Grave Stones Page 5

  He stomped his feet on the door mat. “It is, Penny.”

  He strode across the room, scattering droplets of water, as if he were a rain angel.

  “Come on in and rest your bones.” She beckoned to Lassi’s booth. “Aengus here was starting to share the story of the Dearg-Due with poor Lassi here.”

  Father Ward’s steps faltered. His shoulders bunched around his ears for a brief second, like he’d passed through an icy blast of wind.

  Lassi frowned. What is it with this myth? She picked up the burger and crammed another big bite in her mouth.

  “Look,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food. “I’m not the superstitious type. You don’t need to worry I’ll sleep with garlic or conjure fairies to protect me. I only thought to ask if the paper I found meant anything.”

  “Paper? What paper?” Father Ward now stood stiffly next to the table.

  “I found some old documents in the wall,” Lassi said. “Something about Strongbow.”

  “Oh, boy,” Father Ward said. He pressed his palm to his cheek.

  Lassi’s forehead drew together.

  Penny eyed him. “You don’t look so good, Father. Let me get you some water.”

  “Thank you, Penny, but I’m fine.” He nodded.

  Penny said, “I insist, Father.”

  She pivoted on her heel and tottered toward the bar.

  His gaze slid toward Lassi. Again, a sorrowful expression flitted across his face. “How are you, Miss Finn?”

  “Fine. What was the ‘oh, boy’ about?”

  “Nothing.” His gaze darted about like a dragonfly.

  She massaged her forehead with her fingertips. No one in this town makes sense. “Relax, Father, and sit.” She gestured across the table, then, plucked a few chips from the plate. After shoving them in her mouth, she said, “Ack. These are awful.”

  She picked up her burger.

  Father Ward turned his head toward Aengus. “Good afternoon, Aengus. How are you?”

  “Fine. Sit.” He inclined his head toward the seat next to him.

  Father Ward settled alongside Aengus. He leaned his forearms on the table, clasping his hands. “So, how are things coming with the cottage?”

  “Since I saw you this morning?” Lassi said, her mouth full of meat. She held out her greasy fingers, looked for signs of Liam or Penny returning with napkins, then shrugged and wiped her fingers on her pants. “Still going. Still slower than I’d like. Who’s the Dearg-Due?”

  Father Ward fixed his gaze on his hands.

  Aengus took another slow swallow of Guinness. When he set down his mug, he side-eyed Father Ward. “Are you going to tell her, or should I?”

  “I should be going,” Father Ward said. He started to get up.

  Aengus’s hand shot toward Father Ward’s arm like a viper. “Wait. She needs to know.”

  “Why? What? Would someone tell me?” She slapped the table with her palm.

  What is it with these people? They’re all fecking nuts.

  Father Ward jerked slightly, then let out a huge sigh. “It’s a vampire tale. The Dearg-Due is also known as the Red-Blood-Sucker. When she was murdered she vowed revenge. It’s the stuff of fairy tales.” He shrugged. “Now, I’d best be getting on my way.”

  Aengus lowered his voice to his dramatic stage whisper. “You didn’t tell her about the grave.” He fixed his rheumy eyes on her. “It’s covered with stones. Legend has it that once a year, on the anniversary of her death, she pushes free and roams, killing innocent people to quench her thirst. Each year the stones get replaced. Then, we’re safe for another year.” He shook his head, making his neck wattle dance. “We’ve been fortunate here in Bally. Someone, or something, manages to keep us safe.”

  Lassi laughed. “I think your tourism could improve tenfold if you used this tale as an attraction. There’s a tiny town in the United States called Forks. They draw teenage groupies who believe in sparkling vampires based on some book. Vampires. Honestly. Utter nonsense.” She lifted her eyes toward the kitchen. “What happened with my napkin and your water, Father?”

  He rose to his feet. “I don’t know but I need to leave.”

  “Me, too.” She stood, fished a few bills from her pocket, and dropped them on the table. “Do you have time to walk me home, Father?”

  A warm smile crossed Father Ward’s lips. “I do, indeed.”

