Chapter Twenty
The Emerald Isle’s Tales Await
The plane’s wheels set down at the Cork Airport just as the fog cleared and the rain gave way to a fine mist. Brandy and Stefan cleared security and customs first, followed by Hannah and Tristian. A small woman with misty green eyes, her short red curls bouncing, rushed up and threw her arms around Brandy, hugging her tightly.
“I’ve missed you so much.” She kissed Brandy’s cheek, then drew her back, holding her by the shoulders. The woman’s gaze swept over Brandy’s face, taking a long look into her eyes, then glanced over at Stefan. “This is the young lad we discussed months ago?”
“Aye, Ma, this is Stefan.” Brandy smiled wide and reached out for his hand. “Stefan, this is my ma, Mary Shaughnessy.”
“Looks like the two of you worked it out. I’m happy for you, darling,” Mary said, patting Brandy on the back lovingly, and reached out to include Stefan in the hug. Leaning over, he put one arm around her while the other still held Brandy’s hand. Mary’s forehead creased with concern for a moment, then, smiling up at him knowingly, she added, “Welcome, Stefan. You be good to our Brandy, or you’ll be answering to her da and me!”
“Yes, ma’am, there’s no doubt about that,” Stefan said cheerfully.
Hannah, followed by a hesitant Tristian, joined the group. Mary turned and reached out for her oldest daughter. “Hannah, it’s been too long. I’m so glad to see you.” She shifted, giving Tristian an appraising look. “This must be your young man…uh…husband.” She wrapped an arm around his waist. “Welcome to our family.”
“I missed you too, Ma. Yes, this is Tristian,” Hannah said as she patted his shoulder encouragingly and kissed his cheek.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Mary beamed. “We’ve planned a Ceilidh at the pub in honor of your wedding, Hannah, and Brandy’s return with her young man.”
“Gee, now there’s a surprise.” Brandy laughed, shooting Stefan an “I told you so” look.
He merely smiled at her, sending a thought. I hope we get to hunt before the celebration. Fourteen hours on the plane and a warm reception by your parents have sorely tested my restraint.
Of course, she responded in kind. Can’t have you feeding off the townspeople. Her lips twitched at his scowl.
A tall man with a stocky build, sandy-colored hair graying at the temples, and bright-green eyes waited patiently. “Me girl, I’m so glad to see ya.” He wrapped his arms around Brandy, lifting her off the ground in a strong bear hug, and swung her around in a circle like she was a rag doll. When he put her back on her feet, he held her by the shoulders and studied her face. “You look a lot happier than the last time we saw you. There’s a twinkle in your eye I haven’t seen before.”
He reached over with one hand and clasped Stefan’s shoulder, giving it a little shake as he grinned. “You put that twinkle in me Brandy’s eyes?”
“Aww, Da.” Brandy beamed and turned. “Stefan, this is my da, Tim Shaughnessy.”
Raising a brow, Stefan said, “I hope so, sir.”
Tim’s smile reached into his eyes and he had an easy manner about him, a born publican. Brandy could never tell exactly what her da was thinking.
“Da and Ma own the Shaughnessy’s Pub in our small fishing village. The pub has been passed down from father to son for generations, like the magic concoctions served alongside the pints of ale.”
“How far from here to your home?” Stefan asked, his forehead creased.
“Our home and the pub are in Ballycotton in the county of Cork, Ireland.” Brandy said proudly, her Irish lilt becoming more prominent.
“Approximately forty-six kilometers, right?” Tristian glanced at Hannah, who nodded.
Tim released Brandy and Stefan, then strode over, hand extended, to Tristian. “You must be Hannah’s young man.”
Tristian shook Tim’s extended hand and smiled, “Yes, I’m Hannah’s husband, Tristian.”
Tim narrowed his eyes at Tristian. “Aye…you ran off and secretly married me girl. Then waited damn near to a year before you two owned up to it.” He shifted his scrutinizing gaze to Hannah, but his lips gave way to a grin again. “Well then, you’re here now, aren’t ya? You’ll be paying the consequences for that behavior.” He thumped Tristian on the back, then let out a hardy laugh, eyes dancing. “Me girls both brought home Yanks.” Tim shook his head.
Mary sent him a warning glance. He shrugged. “Well, they did.”
Tristian grimaced and glanced over to Stefan.
