pulled back and gazed at Kate; he thought her face was truly angelic at that moment. Glad for their open and cleansing short talk, he got up and started uncovering food dishes. With his back to her, he asked, "Did you and Alana have a good time?"

"It was quite the, em, entertaining chat," Kate replied with a lilt in her voice while she dabbed at her eyes.

He glanced back over his shoulder and saw her smiling. "How entertaining are we talking about? Should I be embarrassed the next time I see her?"

"You have nothing to be mortified about. Some of her questions just brought to mind all the little details I don't know of yet."

He turned back to his task. "Like what? Ask anything you want."

"Very well; I'll just quiz away then, shall I?"

"Be my guest - bring 'em on."

Kate cleared her throat as Brody continued reheating foods and preparing dishes. "Do you have kin in Ireland? If so, have you contacted them? I'd also like to know other things; the type of books you like, your shoe size, where else you've traveled, your birthday, all sorts of things."

Brody answered without turning, but raised his head in thought. "Let's see... Possibly, no, fiction and suspense, fifteen, nowhere besides the Midwest of the states except for a B.A.C. union conference in Vegas twice, and... What was that last one?"

"Your birthday."

"Oh, yeah; it's tomorrow."

"Your birthday is tomorrow?!"

"Yep, pretty sure."

"Then what would you like?"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'. I'll be pretty busy tomorrow, anyway. I finally can get my teeth into a bigger project, and that's gift enough to me. But, if you feel the need, then take me out sometime soon for a night at a pub."

Kate remained fixed on Brody and watched his muscles lightly flex and release as he stirred a steamy pot. Their initial conversation had left her feeling elated, but that euphoria had eased its way into passion as she studied his masculine form. "Settled, but... would you care for anything else?" she said huskily, somewhat surprised yet excited by her own boldness.

Brody turned with a grin growing on his face. "Dinner can wait."

Chapter 29

Lorcan flew toward the stationary, flickering lights at twilight, given by Enochia's impulse of direction. He gave little heed of location and simply flew with great haste, preoccupied with the plan in his head. As he neared the pulsing lights, Lorcan saw that it was actually two pixies spinning and circling each other up in the air as they made their bodies emanate like lightning bugs. He drew up to the diminutive females and saw by their dipping and swooping flight that they meant for him to look down.

He saw a home below him, near the outskirts of some village. Lorcan's attention was then drawn back up; the pixies darted away with a speed he envied. Down below, a couple sat on a back lawn patio. Lorcan drifted down as they continued to chat and watch the sunset together. He could only assume the dark-haired, middle-aged woman was the target.

Without landing, he 'nudged' her to go to the oracle as soon as possible. Lorcan's plan was to watch where the McCarthy woman might go and lead him to Enochia's haven. The woman remained for a few minutes before excusing herself. Minutes later, she was seen getting into a car and began to drive.

Lorcan followed with a wide smile until he noticed his vision betraying him. He could still see fields and trees and the road perfectly well, but the car he followed began to blur and fade. Within another minute, the car had disappeared from his perfect vision. Lorcan's rage at being thwarted bubbled over as he roared into the darkening skies, and flung dark, indiscriminate urges out into the night.

Within a mile of that remote location, a few of those wild urges found victims. A wife yelled at her husband with a wild claim and then struck him, three siblings began to fight with the intent to cause great harm, and a farmer jumped out of the high loft doors of his own barn.

*

As Cora drove into the night, the main thought in her head was to go where the impulse took her. What also nagged at her throughout the erratic drive was that she lied to Liam. He was a good man, and didn't deserve his trust to be abused. But he wouldn't understand the sudden compulsion - she didn't herself - and so she'd given him a simple story to follow her urge. She drove and drove, mentally coerced to take this road and that, until she found herself lost on an old dirt-packed farm road.

Cora's compelling need to find something or someone strengthened when she saw a dim light on in front of an old farmhouse up to the right. She pulled into what remained of the gravel driveway, and took in the obvious abandonment of it. Cora wondered why a light would be on in front of such a condemnable cottage, but there must be someone there who might tell her where she was, or why she was drawn to such a lonely and desolate place.

The dim light was a flashlight tied to the door knocker. From the electric glow, Cora could see the haggard, dead lawn, the warped roofline, and the crumbling mortar of the stone walls.

'This is so foolish, such utter madness', she thought to herself as her hand hesitated to knock. But the compulsion would not be denied. She had simply put a finger onto the peeling paint of the knocker when the door eased silently open, as if pushed by a breeze.

The entry was dark, but the low flicker of light from an adjoining room glowed softly in through a doorway. Trembling with fear, Cora edged slowly in. The flickering light moved, and then soft footsteps approached the inner doorway. Cora was frozen in place as a female appeared. The tall, thin woman was swathed in dark clothing, and wore a heavy veil and hood, leaving only large eyes visible.

The strange host held up the candle with a gloved hand and softly said, "Cora McCarthy, it has been long and long since we've last spoken. Come, we have more to discuss."

***

Perhaps it was because of the near-constant proximity to humans that Oriana had begun to adopt their strange ethics, but she felt a bit like a voyeur. She stood in the northernmost paddock of Brody Lynch's holdings, remotely viewing the erotic, animalistic coupling of the lovers through the eyes of Lynch's pets. Oriana came back to herself to allow Brody and Kate their privacy.

Oriana noticed that the rain had begun to fall from the night sky and pulled up her hood. She thought that, despite the rain, where she stood was a prime location. It was bordered by low walls, a tree line, and the lake; the air was sweet, and the solitude deep. The geese would be wintering in this area soon, taking the place of nesting mice and squirrels. The locale was also central to nearby villages, especially Ballaghadaere, and Oriana would also be close to the growing glamour of the Lynch cottage.

She gave no specific thoughts to a haven of her own, other than using that north paddock as a standard of what she yearned for. She considered looking for a small parcel to claim, perhaps even offering minor debts to some tinkers to build a small place with a hearth. Whatever she found might pale in comparison, but she could always come to the Lynch property for a visit.

Oriana was brought out of her musings by soft tickling sensation on her fingers. She looked down and saw a spider crawling on her hand. It was a sign; Enochia had sent a request.

***

Cora found herself sitting at a circular table that was draped with a black cloth that hung to the floor, which sat in a dusty, cluttered, surprisingly large room. Across from her sat the gaunt woman, completely covered in dark, tattered regalia and wraps, pouring them both teas into china cups.

As primly as the strange woman was pouring the tea, Cora expected to see her pinky finger extended. Except that she didn't have one... on either hand. Her host's hands were mutilated, yet the fine gloves were made for someone with missing digits. Cora slightly recoiled reflexively.

The woman said with a soothing voice, "I see you've noticed one of the differences between us." She set the teapot aside and reclined into her high-backed chair. "That is the cause for one of my monikers - Enochia of Eight. I am also known as Enochia Eversight, or Enochia the Oracle. But, since we are already acquainted, we may dismiss formalities. Please, call me Enochia."

"Begging your pardon, Miss, but how are we acquainted? I don't know you in the slightest." Cora's voice rose with panic. "I don't even bloody well know where I am!"

"Please calm yourself, Cora Gilroy. Or at least the surname was Gilroy when I first knew of you. It is McCarthy now, yes? Married to that nice man Liam all these years, I understand."

"Aye, it's McCarthy. Look, what is this? What do you want? Why am I here?"

The cloth-swathed woman casually lifted a hand from her lap halt any further questions. "Let me put you at ease." Enochia dropped her hand back into her lap. "You ultimately came here at my bidding. I know what your soul's secret is, Cora. It is the reason for your angst early in life, and also the reasons for your bitterness after your children were born."

Cora paled. "I... I don't - "

"The reason for your felt injustices, whether merited or not," Enochia went on, "is because your father, who seemingly abandoned you, was not of this realm - he was fae. You learned that when it was revealed to you that your children potentially bore gifts, and thus your lineage was given." Enochia leaned forward. "I know all this because it was I who informed you."

Cora tried to calm herself; she closed her gaping mouth and released the hard, thick table from a tight grip. She took a deep breath and tried to regain reason; she was a woman of composure, after all. "I do believe I would have remembered you."

"You don't remember me because I did not wish you to. It was the message that was important, not the messenger."

"And... you knew how all this came to be?"

"That is not currently important."

Cora rose a few inches out of her chair when she exclaimed, "It's damn well important to me!"

Enochia cocked her head and waited in silence until the human took her seat again. "I've been told that being raised from a single parent in the time of your youth carried a social stigma. There was nothing to be done for that, but you were looked after in a fashion. You never went without, your home items were tinkered on occasion; your mother always had the luck to find the means she needed. And then, when I came to you to inform you of your children, lest you were to send them away for showing... abnormalities, you became bitter. You felt cheated that gifts skipped a generation, that your children might have abilities that you felt should be yours in compensation for your own childhood." Enochia left her hood up but removed her veil. She took a sip of tea, ignoring her guest's intent stare. "Your feelings are your own. I am not here to judge."

Cora's blood had come to a boil from the casually given condemnations. "You sit there, all strange and formal, and - and... blue, casually mentioning the humiliations I've suffered, all the anguish of unfairness laid in my lap, as if it were a trifle! You know nothing of what it was like! How dare you!" Cora rose and turned to leave, and saw that the doorway was no longer there. She spun back around to Enochia, eyes wild with fear.

The oracle gestured toward Cora's cup of still-warm tea. "Stay for a bit longer, enjoy the tea." Her guest slowly resumed her seat, and Enochia continued. "I must say, just as a formality, that a modicum of respect would do you well. Now, may we continue?"

"It appears I don't have..." Cora cleared her throat. "Very well, please continue... Enochia." She reached for her cup with a shaky hand.

"Very well; I will not feign compassion for you. Nor will I express any for your daughter, Kate. However, your actions and treatment have affected her abilities in an adverse way. You have weakened her. It is only with the turn of recent events that she has unknowingly seen the positive potential in herself."

Cora set down her cup briskly. "If you're referring to that big American, then Kate will - "

"Cora McCarthy! We are not here to speak of your own misgivings!" Enochia made sure that her guest was silenced before explaining further. "Your daughter has potential gifts that may save her life, but she cannot achieve them while your cloud of resentment still looms over her."

Cora was alarmed. "What do you mean, 'save her life'? Is my daughter in danger?"

Enochia nodded. "A storm comes for the one called Brody Lynch, and Kate stands in its path." She raised a hand, seeing that Cora was about to speak. "This was not of his doing, and she would stand with him in any event. It is best that she were better prepared, for her own sake. Do you agree? Do you wish to save your daughter?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then go to her soon. Explain to her all I have explained to you. But know this: Kate might only be able to achieve her potential where she feels the most unfettered, where her heart is at peace. You are the only one to help her understand herself, but she may need more than you beyond that. If that is to be, then she must call for Oriana."

"What is an o - who is Oriana?"

"One who would assist, if need be."

Cora took a deep breath and nodded her head. "I will. I will talk to my daughter." She looked into Enochia's captivating blue eyes. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you enjoyed the tea. I must apologize for pressed time but I'm expecting another guest soon, and I'm sure Liam will worry if you're out for long. But, before we part ways again, I think I should impart one more piece of information - something that may give you some small consolation..."

Chapter 30

Jack and his crew - two brothers, Tom and Dan Gavin - arrived early on a cloudy Monday morning in a loaded supply truck, finding Brody already tearing out the old patio. They soon after jumped right in, which gave Brody time to haul heavy border stones the outlined area.

His mind occasionally went back to the previous evening, and the carnal activities that played out in his kitchen. There was a bit of time afterwards to discuss different charity foundations before Kate sadly had to get home. However, Brody was thinking more of local needs and creating a more noticeable impact for the people in the area.

