SEAN and Danni arrived at Colleen’s front door in a strained silence. His jaw was set and his lips tight, his expression as closed as a bolted door. With his tormented words still ringing in her ears, Danni didn’t dare ask him any more questions. But she had many. Colleen cast a curious glance between them when she opened the door and ushered them in, but she saw the tension in Sean’s bearing and she refrained from questions, too. Bean sat at her feet, watching nervously. Michael looked up from his plate at the table and stared at them with guarded interest. “Sure and it’s exhaustion I see on your faces. I knew you’d be worn out by the time they were through of you. I’ve packed up yer supper, and Michael will be taking you on to yer new home. The good Father has managed to gather some more donations, seeing how your things are lost. I’ve left them for ye inside.” Like obedient children, they thanked Colleen for her trouble. Sean hefted the box she’d packed for them and followed Michael to the door. Danni paused and called to Bean, but the little dog yawned and put her head between her paws with a sheepish expression on her face. Colleen blushed as she hurried to explain. “I fear I might have spoiled her a bit. It was such a comfort having her with me that I couldn’t help myself.” “It’s okay,” Danni said. “Sure and tomorrow she’ll be sick of me and ready to go back to her master.” Danni nodded, trying not to show her hurt. It felt like betrayal. Dejected, she followed Sean out the door. “I knew the little rodent was possessed,” he muttered. They took the same road Sean had walked that morning, snaking down the hillside toward the sea, weaving around enormous boulders and fragrant heather. As they descended, she could hear the beat of waves against the rocky shoreline and smell the spiced sea air as it cloaked the dusk with its pungent perfume of fish and tar and storm. The path split then, with one side leading down to the beach and the other running parallel to the embankment. Michael led them on the second. “The pier is just down there. It’s where our boat is docked. It’s a fecking pile of shite, if you want to know the truth. I wish it would sink.” Danni bit back a question about how, then, would his father put food on the table. After hearing Sean’s story, her heart could only go out to the young boy who’d seen his father kill his mother. After another few moments, Michael pointed behind them and said, “You can see the castle from here.” Danni turned and caught her breath as she gazed at the steep and rocky plateau and the ruins perched atop like a cornice on a spire. From this distance, she could get a better sense of what it had looked like whole. The crumbling walls had been anchored by four round towers with another set of walls inside the stronghold. Gray in the twilight, the stone glowed like something from another world, representing a life so long gone it could barely be imagined. The picture of it stayed seared in her memory long after she’d turned away. The cottage was more a thatched shed than a house. A bright purple front door gleamed with fresh paint against the faded yellow walls. Two windows made eyes into the deep darkness on either side of it and a small porch confined them to crossing the threshold one at a time. Michael opened the door without a key and flipped on a switch. A single lamp on a single table cast a dull and clouded glow on a single room divided by two curtains into a kitchen, sitting area, and bedroom. The bathroom had a door, but it was so tiny that Danni thought it would take maneuvering to close it while standing inside. “Used to be Court O’Heaney’s,” Michael told them. “But he died a month back. Stranger things I’ve never seen. His dog died on the very same night. Both of them, gone. He was sitting in a chair by the fire and the dog was at his feet. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Danni and Sean had not. Michael waited for their exclamations of amazement with a hopeful expression, but the pair were too tired, too confused to give it. “Well now, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ll see you in the morning, cousin,” he said. “There’ll be a need for fresh salmon and Da will be trying to catch it.” “You work on your father’s boat?” Danni asked. “Aye, and isn’t it a crime. Child labor, I say. But it does no good. He’ll have me out of bed and swabbing the decks by dawn. A waste of a day.” “It’s an honest day’s work,” Sean said, eyeing the teenaged version of himself with a combination of humor and impatience. “And what else would you be doing with yourself but looking for trouble?” “I’m man enough to spend my time without reporting to the likes of you,” he said with defensive