Dark Enchantment (15 page)

Raising a hand in farewell to Seamus, Caleb helped her on with coat. “It’s after two o’clock,” Caleb said as they stepped out into the foggy night. “The trip to Clare takes about an hour and a half. What d’ya reckon we stay at Jury’s and head back in the morning?”

“Works for me.” The quiver in her voice gave away her nervousness. Even though she had wanted this man,
or his twin,
for as long as she could remember, they had only recently met in the here and now. It just felt too soon for the two of them to become intimate. But the effect he had on her left her feeling panicked and unsure.

At the hotel reception desk, however, Caleb requested two rooms.
Long sigh of relief here.
As they rode up the elevator to the second floor, he gave her hair a playful tug. “Relax,
cailín,
I won’t bite. Not tonight at any rate.”

Arianna’s heart squeezed at his sensitivity, while another part of her body sobbed with regret that she wouldn’t be lying naked in his arms tonight.

She changed the subject. “I’ve been wondering…Why do you call me Colleen?”

“It’s the Gaelic for ‘girl’, spelled c-a-i-l-i fada-n,.”

Girl? That’s it?
And all this time she had been thinking it was some romantic endearment.

They said goodnight at her door. “We’ve connecting rooms if you need anything,” he said, then brushed her lips in a brief kiss that left her aching for more.

Arianna lay in bed, tossing and turning, imagining him undressing, his magnificent male body sliding naked beneath the sheets. Lying there now. Within reach. Totally accessible. All she had to do was knock on that connecting door.

But no. It was too soon. She had to be sure.

* * *

Imprisoned three thousand miles beneath the surface of the earth, deep within its molten core, Anathema has been slowly waking since Samhain Eve. His evil gaining strength, his sleep is spinning off into lucid dreaming, a kind of corporeal awareness. In this state of false awakening, the Beast sent forth telepathic directives to his Minion to go forth and locate a physical body suitable for habitation.

An evil emissary was chosen from amongst the descendents of the Nephilim, the giants fathered by fallen angels who mated with human women. They were those who dance to him in the faerie grove each year on All Hallows Eve, a celebration of the pact they made with his dark power nigh onto three millennia past.

Possessed by the spirit of the Minion, the Mortal Man burns with bitterness. Like the molten iron surrounding the chamber of the beast, his anger is destined to overflow and burn…burn…burn a diabolic path of destruction.

The music in the Mortal’s head is mesmeric, brooding, the Lost Chord of the Ancients weaving through the tapestry of creation from a time before time, until time is no more. But as the Mortal tips his head to listen, a discordant key shatters the peace of the sacred melody. It becomes a funeral dirge...a fugue performed by monsters and madmen.

The hollow click of a metronome speeds the days exponentially as humanity races hell-bent toward the eve of destruction. The profane sound increases, echoes, coalesces with the ticking of the clock of the ages, each strike marking the moment until life will be no more.

Already the alarm is sounding, ringing out a dire warning. The desecration of all mankind grows close at hand. The prophecy of doom transcribed onto the pages of tomorrow, thousands of years before yesterday, fulfilled.

The Mortal paces first in circles, then in squares, each footstep counted aloud. He stops to listen, before arguing with the roar of voices in his head. The spirit messenger sent forth to buffet the Mortal on the Eve of Samhain has taken root within him. Tentacles of evil, like a visceral cancer, now gnaw at his entrails, devouring all sanity, all reason, until it has consumed every vestige of what was once a man’s free will.

Stripped of the burdensome chains of conscience, the Mortal dissolves into dementia, until he becomes the very Evil that seduced him with promises of great wealth, great power…and immortality. In their ungodly mating, the Mortal and the Minion, the insane and the damned, become one...

The spawn of he whose name shall not be named: Anathema.

“The time is now!” The Minion’s words are slurred, his voice a serpent’s hiss cold as death itself.