He stopped his labors soon after lunch break, cleaned up, and told Jack he had free use of the cottage as needed. With a grin, Brody added that the dogs would keep them in line. He then gathered up his notes and drove off with the assumption to easily be back before the crew ended for the day.

*

Luke and Elizabeth Shanahan operated a youth program out of their home on the outskirts of Sligo City, and kept a rented storage shed not far from. With a love and concern for children that flowed beyond their own two, they had been struggling for a number of years to provide a safe haven, or any way to keep kids occupied and off the streets where mischief awaited.

Petrol and maintenance for the Shanahan's small bus, permits for grounds use, group ticket purchases for field trips, and basic supplies such as mandatory medical kits were expensive, and grants and donations were running thin. Luke worked hard at his job at the factory, but tried to help Liz out when he got home. She always had her hands full of rambunctious kids and a head full of worries.

Then, last evening, they got a call from an anonymous American with a baritone voice, asking if he might come by soon and donate some items. They said the donation would be very welcome, and were about to ask who he was or what company this might be from, when he disconnected.

The next day, Liz Shanahan was standing on the walkway, watching over a group of younger children that were playing in the small park across from her and Luke's home.

Turning to retrieve an errant football, she saw a car stop a fair bit up the block. A man climbed out of the dark grey car, heading in her direction. As the stranger came closer, Liz became increasingly aware of his imposing stature. His gait held no aggression, far from it, but the sheer size and bulk of him made her anxious to call out for Luke, who had just returned home and was washing up. She saw his looks were striking as he tipped his ivy cap at her and then, scanning house numbers, veered toward her door.

Liz was nervous for her husband to answer as the large man rang their bell. Being guardian over the children, she had no choice but to stand and watch what might transpire.

Luke answered, but Liz mostly couldn't see him from around the bulk of the stranger. There was a short conversation, and she saw a series of gestures. It appeared that the big man waved something off, possibly an invitation to come in. He then reached in a coat pocket, handing something small to Luke. There was a minute or two without much movement and then her husband was obviously shaking the man's hand. Directly after, the big man turned and made his way back up the road, tipping his hat to Liz again as he left.

Luke stood on his door stoop for another few moments, studying what seemed to be envelopes in his hands. Looking up, he rushed across the road to Liz. He handed the items to his wife, saying the fellow - evidently the American who rang - simply wanted to help and nothing else.

There were gift cards in each envelope; a sporting store, an auto center, a pharmacy chain, and a petrol card \- all ranging from 2,000 to 5,000 euro each. They looked up to see a dark SUV turn around and drive off.

*

"Damn, that felt good!" Brody howled in the confines of his car as he made his way back home. A part of him wanted to go out and share his utter joy of giving a hand to people who deserved it; He wanted to tell Kate, tell Jamal; hell, make fliers and pass them around the village. Another part of him, while still full of contentment, was also covetous of his activities. It was Brody's own self-given gift for his birthday, and he just wanted to savor it for himself. He needed to calm down and think it through.

Telling Kate would be perfectly fine, and maybe he could have her experience it with him. Jamal was safe to tell as well, but he'd be upset with Brody for handing out a non-deductible donation. Otherwise, it was better to keep his mouth shut. He chided himself that it was also a risky move. How many other six-foot, six-inch, 270 lb. Americans were gallivanting around northwestern Ireland anyway? He thought to call those folks back and ask them to keep it under their hats, if it wasn't too late already.

Brody got back home and found that the men of McCarthy Masonry were making fine progress. He pulled Jack aside and said that while the work was looking great, he wanted them to please pace themselves. There was plenty of work to be done, and he didn't want Jack or the Gavin's to kill themselves and burn out early; Brody was paying for their skill, not their time.

Jack assured him that he was going at his own brisk pace, and only pressured the brothers to do their best. Brody slapped him on the shoulder in friendly fashion. He then stepped away to call Jamal, but only got his friend's answering machine.

Beody saw to the dogs, giving each individual attention, then got in his car and left again, hoping Kate wasn't too busy at work to spare him a few minutes. He strolled into the bank and saw the older, white-haired teller look up at him with a genial smile. Brody gave her a wink and a smirk as he strolled over to Kate. She was sitting with a pleasantly surprised expression and gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

With a lilt in her voice, Kate said, "I saw that, teasing an old woman; shameful."

"I couldn't help myself, darlin'. Hey, do you have a minute?"

She glanced at a wall clock. "Not much - I still have some work in the filing room to complete. Can it keep until later? Players will be gathering at Collin's pub tonight, and I thought I'd treat you to a birthday meal before taking you over."

Brody's grin widened. "That sounds great, but..." he finished as the smile began to fade.

"Never fear, if my company begins to bore you, I have it on authority that Jack will be sitting in to play a few tunes with his fiddle." Kate's self-depreciation was offset with a grin.

"Hey, you could never bore me. And Jack can play a fiddle? That's cool. He never mentioned it. Can you or your little sister play an instrument, too?"

"Oh, I can struggle through a few old tunes on a piano," Kate explained modestly. "Janie can play the guitar with some skill, and her singing voice is truly angelic."

"Hmm, the musical McCarthy's; I bet you're related to Paul. Anyway, uh, what were we talking about?"

"Your birthday meal," Kate reminded him.

"Yeah, I, uh... I'd just feel kinda bad about you doing that for me. I figured your budget is thin right now. I mean, I noticed the cobwebs in your pantry the other day. So here's an idea. Since you should get used to managing some of my money," he explained as his smile reappeared, "I'll come by and put you in charge of a few euros now. We'll go to that diner up the road that I wanted to try, and then on to the pub from there. It'll technically be your treat, okay?"

"Are you sure? I'm sure I could scrape something up. It is your birthday, after all."

Brody reached and put his large hand on hers. "I like my plan better, and, like you said, it's my birthday, so I get what I want. But," he added with arched eyebrows, "how about you come out sometime and cook for me? You've mentioned that you like to cook, and I can just sit there like a slob while you slave away."

Kate laughed. "Grand plan, slob. Come by about like six?"

Brody stood. "Perfect." He then leaned over the desk and whispered, "If you weren't such a respected professional, I'd feel you up right now." With a wink, he quickly spun and exited.

Kate let her blush fade before she gathered folders and began making her way to the file office. She passed by Mary on her way and paused. Her presence got the older woman's attention. Kate kept a serious face and inquired, "Do you still have that gear you mentioned? I may want to borrow it."

Chapter 31

Just as Brody was coming out of the bank into a cloudy afternoon, a rental car drove by carrying the Wagner clan. Ben sat in the backseat with a small map. "Turn right this time, pop."

When it came to his father Joe behind the wheel on the longer-than-necessary drive out west from Dublin, Ben felt like he had gone through the five stages of grief.

First came denial, in the form of him thinking, 'He can't be taking the wrong roads on purpose, can he?' Then anger towards his dad's malevolent stupidity in not listening to the navigational tips. As that continued, Ben began trying to bargain and asked to take a turn driving, but met with sarcastic resistance. The futility set in soon thereafter, with nothing to be done for Joe's moronic driving while he kept smoking pot. Pete, by means of his own stash of 'soothers', was of a mind not to give a shit, and kept cleaning his new gun.

Finally, Ben had to simply accept the fact that his dad was a bull-headed idiot, and only offered the occasional banal navigational suggestion with the assurance that Joe probably wouldn't listen anyway.

With their second circling of Ballaghadaere, they finally found the newer, modern-looking hotel set further out on one of the main roads of the village. Since the tourist season had tapered off, Ben had no problem booking rooms earlier that morning. They checked in, unpacked, and went back down for a meal in the hotel restaurant. Making sure to be seated away from any other guests, the three discussed how to proceed.

"So do we just go walking the streets asking for a rich American?" Joe asked sarcastically.

Pete frowned at his brother. "We need to look in places people might gather, where we'd have a better chance to overhear shit... Like a church, maybe."

Ben gently reminded him, "This is Monday, Uncle Pete. I figure the Irish go to church on Sundays like everyone else."

"Right..." Pete absently brushed his shaggy chin. "Hey," he said, inspired, "we'll just hit the bars. All these people are fuckin' alcoholics, so they must always be havin' a brew."

"I could deal with more of this," Joe said as he lifted his glass of lager to wash down the food he was still chewing.

"Yeah," Pete went on, "we'll get chatty with the drunks, just like we did in Dublin, listen to some local music, and have a few brews. These people talk like nobody's fuckin' business, so if we can understand what the hell they're sayin', I bet somebody will know him. But we don't say we're family; that might tip him off." Pete nodded in agreement to his own idea. "Yeah, we'll start tonight."

Joe grimaced. "But Irish music sucks ass."

Pete replied around the bite of food in his cheek, "It'll sound better than your bitching."

***

That evening of Brody's birthday, he and Kate sat at a table of a small restaurant, surrounded by archaic ambiance. Over a simple but delicious meal, Brody told of his exhilaration in helping Luke and Liz Shanahan, and discussed with Kate how they might follow that pattern without being so obvious.

It seemed that his enthusiasm was palpable to her; Brody's joy and animation almost seemed to make him glow. His happiness was infectious as well; Kate had a very dreary day at work, and the story he told brought her out of that tedium and into the warmth of inspiration. She put it to Brody why she felt sad at the bank, when she enjoyed some of the analytical work.

He suggested that Kate might be unhappy with unchallenging toil, or that maybe it was just because her boss was a dick. Kate laughed and enjoyed the sentiment, reveling in the glow of Brody's ebullient heart rather than pondering her situation.

Kate then mentioned a call she received from her mother just before Brody arrived to pick her up. She noted the odd tone to her mam, one she'd not heard before. Cora had asked to come for a visit the next afternoon after learning that Kate's work hours had been cropped for Tuesday. Both she and Brody agreed that there was no way to second-guess Cora's intent until the next day.

An agreement was also passed along in that short phone call. Kate's parents wished to take Brody up on his offer for the following evening, at the same restaurant that Brody had invited Jack and Fiona to the week before. Kate asked if Brody would pick up Liam and then both Kate and her mother, since she'd be at Kate's for the infamous 'visit'.

Collin's pub was full of frivolity and entertainment as the place was brimming with patrons, musicians, drinks and laughter. Brody and Kate had secured spots at the bar next to the old regulars Archie Walsh and Flinn Sweeney, with Jack dividing his time between there and up front with the other players.

Sometimes the live music was lengthy, one song after another, and sometimes only a tune or two; it was up to the whim of various players. Flinn had begun passing a hat around to collect funds for some farmer that fell out of his barn. He and Archie even tried enticing Kate to go around asking for donations, saying one flower works better than two cow patties, but she modestly declined.

Brody was next to Archie at the bar, Kate was only a step away chatting with Alana, and Jack was over at a booth visiting old school chums, when the trouble began.

*

Lorcan hovered over the unlit corner table claimed by the Wagner's. They had shown up during a session and slipped in. With all the activity, the three weren't much noticed. They kept to themselves and scanned the crowd, but Lorcan knew that something would have to be instigated to flush out information to find Lynch.

He felt about the pub in search of anyone besides the Wagner's who were in darker moods. As Lorcan had no abilities with sensing other than those of shady intent, it proved easy enough. There were three men at a table not far away, all with short, sandy hair. Two of them wavered in their moods, but the last was simmering with foul auras.

To Lorcan, that one was too insecure to act on his feelings of jealousy, but a proper 'nudge' would cure that quickly enough. He just hoped that the target of the man's ire was in the pub. It'd be good fun in any event, but Lorcan wanted fruitful results for his Wagner quest.