  She nodded to him, then slid from the booth. “A pleasure meeting you, Aengus. Thanks for the story.”

  “You’re very welcome, Lassi.” He grinned, picked up his pint, and said, “to Irish persistence.”

  “To Irish persistence.” She turned toward Father Ward. “Shall we?”

  “Please.” He followed her outside.

  As soon as her foot landed on the sidewalk, Dylan, Siobhan, and little Paul Riordan emerged from the laundromat next door. They laughed as they scurried along the walkway, as if visiting the laundromat was a high point of their week. Siobhan carried a large sack, probably filled with clean clothes. Dylan clutched Paul to his shoulder, keeping him tucked inside his roomy overcoat, shielding him from the biting wind.

  “Oh, Miss Finn,” Dylan said. “There you are.”

  “Dylan. Here I am.” She stopped and smiled.

  “Father Ward, how are you?” Siobhan said.

  They exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather, how was she doing with the cottage and such, but Lassi paid little attention to the content of their conversation. The love the family shared could be cut with a knife and served for dessert. The couple stirred a wistfulness, full of longing, that tickled her ribs, like tiny love-mice searching for escape. Stop with the foolishness, Lassi. You’re only pleased to see such a nice family. They beat all the other sorry residents of this town. She lifted her face and scowled.

  Father Ward studied her with a curious expression she couldn’t decipher. Whatever it was, it drew a shiver up her spine.

  “Well, we’d best be getting on,” Dylan said. “We don’t want Paul, here, catching cold. Look at his cheeks. They’re like rosy apples.” He leaned down and kissed the child’s head.

  They said their goodbyes and scurried in the opposite direction.

  Lassi and Father Ward walked the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

  The wind howled around them as they headed past the shops and banks toward the outskirts of town.

  He fixed his attention on the distance, staying quiet.

  Lassi kept her raincoat pulled around her.

  Father Ward lowered his gaze.

  The wind picked up speed, whistling around the buildings.

  He kept his head down, leaning into the wind.

  As they reached the end of town, a sudden downpour assaulted them with hail. Without thought, she reached for Father Ward’s hand and tugged him into a run along the narrow, hedge-lined road just past the church.

  “Are you okay running?” she yelled through the wind. Do priests even stay in shape or is that an abomination? The hail pounded against her head.

  “It’s fine,” he yelled back, keeping up a strong runner’s stride. “I know a shortcut. Turn up here.”

  The hedge yielded to ancient rock walls. The rocks had tumbled, leaving an opening at one spot. Father Ward kept a tight grip of her hand as he guided her over the stones, into a muddy pasture.

  “Let’s head for the copse of trees.” He pointed to a stand of trees about ten yards away. “We can get out of the hail until it subsides.” He released her hand, climbed through, and took off at a sprint.

  She slogged next to him through the wet grass. Her Wellies made serious dents in the muddy ground. Finally, they reached where he’d indicated. Only drips and drabs fell through the lace of branches overhead.

  “Whew! This is much better.” She bent forward and pressed her palms against her knees to catch her breath. When she stood up again, Father Ward’s serious gaze fixed on her.

  His chest rose and fell in a regular cadence.

  Her eyebrows arched high. �
�You must be in super shape. Not even winded?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you work out?”

  “Something like that,” he said, his face blank.

  A long stretch of silence hung between them. All around came the sound of pounding rain and hail.

  “So, this is summer in Ballynagaul, is it?” She stared at the driving rain.

  “It seems to be.” Father Ward took a step toward her. His hand reached over her shoulder.

  Is he going to pull me in for a kiss? Will I be able to resist?

  He cleared his throat. “Over there.”

  “Huh?” she came out of her lust-filled stupor and blinked at him.

  “Roberta’s cottage. Turn around. You can see it from here.”

  She pivoted, her cheek brushing against his fingers. “Where?”

  He placed his palm on her shoulder and lifted his other arm next to her cheek, pointing down the hill. “Down there. See it?”