Stefan immediately put both hands up, palms forward, and mouthed, “You’re on your own.” He turned back to Mary. “Brandy and I will meet you at your home or the pub after we have checked into our hotel and freshened up. Where could we rent a car?”
“Oh no, you’ll not be staying in a hotel,” Mary and Tim said simultaneously. Mary shook her head and waved a finger in front of their faces. “You’ll be staying with us. We’ve plenty of room.”
“Ma, it’s probably better if we stay in a hotel. Stefan and I don’t…”
“Ma, Tristian and I have reservations too, so…”
Mary interrupted. “Nonsense. Your father and I won’t hear of it.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “Whatever is making you four uncomfortable, we won’t let it matter. Now come on. Get your luggage loaded, and we’ll head for home.”
The Shaughnessy’s large home sat high on a bluff overlooking the Celtic Sea. Most of the windows had a clear view of the sea and all its moods. When they arrived, the sun peeked through the clouds and rainbows bounced off the waves. But as Tristian and Stefan unloaded the luggage, ominous storm clouds moved in. The bright-blue sky gave way to gray as the fog swirled in. The howling wind brought the frothing white-crested waves crashing into the shore menacingly.
Mary hustled everyone into the house as lightning streaked across the dark sky, thunder rumbled, and torrents of rain pounded the ground.
“Girls, your rooms have been remodeled, but they are still at opposite ends of the house, as always.” Mary grinned, shaking her head. “Sisters didn’t get along very well when they were teenagers. To keep peace in the house, it was best their rooms be a bit of distance from each other. It’s nice to see they’re closer now than ever they were.” Reaching up, she hugged both girls. “Now, scoot, and take your lads with you.”
Brandy padded toward the stairs and stopped to finger the evergreen and pinecone garland wrapped around the newel post and twined up the banister. A huge Christmas tree stood in the living room across from the big bay window that looked out to the ocean. In the soft light flooding the room, delicate red lace bows and crystal snowflakes shimmered on the tree. Bright multicolored bobbles hung from branches and popcorn garlands swirled on its limbs.
Several neatly wrapped packages peeked out from under the lower boughs that swept the floor. Christmas had arrived at the Shaughnessy house.
Tim entered the house soaking wet, shaking a few wet snowflakes from his jacket but grinning from ear to ear. “Rain turning to snow now. Very festive. When you’re all settled, come on down. We’ll have some tea and cakes in front of the fireplace, then persuade Brandy to tell us some tales. She’s a talented shanachie, don’t you know.”
Raising one eyebrow, Stefan tilted his head and shot a questioning glance at him. “A what?”
“Oh.” Tim laughed and waved his hand. “A shanachie. That’s Gaelic for storyteller.”
“Geez, Da,” Brandy moaned. “Stefan and Tristian don’t want to hear faerie tales. The rest of you’ve heard tell of them all our lives.”
“Aye, that’s true enough. I’ll wager that your lads never heard of our faeries, legends, and magic.”
“You’ve no idea.” Brandy sighed, but nodded her head in agreement, she’d learned a long time ago not to argue with her da. He always won. “Okay, but just a couple to make you happy.” She kissed her da on the cheek, turned, and slid her arm around Stefan’s waist, pulling him toward the stairs and her bedroom. They unpacked and showered, changing into clean jeans and bulky sweaters.
The mist rolled in off the ocean, and snow mixed with rain pattered on the windows as they entered the large living room. Everyone had settled around the fireplace. A well-worn, overstuffed red chair with its back to the fire faced the semi-circle of chairs. Brandy motioned Stefan to the only seat left, directly in front of her. Mugs of steaming tea sat on the tables between the chairs.
Everyone sipped their tea, passing a tin of peanut butter biscuits and listening to the rise and fall of her voice as she recounted the ancient tales of Irish myth, legend, and magic. Toward the end of the impromptu performance, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Stefan lean over and slip his untouched mug of tea onto the floor.
Brandy cleared her throat and took several sips of tea. “I believe that’s enough blarney for tonight.” She giggled and glanced out the window. The snow had stopped for now, but clouds floated across the crescent moon, casting shadows on the newly fallen snow. “Stefan and I are going to go for a walk before bed. Don’t wait up for us.” Brandy reached for her coat, but Stefan was already putting it around her shoulders.
“Goodnight, everyone. See you in the morning.” Stefan grabbed his coat on the way out and closed the door behind them. “You are a truly gifted storyteller,” he said proudly. “I enjoyed the Irish folktales.”