He gave that sour man a healthy helping of inspiration and bravado, fueled by a growing inebriation. Lorcan watched as his new client immediately began talking heatedly but in low tones to his companions, working his and their courage up to commit a rash act. They all downed their drinks and headed to the bar, all getting a further 'nudge' as they went. Lorcan was giddy with anticipation for the impending chaos.

*

Mitch Kelly strode to the bar with purpose, moving quickly before his courage faltered. He would have Kate McCarthy back, even after she teased him with some big stand-in. His brother Robbie and cousin Shawn followed his lead, convinced of the stories and lies he told them and came to see justice done for his sake.

Brody was shouldered from behind; his drink splashed on the bar. As he turned in surprise, the man behind him said, "Make room at the bar, ye great prick."

Brody turned fully to him, more confused than angry. It was the guy from church who kept glaring at him. "Look buddy, I - "

"Rat-arsed again, are we, little Mitchell? No shock there, ya gobshite!" Alana bellowed at him. All heads turned to her. Mitch's cousin Shaun made a move in that direction.

It was then that Robbie came in on Brody's right and threw an awkward punch, which nonetheless connected with Brody's jaw. The smaller man didn't throw with much leverage, and the hit barely turned Brody's head. Robbie saw that he did no damage whatsoever to the huge man, and took an involuntary step back.

Before Brody could even tell his attacker to go away, Jack flew in from the side. His fist connected like a hammer to the side of Robbie's head. The momentum of the attack took them both down onto the crowded floor.

Shaun had stepped to the outspoken Alana and grabbed her roughly by the arm, but did not expect her - and Kate to a lesser degree - to set upon him like a feral cat.

Brody turned just in time to see Mitch reach out and pull Kate off his cousin by her hair. She yelled out, "Brody!" in sudden pain and surprise.

Brody's vision blurred for the next few moments. He vaguely remembered grabbing Mitch by the neck and lifting him straight up. He then took hold of the gurgling man's belt with his other hand, spun once, and hurled Mitch away from him like performing a hammer throw.

The body sailed away from Brody, and he watched with detachment as the man who put his hands on Kate flew over ducking heads and violently crashed into the piano across the room. The impact of Mitch's head and shoulder sent wood chips, splinters, and a few piano keys into the air.

Jack took advantage of the sudden pause of everyone's surprise, and drove himself headlong into Shaun. The impact forced them both into the wall; all of the air in Shaun's lungs was forced out with a loud grunt. Pub patrons then intervened, mostly to stop Jack from further attacks.

Brody was surprised and scared of the strength he just displayed, and also a bit stricken that he would treat another person so brutally. He turned to Kate just as she came to him. They quickly hugged, looked at each other, and then scanned the activity around them.

Some of the pub regulars were dragging the dazed Robbie to the doors. Others were concerned to move the unconscious Mitch Kelly, unsure of how badly he might be injured. Gil Collins had come out from behind the bar to oversee the aftermath.

Archie Walsh came to Brody and Kate; he said to her, "You take him out of here now, lassie, before the Gardaí decide to make an appearance." He then looked past them. "And you as well, Jack McCarthy! Get yourself gone before I call your wife!"

Brody took Kate's hand and was about to leave. He stopped and turned back to Archie and Flinn. "You just tell Gil... I give my word that I'll pay for all this. Tell him I'm sorry."

Flinn nodded and put a gnarled but firm hand on Brody's shoulder as if to get him moving again. "I'll do that, me boy. Now you take the lass away from this."

Chapter 32

The Wagner's kept their seats during the quick melee. They all heard the cute redhead yell the name "Brody", and then watched as their big relative tossed some poor bastard across the pub like a doll. Soon after, while the place was still in a bit of an uproar, the trio made their way out and decided to stay off the main road.

While they walked a circuitous route back to the hotel, Pete said, "Okay, now we know what he looks like."

Next to Pete, Joe walked along with his hands in his pockets. "I'm glad you scared up a piece, Pete. We'd have trouble handling that fuckin' monster without one."

Yeah, I think we're gonna need it." Pete thought for a second, and then explained something he'd learned earlier in life. "I've seen cons like that in the yard. Big, mellow apes, but if you went and messed with their stash or touched their bitch, they would drop the fuckin' hammer on you. If we just went straight at Lynch, he wouldn't give up shit. But if we had some leverage and jammed a barrel in its ear, then he'd be real cooperative."

"Who'd you have in mind?"

"Either the redhead or Taz... or maybe the mouthy bitch," Pete replied.

Ben knew exactly who his uncle meant, but was content to walk behind them and stay quiet.

"Taz?" Joe asked.

"The other dude who was goin' at it like a wild man. But no, not him; he'd be a pain in the ass."

"So how do we find one of the bitches?"

His dad and uncle walked in silence ahead of him until Ben couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "Look, we just have to stake em' out. We got a bunch of people to choose from now."

Joe barely turned his head as they walked. "What a fuckin' waste of time. Jesus, Benny, I ain't waitin' around that long. What a dumbass idea."

Pete thought out loud, "We could go back to the bar soon, when the coast is clear. Not so many people, start askin' around."

"Hey, ya know what," Joe said, pausing, as if thinking and walking were mutually exclusive, "We could start loadin' drinks into one of them old farts that was up at the bar near where Lynch was at. Get enough in him, and I'd bet his tongue would get loose."

Ben shared a glance with his uncle before he replied. "Pop, I know you can handle your beer and whiskey, but... do you really expect us to outdrink an Irishman? They pretty much invented the shit."

Before Joe could start defending his idea by bellowing at his son and draw attention, Pete quickly interjected, "All we need to do is mill around this shithole. We'll take shifts during the day, but someone stays near the car all the time. So we'll need cheap phones - we get those in the morning, trade numbers, and then get to it. Then at night, we all head to the bar. Got it?"

"So, like a stake-out?" Ben asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah."

"That works for me, I guess," grumbled Joe.

Ben just shook his head.

***

Oriana approached Collins' pub as an ambulance pulled up. People were standing outside and within, most still conversing about the fight. She hovered near and took in the various chats. The majority of the talk was of specific events; the strength of the big Yank, the ferocity of Jack McCarthy, how Shaun Kelly would have been flayed alive if Kate's brother hadn't taken him down, how far Mitch was thrown.

But other questions floated around the milling crowd, mainly people wondering what had gotten into Mitch Kelly's head. Even Shaun Kelly was saying he didn't know what got him so ill set as they shoved him out. Mitch's brother Robbie was outside already, asking to see to his family and apologizing to everyone.

Oriana felt the taint of the Kelly's goading as she floated inside the pub. Another fae sat on the vacant bar with the appearance of an unkempt boy. He was in stained overalls and dirty mud boots, with wild, wavy, long orange hair under an ugly hat. He kept his unnaturally wide smirk as he took notice of Oriana, his black, cruel eyes still twinkling.

With a snarl lifting her lip, she focused and willed the foul little creature to become visible in this realm. He took no notice of the change at first, then alarm hit as he looked quickly around at himself. He glared back up at her with a menacing look and then suddenly disappeared.

***

Brody and Kate drove back to his cottage, her hope silently answered that he wouldn't take her to her flat. Brody asked numerous times if she was alright, and then began apologizing for possibly severely hurting Mitch. He explained that because of his size, he hardly ever had to fight. He also felt guilty for losing control, something he never did.

Kate consoled Brody, explaining that he was provoked and had no choice. Kate also wondered aloud what caused her ex-boyfriend to become violent. Even when drinking, Mitch had never laid a hand on her, and wasn't known to confront people. She was just as surprised with Mitch's younger brother, Robbie, who was normally so nice and soft-spoken.

They arrived at the cottage, let the dogs out, and walked with them through the dark paddocks. The new couple strolled hand in hand in the quiet night, letting the emotional dust settle.

Brody and Kate relaxed together that night. He showed her his designs for the property, and asked for any suggestions. She shrugged lightly and said it all looked good to her, but he should ask Fiona that question. Brody agreed and sent a text, asking if Fiona might come out the next morning for a short while, and to bring her kids if that was an issue.

Kate drew up directions to her parent's house for Brody while he sat back on the couch and searched the internet for pianos. They cuddled on the couch a little longer before going to bed, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Brody woke in the early morning, watching Kate sleep until he could no longer fight his ardent impulse. Waking from his attentions, Kate smiled as her man took her from a good dream into a better reality. They made soft, slow love until the dim light of a cloudy dawn came through the windows. Soon after, Kate departed for home to prepare for her day.

Brody got a call from Fiona just as Jack and the Gavin's arrived, saying she'd be there shortly. The Gavin brothers had already heard of the last evenings' fight - having shown up afterwards - and let Brody know that Gil was terming him the 'dosser-tosser'.

It was a productive morning and early afternoon, with Brody being quite impressed with Jack's pace and Fiona's ideas. Her children had exhausted themselves chasing after the dogs, so Brody stuffed some money in her purse and told her to take the kids home for their naps. He also checked forecasts and told Jack and crew to take the next day off; rain was expected to set in overnight and last for at least the next day, if not longer.

Brody helped the crew pack up, saw them off, and cleaned up for his evening with Kate's parents. He left with time to spare, and stopped in at the Collins pub. He greeted Gil, who was tending as usual. Apologizing, he handed the bar owner a check for expenses. As Brody made his way out, an elderly patron unexpectedly lifted his mug to him and said, "Sláinte agus táinte!" with a raspy voice. Unsure how to react, Brody simply nodded to the old man before leaving.

Chapter 33

Early that Tuesday evening, Liam answered his door with a pleasant smile and invited Brody in. The middle-aged man was dressed more casually than for church services, but still presentable in slacks and a dress shirt that mostly hid his slight paunch. Liam casually raked fingers through his white and auburn hair as he asked his guest to have a seat.

Brody sat in the chair offered and quickly took in the nicely-appointed living room, noticing Cora's hen-and-rooster decorations while he waited for Liam to explain why they were not on their way.

Liam took the other chair of the two that were angled to face the small, cold fireplace. He packed a cigarette with gentle taps and said, "I thought you and I might have a quick chat before we go fetch the womenfolk for supper."

Brody was put at ease by the older gentleman's calm demeanor and faint smile. "Of course, sir, but won't they be waiting on us?"

"Son," Liam began as he lit his cigarette, "I truly doubt either of them will be running out on us. We'll have to wait for them no matter how late we may be. Fag?" offered Liam as he held out his pack.

"Maybe after dinner, thanks."

Liam smiled and leaned into his chair. He let out a long pull and said conversationally, "I heard about you and Jack scrappin' it up over at Gil Collins' place." He gave a pointed glance over to Brody, eyebrows raised. "Not aware of your own strength, are ye?"

Brody's mood dropped. "I'm sorry I caused a scene, sir. It all happened so fast. But when Mr. Kelly put his hands on your daughter, I lost control."

Liam inhaled from the cigarette again. "Ah, glad ta hear it, me boy, glad ta hear it."

Brody was surprised and not quite sure how to respond, so he didn't.

Liam let out another long cone of smoke. "That kind of thing, messy as it was, answers some questions more easily than I could be asking them. Any father worth his salt would want to know the man who had intentions towards one of his daughters. Now I know some things that only me wife would have the brazen nerve to ask."

"Well, Mr. McCarthy, I don't - "

"Don't let all that be a concern, son," Liam said with a casual wave of his hand. "This wee chat is for your sake, not mine." He inhaled once more and flicked the cigarette into the fireplace. "And, for your sake, I'm going to explain a little something."

"Okay," Brody said as he settled in.

Liam exhaled smoke and began. "I love my wife more than words can say. She treats me like royalty and minds me when she knows I mean it. She has enough virtues for me to keep talking until we'd need a shave. But she's got faults, just like anyone else. Her heart has hardened up in a few little spots, and one of those spots is blokes from across the pond. I suppose to be exact, American men who show interest in her line."

