the house with Máire and saw the girl safely to her room. She couldn’t sleep, so packed her bag, and sat with her back to the door that adjoined Franya’s room. She heard the woman’s quiet snores, the boisterous alarm, the bustling as she prepared for her breakfast meeting. She imagined her showering and dressing in her fashionable suit. The skinny bitch. This would be her last free morning. Sorcha would not let Vivian’s murder go unavenged.
She’d already called the Confidential Garda line to report what she’d heard. They’d assured her someone would arrive today. She knew she’d have to make a statement and give them a copy of her voice memo. And she’d already left a message for the Kildare SPCA, telling them about the kittens in danger of being slaughtered, and the horses that might be left unattended once the Garda interceded. Now, all she had to do was wait.
When Sorcha heard Franya’s tires fade on the long driveway, she walked downstairs, drank a quick cup of tea, and went walking in the field of yellow flowers for one last time. The sun hung low in the eastern sky over the Wicklow Mountains like it did the day she set off with Ruairí. Walking through the tall grass and buttercups wearing her khakis and canvas shoes, she thought again of his vision. She was leaving and had still not found what she’d lost. Thinking of him, she sank to the ground.
“Oh Ruairí. I really hoped this dig might bring you back to me. I miss you beyond belief. My heart breaks each time I feel your child flutter inside me.” Her throat tightened, and she swallowed her sorrow. But in doing so, she realized her anger still burned hot for Ana. Not only had she executed Ruairí, she’d taken whatever time they might have had together for herself. Tumbling into the buttercups, she sobbed for what never was and never could be.
“Sow-r-ka.” The voice was low and breathy and filled her soul. Only two men had ever said her name like that with cadences in ancient Celtic.
When she raised her head, Ruairí hovered before her, a translucent, shimmering being, wrapped in turquoise, his hair gelled high. Wearing the cloak from his inauguration, the Sun King seemed as tall as the sky. Sorcha’s hands flew to her mouth as he sighed.
“Why must you torment yourself? If you would only believe, you would find peace.”
“Is it really you?” She leapt to her feet, and held out her arms, wanting to hold him, to crush him to her breasts and never let him go.
“I am with you, Sow-r-ka, and I always will be. Do you not feel me?”
“I want to feel you. I do. But—”
“You must believe.”
The tears rolled down her cheeks. “I want to believe. I wanted to dig here in the lake of giolla rua where we first made love. I wanted to find you again.”
He touched his heart and then touched hers, and her body tingled right to her toes. “You have found me.”
“Please don’t leave me. I miss you so much.”
“And I you, my fey queen. Come. Hold me.”
Sorcha wrapped her arms around his ephemeral body, but as she nuzzled her face into his chest, he suddenly seemed real. She kissed his nipple and felt his flesh hard against her. “I’ll never love anyone the way I love you, Ruairí Mac Nia. You are my destiny.”
“As you are mine. I knew it that first day I found you with the cows.”
Time dissolved as Sorcha stood in the field, arms wrapped around her man. But as the sun rose higher in the sky, Ruairí breathed in her ear. “Máire Manus comes. She needs you.”
“But I need you. Please don’t leave me, Ruairí.”
“Do you not see? I am here for you, and when you call me, I will come. I do not live in this field. My body means nothing. My spirit encompasses this world, and many more. This field was just a place where I envisioned you standing long ago. Do you remember?”
“Aye. You said I found something that I’d lost.”
He looked into her eyes. “And have you found it?”
“Oh, Ruairí. You. I found you.”
“Wherever you are, when you call, I will come. Even in your dreams.” And then he was gone, and she sank amidst the buttercups and sobbed.
“Sorcha? Are you all right?”
Máire was suddenly standing beside her in the field. Sorcha’s heart fluttered, her vision blurred, and everything seemed unreal. Was this the magic Estrada described?
“Oh Máire. I just saw . . .”
“Who? Who did you see?”
“Ruairí. I saw Ruairí. He was here.”
Máire smiled, sat down beside her, and threw her arm around her shoulders. “Oh, I knew he’d come. Was he with the Goddess? Is he the Sun King?”
“Aye. Aye, he is.”
“Did he tell you what we must do?”
Sorcha stood and pulled Máire up beside her. “I know what we must do. Are you packed?”
“Yes, but where will we go?”
“First Dublin. Then we’ll board a plane bound for Vancouver. I know the lads wanted us to stay here where it’s safe, but clearly, things have changed.”
“We’re going to see Dylan?”