“Thank you. I’ve always loved telling the stories.” She paused for a beat, savoring the feeling of having her family around her. “Now let’s hunt. She turned to him. A beguiling smile curved her lips before she danced off into the woods behind the house. A moment later, the whoosh of air accompanied by the beat of wings and she was airborne, the most wondrous feeling in the world.
****
Brandy slept in Stefan’s arms while he watched the lace curtains flutter as the ocean breeze, heavy with brine, wafted through the window, open just a crack. A white mist swirled into the quiet room through the opening. It grew thicker and began to take shape, settling into the antique rocking chair in the far corner of their cozy room. A man with long, flowing hair the color of straw, dressed in jeans and a shimmering multicolored sweater, now sat in the rocking chair, left boot propped over on his right knee, watching Stefan with genuine interest.
Stefan’s body stiffened. His fangs pierced his gums as he shifted Brandy to a more secure position, though he sensed no threat. Too many stories around the fire?
Undisturbed, the apparition’s lips twitched. “You’re the súmair fala that stole our Brandy’s heart. An interesting turn of events this is,” he mused, nodding his head toward the window and pointing his finger toward Stefan, then to the outside. As quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone, leaving only a light mist floating across the floor.
Blinking his eyes, Stefan slowly looked around the room. What the hell was that? I wasn’t asleep so it couldn’t have been a dream. Stealthily, he slid out of bed without disturbing Brandy. He yanked on jeans, pulled an ivory cable-knit sweater over his head, and grabbed his boots as he padded silently down the stairs and out of the house. The storm had passed. The twinkling stars spread across the frosty dark sky. For a moment, he stilled, listening as the waves crashed against the shore off in the distance.
Glancing uneasily around the area in front of the house and toward steep cliffs shrouded in a settling mist, he saw nothing. Following the trail leading to the cliffs and ultimately down to the beach, he sprinted across the rocky terrain. He stopped once and glanced over his shoulder to make sure he’d closed the front door. Turning back around, Stefan skidded to a halt, damn near crashing into what he considered a figment of his imagination. “Who are you?” Stefan demanded.
In an amused voice, the apparition said, “I’m Tiarnan, King of the Warrior Faeries, of course.”
“Sure you are, and I’m the King of England,” Stefan snapped.
Tiarnan chuckled. “To be sure, there was a king of England, but you’re not him, and the queen now sits upon that throne.”
“Ha…Ha…Now, who are you really, and what do you want with me?”
Patiently, he repeated, “I am Tiarnan, King of Faeries. My sidhe is here and about under the hills of green. Haven’t you heard the music floating on the evening breeze?”
“Your what?” This was just too much. He shook his head in amazement as they continued walking along the cliffs, winding their way down toward the beach.
“Me sidhe, me palace. The faeries live under the hills here and about. You listened to your girl’s telling of the tales this evening?” He waved his hand as if to dismiss the situation. “No matter. I’m here because centuries ago a Book of Shadows was entrusted to me wife and me for safe keeping. It be in my possession, but I’ve no desire to deal with the ill-tempered warlock. Besides, he must hold only one Book. ’Tis you and Brandy who control the destiny of man and magickind. Sorry I am to lay this at your feet, but it’s what I know.”
He had Stefan’s undivided attention now. “You know about the Books of Shadows?”
“Aye, probably more than ye know yourself, but that’s a story for another time. I must warn you, the powers of darkness search for the Books as well. It’s safe for now in my possession. The legend foretells of three Books of Shadows united to restore the spells binding the portals of Hell. Does the warlock know where the other two are?”
“Not exactly,” Stefan replied, unsure whether he could trust Tiarnan. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was actually standing in the drizzling rain, which had started up again, having this conversation. But he had to admit Tiarnan definitely seemed to know more than he did. “We’ve come here on—”
“I know why you’re here,” Tiarnan interrupted. Impatient now, he paced on the rocky beach in front of Stefan. “Time is short. Evil lurks in places it never has before. The Irish have a respect for the magical realm, without question. Makes it less likely for evil to reside here unnoticed by mortals or the real faerie folk.” Narrowing his eyes, he stared at Stefan, then threw his head back, roaring with laughter. “You’re not even sure that I exist. Are you?”
“Well, let’s just say I’ve never had a conversation like this before. Why are you telling me all this?” Stefan shoved his hands in his pockets, pulled them back out, and raked them through his damp hair. “What do you want from me?”