"That's me in a nutshell, sir, but what did I do?"

"Mr. Lynch - Brody, if I may?" Brody nodded. "Brody, if ye ever had anything hurt ye fierce, ye tend to generalize. Let's just say the family pet was struck by lightning. After that, any storm seen brewing would leave a sour taste. D'ya ken how I mean?"

Brody nodded. "I'm with you."

"That's how it is with Cora. Her da passed when she was an infant, so life wasn't too easy as she grew up. Then her mam meets this American. It was when Cora was in her teens. He worked in land management - golf courses, race tracks and such. So all was well for a time; her mam was happy, Cora was taken with him, and she hoped he'd take the spot as her da. And then one day, without so much as a word or note, the man was gone. Cora's mam was in a state and finally called his company to find he'd been transferred. It struck them both something horrible."

"I understand what you mean about generalizing, sir."

"Good. And if ye please, keep it under your cap. I don't say this so ye can have some heart to heart with her and be chummy. That's part of who my Cora is, and she's not about to change much by now. I only speak of it so you won't get bitter in return. There's enough of that around already."

Brody smiled and rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, I'm learning that the hard way."

***

Cora, for her own part, felt a mix of emotions, but none as surprising as huge relief. All of her adult life, she'd had to keep a secret from everyone. Even a partial release of that burden rejuvenated her. She had told her daughter everything, every detail she held within her for so long. What she couldn't remember was how she came to know this, although that wasn't the purpose of their talk.

True, it would have helped to have sources or proof, but Cora relied on Kate's reason and intuition. She hated swearing to God to enforce the truth of her claims, but did it all the same, wanting her daughter to at least entertain the idea that Cora's words were fact.

It was explained that Kate most likely had gifts beyond the norm, and that Cora's anguish had impaired that gift's fruition. Unable to explain why, Kate's mother assumed that the genetic fae gift had to do with the realm of senses or emotion. There was also no explanation of how to access or trigger such a thing. Kate's skepticism was apparent, although she did try to humor Cora's wild tale.

The vague reference of a coming storm was mentioned; Cora asked if her daughter would stay clear of Brody until it passed. Kate's vehement refusal told her how serious her daughter really was about the man. Kate wanted to accuse her mother of using some insane story to take away the only true happiness she'd ever had, but held her tongue out of withering respect.

The last thing Cora emphasized was to call for someone named Oriana if there was need. The call needed to be made from one of Kate's favored locations, someplace she felt safe. Cora made her promise to at least try to accept her words, to mull them over, no matter how silly or insane it all appeared to be.

'My mother has cracked,' Kate thought to herself more than once. The worry first came to her early on during the chat in her living room, and it persisted through dinner. Brody asked if she was alright and was truly concerned, bless him, but during a meal in a restaurant certainly was not the time to make it a topic.

Kate thought that something traumatic had happened to create this fantastic story, but her mam remained so calm, so sure throughout their talk. The more the crazy notions swum in her head, the more at least a couple of them seemed plausible. Many of the things in Kate's world made her feel 'grey', as her mother put it. And certainly there were bright spots in it as well; Jack and Fiona and their little ones, and crazy Jane. Alana was even more of a light, always up, always ready with a laugh. And the warmth Brody gave her was incomparable.

But didn't many of people feel as she did? Was this just some modern way of describing depression or sadness? Kate was no different from other people, despite what her mother swore otherwise. She made Kate promise to at least entertain the wildly fantastic story. For her mam's sake, for the woman who seemed almost to radiate as they sat there - something Kate had never sensed from Cora before - she vowed to keep an open mind.

Luckily, Brody and her da kept most of the conversation going through dinner. More surprising, her mam was quiet and somewhat polite. That settled it; something made Cora McCarthy go over the edge.

Chapter 34

Joe Wagner walked along the sidewalk with his stocking cap pulled low and his hands stuffed into his coat. The brisk wind had picked up as he made his way back into the center of the little town at sunset, and he slightly lowered his head into a cold gust.

The lights from some business just ahead looked warm and inviting, and Pete was tempted to warm up inside whatever it was. He peered into the windows as he passed them and came to an immediate stop. He backed up out of view and pulled out his phone.

Joe answered on the third ring. "Tell me it's time to trade shifts. This sucks."

"Where are you, Joe?" Pete asked.

"I'm way the fuck over on the west side of this do-nothing shithole town, in front of some manufacturing plant."

"Get to the center of town as fast as you can without gettin' noticed. Just... walk fast. If you get here in time, you can come along." Before Joe had time to respond, Pete ended the call.

Ben was in his hotel room when Pete called. "I spotted Lynch and the redhead in some place called Doolin's," his uncle said calmly. "Get the car to the center of town, and park across the street in front of the bank - now."

Pete looked around and found a shadowy spot where he could still see the restaurant doors. He could finally see the payoff at the end of this road, but almost sad knowing it was going to end.

***

As Brody and Kate drove off after dropping her parents off at home, she asked if she could stay with him again that night. He almost mentioned making room for an extra toothbrush and her own drawer, but he saw she was still bothered about something and quite withdrawn, so he simply agreed. He figured this was one of those things they'd have to figure out about each other, and he wasn't going to force any issue. He felt a bit helpless seeing her in that state, but decided to let it play out.

Brody made a mental list of anything he might have done to cause Kate's mood, but nothing came to mind. It must have been something to do with the 'visit', but Cora didn't seem upset in the least; almost to the contrary, in fact.

He didn't like to think it, but could her mom have fed Kate lies about him? It might explain things; Cora in good spirits knowing she had succeeded in causing doubt and discord, playing on Kate's insecurities. Brody tried to rule that out, wanting to think better of the woman, but it remained a viable option.

He was too preoccupied on the drive home to notice the car that followed at a distance.

The dogs greeted them both as Brody and Kate entered his home, and he noticed how their smiles and wagging tails brightened her spirits somewhat. He unlocked the dog door to let them out, but he stayed in with her until they came back.

Brody remained near but gave Kate space and time to work through her dilemma. He wanted to be there if she wanted to talk, or maybe try to help her with whatever it was. Until that occurred, if at all, he had little choice but to busy himself with end-of-the-day chores.

From time to time that night, Brody glanced at Kate to gauge her mood. She remained curled up on the couch, deep in troubled thought. He brought her hot cocoa and sat next to her; she immediately snuggled next to him and began to relax.

Rain began to fall outside as Kate softly asked how Brody and her father got along. They talked a little longer in hushed tones while staring at the low flames in the fireplace, with the whisper of rain as a gentle backdrop. The couple finally adjourned to bed, where Kate spooned against Brody's chest and pulled his arm tight around her.

***

Joe answered the knock. He yanked his door open and said, "Fuck you. Fuck both of you."

Ben was surprised and a little wary. His Uncle Pete just strolled in, so he followed.

Joe shut the door behind them. "You sonsabitches didn't even stop for me!"

Ben defended against the accusation. "Sorry, pop, but we didn't even see you. Once Lynch was moving, I was kinda focused on keeping my eye on him from back a little ways."

"You fuckin' drove right past me, dipshit!"

Pete set the items in his arms down on a table and turned to his brother. "I don't know what the hell crawled up your piss hole, but quit bitchin', okay? Look, we got pizza. Relax."

Joe grabbed a slice and a can of beer, and then slumped into a chair. "So what happened?"

Pete flopped on Joe's bed and said with a bite of pizza in his mouth, "We're in, big brother. Benny kept back, but we followed 'em to the older couple's place and waited while they dropped 'em off. I'm guessin' it was the redhead's parents. Then we tailed 'em about five miles north of town to a private driveway off the road. There wasn't anyone else on the road, so Benny killed the lights and we stopped and watched. There's a house a little ways down, but they passed it. So I figure he lives down the hill at the end, where there's a low gate."

"So what the fuck are we doin' here?" Joe asked after he gulped down his mouthful. "Let's go back out there now,"

Pete wiped his mouth with his forearm. "Easy there, chief. He had the redhead with him. We figured that he could lock her in a room or have her take off runnin' or somethin' if he saw us comin'. We need some leverage on hand when we go to get our share."

Joe grimaced. "Shit, does this mean we gotta go talk to one of those old fucks after all?"

"Nope," Pete said with a wicked smile. "You get some sleep, Joe. We'll take care of everything in the morning."

Chapter 35

Brody woke to Kate's voice beyond the bedroom; it sounded like she was calling off work again. He walked into the kitchen to the smell of coffee and the sound of the dogs devouring their breakfasts. Kate greeted him with a kiss and a long hug. She pulled back and asked if they could just eat something quick and clean up; she wanted to talk to him, and wanted them both awake and refreshed for it.

Brody noticed that Kate was still a bit preoccupied, but not with the stress of the night before. They wolfed down some toast - not near enough sustenance for Brody - and then cleaned up. Kate requested leaving extra clothes at his place if he didn't mind; he could only smile.

Kate asked Brody to have a seat on the couch and try to keep an open mind. She paced in the living room as she began. "I had a very odd chat with my mam yesterday," she said as she wrung her hands. "She gave a reason that explained a number of things, but that reason has no reason to it."

Brody almost asked what the hell that meant, but he'd seen her in this kind of rant before and didn't want to be barked at. He sat there quietly, and discreetly patted the couch for one of the dogs who had just come hurriedly back in from the rain.

"She said, besides other things, that her real da wasn't... human. She said he was fae - that is to say, a fairy - but not in the way storybooks tell it. There is some power or gift in the blood, and I'm supposed to have some of that."

"I hate to interrupt," Brody said apologetically, "but I just wanna make sure... Your mother told you this. Cora McCarthy, one of the most skeptical women I've ever met."

"Yes, I believe you've met her," Kate answered tersely.

"And she said that you're part fairy..."

"Yes," she snapped irritably. "Now, there was one thing she said that has kept ringing truer the more I thought of it. In some people, I can almost see a light. For whatever reason, be it high hopes or a good heart or just a happy person in general, I always simply knew it. My friend Alana, for example; she's always been kind of a light in the grey. And you, Brody... you radiate; sometimes I swear you glow. I don't know if this is something I sense, or something I see, or if it's like that for others as well. Outside of her outlandish story, that one thing she said about gifts is the only one that makes sense.

"All I can say for sure is that I made promises to a woman who may have gone mad, to try and work on this... sense. For her, I tried when she was over, and once or twice over dinner, but my heart wasn't in it. How could it be? This sounds like mental ramblings!"

"I can see that, yeah."

"But taking time just for us," Kate continued, "it's calmed me down enough to realize that I can't use my head to sort this. I have to use my heart, and that's here with you. So," Kate took a deep breath, "I want to know what you think, and not the tripe you think I want to hear."

"Honestly?" he asked reluctantly. Kate nodded her head as she stood before him and gripped her fingers together. Brody sat up on the edge of the couch seat. "When you said fairies, I almost laughed. Maybe your mom has gone nuts, but she's a tough old bird and I'd never expect her to lose her marbles."

"Agreed; she's always been grounded. That's what makes this all the more bizarre!"

"Yeah, it does. Now, about this sense thing... If it's really how you explain it, or she explained it, then you supposedly have something special, right? I sure as hell don't have anything like what you said, and I've never heard anyone else think of it like that, either. One thing I know for sure is that you gave your word. I know we both believe giving our word is a big deal."

Kate nodded. "But, because of this madness, I'm not sure I can follow through."

"You only promised to try, darlin'. In spite of the fact that this fairy business is way beyond the pale, if you think there's something to it - and I think you sorta do - then you ought to give it a try." Brody reclined and gestured for her to sit with him. Kate came and curled on his lap. "Now just relax. Put everything else out of your head. Are you comfortable?"

