“A ghost?” he asked. “Perhaps Collum?”
She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like any ghost I’ve met before,” she said. “It was different; it was dark…like a shadow.” She hesitated a bit awkwardly. It was strange. They weren’t just both Krewe. They were husband and wife. They usually said whatever they were thinking—no matter how absurd it might sound to someone else.
“I felt it—or saw it—before. Last night. It seemed to settle over the castle. Just a—a darkness. Like massive raven’s wings, or…a huge shadow,” she finished, shrugging and looking at him a bit lamely.
“Darkness—like some kind of evil?” he asked. He hoped there was no skepticism in his voice. He knew what it was like when people doubted your judgment—or your sanity.
She smiled. “No, not evil. Just—something different. And I almost felt as if the darkness…”
“What?” he asked.
“Wanted to touch me,” she said softly.
A strange ripple of fear went through him. “You’re not a Karney,” he said gruffly. “But if you even begin to think that you might be in danger—”
“Hey!” she protested. “I’m trained, experienced, and tough,” she reminded him. “I became part of the Krewe. But, it’s not like that. I mean, you said it yourself last night—we’ve never known a ghost to kill anyone. Ghosts linger to help the living or find justice or…in some instances, because they feel like they are an integral part of history. I didn’t feel that. Just…something different.”
“Well, stay close, kiddo, okay?” he asked, his tone still a bit too husky. Sometimes, he wasn’t easy. A man’s natural instinct was to protect the ones he loved—to protect his wife.
He knew that he sometimes had to remember that yes, she had gone through all the courses. She was a government agent. She was trained, and she—just as he had—had chosen her own course in life. He didn’t have the right to try to lock her in a closet until danger was gone.
The instinct still remained.
“I’m going to have to get back in there,” she said flatly.
“We’re going to have to get back in there,” he said firmly. “Is Father Flannery the only one with keys? Wouldn’t the family have keys to their own vault as well?”
“Yes, of course,” Devin said. “We can get them from Brendan.”
They heard music as they approached the castle walls. The loud wail of Irish bagpipes seemed to cover the whole of the cliffside.
“They’ve started with the celebrations,” Devin said. “Five days of them here with St. Patrick’s being right in the middle. The vendors we saw getting started when we left are set up now and there’s Irish step dancing competitions and in the afternoon, there will be contests for sheepherding dogs out by the pit.” She glanced at him with a dry shrug. “I hope you like the sound of pipes.”
“Not sure I could take it all day every day, but here…they certainly sound fitting,” he assured her.
By the time they reached the gates, they were amidst dozens of people coming and going.
Once they were inside, it was as if they’d stepped through a mystical door and entered another world.
The great walls were lined with portable kiosks. Vendors sold leather goods, plaids, flutes, and even bagpipes, clothing, jewelry, costuming, food, soft drinks, and of course, whiskey and beer. A bandstand was set against the westward most section of the wall. One band took the place of another; their lead singer announced that they were the Rowdy Pipers, and as Rocky and Devin paused to listen, they burst into a rock song—with bagpipes.
“Fantastic!” Rocky said, smiling.
“They are darned good,” Devin agreed. She pointed to an area near the bandstand where there were about twenty young girls in plaid skirts, white shirts, knee high socks, and black shoes. “I believe those are the St. Patrick of the Village dancers. They’re probably pretty amazing.”
“I imagine,” Rocky agreed, looking through the crowds of people.
They all seemed happy. And polite. They waved and smiled, apparently glad to welcome friends and travelers alike.
“I don’t see Kelly, Seamus, or Brendan,” he told Devin.
She frowned, looking around as well. People were milling at the various vendor booths or kiosks.
“I don’t see them either. I know that Kelly’s second cousins are due in sometime today; they might be at the castle waiting for them—or settling them in. A Karney announces the dancers and thanks the church—and St. Patrick himself, of course,” she murmured. “Oh, there they are! And they’re with Kelly’s cousins Aidan and Michael. Well, Seamus and Kelly are there. I don’t see Brendan.”