Irish Heart: The Irish Treasures Saga, #2

Prologue

A re you sure? Dermot asked as they stood facing each other on the cliffs. The waves battered the sharp rocks below, the thunder of it echoing on the warm breeze.

Brigid only nodded as she let the dress slide from her body.

His eyes widened at the sight of her pale skin and he slowly reached up to her breast. She gasped when his fingers touched, desire unfurling in her belly. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her with as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

His shirt flapped open in the breeze and she brought her lips to his bare chest and smiled. I love you.

I... Dermot’s face paled as the words halted in his throat. He stumbled away from her, a hand coming up to his chest.

Her cheeks flamed red as she wrapped her arms around her chilled body. You don’t have to say it back.

Brigid, his voice cracked, bringing tears to his eyes. His hands clenched, fingernails drawing blood from his palms.

Brigid quickly pulled on her dress, realizing something was wrong Dermot? What’s the matter?

He fell as she spoke, his back arching while his fingers dug at his chest.

She rushed to his side, her fingers flying to feel for a pulse while he gasped in a breath. Dermot! She pressed into his neck and felt his heartbeat skipping frantically. Gods above! The words were more a prayer than exclamation as she scrambled to his pack, throwing things out of it as she searched. Where are the pills? she screamed as she tore through the bag.

Brig, he groaned, his back arching again as his body convulsed.

She rushed back to him, checking his pulse again. The frantic beat had slowed so drastically that she thought it had stopped. They’re not in your pack, Dermot, she cried, tears running in hot trails down her face. How much time? she moaned out the question while her mind called out for help. She knew her brother, Ian, would hear her, and that maybe he would get help in time.

No... time, he gasped, grabbing her hand and locking their fingers. Brig. His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to speak past the pain. He knew, without a doubt, that he was going to die in her arms. Opening his eyes again, he focused on her tear-streaked face. Love... you, he gasped as his heart gave out. His body twitched as he slipped away, Brigid’s screams echoing in his mind.

No! she cried out as she felt for his pulse and found none. She forced his eyelid open and cringed as he stared back, lifeless. Sobbing, she began pumping his chest, counting aloud as she prayed for help to arrive. Suddenly her brother was at her side, her father a split second later.

Ian knelt beside her, automatically breathing into Dermot’s blue lips. Heli’s on the way, he told her between breaths. Told them his condition. Ten minutes out.

Brigid moaned while her father took over compressions. He won’t make it that long!

You don’t know that, Ian countered, giving Dermot another breath.

He’s already leaving, she sobbed.

Are you linked with him, Brigid? Ian shouted out the question as her father groaned.

Jamie reached up, forcing his daughter to look at him. If he goes, you could very well go with him, child he whispered, his eyes pleading.

I love him, Da, she sobbed, her eyes locking with his. I can’t let him go! She heard Ian curse and saw her father’s eyes widen when he realized what she was going to do.

Brigid, no, Ian shouted. It’ll kill you!

Help me Da, Ian. She looked at each of them, knowing it could be the last time she saw them. I’ll die if I lose him. Help me.

Father and son looked at each other and nodded reluctantly. Brigid laid her shaking hands on Dermot’s chest while her father’s hand and seconds later, Ian’s, covered over hers.

"Keep your focus, Róisín," her brother whispered her childhood nickname as he called up his power to strengthen hers.

You’re stronger than you realize, her father murmured, fighting back tears while he linked his power with his children.

Brigid took a deep breath and called up the energy that boiled inside her. Her voice rang strong and clear as the waves crashed below them.

Powers of healing and powers of life, to save my love this summer’s night. To bring him back from death’s cold ledge, ‘tween light and dark, on its edge. This I do willingly for life and for him, though mine I may forfeit, I willingly give. My love reaches out to bring him back to me, as I will so it shall be.

Brigid dove into the darkness, gasping at how unbelievably cold it was. The feeling spread like ice through her veins, rattling her senses. She searched for Dermot, calling his name into the void. Suddenly she was washed in a brilliant light, and knowing that Dermot was there, turned toward it.