Kate exhaled a sigh. "Yes, quite."

"Okay, good. Now, since you made a promise, and you think you might really have something, um, extra, we'll give it a little test, okay?" Brody rubbed Kate's back as she nodded. "You said it was seeing something, or feeling it, but you're not sure how to do it on purpose?"

With a frown, Kate replied, "Not really, no. I tried studying my mam, and then did some silly tests at dinner, like using my peripheral vision or like, trying to sneak up on it." She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know what else to think of. I feel like there's something to all this, but then I feel daft for trying to follow through with such a foolish notion."

Brody put a hand over hers and held firm. "If you gave this fairy-sense thing a real try, and nothing happens, then at least you won't have any regrets. And we'll know your mom needs some professional help."

Kate gave a faint smile and then looked him in the eye. "Doesn't this all seem a bit cracked to you?"

Brody's eyebrows lifted. "Uh, yeah - hell, yeah; it'd seem 'a bit cracked' to anyone. The only thing is, apart from your mom's wild-ass story, you think some little part of it makes sense. So, if you want, I'll help you try to figure it out, and the only people who'd think you're foolish are the dogs."

"Okay, I'll try once more, but... I'm not sure what to do."

Brody thought for a moment while he absently rubbed Kate's back. "You said before that you couldn't think of any other way to try this glow-sense thing. Maybe that's the problem. Quit thinking about it, don't try to analyze it. Like you said, use your heart. Look at Honey here, next to me. Don't just look with your head or logic or whatever. Just close your eyes and concentrate on her. Let whatever comes to mind just fall right out of your mouth."

Kate quickly squeezed her eyes shut. "Em... soft and fuzzy, like," she offered.

Brody silently frowned at Kate until she looked at him. "Darlin', that sucked. Care to really try this time? Don't think about the words; just say 'em, okay?"

Kate closed her eyes again and tried to relax, letting the serenity of the remote cottage surround her. That, coupled with Brody's calming presence, helped to focus. Her eyes slowly opened and took in Honey. There was an expectant pause, and then Kate gasped and sprung to her feet. Brody moved to the edge of the couch and watched with curiosity and concern as she paced and rubbed at her eyes.

After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "Kate, what is it? Are you okay?"

"I don't think so." Kate looked pale and distraught. She looked at Honey again and said, "Colors; I see colors." She turned to him with wide eyes. "I'm scared, Brody."

With a soothing tone, he said, "Sometimes - a lot of times - new things are scary, Kate. But it doesn't mean they're bad. I mean, I was scared when I moved here, but now I know it was the best thing I ever did. This color thing could be like that for you."

Wringing her hands, she hesitantly asked, "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I really think so," he answered earnestly, and then held out his hand to her. "Now why don't you come back over here and we'll see this through. I'm right here with ya, darlin'."

Taking his hand, Kate sat once again on Brody's lap when he sat back on the couch. She kept a grip on his hand and said, "Thank you; I don't think I could try this without you."

He looked into her big brown eyes and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for trusting me. Now let's give this another shot, okay? Take another look at Honey, like you did before."

Taking a deep breath, Kate smiled nervously and nodded. She turned to look at the dog again and then closed her eyes. When she opened them, she took a moment to study what her new vision revealed. Trying to find the words, Kate said, "Strange... It's as if she has a halo, like a corona, but close about her."

Brody's eyebrows rose. "Damn, really? Well, uh... okay. Just relax and try again. Don't think about how to explain it, just say what you feel, okay?"

Kate took a deep breath and snuggled in closer. She took a long look at the attractive animal at rest against her master's thigh, and let her eyes slowly close. The words came out soft, slow, and steady. "Bright... relaxed... soft... golden... content... lime green... safe."

"Kate? What does lime green mean?"

She opened her eyes to his query. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Yeah; now, I get it when you said golden; that's her color, but I don't get the lime green part."

Kate frowned. "I don't think I meant 'golden' in reference to her coat. That was odd."

Brody brushed her cheek and let his fingers comb through her hair. "It's kinda weird, but I think we might be on to something here. What does lime green mean to you? Just the color - what do you think of?"

She gave it a moment's thought. "Sort of a happy and at peace, mixed together, I suppose."

"Okay, that fits with the other words you said. Now what about when you said 'gold'?"

"I put that color with the glow I sometimes sense around you. It's like caring, or adoration..."

"Or love?"

Kate nodded her head as she felt her eyes begin to fill.

Brody smiled and gently kissed her. "We'll talk about that in a minute. First, though, I want you to try this again, okay? This time, look at Keller." The dog sat up upon hearing his name, looking alert and expectant. "This time just tell me the colors first."

She blinked to clear her vision and then studied the young dog. The faint glow was there as it was with Honey, but the colors came faster to her. Kate kept her eyes on the dog as she explained. "There's a different range of hues that I saw with Honey, but... my God, Brody. I see colors, a mix of faint but distinct colors. I actually see them!" She turned to him in alarm. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with me? This is so far from normal. Maybe I'm starting to go mental like my mam."

He held her tighter and whispered, "No, darlin', I think you're one of the most down to earth people I've ever met. Let's keep calm and figure it out. Just tell me what you see."

Kate turned back to Keller, who still sat attentively. "There's a bit of gold, but there's also a rich brown and a little... wavy dark aqua? I feel that the brown is like... duty, or guardianship; the sea blue is possibly curiosity." She turned her head quickly to Brody. "I see them now, Brody. My hand to God, I do. What is this?"

He smiled again. "For one thing, it means your mom isn't as nuts as you thought. For another, if your mind isn't just screwing with you, then you've just found something pretty fucking wild."

"And if my mind is messing me about?"

Brody gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Then I'll make sure you and your mom have adjoining rooms in the loony bin."

"I'm serious, Brody. This is... abnormal. I don't think I've lost touch, but this is stretching it. The worst thing to happen is that you think I'm mental, or that this changes things for us. I don't want that."

"Kate, if you have some cool vision thing, then how could that be bad? Some people have special gifts; it doesn't mean they're insane. This is just something I've never heard of before. "

She nodded in agreement. "Nor have I... But you believe me?"

"Of course I do. Darlin', you're too smart and rational to go making up some crazy shit like this." Brody leaned back away from her. "Now tell me if you see more than a glow from me this time."

"Bright gold," she said immediately and blushed. "And also a vibrant peachy pink; excited, or like filled with wonder? So you really do believe me?"

"I'll never lie to you, Kate. I give you my word that... yes; I believe it, as crazy as it is. But you need to try it on strangers; you already know me and the dogs, so it might have been easier. "

Kate smiled brightly. "Good plan..." And then her smile fell away.

"What, darlin'?"

Still sitting on his lap, she looked away in thought. "As strange as all this is, there's some little part of me saying there's more. Like there's another side to this nimbus-vision thing, like the other side of the coin. But I don't know what it is or how to get to it."

"Well, we found your nimbus thing, as you call it, so I bet we can find the other part."

Kate looked back to him. "That's the thing, Brody. I'm not sure I want to. If seeing colors is a good and honest thing - which I believe it is - then the opposite of that can't be."

"Look, it doesn't have to be necessarily bad. It could be like not letting people see your colors or something. I mean, if there's anyone else out there who can do what you can."

Kate thought a moment. "Mam said to call someone named Oriana if I needed help. Maybe she'd know."

"Okay, great; what's her number?"

"That's the thing. There is no number. I'm just supposed to call for her."

Brody frowned. "That doesn't help us much."

Kate looked back at him excitedly because of something he'd said. "But do you think that could be? That there are other folks who can see like this?" She stared off again. "I'd want to meet them, and learn from them, and..."

When Kate stopped voicing her thought, Brody noticed she was staring intently through the window, out into the steady morning rain. "Kate?"

She quietly replied, "Brody, there's a woman standing out on your land." She paused, and he saw goose-bumps rise on her forearms. "And she's... sparkling."

Chapter 36

With fingers intertwined and held to her chin, Enochia contemplated the situation before she sat to glean any vague outcomes. This had all started when she was asked to keep a figurative eye on Lorcan not long ago. He was reckless, and there were concerns that he might unwittingly reveal the Enigma - the unearthly existence and culture of the fae - with his chaotic activities.

Normally, what Lorcan might do as long as he obeyed at least that decree was of no concern, but Enochia had taken growing affront to the malicious tampering handed out at a whim. But why should she? They were only humans, after all. She mused that perhaps she had spent too long in this realm, and had developed... what, empathy? She hoped not, but she was more attuned at studying others more so than herself.

The ether trail had led to the human to be saved from mortal peril, with the name given by Enochia's arachnid servitors: Brody Lynch. His fate was potentially intertwined with so many, and had a purpose Enochia could not see. She contemplated that her inability to far-see his fate with any clarity was the reason she took such special interest in him. Maybe that implanting the desire to relocate to Hibernia had met with initial resistance? Or perhaps it was Lynch's radiance; so bright, even in his sorrow, as if he had been graced by an elder of her own race.

Lynch formerly had an anchor, one that held him in place from realizing potential fates: namely the cellar-keeper; the old Germanic definition of the name Keller. Lynch's employer, friend, and emotional anchor impeded those potentials and placed him in peril from his kin. Prematurely speeding the progression of Keller's malignant disease was a simple and beneficial solution.

Satisfied with her justifications, Enochia mused once more about the instigator. She had to give credit where it was due. Whether Lorcan would succeed or not, he had definitely proliferated tension. The upheaval he had thus far caused was enough to merit remarks

Sitting at the uncovered alabaster table, one of Enochia's long pale blue fingers traced a slow design into the myriad grooves in the smooth top, leaving a faint yellow glow in the wake of her pattern. She studied the portents as they made themselves vaguely aware to her gift.

She focused again on the intricate mosaic of luminous lines. She whispered in raspy tones to herself, and perhaps to the large spider that crawled and twitched on her shoulder. "The storm is nearly upon them... but not just one." Her long digit slid through part of a swirl and then to a curving hollow. "Storms will clash... hearts will be challenged... and a promise will be broken."

***

By the time Brody had a chance to turn and look out his window, Kate was already getting their coats. He saw a small figure out in the nearest southern paddock, but spent no time to study her. Oddly, the dogs had no sense of a stranger nearby; normally, they could sense a fox at the edge of his property. Still, there seemed no reason to bring them along.

Brody locked the dog door, threw on his raincoat, and caught up with the impatient Kate. He took her hand as they walked slowly in the rain, through the small field gate, and toward the petite stranger.

What appeared to be a young woman stood there motionless in the tall grass. She was small, barely five feet tall, and wore a long dark coat with a hood that shielded most of her lowered head. Underneath was a long, modest yellow dress which accented some of the jeweled rings on her hands. Strangely, she was barefoot, but showed no discomfort to the cool weather or cold rain. She seemed to be waiting.

Brody stopped Kate far enough away that they could still converse privately. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Tell me what you see this time."

Kate took a deep breath and released it, her breath barely visible in the steady rain. "She has a number of colors swirling... But they all sparkle, like I said before. It's like her nimbus is filled with glitter."

"And the colors?"

"I see pale yellow, aqua, light brown, white, and a sky blue." Kate thought a moment. "I'm not sure how to apply some of the colors to her, but I don't think she has any bad intentions. I'd guess responsibility, curiosity, purity... and something like intent, or maybe longing?"

Brody nodded, and then turned to the small woman. He closed the distance with Kate next to him, but left enough room not to appear aggressive. "Can we help you, Miss?"

