“Nothing like sea air to clear the mind,” Cal agreed.
“Well, of course, but…” She grimaced apologetically. “Zach, shouldn’t you be following the blueberry trail?” She hesitated. “So many scary things are going on around here.”
“Morrissey is a good cop,” Zach said. “He can take care of that. My focus is this family right now.”
“Of course,” Cal said.
“Well, good night,” Zach told them both, and they departed at last.
When he returned to the house, it was quiet. He found Tom and Clara in the kitchen, cleaning up. Tom told him sadly that, no matter how much they cared about Sean O’Riley, they doubted they could stay much longer if Amanda continued to be abusive toward Clara. Zach assured him that he understood, but asked him to try to be tolerant a little while longer.
Tom looked at him sadly and assured him that he would try.
Sean and Kat had apparently retired to their rooms, Caer had already gone back to Bridey the minute Morrissey had finished talking to her, and Amanda was nowhere to be seen. He hurried upstairs to check on Bridey and Caer himself.
Caer was seated by Bridey’s side, holding her hand, speaking to her soothingly. The lilt was in her tone as she talked about the old country, the sweeping emerald hills and the beauty of the great tors, and the sweet sounds of fiddles and harps. Bridey was smiling, listening to her.
He found himself lulled, as well, almost mesmerized, listening to the rise and fall of her voice. Caer laughed and reminded Bridey that a leprechaun was required to polish a person’s shoes, so if she really wanted a pot of gold, she needed to leave her shoes out to compel a leprechaun to stop, giving her a chance to catch him.
Bridey’s eyes opened. “Remember, when you catch the evil, you can’t allow it to roam the world. Remember that the banshee must be good, Caer. Swear it.”
“I swear,” Caer assured her.
A moment later, Bridey was sleeping peacefully.
Caer rose quietly and spotted him standing in the doorway.
“Do you think she’s all right?” she asked him anxiously, joining him.
“Yes. Why would anyone want to hurt Bridey?” He shook his head. “She’s no danger to anyone. I don’t think we need to worry about Bridey.”
“I am worried. She’s taking her medication, but she doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” Caer said. “Pneumonia is a real danger for her now.”
“It is for anyone her age, Caer. Bridey is up there.”
“Some people live to be a hundred,” she said.
“True, but we get vulnerable as we age,” he assured her, noticing that she seemed distraught. “Why don’t you head to your room, where you’re closer to Sean?” he suggested. “Tomorrow I’ll ask Kat if she’ll watch over him for a while. You and I are going exploring.”
“Oh?”
He nodded gravely. “Eddie left a clue.”
“What?”
“Just be ready to head out around ten,” he told her. “Now go on. It’s still safest when either you or Kat is near Sean.”
She slipped past him, and he stepped into the room, anxious to make sure that Bridey really was sleeping easily. Her breathing sounded a little raspy, but her sleep appeared to be peaceful.
But as he stood there in the muted light, she opened her eyes. She seemed to be staring at him, but he could tell that she wasn’t seeing him at all.
Her lips formed a word, and he leaned closer, trying to hear her.
“Bridey, I’m sorry, what?”
Nothing.
Her eyes were closed again, and he hesitated. He straightened and was about to leave when her lips moved again.
He leaned close and heard her whisper a single word.
“Banshee.”
Outside, the winter wind suddenly rose with a vengeance, like an ominous echo.
Banshee, banshee, banshee…
He rose, shaking the strange spell of the wind, and looked down at Bridey.
She was sleeping soundly again, her smile completely serene.
He left her room to return to his own but paused at the end of the hallway, where a high arched window looked out into the night. No one had drawn the drapes, and the view by moonlight was breathtaking, all jagged rocks and the silhouettes of boats lying at anchor. Lights along the docks cast a gentle glow on the eighteenth-and nineteenth-century buildings that lined the waterfront, and Christmas lights twinkled, adding a holiday touch to the peaceful scene.
Then he saw the birds.
Ravens, maybe, or crows.
They’d begun appearing as he looked out the window. First one, then two. Then a flock—a murder of crows. Sweeping through the sky, their great dark wings appeared larger as they caught the moonlight and shadow. Then they began to settle on the roof of the cottage where Clara and Tom lived.
He gave himself a shake.
Birds. They were just birds.
Yet it seemed as if they had spread their wings like an ominous blanket.
Unable to stop himself, he went back and checked on Bridey again.
He touched her face gently, and her eyes opened.