“Aye, Dylan, Conall, Estrada . . .”
“Oh Sorcha. I can’t wait to see them all again.” Her face fell. “But what about the kittens?”
“I’ve already called the animal shelter and told them to intercede. As cute as they are, those wee tabbies will all find good homes. They’ll look after the horses too until we can make other arrangements.”
“What will happen to Declan and Franya?”
“That’ll be up to The Garda. I’ve already reported what we overheard and told them I have an audio recording. You were a clever girl, Máire, to remind me to turn on my mobile. I think they’ll be arriving soon.”
“What should we do now?”
“Let’s walk, and later, we’ll catch the train to Dublin. We can stay at Trinity College while I arrange our flights. It’ll give you a chance to experience a college campus.”
Máire’s eyes shone. “Can I tell Dylan?”
“Let’s wait until we’re safe in Dublin.”
“But what about your dig? You were so looking forward to finding the lake of giolla rua.”
“It’s here,” Sorcha said, touching her chest. “You know, I was raised to believe everything had to be seen and proven scientifically.” She shrugged. “But some things can’t. Some things require faith.”
As they walked back through the field of yellow flowers, Máire pointed to a shiny object in the grass. “What’s that?”
Sorcha bent down and picked it up. “It’s a key.” Her eyebrows furled as she stared at it. “This is the house key Franya gave me the day I arrived.” The wind caught her hair, and she raised a hand to brush it from her eyes. “I never used it because the house was always unlocked. I didn’t even know I’d lost it.” She dropped it into the pocket of her khakis.
Máire glanced over at the small cemetery on the hill. “And what about your friend, Vivian? Shouldn’t you say goodbye to her?”
“Viv and I said our goodbyes long ago. If she’s still here, I imagine she’ll find relief when her murderers come to justice.”
“Franya will probably talk her way out of it.”
“She might, but at least we’ll have done our part. We’ll tell the truth. That’s all we can do.”
When they arrived back at the house, three bright yellow vehicles belonging to An Garda Síochána were parked in the drive.
“Máire, if they ask why you’re here, tell them I was preparing for an archaeology dig and you were assisting.”
“Don’t worry. I know what to say.”
Franya glared from the back seat of the police car.
As their eyes locked, a look of pure hatred passed between them. Sorcha felt her temperature rise. Then Franya tried to raise a hand and realized she was handcuffed. Sorcha suppressed her glee. This is only the beginning, she thought, still not quite believing that Franya and Declan had conspired to murder Vivian and make it seem like an accident. Hopefully, they’d find evidence somewhere and it wouldn’t all rest on one audio file of an overheard conversation.
Then Declan walked out of the stable flanked by two gardai, red-faced and babbling. “Murder? She made me do it. I want a solicitor.” They put him into the back of another vehicle and shut the door.
Don’t call the one in the other cruiser, Sorcha thought. Perhaps an audio file and a confession would suffice.
Sorcha couldn’t relax until they were finally free of the Garda and seated on the train en route to Heuston Station. From there, they bussed to Pearse. When they finally entered their spartan room at Trinity College, Sorcha collapsed on the bed.
Máire was pacing. “Now can I call Dylan?”
“Aye, take my mobile. If you want some privacy, there’s a loo across the hall, and the lounge looked vacant.”
Sorcha must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew, Máire was shaking her. “Wake up. Wake up.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything! Dylan said they tried to fight the vampires but Estrada’s friend came and Conall cut off his head!”
“Jaysus. I hope it wasn’t Michael Stryker.”
“Michael. Aye, it was Michael.”
“Oh, Estrada will be devastated.”
“Then the vampire grabbed Estrada and Conall and flew into the sky—”
Sorcha held her breath. “Are they gone?”
“No, he dropped them. But Estrada still hasn’t woken up.”
“Feck.” Sorcha reached for her phone.
Naturally, Estrada didn’t pick up. She left a long audio message and then started searching for flights from Dublin to Vancouver. When Máire’s stomach growled, she realized, what with all the chaos, they hadn’t eaten all day.
“There’s nothing more I can do from here. Shall we go pick up Asian street food?”
“Aye. Pad Thai.”
Sorcha stood and ruffled Máire’s hair. When she reached into the pocket of her khakis to stash her wallet, she felt something hard and pulled out the key.
“And what you’ve lost will not be lost forever,” Ruairí had said.
Sorcha dropped it into the metal bin and heard it clang.
Ruairí was the key, and he was exactly where he needed to be.