Her voice was light and soft, and her words came out measured. "It is I who came to offer assistance, Brody Lynch." She gave a small curtsy. "My name is Oriana. You called for me, Kate McCarthy, as was expected."

Kate wondered aloud, "How do you know us? How did you know to come here?'

"I was asked to be here, should you call. I have known of you for your entire life, Kate Rachel McCarthy, as I do of your family. Your brother Jack is so like Liam was in his own youth; full of frivolity, reliability, and devotion. But Jack, like you, has more than that, as does sweet Jane." Her hooded head then tilted toward Brody. "I have known of you, Brody Lynch, since you came here. Your pets are smart, brave and loyal; you should be proud. I have been visiting these fields for long and long, well before when Michael and Maira Finnegan held their deed. I came and revealed myself so that we might strike a pact."

Kate was immediately defensive. "How do you know about my family? How could you know of my da?"

Brody's questions came immediately after, although his were tinged with disbelief. "Are you saying you've been wandering around here for decades?! And you've been messing with my dogs? You're losing your welcome pretty quick, little lady."

To Brody, Oriana said, "I do not mean to upset you, especially on your own land. I have not tampered with your pets, other than for your benefit. I have an affinity with most creatures and would never abuse them. And know, Brody Lynch, that I have been walking these lands for centuries." As she said the last, Oriana pulled the hood away from her face.

Brody unintentionally whispered, "Holy shit", under his breath. Kate could only gape. Oriana had a pale, heart-shaped face with a small mouth and full lips under a small nose. Her hair was mostly charcoal black, with thin strips of grey and blonde. The front was in bangs, while the rest was pulled back into a loose tail. Small, pointed, elfin ears protruded from the thick mane. Her eyes were twice the size they should have been, with small pupils, and bright amber irises like fractured glass.

Oriana turned to Kate. "I knew of Liam McCarthy when he was a boy, and his father before him. I am familiar with many of the people of your village, although they know nothing of me. It was I who precipitated Liam's attack - angina, you call it - so that you might return, and escape the darkness of the city."

Brody could almost feel the heat that came off Kate then. "You did what?! You attacked my father?!" she bellowed.

Oriana remained calm. "It was all for the best."

"How in hell was that a good thing?!"

"For Liam, it warned his doctors of the impending condition. Had I not instigated what I did, the attack he would have suffered later would have been much worse. For you, it was a way to return, to escape the grey of the city and all of its heartbreak. I know you have a sight beyond most, and wished to give you a chance to see its potential."

The explanation calmed Kate somewhat, but Brody could tell her blood was still up. He wanted other answers, anyway. "Oriana, I hate to be rude... but what the hell are you?"

"Do you need to hear the words, Brody Lynch? Was Kate not given information that she did not share with her love?" Oriana's eyes went to Kate. "I have come to give you answers you seek, for I have something akin to your sight, but I would ask of something in return. This thing I ask is irregular, and involves the boon to be passed to Mr. Lynch, should he agree."

Brody spoke up. "If you truly mean to help Kate with her new gift, then I'll agree to anything reasonable. Could we do this out of the rain?"

Oriana nodded in acquiescence to the former, but said, "As much as I would enjoy your hearth and hospitality, it was suggested that I meet with you both out on your land. And, as a show of good faith, I will help all that I may. We can discuss the pact afterwards. Is that agreeable?"

Both Brody and Kate wondered separately who would give the unearthly girl such strange advice, but they both simply nodded to the request.

Oriana stepped in front of Kate and looked up into her eyes for a long moment. Kate could only stare back into the huge amber eyes, fascinated. "You have the eyes of one who sees the hues. Know that how they are deciphered is up to the one with the ability; the colors representing love or hate to you is not the same for me. You must practice it, and trust your instincts. I know you have questions, so I will answer as best I can."

Kate pulled her hood further down. "I think there's another side to it, something more, but it worries me that it might be foul."

The petite fae smiled. "It is not a bad thing, Kate McCarthy, but it might only come to fruition in foul circumstances. It is a defensive measure, and draws upon the grey that pervaded most of your life. I would not wish to see you employ it often; prolonged exposure may sink you deep into the grey and dim your new vision. And, as I said, it may only avail itself in times of need, not want. How it might manifest if you ever need it, I do not know." Oriana stepped back. "Was that adequate assistance?"

Kate nodded. "Yes, thank you. And I apologize for my tone earlier."

"I cannot say that I fully understand your initial reactions, but I knew to expect them." She then turned to Brody. "I have fulfilled my part of the pact. Will you listen to my request?"

Brody looked to Kate to see if she was satisfied with Oriana's help. She nodded to him. He then turned back to the enigmatic creature. "What did you have in mind?"

Oriana gestured with her head beyond Brody and said, "Your northernmost field."

He glanced vaguely over his shoulder to the north, then back to her. "You want a piece of my land? Can I ask what for?"

"I wish a haven of my own, and that small parcel of land suits my desires."

"A... haven? You want to build something there?"

Oriana nodded up at him. "What I would do with the land would be my own affair, but know that it would be an organic and aesthetic construct."

Brody frowned. "Like maybe a short tower-type thing?"

Oriana nodded with a small smile.

Kate looked at him. "A tower? How would you know that?"

He turned to her. "Remember on Saturday morning when Jack went in my office? I looked later on for what he was doing in there. He drew a low, wide tower, with a big fireplace and interior stairs that circled up to the top."

Brody and Kate stared at each other for a second, and then both turned toward Oriana. She smiled at them, but then her eyes went even impossibly wider and the smile fell. Her head turned to the right of them, and then she simply disappeared.

They both stepped back in surprise, but their attention was quickly brought to where the small fae had looked in alarm. A car roared down the lane and busted through Brody's gate.

Chapter 37

"There's that bitch sprite with the dirty trick up her sleeve," Lorcan said to himself. He hovered in the air over the Wagner's rental car as it came to a stop, and he spotted her immediately. He'd prodded this game along too far to let her end it now.

Lorcan had assumed that this little bit of mischief had turned some heads, and he might be made some offers in the future from those who needed his particular talents. But for the time being, he had to deal with the one with the stupid doll's eyes. Being pulled fully into this realm made him not only visible, but vulnerable. Lorcan would just have to ensure that everyone was too busy - or incapacitated - to be concerned with him. Besides, his being seen here wasn't such a big deal, since he assumed that most of them wouldn't be leaving alive. He'd deal with the hilarious aftermath in due time.

"But for now," Lorcan said to himself, "let's get the ball rolling one last time. My, oh my, this is going to be fun."

*

Brody watched three men get out of the car. One of them, the bald one, stood by the driver's door and made the small-caliber gun in his hand very apparent. The older of the other two others went to the trunk and struggled with something until he reappeared with a woman in a housecoat whose hands were bound. As the rain began to saturate her mussed, dark hair, Brody realized it was Cora. He had to grab Kate's hand when she started toward them.

The three walked their hostage into the paddock and stopped twenty or so feet away. The young man was off to Brody's right, the older dark-haired man was in the center with a harsh grip around Cora's neck, and the gunman stood to their left.

"Mam?" Kate called out with obvious distress.

Her mother answered, "Just keep your tongue, dear. Let these bastards be done and gone."

Brody moved in front of Kate. "Cora, are you alright?"

The bald, hungry-looking man answered for her. "She's fine for now, Lynch, unless you don't give us our due. We're here for our share of Rose's money, plus interest."

Brody squinted at them through the rain. "You're... Wagner's, from Louisiana?"

"You bet your ass, tiny," Joe said. "Like you deserved all her fucking money? It was us that looked after her growin' up. And since we didn't get our share, we're here to take it."

With teeth clenched, Brody replied, "She never would have given you a dime, and that's saying a lot from the most generous woman I've ever known. I can't believe my own family came all this way to ransom money out of me."

"Believe what you want, boy. We don't much give a shit," Pete said, and then gestured with the gun to his brother.

Joe took a tighter grip on Cora, and then tossed her out into the center between them. He laughed as the rough shove made her fall hard and slide a few feet on the tall grass.

Pete continued talking to Brody. "You're gonna run along with your Uncle Joe and do whatever he says while we look after your bitches. Screw it up one little bit, and there'll be one empty seat at the dinner table. Got it?"

They were all distracted by the sudden insane howling and barking coming from the cottage.

*

Oriana had kept her eye on the interaction, but mostly on the little one that Enochia called Lorcan, who floated off to the side. He kept his black eyes on her as he slowly hovered, then with an indecent smile, vanished. He reappeared behind her, and slapped Oriana in the back of her head with an insulting blow.

She spun, but he had vanished again. She felt his small, hard boots strike her in the back of the knees; she crumpled to the ground. Before he could strike again, Oriana issued a silent call to any animals that could hear to come to her aid, Brody's pets included.

Lorcan was also distracted by the wildly barking dogs, but didn't see any coming. He was about to nudge someone else to distract the fae bitch when he was set upon by a small flock of sparrows and fulmars, who circled and dove at him. He covered himself in defense, and then began vanishing again to lose the birds.

*

Brody could almost feel the malicious avarice from the two older Wagner's, and it was obvious that they weren't worried about witnesses. And that meant they didn't plan on leaving any. With the distraction, Brody charged for his Uncle Pete and hoped to get to him before he could turn back with the gun. Kate saw him charge and ran the few feet to shield her mother with her own body.

Brody was almost upon the gunman, but not quickly enough. Pete spun and shot wild. The bullet hit Brody in his left shoulder, and he felt it pass through. The power of it spun him to the side, and he stumbled to one knee.

*

Ben glanced all around and saw the strange events in front of him. Birds had filled the field, swooping and screeching. The redhead and her mom were nowhere to be seen. And where did that carrot-top kid come from? Then came the gunshot, and his big cousin stumbled.

Ben knew if those women were found, Pete would put them down, or worse. He saw that his dad was about to go pounce on Brody. Ben made a hard choice, and jumped in front of him. "Pop... No."

Joe snarled. "You worthless little shit, get outta my way." He went to push past his son, and was surprised when Ben kneed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

*

Oriana stood, knowing her call would bring more creatures to her aid. She then had time to focus on Lorcan himself. She willed him into the realm fully, and forced her power to keep him there. She saw that he became aware of his physical self, standing in the field.

Lorcan stood still for a moment and angrily realized that he could not vanish when fully in form. But he could still hover and move with inhuman speed. He utilized that ability to dart and dive evasively, and tried to advance over to where his opponent stood. He landed and cannonballed toward her, but stopped short when two red foxes leaped in front of Oriana in snarling defense.

*

Brody used the adrenaline of the chaos and the activity of father fighting son to charge the again-distracted Pete. Just as Brody charged into him, the gunman let off another shot.

Joe had a hand up to ward off another blow from his son, and flinched at another gun report. He hesitantly looked up and saw Ben standing there with a confused look. Joe saw blood begin to bloom through on his son's wet t-shirt.

Ben took one step back, looked down at his chest near his right shoulder, and then dropped hard onto his butt in the mud.

*

Lorcan paused for a moment in his evasive tactics to see what the humans were doing. The women were nowhere in view, but he did see Lynch on the shark. The fool, Joe, stood off to the right of them, looking down like an imbecile at the young one.

The redcap growled and threw a hard, aggressive nudge at Joe to refocus his goal and get things fully back in their favor. He then had to speed off again to avoid a few egrets, and tried to circle around toward his own opponent. He figured she must be starting to tire from both holding him in-realm, plus keeping the animals under her command. He kept at her, knowing the normally-skittish beasts would flee when her resolve failed.

He began to spin at an angle to get past the foxes when a goshawk swooped in and furrowed his neck. He clamped a hand to the wound, and a trickle of violet blood ran over his fingers as he once again barreled away.