“I’ve not questioned your existence as a súmair fala, now, have I? Some would.”
“A what?”
“Súmair fala…” he repeated, then paused at Stefan’s puzzled expression. “Gaelic for blood-drinker.”
“Oh…been a long while since I heard the term. But…warrior faerie…that’s a stretch for anyone.”
“To the devil with you. Go ask Brandy if I exist. We’ll continue this conversation later when you are more knowledgeable, less doubtful.”
Suddenly, Stefan stood alone on the beach, the mist clearing, giving way to slivers of silver moonlight dancing along the rocks. Damp from the spray of the crashing waves, Stefan glanced around. No sign of Tiarnan. On the beach, only one set of footprints were visible. Running his fingers through his hair again and rubbing the knots from the back of his neck, he wondered, hadn’t they walked the trail together? Tiarnan was standing right beside me, wasn’t he? Turning on his heel, Stefan tore up the trail to the house, anxious to tell Brandy about the strange conversation he’d had…with…a faerie?
Returning to her parents’ home, he quietly opened the door, took off his boots, and climbed the polished oak stairs without a sound. He undressed and slid into bed next to Brandy.
“Hmmmmm, is everything all right? Where you been?” she asked sleepily.
“Yes, everything is fine. I’m just restless, I guess. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“What time is it?” she murmured as she cuddled closer to him and shivered. “You’re wet and cold. Where have you been?”
“Half past three,” he answered, wrapping the blanket around her. She pushed at the blanket, then closed her eyes again. Soon her even breathing told him she was asleep.
Dawn arrived with the sun shining brightly for the first time since they’d arrived in Ireland. Gray storm clouds hung over the horizon, warning the sunshine would be short lived. With dawn arrived more questions than Stefan had answers. Was I really up half the night conversing with a faerie who claimed to have one of the missing Books of Shadows? Why doesn’t he want to deal with Tristian? Well, that part is understandable. Stefan smiled, but it was short lived. Last of all, why does the outcome of this situation hang on what Brandy and I do? How the hell did a vampire who did his best to stay out of the way wind up front and center of everything recently? What a damn mess this was.
Restless, he jostled Brandy, contentedly sleeping curled up next to him. Her head snuggled into his chest. He hoped to wake her up. He needed some answers, and now was as fine a time as any.
“Still restless, Stefan?” Brandy mumbled. She stretched and yawned wide, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. “Want to talk?” Smiling, she tipped her face up to his and brushed her lips softly across his, then more eagerly. She rolled over on top of him and leaned on her elbows, peering down at him. “What’s wrong?”
Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her wonderfully tangled hair. Inhaling deeply her scent of lemons and cotton candy, he found it incredibly alluring. He sighed. No time for foreplay at the moment. “Brandy, tell me about Tiarnan.”
“Tiarnan, King of Faeries?” She repeated with a hint of amusement on her face and disbelief in her voice.
“Yep, that’s the one.”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. Without waiting for an answer, Tristian burst through the door. “Stefan, I need to…” He stopped and peered at Brandy laying on top of Stefan, his arms around her. The blood rushed to his face. He opened and shut his mouth several times, reminiscent of a codfish, but stood rooted in the doorway.
Stefan turned his head, thought Tristian looked a bit like a guppy, and grinned at him, letting his hands roam over Brandy a bit. “Awkward, isn’t it, Tristian? Get out. Whatever it is can wait…and shut the damn door behind you!”
Tristian backed out of the room quicker than he’d burst in, with a soft, “Sorry to interrupt,” and quietly shut the door behind him. His quick footsteps grew silent down the hallway.
Brandy rolled over and sat up, wrapping the blankets around her, then crashed back against the headboard in fits of laughter. “Served him right,” she managed to sputter in between giggles.
“Yes, I thought so. We’ll let him think he interrupted us.”
“Well, now, let’s see if I can’t bring a little truth to that.” She leaned over and reached for him.
“Later, Brandy. Tell me about Tiarnan—the short version, shanachie,” Stefan said, gently trailing kisses down the side of her soft, warm face to the base of her slender neck.
“Oh, yeah, I got sidetracked,” she said, running her fingertip along Stefan’s strong jawline. In her best storyteller voice, she began, “Legend has it that Tiarnan was foolish as a young man and fell in love with a witch from a very powerful family. They were caught together by her father after he’d forbade her to see Tiarnan.”