His face was sad and slightly disapproving when he looked at her, as if he knew what she was risking being there. He continued to move away from her as she fought to reach him. Seeing him start to fade away, she delved deeper for her power and felt herself begin to slip. But her father and brother pulled her back, holding her away from the abyss as she fought to reach him.

Dermot! she cried, barely able to see him. Don’t leave me! She saw him turn and raise a hand, as if to stop her. She ignored it and pushed closer to him, feeling herself weaken. I won’t let you die, she cried defiantly, reaching out to him. I won’t let you die!

His blue eyes were full of sadness as her fingers wrapped around his and tightened. She saw a tear slide down his cheek before she felt the strength rush out of her like a tidal wave. Then she let the darkness swallow her as she slipped into the blackness.

Chapter 1

Brigid came awake slowly , tears wet on her face, and a dull ache in her chest. She sat up carefully, her head spinning with the memories she had tried for so long to suppress. She rubbed her eyes as her cat, Finn, uncurled his sleek body and stretched. He looked at her with yellow eyes, brilliant against black fur, and watched.

Another bad dream?

Finn’s voice was clear in Brigid’s mind as he rubbed his head on her arm. She nodded and wiped the tears from her cheek.

Many moons have passed since you have dreamt that way. His voice was thoughtful. You should not dwell on the past.

You know that doesn’t help very much, she mumbled, throwing off the quilt and stretching again. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the sofa, but as she had sat reading a book as the fire crackled in the hearth, the dreams had come quickly.

Food will help. I am hungry.

I’m hungry too, she answered when he meowed and rubbed against her. She padded into the kitchen, seeing a storm rolling in from the West. It was February, a little over a month since Morgan and Quinn had defeated the Fomóirí to keep Lugh’s Spear out of evil hands. It had been a night of narrow escapes. Brigid shivered as she remembered.

The ancient and evil Fomóirí had come back to Ireland, thousands of years after the Tuatha De Danann had defeated them and thrown them back into the sea. However, the ancient Celtic gods had not left humanity without help. Descendants of the High Kings, and their goddess queens, were still in Ireland, ready to defend her shores. The Tuatha had created four great treasures that could defeat the Fomóirí, and each generation of keepers would guard them until they were once again needed.

Two years prior, Morgan was living in America with an abusive husband. She’d been nearing the end of her pregnancy when he had beaten her so badly that she’d nearly lost the baby and her life. Morgan had fled America with her newborn, seeking refuge with her Irish family, as she filed for divorce.

Morgan had discovered the power she carried in her blood, and with Brigid and Quinn’s help, had blossomed into a powerful and confident witch. But shortly after her arrival, they discovered that the time for guarding the treasures had come. Quinn would be the first to fight, together with Morgan.

The Fomóirí had not fought alone either. It had taken control of Morgan’s ex-husband and sent him to hunt her down. Jonathan had gone on a rampage searching for her, murdering six people, in three different countries, including Morgan’s father.

Morgan had fallen in love with Quinn and soon discovered they were expecting a child together. They were married a few months later at the festival of Mabon.

The night the Fomóirí tried to take the spear, Jonathan had stabbed Morgan in the stomach, missing her unborn infant by mere centimeters. The second wound had been in her calf. Brigid shuddered as she thought of it. The knife had still been embedded in Morgan’s leg when Brigid had arrived at the bloodied circle of stones. Thankfully, Morgan hadn’t tried to remove it; the blade had nicked an artery and was the only thing keeping her from bleeding out.

Quinn had been an even closer call. Morgan, already weakened from loss of blood, was trying desperately to heal him when Brigid had gotten there. The blast of power that had hit him full in the chest should have killed him, but Morgan’s seemingly useless attempt at defending him had actually slowed the lightning. The bolt had stopped just before reaching his heart.

Needless to say, the wound was grave. Caused by black magic, it festered and tainted the skin around it. Quinn had nearly died from the fever that set in only a few days later. It had taken Brigid a week just to heal the critical injuries. Now, Quinn and Morgan were both on the mend and healing well.