A death rattle sounds in the throat of humankind as the unholy Minion shrieks a curse to the heavens. “NOW!” The echoing roar of his madness explodes off the planets and stars, races like a hind up the mountainside, and tears through the tall green grasses. And that which was once the Man throws his head back and howls like a beast at the moon.

* * *

Arianna’s screams woke Caleb from the lucid dream they both had shared. His feet hit the floor running. The power of his mind flung the door to the adjoining room open. He found her whimpering and thrashing about, but otherwise untouched by the malignant creature he’d heard roaring in the night.

Caleb sat beside her and shook her shoulder gently. “Arianna wake up. You’re having a nightmare, love.” Moving restlessly, she pushed the duvet down. The lacy black thing she was wearing barely covered her small, firm breasts.
Bloody hell!

“No…” Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow, releasing the delicate fragrance of honeysuckle and wild meadow flowers.

“Wake up, love.” He brushed one sun-kissed cheek with his knuckles. His fingers sifted through the golden strands of tangled silk floating over her pillow.

She settled. “Caleb, I need you…” she sighed in her sleep. Lips pouting, her face turned into his hand. Her pink tongue moistened her lips, grazing his palm.

Smothering a vile oath, he snatched his hand away as if he’d been burned.

The sudden motion woke her. “What…what’s wrong?”

He turned on the bedside lamp to chase away the darkness. “You were having a bad dream,” he murmured.

Arianna shuddered. “It was awful. Demons and a crazy man….”

“I know, love. It’s all over now. Go back to sleep.” He reached out to shut off the light, but her hand stopped him.

“Stay with me? Please?”

Her expressive features let him know the moment she realized he was sitting beside her completely nude. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I heard you screaming. Didn’t waste time getting dressed,” he explained, stating the obvious.

Her cheeks pinkened. “Please, just hold me for a while? I don’t want to be alone.”

Caleb clicked off the lamp, then slid beneath the duvet. Careful to keep a sheet between them, he spooned her. “Sleep now,” he whispered and felt her relax against him.

When her slow, even breathing indicated she was sleeping restfully, he uncurled himself from around her. Quenching the fires of temptation, he slipped from the bed, cursing himself for a fool.

The door between their rooms made a quiet click in the silence as he drew it shut behind him.

Chapter Sixteen

“D
on’t bother getting out, Caleb. You’re running late for your meeting.” House key in hand, Arianna released her seatbelt and leaned over to give him a peck on the lips. “I had a really amazing time last night,” she said, then paused, her cheeks growing pink. “And thanks for staying with me until I went back to sleep. That dream really creeped me out.”

He smiled, tapped her nose with his finger. “’Twas my pleasure.”

She slid out of the SUV and, at the front door, turned to wave goodbye. Caleb knew that the suggestion he had left in her mind during the episode at the restaurant had wiped out any memory of their disagreement in the parlor.

Wanting to be sure she had no problem getting into the house, Caleb watched her slide the key into the lock before backing out of the driveway. He had traveled no more than a block, when his mobile rang. Not particularly in the mood to speak with anyone, he was about to let the call go into voicemail, when he felt it. A sharp jolt of precognition that told him something was wrong.

He tapped the phone. “MacNamara here.”

A choked sob came from the other end of the line. “Caleb?”

At Arianna’s ragged cry, Caleb spun the Land Rover around on the narrow road as if he were driving a Mini. “Somebody broke in.” The tremor in her voice betrayed her shock. “My God, everything’s destroyed! Why? Why would anybody do something like this to me?”

“Get out of there.” The command was automatic. Absolute. “Do you hear me, Arianna?” When she didn’t respond, he shouted, “Get out!
Now
!”

“I am, I
am
out.” She seemed to be fighting to disguise the whimper in her voice. “I left as soon as I saw the damage. Whoever did this could still be inside.”

“I’m almost there. Walk across the street, away from the house, and wait for me.” He disconnected and called the gardai. He sounded calm, in control. ‘Twas a bloody lie.