*

Brody rammed into Pete with grunting impact, and the gun sailed out into the tall grass. Brody pounced on his uncle, and they wrestled and swung at each other.

Joe, suddenly enraged, went after the big man on his brother, completely ignoring the gun that flew over his head as he ran for them. He plowed into Brody from the side and knocked him off Pete. They all regained their feet and went at each other. The much larger man used his strength to grapple his uncles, shoving one down while he fought for a better grip on the other.

Brody saw that the bald one was hurt from short punches and elbows, but his eyes flared, as if from an electric charge, and he came after Brody again. Joe, too, kept being reinvigorated with rage. Brody was beginning to tire from his wound, and from the two that should have already been worn from fatigue. He had Joe in a firm grip, and as Pete slipped on the wet grass, Brody was able to get each in a clinch of his massive arms.

*

Lorcan found he was being kept to the ground from the avian attacks, and then had to evade the stoats that went after his feet. He also had to keep giving nudges to the brothers to keep them in top form, such as it was. His opponent was stronger than she appeared, but some of the animals were starting to depart.

Lorcan zigzagged to avoid the claws of a barn owl and tripped over something. He rolled over and over from his velocity, finally sat up, and shook his shaggy head. He looked back to see what he stumbled over, and with a moment's study, he saw them.

The redhead was blanketed over her mother, unmoving and huddled. Lorcan would worry later about how she did that trick. He quickly probed and found a deep spot of insecurity in the redhead. He then gritted his teeth and threw the strongest nudge he could at her. He was then forced to speed off again.

*

Just as Brody had both men in headlocks and began to squeeze, he was distracted by the sound of Kate's voice. He tore his eyes away from his opponents as she screamed at him.

"How could you, Brody?!" Kate wailed from over her mother. "Who is she?!"

Brody was a little stunned by the view in front of him. In the background, little weasels kept leaping out of the tall grass after some impossibly fast, wild-haired kid. Overhead, all sorts of birds, from sparrows to hawks, were circling and swooping. And there was Kate, who knelt next to her huddled mother. "What?" he yelled back.

"Now I know how you knew that word - 'johnnies'. Damn you, Brody Lynch!"

Trying to keep his grip on his opponents, Brody looked at her in shock. "Is this really the best fucking time to talk about that, Kate?"

Kate saw that Brody was preoccupied with his attackers, and failed to answer her allegation. "Who is she, you lying bastard!" she shrieked. Brody had no reply except to stare at her with his mouth open.

Kate was about to yell again when she was struck with a mind-clearing slap to the face. Cora pulled her hand back and said, "What in God's heaven is wrong with you, Kate McCarthy! The man is fighting to save us and you're screaming wild accusations! Now shut your fool mouth!"

Brody grunted from a strike to the groin, and the Wagner's slipped free. Joe scrambled away to find the gun, so Pete intended to keep his big nephew occupied until it was found. The bald man stepped in ready to attack again, but Brody was already in mid-swing with an arcing overhand right.

The huge fist connected; bones in Pete's face crunched. Unconscious on impact, his uncle fell away into the tall grass as if he was thrown.

*

Lorcan knew his chances were getting better to get inside the defenses of Goldie, a nickname he gave the fae bitch. First, though, he had to slow the big man down before he could ruin the game. Lorcan was frustrated at the situation and was getting violently desperate; this was not how he saw this playing out. This was not the mayhem he intended.

He avoided the latest aerial attack, zoomed in toward Brody, barreled into the back of his legs and downed him. Lorcan rolled away and suddenly froze in realization. He had just broken his pact with the oracle. He cursed the elements, and then resolved to face that debt later; he still matters at hand to attend to.

Lorcan was about to build speed for another attack when his attention was diverted by the sound of shattering glass.

*

Brody was hit hard from behind and dropped to his knees. He looked up to see Keller smashing through a bedroom window. The dog was instantly bloodied from a slice of glass, but charged forward undaunted. Honey and Pearl leaped out after him.

Brody's attention was drawn away from his dogs when he heard unfamiliar voices behind him.

*

Joe crawled through the grass in desperation when he came upon the feet of his son. Joe lifted his head up to see Ben in a sitting position with the right side of his chest stained red. His son's right arm hung limp in his lap, but his left hand held the gun in a loose grip.

Ben sounded tired when he said, "No more, pop."

Joe froze for a split second with an emotion other than greed. His son - pathetic, weak, but still his own flesh and blood - was badly injured. His boy looked like his whore of a mother just then. Joe's anger and injured pride - a wound kept open for years with spite and betrayal - clouded any civil whims of concern. 'Laying there like a whipped mongrel,' he thought to himself, 'and the worthless fuck is gonna give me orders?'

Joe glanced at the gun with anxiety of what his idiot boy might do, but the continuing and insurgent impulse of avarice would not be denied. He slowly held a hand out and quietly said, "Benny, give me the piece. We'll get you fixed up after."

Ben looked his father in the eye and sighed; his old man was a horrible liar. "It has to stop; this is fucking insane." He wanted to point out to his dad the crazy, cruel path they'd been following to find the end of some blood-red rainbow. But at that point, Ben simply couldn't. Despite being cold, his chest was on fire, and he was suddenly exhausted. The wild look in his dad's eyes told him the old fool wouldn't listen anyway. All he could manage to say with a ragged breath was, "Look at us, pop."

Tired of his boy's whimpering and stalling, Joe leaned forward and snarled, "Just fucking give it to me, you little pussy."

Ben's left hand came up in a flinching, defensive move. Joe lunged with arms out; he felt confident his cowardly son would obey when forced. His right hand grabbed at the gun in order to wrench it free; his left hand slapped down hard on Ben's chest near the bullet wound.

Roaring through clenched teeth from the pain, Ben's eyes squeezed shut and his body jerked from the vindictive strike ... including the finger on the trigger of the small caliber weapon. The loud gunfire made both father and son stop in their struggle.

Joe began to get clumsily to his feet, but not before Ben opened his eyes and noticed a small black hole about the size of a pea under his dad's right eye.

Ben could only stare as Joe made two faltering steps before collapsing to his knees. His dad's thick lower lip twitched strangely while he stared uncomprehendingly off into the distance. Joe held that pose for a second, and then collapsed lifelessly onto his side in the tall grass and mud.

Chapter 38

Lorcan spun away and back into the far side of the field. He needed room away from three rabid dogs and a kid with a gun. He saw that Goldie's power was failing; he was still in-realm, but the wild animals had dispersed. Lorcan summersaulted into her, sending her crashing into a stone field wall, and he felt the power on him falter. He was about to vanish when the damned power was reapplied.

He looked around and saw that the kid was lying down in the grass. Two of the dogs were with Lynch, but the bloody one was charging across the field. Between Lorcan and the dog - and much closer to him - were the two women.

*

Oriana saw Lorcan charge up to the prone women and press his large teeth against Kate's neck; she could only gasp from the sudden attack. Cora held still, not wanting to provoke the evil creature. The redcap then grabbed Kate by the hair and shook her head in aggressive warning. Oriana reached out with what little power she had left and told Keller to stop. The dog slowed and sat, yet still growled at the little man in front of him.

*

Even with his teeth on the redhead's neck, Lorcan's mouth was wide enough to curl at the ends into a smile. He'd get out of this yet, and my, oh my, what mayhem he'd created. In order to force Goldie to release her power on him, Lorcan shook she woman's head again. The display also emphasized the point that he had the upper hand. The friction of his teeth tore her tender flesh just enough for a trickle of blood.

It was then that the weather suddenly changed. The wind began to whip and buffet. The rain became a torrent of driving sheets. Lorcan lifted his head in wary curiosity.

That was when the lightning bolt struck.

Lorcan, Kate, Cora, and even Keller were sent sprawling from the concussive and deafening blast. Kate shook her head, still able to smell the ozone in the strong wind, and stared in awe at the smoking area of impact. "What - what in hell was that?"

With a small smile, Cora replied, "That would be your grandfather."

Aldritch of the Old Wood came from the tree line to their west. He strode toward Lorcan with a bellicose gait and fully in-realm, coat and dead-grass hair whipping out behind him.

The little fae looked pathetic with his drenched hair covering his fearful expression. At first hesitant, he hastily struggled to his feet to run.

Aldritch thrust his free hand out, palm forward. A howling, focused spike of air shot out at the instigator. Lorcan had just begun to move when he was violently slammed to the ground from behind. Aldritch then made a circling gesture with his large staff. A miniature cyclone formed in front of him and sped forward, pulling burnt grass and loose mud into its vortex.

What animals remained scattered from the cyclone's path. Lorcan had just gotten back to his feet when the controlled tempest lurched and sucked him into its dizzying confines.

Lorcan was left trapped and spinning wildly in the prison of air and debris while Aldritch walked with long strides over to Oriana. "Milady," he said low and gravelly, "do you need aid?"

She was beginning to stand. "Thank you, Aldritch. I am well enough, merely spent," Oriana straightened and brushed at her coat. "Please see to your business and let me be no burden upon your mind. I hope that we could speak again soon in better climate."

"That is my wish as well." He bowed to her and turned. Even heard over the howl of his dizzying prison, Lorcan was wailing in frustration and despair. Aldritch set his jaw and stamped his staff into the ground. A lingering barrage of thin lightning bolts shot down into the cyclone, striking the spinning Lorcan until his body went slack.

The vortex died suddenly, and Lorcan's prone form was tossed carelessly to the ground. The wind receded to a breeze, and the harsh rain eased into a drizzle. Satisfied with the new conditions, Aldritch stepped over to his family.

Chapter 39

With Honey and Pearl in concerned attendance, Brody stood and winced at the searing pain in his left shoulder. He observed the quieted field, first to make sure Kate wasn't injured, and also to verify that the bald Wagner was still down. As he looked down on the sprawled man, who was unconscious but breathing evenly, he realized that the man was his uncle and didn't even know his name.

Brody turned and saw the other nameless uncle lying there, lifeless in the dark mud. He simply couldn't understand what would drive his unknown relatives to the lengths they went, just for money. Granted, they could have gotten rich, but only until they were caught. Maybe it was some form of psychosis, or they were desperate for some reason. His anger flared with the thought that if they had only called and asked, Brody would have helped. Well, possibly.

Despite his throbbing arm, Brody stepped over the dead man and next to his cousin. He was a younger, good-looking guy who'd obviously had a radical change of heart, and apparently had some bad history with his dad.

The young Wagner opened his eyes and lifted his head to see his big cousin looking down at him. He moved his hand to his stomach, away from the discarded gun, and sighed. "I'm your cousin Ben, just so you know."

Brody grasped his left arm in a futile attempt to relieve the pain. "You'll understand if I don't shake your hand."

Ben let a grimacing smile cross his face before he laid his head back and closed his eyes. "Man, I never wanted this. It went way too far, for too long, and I couldn't stop 'em." He tried to take a deep breath and flinched from the pain. "They just went nuts all the sudden, and I was too greedy and chicken-shit to walk away. Uncle Pete woulda killed me, but that's no excuse."

Brody crouched down next to him. "You think he would've let you live if your plan worked?"

Ben laid there for a moment, and then nodded. "You're right; I'd be road kill either way. I was just thinkin' about the next step, dreamin' about a payoff and makin' sure I didn't piss 'em off too much."

Shaking his head, Brody said, "All you had to do was call, Ben. I doubt I would have done much for your dad or uncle, but I probably would have given you a hand." Damn his conscience; he almost felt bad for his cousin.

Ben could only sigh at the trouble he helped to cause. Besides the deep pain, he was starting to feel a chill. "I know I don't deserve it or nothin', but could you maybe call me an ambulance?"

Brody stood. "We'll get one out here soon."

