It suddenly occurred to him that the castle itself was the key to the games being played—and the key to discovering the truth. The very history of the place played into what seemed to be happening.
He headed back through the courtyard to the castle. While the area seemed more subdued than it had been earlier, there were still people milling about. There was no entertainment on the stage; a sound system was playing softly—the melodious voices of Irish tenors singing traditional songs fell lightly on the air.
He hurried past the activity. On an impulse, he headed through the main tower to the pub.
It was busy—very busy, and even as he entered and heard the hum of conversation, he could pick out snatches of what was being said.
“Thank the Good Lord above that Brendan lives!” someone said.
“Aye, but did you hear? Seems he was battling the Devil!” said another.
“…found with weapons!”
“Medieval weapons!”
“And the banshee! Aye, the banshee wailed something fierce the night before!”
“Just like with old Collum!”
Conversations ceased as Rocky neared the bar. The men standing about nodded his way in a friendly manner, but still eyed him as if he were a bit of an oddity. It seemed everyone knew that he was the man married to Kelly Karney’s American cousin.
It was certainly a small village.
“Evening,” he said.
Allen came over, his smile a bit grim. He leaned toward him around the taps. “Any word? Brendan is hanging in still?”
“The word right now is good,” Rocky told him. “He’s stable.”
“Has he said what happened?” Allen asked.
“He’s still unconscious, and apparently his doctors believe that’s best for the moment,” Rocky said.
“Thank God. Two Karney men in two weeks! Two too many! So, Rocky, what can I give you?”
“Guinness, please. You pour so well, I’m not sure I’ll be able to enjoy it in the States again.”
“Americans keep trying to cool down a beer that should be room temperature,” Allen said, shaking his head with sympathy for a people so misguided.
Rocky accepted his beer and leaned against the bar, listening to the snatches of conversation he could gather once again.
His attention was drawn to the alcove—the old chapel—where they’d been seated the night before.
Siobhan was there, waiting on a large table of men and women who seemed to be laughing and celebrating one minute—and then raising their glasses to one another soberly the next. He realized that they were trying to enjoy their St. Patrick’s celebration—while looking to honor and pray for the master of the castle the next.
But it wasn’t the guests at the table who intrigued him at that moment.
It was Siobhan.
She was laughing and taking an order…
And then jumping—and turning.
She paused, staring at the side of the room. He saw that there was a door there. It was closed—locked, Rocky presumed.
There was a red velvet cord across the door and a sign that read “No admittance.”
“You doing okay?” Allen asked him.
“Fine, thanks,” Rocky said. “Allen, that door leads down to the old crypts?”
“Aye, crypts and the old dungeon.”
“Interesting down there,” Allen continued. “You know it’s locked off most of the year—liability insurance! Bet the old lords of the castle dinna think about liability insurance! Anyway, Gary can give you a great tour, if you’ve a mind for it, and I’m sure you being family and all, it won’t be a problem.”
“Thanks, I’ll see about that,” Rocky told him.
“Another beer?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine for now,” Rocky said.
He set his glass and some money on the bar and headed out.
He intended to see the crypts.
But he intended to do so alone.
Devin returned to Castle Karney—anxious to find Rocky.
But while she found Michael and Aidan—getting a bit toasted, almost truly crying into their beer—in the pub, the two couldn’t tell her where Rocky was.
Siobhan—who seemed unnerved—told her that she’d seen Rocky, but it had been a while ago.
Allen said that he’d ordered a Guinness, stayed a spell, and then moved on.
He wasn’t in the master’s chambers.
Feeling like an idiot, she pulled out her cell and called him.
He didn’t answer.
She mulled the idea of staying in the master’s chambers and just waiting, but she was too anxious.
She headed out of the tower to the courtyard.
Night had come, and the moon was out. She wasn’t sure if it was full or almost full, or even when the full moon was supposed to be. That night, however, it was so beautifully high in the heavens that it cast down a brilliantly luminescent glow.
People still milled in the courtyard; despite what had gone on that day—or perhaps because of it—people lingered. The vendors—especially the food and drink vendors—were busy.
People apparently knew who she was. They stopped to ask her about Brendan. She assured them that on last report, he was doing well.
She walked out to the great walls and saw that a large group was gathered around the fire pit.