As he rounded the corner, Caleb found her standing in the middle of the road, arms crossed, hugging herself. He slammed on the brakes and bolted out the door. He took her into his arms and she melted against him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to seek solace there.

Caleb held her and stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort in Gaelic. After the trembling lessened, he led her to the passenger side of the Land Rover and opened the door. “Sit here, whilst I’ve a look around.”

Arianna clutched at his jacket. “No, Caleb. You are
not
going in there. It’s way too dangerous. Please, just stay with me while we call the police.”

“I rang the gards and they’ll be here straight away. I’ll only peek in the door. Sure, whoever did this is undoubtedly long gone by now.”

“That’s not what you said two minutes ago.” At the implacable look on his face, she huffed a breath. “Okay, fine. But if you’re going in there, I’m going with you.” As he opened his mouth to dictate otherwise, she held up her hand. “
Not
negotiable.”

Pure, unadulterated rage rose within Caleb at the destruction greeting him. The tiny cottage lay in ruins, resembling the aftermath of a terrorist attack. Pictures and knickknacks made a heap of rubble, of broken glass and twisted metal strewn across the bare wooden floor. The thick-piled hearthrug in front of the hearth had been thrown on top of the over-turned sofa. Ash from the fireplace scattered about the living room left everything coated with gray and greasy soot.

The fire iron with which Arianna had armed herself on that first night now hung lopsided from a hole in the wall. Vases and figurines were smashed in a million pieces beneath a cracked front window clearly their target.

Caleb closed his eyes. Attempting to trace the vile energy patterns left by the intruder, he sensed a whirlwind of disappointment, hatred, greed and blood lust, all leaving a penetrating chill.

“Came for her, did you, you twisted bastard?” he muttered under his breath. A vein throbbed in his temple as he tried to contain his temper at what had been done.

Too late. Already full-blown, his fury reverberated off the walls. The floorboards began to sway and vibrate beneath their feet. Broken bits and bobs of what had once belonged to Arianna’s parents shimmied off the end of tables and shelves. As the wee mortal’s startled gasp penetrated his meditative state, Caleb fought to regain control. Within seconds he had brought the quake-like tremors to a halt.

At the sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels of a motor vehicle, Caleb and Arianna returned to the front door. Two uniformed officers climbed out of the patrol car. One, a wiry, efficient-looking fellow, identified himself as Tommy Varden. Stepping past them into the cottage, he let out a long, low whistle at the extent of the damage.

“Looks personal to me,” he concluded, flipping open a notepad. “Act of rage. Revenge. Have you any enemies, Miss…em?”

“Sullivan. And yes, from the looks of the place, I would imagine I do.”

Caleb’s lips quirked at the sarcasm, which sailed right over the other man’s head.

“Miss…Sullivan, is it? Would there be an ex-husband in the picture? Or a former boyfriend not taking a break-up very well?”

“Nope. No exes. Husbands or otherwise.”

“So you’re an American?” the younger garda commented. “Anyone back in the States with a grudge? Business deal gone badly? Family member cut out of an inheritance?”

“I’m Irish, not American. And no, I haven’t had any such problems.”

While Arianna’s statement was being taken, Caleb slipped away upstairs. On his way back down a few minutes later, he passed the younger garda, pad in hand.

Garda Varden looked up. “Like this upstairs, is it?”

“I haven’t been up—” Arianna began.

“’Tis,” Caleb interrupted.

The younger officer joined them. “No sign of forced entry. Has anyone else a key to your home?”

“No one ex—”

“Except the property manager, Miles Kavanagh,” Caleb interrupted again.

Arianna shot him a wide-eyed “let me speak for myself” look.

“Right, so. We’ll look into it. Course the locks are virtually worthless. Anyone can get past them with a credit card. I’d advise you have some proper locks installed on your doors—front and back. Steel pins for the windows as well.” He paused. “Have you anywhere else to stay, Miss? Until you get the place sorted?”