  His heat warmed her cold back. She closed her eyes, savoring his nearness. This can’t be right, standing here with the local priest. I’m laying the groundwork for Satan.

  Again, he cleared his throat. “Can you see it, Miss Finn? Are you still with me?”

  Oh, I’m with you, Father. She swallowed before opening her eyes. “The cottage. Down the hill. Got it in my sights, locked and loaded.”

  He stepped away from her.

  Instantly, she missed his nearness.

  “I’d best be off,” he said.

  Her head whipped around. “You’re not coming with me?”

  He took another step backward. “Baptism, remember?”

  “Right. Well, then.” She lifted her chin to meet his soft gaze.

  He shook his head, ever so subtly, as if making some sort of decision within himself. “I’ll be seeing you, Miss Finn.”

  “You will, Father Ward. That’s a promise.” For a moment, she swore a current of energy passed between them, sharp and electric.

  His shoulders fell as if weighted by a heavy burden. Without speaking, he turned and strode away, breaking the spell, or casting the spell, she couldn’t tell which one. But no spell, good, bad, or otherwise, would keep her from getting back to Dublin as soon as she could.

  A niggling little thought, far back in her mind, whispered she might be wrong—dead wrong—sending shivers up and down her spine—shivers that seemed to occur regularly, whenever she was near Father Ward.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, after another shitty, restless night, Lassi awoke to rain battering the window, like a full-on machine gun assault.

  “Christ on a cracker,” she muttered. “Does this place ever dry out?” Still dressed in yesterday’s jersey and panties, she threw back the covers, desperate for some tea. Her breath emerged in clouds of white while her skin peppered with gooseflesh. “Let me guess.” She rolled from the bed and scurried toward the wall light switch. Nothing happened when she flicked it. “Wonderful. No power. And no power means no tea. And no tea means I’m pissed and off to another fecking day in Bally-kiss-my-ass.”

  Shivering, she felt around for yesterday’s jeans and socks from the floor, hoping not to be surprised by more dead cats. When she only found fabric, she sighed, lifted her Levi’s, and tugged them on. Then, she searched for her wooly jumper and pulled it over her head. Lastly, she grabbed the faded blue chenille bedspread and wrapped it tight around her.

  The rooms of the house were dark from lack of lighting and outside gloom. She stumbled her way into the shadowy kitchen, kicking crap out of the way as she went, and retrieved the candle and matches she’d left on the table. After lighting the candle, she sauntered into the front room.

  “Feel like pulling wallpaper in the dark, Lassi Finn? No? I didn’t think so.” That settled, she curled up on the lumpy couch next to the box of papers.

  She moved the candle to her left hand and peered into the box. At the bottom, it looked like one of the pieces of parchment had affixed itself to the wood. Gently, she picked at it with her short fingernails, prying it free. She managed to unfold it without tearing it— much. After spreading it on her lap in a one-handed maneuver, she lowered the candle close enough to study it.

  “Hmm. Looks like a map to me.” Unable to make anything discernible out, she twisted it back and forth. Then, she lifted it directly in front of her face.

  Her heart drummed with excitement as she read, Strongbow’s grave. Final resting place of Maggie Strongbow.

  “It’s right down the way, like Aengus mentioned. Cool. This calls for an outdoor adventure.” She glanced out the window.

  Trees bent and swayed in the howling wind. Rain pattered against the window pane.

  “But later.” She placed the map in the box, blew out the candle, and tugged the bedspread around her. I hate this fecking place. She lay her head on the hard arm of the sofa, wishing she were back in Dublin. Her eyes fell shut. There are babies to be birthed. Moms to be consoled. Pubs to visit which don’t look like the kind of places zombies frequent. Fun to be had.

  A sharp rapping shook her from her reveries. She sucked in spit dripping from her mouth. Shite. I fell asleep. She pushed her way to upright and stumbled across the room toward the front door.

  Through the little eye hole she made out the face of Liam. She let out a disgusted sound.

  He pounded the door. “Lassi! Are you there?” He hefted a paper sack as if he knew she stood a door-width away. “I brought some food. And I came to check on you.”