Jonathan had been killed, brought down by the very weapon the Fomóirí had been trying to take. The Fomóirí had fled the stone circle, retreating into the shadows to lick its wounds. Since that night, it had been strangely calm, with no sign of the Fomóirí coming back.

Brigid poured some food into Finn’s bowl and leaned against the counter as he began to eat. She thought back on her dream and shivered at the memory. She hadn’t thought of that day, at least not so vividly, in five years. Her anger began to rise as she tried to push the flashes of memory out of her mind. She was no longer a young girl, controlled by her emotions.

Yet she wondered why the memories of that fateful day were coming back now, with complete detail. Shaking her head, she pushed away from the counter and went back to her bedroom. Finn followed, his tail twitching with the rhythm of his steps.

What are you doing now?

I need to check on Morgan, she answered as she grabbed a pair of jeans.

You worry too much.

I do not, Brigid retorted and then smiled. Morgan was a few months from her due date. Brigid remembered how happy her and Quinn had been when they found out they were having a girl. She glanced down at Finn who was patiently waiting for her admission. All right, so I do. But it’s my gift to heal, and with that comes the curse of worrying too much.

Send my greetings.

His smug reply had her chuckling. I will, she answered and rubbed his head. I’ll be home in a little while. Throwing on her jacket, Brigid stepped out the door as a soft rain began to fall.

* * * * *

DERMOT COUNTED THE steady beating of his heart and cursed when he realized that he had slipped back into the old habit. He had been dreaming about that day on the cliffs again, and damn it all, he’d woken up hard as a rock, like some rutting eighteen-year-old. Growling in frustration, he threw off the rough wool blanket and walked over to the window.

The wind still whistled across the browned landscape, the late winter storm trying to batter the house. The cottage he had bought sat a kilometer from the Cliffs of Moher and only a short walk to Brigid’s. He tried to convince himself that her being so near had not been the reason he had picked it. He looked out at the land and sighed with regret. He wasn’t the same young boy that had roamed these Irish cliffs. The last six years had taught him several hard lessons that he was not likely to forget.

Knowing he wouldn’t get anymore sleep, Dermot began to dress. A long walk in the cold rain would force the exhaustion from his body. Throwing on his jacket and boots, he stepped out of the house, and began his walk to the cliffs.

* * * * *

SHE COULD FEEL SOMEONE following her. She didn’t have to look to know who was silently keeping pace with her. She could hear his heartbeat and had known it was him. The beat was as familiar as her own.

She stopped at the cliff’s edge, knowing he would stop too. She would have to face him eventually and she hated putting off the inevitable. His boots crunched on the brown grass as he walked towards her, the sound barely heard over the wind and waves.

Hello, Brig.

Dermot, she replied as steadily as she could, staring unblinking at the angry sea. Her voice still came out a bit shaky and she clenched her jaw in frustration.

It’s been a while.

His voice was rougher than she had remembered. She shook her head, willing the emotion from her mind. Six years, she answered shortly, still not looking at him. Anger was replacing frustration and she clenched her fists until she felt pain.

I know, his voice softened as he moved to stand beside her.

What do you want? she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to keep her eyes on the water.

I don’t know, he answered, sounding surprised. I couldn’t sleep. My dreams were crazy so I decided to walk. I didn’t think you’d be here too.

I was on my way to Morgan’s, she answered, not revealing that her dreams had woken her early as well.

Ah, that’d be Quinn’s new wife, he murmured. Never thought Quinn for one to settle down. Especially to an American lass with a wee child.

There’s nothing wrong with that, Brigid snapped, and in her anger, finally turned towards him. She gasped when she saw his face and any anger she was feeling drained away from her, leaving her cold and empty.

I was wondering when you’d look at me, he whispered, glancing at the ground.

Dermot had always been handsome. She used to tease him that he belonged in Hollywood with his dark, untamed hair