Ben opened his eyes and squinted from the spitting rain. "Hey, Brody... I just want to say I'm sorry. I know that doesn't cover it, but I am, man."

Brody looked down on his bloody cousin and nodded once. "Hang tight, we'll get you patched up soon." Without waiting for a response, he turned to survey the calm field.

All within fifteen minutes, Brody's world had gone insane. Kate had some weird new gift that let her see auras or nimbuses or whatever. The ability was explained by her mother's crazy story; yeah, not so crazy anymore. And it all got worse from there.

There were actual fairies on his property, but nowhere near the fairies seen in children's books. There was one little girl, woman, something. She reminded Brody of one of those Blythe dolls, but disappeared when she felt like it, and had angry animals take her place. Then there was some little demon boy who ran around the field dodging birds and ferrets until he was sucked into a mini-tornado. Last but not least was a giant with strange hair and waved a big, warped staff around, bending the weather to his will.

The painful entry and exit wounds in Brody's shoulder were hard reminders that the morning of fantasy and violence was all too real. He wanted all of the weird, uninvited fairy people off his property and out of his life, but, considering the things they could do, he wasn't going to be rude about asking them to go.

*

Aldritch stood over the awe-struck women, and offered his free hand first to Cora. He helped her stand easily and said, "Explanations will be given in due time, and you are deserving of one. We will speak of this soon, when I am in such a state to do so. Nonetheless, it is good to meet you, Cora." He then helped Kate to her feet. Looking down at her, Aldritch offered a faint smile. "Family looks after you as well, young one."

Kate smiled in return to the huge man with a glittering nimbus that she could barely discern, except perhaps duty and concern. The three of them turned towards Brody's approach.

Kate ran to him and hugged him tightly until he flinched in pain. Alarmed, she looked at him, and saw the oddly-colored stain on the left shoulder of his green coat. She was about to ask about it when she noticed the dark hole in the stain. Her eyes widened with realization. "Oh sweet Jesus, you're hurt! They shot you! How bad? How bad is it? Do you need to sit? Sit down. I'll call an ambulance. I need my phone."

She began to move, but Brody held her. "Calm down, okay? I'll be fine, but my cousin needs help, and maybe Keller, too. My uncle can wait 'til last." As Kate began to run ran to the cottage for her phone, he called her name. When she turned, he said, "When you yelled at me, I got distracted. That could've ended really bad... for all of us."

"Yes, it could've," Kate muttered shamefully.

"When everything settles down, I'd like you to explain why you did that."

"If I can," she replied, and then hurried off to the cottage.

With Honey by his side, Brody strode the few steps to Cora and the tall, unearthly man. Looking up into those strange eyes, he said, "I appreciate your help, uh, sir." He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so short.

Aldritch gave a slight bow of recognition, and then looked back over his shoulder to the prone Lorcan. Abruptly, he walked over and bent down to inspect the redcap's body. A spider was building a web in the overlarge, slack mouth.

Brody asked, "Is he alive?"

Aldritch stayed in his crouched pose. "Yes, merely stunned; I would not have this one banished so that he might escape. He has apparently broken an oath, if I read this sign correctly." The towering fae turned back to Brody. "His punishment is not for one of your kind to mete out. I know where he should be taken."

Brody had no idea what the giant meant about banishments and oaths, so he simply shrugged at his last words. "Fine by me; hell, I don't even know who he is."

The huge fae cocked his head. "It was this redcap who orchestrated the entire affair."

Brows knitted, Brody asked, "Can you make it so he never messes with me or the McCarthy's again? That, or throw him in the ocean with cement shoes. Either is fine with me."

Aldritch nodded, picking Lorcan up easily and unceremoniously by his overalls. "I give no guarantees for this one's fate, but I will pass along your wishes to the holder of the broken oath; they will be taken into consideration."

Brody returned the small bow.

Without another word to any of them, Aldritch made long strides back toward the tree line with the limp, diminutive instigator in his grasp. Brody glanced around and noticed that Oriana was still nowhere to be seen, but knew she'd be in contact again. If she somehow helped them - and Brody was fairly sure she did - then one of his many paddocks was easily worth it.

Brody then turned to Cora. She was soaked, her housecoat was smeared with mud and grass stains, and her hair was a mess. He brushed wet hair away from her eyes and said, "I am so sorry you got swept up in this, this... I don't even know what to call it. If there's anything I can do to make this nightmare up to you, just name it."

Cora smiled up at him, a first for Brody from her. "Make my Kate happy, and we'll call the debt settled."

-Epilogue-

Brody finally heard back from Jamal. With a phone to his ear, he sat back on the couch and watched the early November rain drench the lingering fall colors while his friend described some of Carla's plans for their wedding.

At the mention of Jamal's fiancée, Brody recalled when Carla had finally called him a few weeks back and apologized for not calling, but when she found Jamal beaten and unconscious in his home, she admitted to a lack of rational thought. He was in bad shape for a number of long days, and the recovery was slow. Brody understood completely.

Brody in turn hoped Jamal understood when he explained that he'd be testifying both in Ireland and via satellite for his cousin when the cases came up. Brody thought that Ben, once he went through the hospital and court system in Ireland, deserved someone to explain the position he was put in. He agreed with Jamal that Pete Wagner deserved everything he'd get, once the reconstructive surgeries healed.

The emergency services and Gardaí took a little time getting to the cottage that day nearly a month ago, but it gave Brody, Cora, and Kate ample time to come up with a satisfactory story to explain the mess. It was actually rather simple, once the fairies were removed from the picture.

Kate only had a minor cut on her neck, and Cora had various bruises, but they went with Brody to the hospital up in Sligo in the second ambulance that arrived. Ben and the other Wagner's were taken there as well, but either in custody or in a body bag.

What was known of the story, as told by Brody's nearest neighbors, was quite the stir in Ballaghadaere for a time. Even with Kate - and surprisingly, Cora - giving the edited account of the incident, some of the townsfolk thought that their new American neighbor was a storm of trouble. First was the fight at Collin's, where Mitch Kelly suffered a broken jaw and collarbone, then the murder out at Brody's home. He simply kept his distance until he wasn't so much of a topic.

Unfortunately, the Irish media was more of an issue than the legal aspect. After the first few reporters came knocking on his door, Brody's first priority was to get a new lane gate. The story was in many of the papers, which meant that he had been researched. Items of vague public record were released in a few stories, including his familial and professional background. That, plus a brief statement from defendant Ben Wagner, implied Brody's financial status. One reporter also went on to say that 'death followed the man', which only reinstalled his earlier paranoia to a small degree. Another nagging concern was that Brody's visa might somehow be revoked because of the incident.

As if a suspicious bit of luck was involved, none of Brody's worries became much of an issue. The newspapers quickly went on to other stories; there were no petitions or people at the door hoping for financial assistance; the government never contacted him. Except for the vivid memories and a handful of aging articles, it curiously was as if the whole thing never happened. All the while, Kate (and her family to a lesser degree) was there for him with a consoling presence and a voice of reason.

Other than Oriana visiting to complete their agreement a few nights after the event, Brody hadn't seen any of the 'Other Crowd' - as Kate called them - since. He became fascinated with the whole 'sidhe' concept; although searches bore little fruit to explain what he'd seen. Brody and Kate discussed it on a few occasions, but let the topic drop when they could form no rational conclusions.

Brody was curious as to the wild-haired boy's fate but soon decided it was out of his hands and tried to forget about him. Kate was told of Cora's true father, Aldritch, but was given little information beyond that. It was agreed by Brody, Kate and her mother that knowledge of the Other Crowd should be kept secret, even from the rest of the McCarthy family.

On that secretive note, Brody never actually saw any of the tower construction in what he thereafter called the 'pixie paddock'. On morning walks with the dogs, he'd notice that more work was increasingly done with quality and haste, although workers were never seen. There was never any noise of labor or debris of construction, nor even a sign of any supply palettes.

Jack and the Gavin's never seemed to notice the tower's construction in the least, and Brody thought it wise not to call their attention to it. Despite his admiration of the squat construct, Brody kept a respectful distance from it, and replaced the gate to that parcel with more stone.

Kate's newfound ability - "nimbus", as she referred to it - became a topic of occasional talks between her and Brody. She honed her skill to only use it with a touch of minor concentration, and not to let it pervade her normal activities and interactions. From time to time, Kate would inadvertently notice grey swirling in a person's nimbus and try to avoid them when possible.

The newly gifted sight also allowed Kate to notice a sparkling in a pattern while in town on rare occasions. Of those encounters, Kate did her best to casually evade one, and act naturally when she passed another on the street. Because of her anxiety, she didn't remember much of what they looked like.

More disconcerting for Brody was the higher number of "glow sightings" Kate would mention that she saw on or near his property. She described the majority of them as swirling pastel lights that left trails like tiny comets. On one occasion, she also noticed a larger, ambiguous nimbus down on the lakeshore; they presumed it was Oriana. Brody wasn't fond of any more of the 'Other Crowd' coming around his haven.

As for Kate's defensive counterpoint, she referred to that as 'blending', and couldn't trigger its effects in normal circumstances. She said it was nothing so fantastical as true invisibility, but rather a use of the 'grey' to become unnoticed and forgotten, unremarkable and blended-in. Oriana was correct; Kate didn't want to have to use it any more than necessary. The initial use of blending left her feeling a bit numb and drained, but she remembered feeling the spent energy quickly regained upon seeing Brody's vibrant glow in that wet field weeks ago.

Kate bustled about, still adding a woman's touch to the cottage since she moved in during the first few days of November. Besides that she loved the cottage, land, and dogs as much as Brody did, she hated any time apart from him. Brody's heartfelt offer to have her share his home was eagerly accepted.

She frowned at Brody's feet on the coffee table, but said nothing while he was still on the phone. In return, he blew her a kiss and threw her a wink. Kate smiled, shook her head, and strolled off.

As Brody listened to Jamal's complaints of itching under his multiple casts, he got up and stretched his healing shoulder. He petted the dogs while they waited for a treat from Kate in the kitchen, checking once more to make sure that Keller's superficial cut had healed well.

Jamal then started talking about plans for when Brody and Kate would come to the states for the wedding. Brody listened with a faint smile as he absently looked out the back door. From that position, the upper battlement of the tower could be seen over a stunted tree line. He wondered for the hundredth time why he and Kate could see it when Jack and the Gavin's couldn't, how it was built so quickly, and by whom.

Brody turned his eyes back into the kitchen to watch his gorgeous woman as she was making initial preparations for the big meal to come. She saw him staring, smiled, and mouthed, "I love you"; he mouthed the same words to her. Kate then glanced up at the wall clock, and back to him with raised eyebrows. The McCarthy's were coming over for dinner, but he thought he had a while to continue his phone call.

Kate approached and whispered into his other ear, "You should finish up soon."

He cupped the phone and whispered back, "They're not due 'til six. I still have time."

Kate pressed herself against him and licked his ear. "Not as much time as you think."

Brody's eyes closed for a moment as Kate's hands began to roam his body. He interrupted Jamal in mid-sentence. "Jammer, I gotta go. Talk to ya soon, man."

Kate giggled into Brody's neck as he set his phone on the counter. She craned her head up and gave him an amorous, half-lidded look as her fingers found their way under his shirt. "Mr. Lynch, would you... care for a spot of tea?"

Brody's hands began to explore as well. "Hmm, what does my nimbus say?"

Kate's hand slid down and gently squeezed. "I'm not interested in your nimbus right now."

###

Author's note: The fictional village of Ballaghadaere (pronounced Bala-dare) is closely derived from Ballaghaderreen (pronounced by many as Bala-hadreen), a quaint little town in northern County Roscommon, Ireland.