  Torn about opening the door or slinking back to the sofa, she hesitated. Her stomach let out a grumbling song. She sighed and twisted the antique glass doorknob.

  “Hey, Liam,” she said woodenly.

  “Lassi. There you are.” He held up the bag of food. “I thought you might be hungry. Have you got any power? Half the town is out.”

  “Yeah, I’m in that half.” She reached for the paper sack. “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome.” He grinned.

  She crowded the doorway, not wanting him to enter.

  “It’s pouring out here.” His grin widened.

  “It is. You’d best get back and out of it.” She started to close the door.

  His hand shot out and slammed against the wood, blocking its closure. “Let me come in and warm my bones.”

  “It’s freezing in here. See?” She blew out a white puff of air.

  “Just for a moment. I won’t be long.” He pushed past her and stepped inside.

  “I’ve got a lot to do today. Peeling wallpaper and the like.” She gestured toward the walls, her gut clamped tight in annoyance.

  “I wanted to fill in the story of Strongbow.”

  “You want to get inside my pants. Let’s be honest.”

  His mouth dropped open. Then, he laughed. “Now why would you be thinking that? I’m married.”

  “Oh, because you can’t keep your eyes off my cleavage. I know your type.”

  He scowled.

  “Wait here. I’ll put this on a plate and you can tell me whatever you want to tell me in the front room. And then you’ve got to leave so I can get to my wallpaper task.”

  He nodded.

  She turned to trek down the hallway.

  He followed close behind.

  Fecking bastard. She checked her temper and held back from picking up a stack of commemorative plates and hurling it over her shoulder. In the kitchen, she set to slamming a plate on the table and dumping the contents of the sack onto it. Mmm. Fish and chips. Her mouth filled with saliva. When she turned to exit the kitchen, she shoved Liam aside.

  “Thanks for the grub,” she mumbled as she stomped into the hallway.

  Another knock came from the front door.

  What now?

  “Are you expecting visitors?” Liam asked, as close to her back as a collie on a leash.

  “No more than I was expecting you.” She wrenched open the door knob. A dark-clad figure stood on the porch. “Oh! Father Ward.”


  Warmth filled her insides, fending off some of the chill in the house.

  “Hello, Miss Finn. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see if you needed any help.”

  Lassi lifted an eyebrow. This cottage is at the edge of town. It’s bordered by wild land. How could you be ‘in the neighborhood?’ “I’m trying to finish my breakfast, then set to wallpaper peeling.” She hefted her plate in the air.

  “Looks like you haven’t even started.” Father Ward smiled.

  “I haven’t. I’d invite you in but I have no power.” She returned the smile, welcoming his appearance.

  “I see you already have company.” He directed his gaze behind her. “Liam.” He nodded.

  “Father Ward.” Liam spoke from behind her back.

  “He’s just leaving,” Lassi said.

  “If the good Father is staying, I don’t mind.”

  Lassi shook her head, whirled, and pushed past him. “I’m eating. And then getting to work.” And later looking for a grave, but never mind. “Suit yourself.”

  She stomped into the front room and settled onto the sofa again.

  Father Ward and Liam entered and each took a seat opposite her.

  No one spoke.

  She peeled off the lid to a container of tartar sauce, picked up a golden-brown piece of fish, and dipped it. Then, she took a bite. Cold, but delicious.

  Dim light filtered in through the windows.

  She peered through the grimy glass, noting the rain had ceased.

  She broke the silence, speaking through a mouthful of food. “Is it a religious phenomenon, Father, you always bring a bit of the dry with you? The rain seems to stop when you arrive.” She smiled, swallowing the cold, breaded cod.

  His face grew stony. “No, it’s merely luck.”

  His gaze lowered to his clasped hands.

  “I like your kind of luck.”

  He seemed to relax. “Thank you, but...”

  “How do you know it wasn’t me?” Liam asked. He leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe I have a ‘luck on delay’ device inside my soul. It comes, but not as quickly.”

  “Right.” Lassi rolled her eyes and took another bite.