“Gee, imagine that.” He snorted.
“Do you want to hear the story or not?” she shot back.
“Okay, sorry, go ahead.” Leaning back on the bed, he reached for Brandy and brought her down with him.
“Her father in anger issued an ultimatum, forcing her to choose their world or Tiarnan’s. She chose Tiarnan’s and they fled to his faerie palace. Tiarnan’s parents accepted Erin, respecting his choice. They wed inside the faerie sidhe. Furious, her father cast a terrible spell. She would never see the light of day in the mortal world until witches, faeries, and demons work together for the good of all.”
Curious, he leaned up on one elbow, facing Brandy. “Does Erin still remain in the faerie sidhe with Tiarnan?”
“Aye, she does. Theirs is a love for the ages. It is said that on moonlit nights you can see them walking the cliffs hand in hand, but she must always return to the sidhe before dawn.”
“Have you ever seen them or talked to either one? What does he look like?”
“No, I’ve never seen either of them, but I know others have. The descriptions I’ve heard are that he dresses in blue jeans, colorful sweaters, and sturdy boots. Kind of a renegade, if you ask me. Why all the questions?” She laughed again and poked a finger into his chest. “Stefan, have you seen or been talking with faeries?”
He knew she was poking fun at him. What if what Tiarnan said was true? Her description of him fit to a T. “Yes,” Stefan said simply, waiting for her reaction, and she didn’t disappoint.
Her eyes flew wide open in surprise. “Yes what?” she sputtered.
“Yes to both,” he said calmly, smiling innocently back at her.
“You’ve seen and talked with Tiarnan, King of Faeries? When? How?” she demanded.
“Last night. He floated through the window crack as mist into our room and took shape in the rocking chair. He didn’t want to wake you. He motioned me outside where I met him on the cliffs. He didn’t seem to pose a threat, so I figured no harm could come of it.”
“No harm could come of it? You could have been killed. It may have been a setup, or he could have been a demon. What were you thinking?” She jumped out of bed and paced across the floor, apparently forgetting that she was naked, which was all right with him. He loved looking at her beautiful body and hoped that Tristian wouldn’t interrupt again.
“Brandy, I’m a vampire, remember—trained assassin? Death doesn’t come easy to me. Besides, my preternatural senses didn’t perceive a threat. Now, do you want to hear the rest, or…”
She interrupted him midsentence, “There’s more?” Wheeling around, her eyes narrowed as she watched him in disbelief and bounced back on the bed.
“Yes. I had a hard time believing the whole scenario. Tiarnan got frustrated with me and wished me straight to the devil. He instructed me to ask you if he existed.” Stefan blew out a breath as he finished, watching Brandy as she took it all in. “Does he?”
“Does he what?” Totally flustered by this time, she threw her hands up in the air, letting them drop to her sides, and stared wide-eyed at Stefan.
“Does he exist?”
Brandy took a couple of deep breaths, letting them out slowly as she considered. “Well, you’re the one having conversations with him now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure that I wasn’t hallucinating.”
“Did my description fit the person you saw?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Well, there you have it then. You’ve had your first encounter with an Irish legend, haven’t you?” She smiled, seemingly centered again and interested.
“Yes, I guess. I hope he appears next time when you’re around and awake.”
“If he does, wake me. By the way, what did he want?”
“He claims to have one of the Books of Shadows. I guess it’s entrusted to the faeries for safekeeping.”
“A Book of Shadows? Shouldn’t we tell Tristian about this right away?” Brandy jolted upright.
“Well, that’s part of the problem. Tiarnan said he doesn’t want to deal with the warlock, and that’s a direct quote.”
She regarded Stefan quizzically for a moment, drawing her legs up under her and sitting cross-legged on the bed facing him. “Really? Now what do we do?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“No, you asked me if I believed in Tiarnan. That answer is yes, as apparently you do too… now.”
“Oh, it gets better. The faerie king also said”—using his best Irish imitation, he repeated Tiarnan’s words—“it’s you and Brandy that will control the destiny of mankind and magickind alike. ’Tis sorry I am to lay this at your feet, but ’tis what I know.’”
Brandy took another deep breath and blew it out. “I guess it’s time to call a family meeting and tell all.”
“I don’t think we’re ready to do that…yet. Let’s wait until after the celebration?”
“That might be best,” she agreed. “Unless…”