“Umm—”

“Yes, she does.” Caleb met Arianna’s exasperated stare head-on.

“Would you mind not stepping on my tongue?” she hissed.

He ignored her. “I’ve guest quarters the lady’s welcome to use.”

“I’d take him up on that, Miss. Least, ‘til you’ve things set to right around here. No harm in installing an alarm system either.”

A mournful sigh escaped Arianna’s lips as she took in the mayhem. Gazing longingly at the bare mantle, she glanced down at the collection of family photographs smashed and strewn about the floor like so much garbage. All the years her father had held this place in trust for her, and in only a matter of minutes…

“Miss? Miss Sullivan?”

‘Wh-what? Sorry, my mind was wandering.”

“They’re asking for a phone number,” Caleb said.

The wee thing looked so forlorn that he slipped a comforting arm around her, while she recited her cell phone number.

“C’mere to me, fellas. Take my card as well,” Caleb suggested. “You’ll be able to reach the lady at my place with any news.”

Promising to stay in touch with progress on the investigation, the officers left.

“Go on up now and collect your things.”

“Look, Caleb, I appreciate the invitation to stay with you, but it’s still early in the day. I should be able to get somebody in to fix the windows and locks, and get most of this mess cleared away before nightfall.”

“Bollocks! You’re thinking to get a repairman out here today, just like that?” He snapped his fingers. “‘Twill take days, maybe a couple of weeks, to put things to right around here. Now do as I say and go collect your things.” He bit off a Gaelic curse as she angled a stubborn chin in his direction. A flame of warning kindled in his eyes. “Don’t fight me on this, Arianna. Because I’ll win, I assure you. It’s simply too bloody dangerous for you to be staying here all alone.”

She scalded him with a glare. “How
dare
you presume to order me around,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “It’s something my own father wouldn’t have done.”

Jaw set, Caleb widened his stance. “And therein lies the problem, so.”

Arianna’s mouth moved soundlessly.

“Accept it,
cailín.
I’m not leaving here without you. Not with that smarmy devil after you. So you’ll either come with me now—” The pitch of his voice went dangerously quiet— “Or it’s a flight back home, you’ll be booking today.”

Caleb could tell she was about to scoff at his threat, and so he sent her mental images to let her know that he meant what he was saying. He watched her eyes narrow suspiciously, as she pictured the lightning. And the fire. And the way she had lost consciousness on the ride home that first night. Something that felt like victory sang through his veins when he sensed her resignation.

This, after she saw herself boarding an Aer Lingus flight back to the States. Like an automaton. Unaware of what she was doing until after the plane had taken off.

“Okay, Caleb, you win this round. And let’s even say you’re right about the safety thing. But you just don’t get it, do you? That you should have
invited
me to stay with you, not
commanded
me to stay with you.”

Cutting short an exasperated eye-roll, he bowed his head with mock cordiality. “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking? Let me remedy that now, will I? Ms. Sullivan, would you do me the honor of accepting the hospitality of my home?” Still, he couldn’t help but end the polite façade by growling, “So you’ll not be getting yourself bloody murdered in your sleep.”

The postscript must have tickled Arianna’s funny bone, because he could tell she was biting her lip to hold back a grin. “Why, thank you, Caleb. And I expect it should only be for a day or two at most.”

He followed her upstairs, watched her grow pale as she witnessed the extent of the vandalism. Everything was in shambles. The cedar chest at the foot of the bed was upended, clothes spilling out of closets, chests and drawers. Most disturbing of all, however, was the shredded state of the mattress. It had been stabbed repeatedly with a long, sharp implement. Exactly where she’d have been sleeping had they not decided to stay overnight in Galway.

Caleb slipped his arm around her. “Most of the furnishings survived intact. Those that didn’t, well, they’re replaceable, aren’t they? Unlike yourself.” She trembled and he massaged the back of her neck. “Come. Let’s get you out of here now, will we?”