pride and a pointed look at Danni. His gaze was at once pleading and sexual, begging her to see beyond the boy to the man he would become. It disconcerted her, staring at this young echo of the man beside her. Worse than double vision, it made her dizzy and slightly nauseous. Sean, apparently, had no such confusion when it came to Michael. He put himself directly in front of her, blocking Michael’s line of sight. Jealous of himself, she thought with insanely dark humor. “We’ll be seeing you in the morning, then,” Sean said as he ushered the boy to the door. “Michael,” Danni asked before Sean shut him out, “have you ever heard of the Book of Fennore?” Michael paused and looked back at her. His expression was shocked. “Aye, everyone has. Do they talk of it in America, then?” “No,” she said, trying for a casual tone, a natural smile. “I just read about it. Do you think it’s real?” “Why wouldn’t I? No one can say it isn’t, can they now? Nana has seen it with her own eyes, she has.” “I thought no one had ever seen it before?” “No one has,” Sean said firmly. “Your nana is filling your head with tales, she is. She’ll tell you she’s seen purple elephants in Dublin next.” A dark flush stained Michael’s face as he glared at Sean. “I’m not some fecking imbecile.” “Of course not,” Danni said, shooting Sean a warning look. “Thank you, Michael, for showing us the way here.” Mollified, Michael nodded and said good-bye. When the door finally closed behind him, the air inside felt thick and damp. There was a musty scent and a chill that only intensified her weariness. Danni needed some space. She needed to be alone. She needed to cleanse herself of the day’s grime and her mind’s confusion. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced to the quiet that followed Michael’s departure. Sean had moved to the fireplace and set chunks of what looked like mud bricks on the grate. At her words, he glanced back at her. His gaze glittered over her face like the reflection of sun on choppy waters. It burned a trail down her throat, lingering on her breasts, whispering over her knotted belly. She had an immediate, intimate image of him there, in the shower beside her, arms locked behind her back, slick wet skin pressed to her own. A shiver tickled down her spine and gathered in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll get the fire started, then,” he said, his voice sinfully deep and soft. Danni nodded thinking, Oh, but you already have. She stood for another awkward moment and then said, “I won’t be long.” Turning, she went to the bathroom, scooting past the toilet and sink to the small gap between so she could close the door. She locked it even though Sean wasn’t likely to barge in on her, and if he did, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be sorry. She undressed and stepped into the tiny stall under a pitiful stream that sputtered and spat. But it was hot and there was soap and it was more than she’d hoped for. She had the sense of time running out but no idea how to stop it. It seemed showers and meals and sleep should be foregone. She should be making decisions and taking actions—but to what end? A whole day had passed and she was no closer to understanding why she was here or what she should be doing. She had her hair in a full lather of shampoo that smelled surprisingly of lavender when the sound of the water grew louder, more insistent. It roared from the faucet and seemed to crash against the tiled walls, yet Danni could feel the weak drizzle, unchanged as it streamed down her back. Wary, she rinsed the soap from her eyes and looked at the nozzle. But instead of the shower, instead of the speckled tiles and rusted fixtures, she found herself staring at the gray smudge of the sky meeting the ocean. She turned in place, taking in the fat clouds overhead, the two o’clock sun stretching her shadow out in front of her, the rocky beach. She hadn’t even felt the air turn but turn it had, and now she waited—naked, dripping wet, and bone cold—for whatever would happen next. The waves churned and frothed at her feet and seagulls cawed as they scurried and soared, looking for tasty snacks in the tide. To her left, she glimpsed a small bay with ships anchored in its harbor. She heard a rock bounce down the side of the sloping cliff and looked up. On the plateau overhead, she saw the backside of the crumbling ruins. Great mortar blocks mingled with the giant stones cascading to the sea from above. This must be where the castle wall had given out and taken the MacGrath child all those years ago. God, what must it have felt like to plummet down that jagged side to the merciless sea? The sound of music drew her attention and Danni looked away, glad to be distracted from the horrible images in her head. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the boulders to her right. Still naked, Danni gingerly picked her way over a jagged outcropping, leaning down to hold the edges of the massive rocks as she carefully navigated her way across the natural barrier. The ocean sprayed her with freezing water and she trembled with cold. She reached an isolated beach and paused to catch her breath. The song she’d heard was louder here, and she saw a rough opening cut into the cliff side. A doorway, she thought, nearly invisible from any other angle. Looking closer, she noticed something else. Where the water met the rocky wall leading up to the castle’s plateau, there was a low arch, visible only when the tide withdrew. Frowning, she climbed to the narrow entrance and stepped through. The dark here was like crushed velvet, thick and soft and yielding. She moved through it in silence, following the melody to a cavern lit by alternating brightness as the tide rushed forward, blocking the sun, then pulled away to let it back in. The ground beneath her bare feet was made of gravel and shells layered over stone. The walls were roughly hewn, carved out by the sea and worn by the grit of the unceasing tide. But as she looked closer, she saw a pattern etched onto every surface, repeated over and over on the walls and ceiling. Even on the boulders that crouched defensively around the churning pool in the middle. Spirals. They were everywhere. She fingered the pendant at her throat and shivered before cautiously moving on, past the tide pool to the back, where another door opened into the darkness. The song was coming from there. She stepped closer and looked in to see rough-cut stairs making a circular route up. Surprise made her breathless. She was in a cave beneath the castle. And perhaps the stairs led to a secret passage. A hidden place that offered escape, though at no small peril. The haunting song grew louder, and Danni backed up, tucking herself into the shadows, though a part of her knew she wasn’t really here. But the instinct drove her as the woman with a voice more beautiful than the stark scenery emerged from the stairwell. It was Fia. Danni shouldn’t have been surprised. Fia carried a small lantern and a blanket in her hands. Honey brown hair hung loose and silky to swing against thin shoulders. Her song was in Gaelic, and she sang it with feeling, closing her eyes as the wrenching notes echoed against the cavern walls. Danni swallowed a lump in her throat. The song ended, and Fia stood very still for a moment, as if it had drained her strength with its sadness. She stared at the rippling water, nearly black where it lapped the rocks, gray green where it surged out of the arched opening. Her expression filled Danni with unease. The look in her eyes seemed to beg for miracles. As if she hoped for a ship to suddenly appear in that opening and whisk her away. Was that what she wanted? Unable to help herself, Danni lifted her hand and brushed an errant strand of hair back from her mother’s face. Fia turned, without noticing. Still naked, still cold, Danni followed her mother to a flat, smooth area where she set down her lantern and spread the blanket. Fia seemed oblivious to the cold as she stripped her clothes and folded them neatly. Danni saw the mottled greens and yellows of bruises on her back and ribs. She’d seen them before, that first time when Sean had guided her through the vision. What had happened to her? Had she been in an accident? Had she fallen? Lower, on the pearly white skin of her forearm, Danni saw the rose-shaped birthmark, just like the one on her own arm. Fia turned away, and with only a moment’s hesitation, she stepped into the pool. Danni followed her in. The water was bracing, icy even, but Fia didn’t seem to mind. She swam and splashed like a mermaid, freed from the boundaries of gravity. Danni watched her, thinking how young, how beautiful her mother was. Lost in the magic and the mystery of this stranger who she longed to know, Danni didn’t hear the footsteps until they stopped just behind her. Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder. Niall Ballagh stood against the backdrop of the ragged and harsh cavern walls. What was he doing here? Like Sean, Niall was a big man. Broad of shoulder, lean of hip, long of leg. In the photograph she’d seen, Niall hadn’t seemed so large and solid. But here, now, he was all muscle and sinew, looming and somehow frightening. In her head, she could hear Sean’s pained and angry words. He killed my mother. . . . Was he here to do the same to Danni’s? Stalking her as an overture to the final act? Fia hadn’t noticed him yet, and he moved in, his gaze riveted on the flashes of pearl skin streaming with water, dipping beneath the surface. He stopped when he reached the flat boulder and sat beside her blanket and clothes, waiting. Frightened, Danni swam to her mother’s side, wanting to alert her. To warn her. Momma, there’s a man here and he wants to hurt you. As if hearing her daughter, Fia came up for air and turned to see Niall sitting patiently beside the pool. They stared at one another for a long, bated moment as Danni watched from the freezing water. Neither spoke. Then slowly, with a deliberation born of intent, Fia moved to the side of the pool and climbed out. Danni followed, dismayed by her nudity even though she knew Niall couldn’t see her. Fia seemed to have no such compunctions. She crossed to stand just in front of him, breasts heaving with ragged inhalations, skin puckering with a thousand shivery goose bumps. The water ran down her body, pooling in the hollow of her throat, tunneling through the valley between her breasts, sluicing over her rounded hips and thighs. Niall’s look should have made all that wet turn to steam. He stood slowly, gracefully, one small step away. A deep breath from Fia would have brushed Niall’s hard chest in a whispered touch. But neither moved. They only stared at one another, absorbed, transfixed. Fia’s gaze traversed his face, lingering on his strong brow, shadowed eyes, and sculpted mouth with something akin to anguish. Then tears turned her eyes shiny before overflowing to mix with the sea drops that clung to her skin. Watching them, a burning anger and crippling sense of betrayal filled Danni’s gut. She wanted to launch herself at Niall Ballagh. She wanted to scratch his face, kick and pull and push him away from her mother. In a moment of clarity, she understood that this—the magnetic force that seemed to hold the two captive, not merely Niall himself—was the prelude to doom. She knew without a doubt that Niall was to blame for the tragedy that would take place tomorrow night. Niall had been obsessed with her mother. He’d destroyed his own happiness and family and then moved on to Danni’s. She thought hard at Fia, tried to move her mother by will alone. She wanted to believe that Fia was too frightened of Niall to even scream. That’s why she stood so still, bare and trembling. That’s why she didn’t tell him to leave. Danni moved forward, tried to grip Niall’s arm and drag him away. Tears of rage filled her eyes as she shouted at him to leave her mother alone. But it was no use. She wasn’t there. Not for Niall, not for her mother. Niall made a sound deep in his throat—one of resistance overcome, one of barriers brought tumbling down. And then he breached that tiny gap that held them apart and pulled Fia’s dripping body against him. His hands skimmed her wet skin, sliding over her silky curves then up to cup her face. “I can’t stay away,” he said, and the words were demand, apology . . . defeat. Danni felt his agony, his yearning, and it fired her helpless fury. “Try harder,” she shouted. “She’s not yours. My father loves her. I love her.” And Niall would destroy all that. He trailed his fingers over the flat of her breastbone to the valley between and down to settle on the small rise above her pelvis. He dropped to his knees, his big hands circling her hips, holding her there as he subjugated himself at her feet. Pressing his face to the swell just over the tight mass of red gold curls, he whispered, “I will be this baby’s father in more than seed.” Then, fiercely, “Please, Fia, please let me.” Danni came back to the shower with a gasp that burned her lungs and made her choke on the sudden spray of water in her face. She coughed, bending with the force of emotion, the need to clear her lungs, her heart. He’d said father. He’d said baby. The implications of that rolled over her like the unharnessed power of the sea. Danni quickly rinsed the soap from her hair and body. She fumbled with the faucet, turning off the water as she sank to the floor of the shower and pulled up her knees. He’d said father. He’d said baby. The words repeated in her head, a screeching echo that shredded her beliefs, her hopes and dreams. Niall Ballagh was the father of the baby Fia carried. Not Cathán. Not her husband. She stood on trembling legs, pulling a towel from the rack and wrapping it around her. She was cold and shaky and sick to her soul. Sean said that after Fia and the children disappeared, there was talk of an affair, and Danni had defended her. Said she knew, in her heart, that there couldn’t have been another man. The bitter truth burned her like an oily flame. While Cathán was trying so hard to please Fia, to make her happy—Fia was sleeping with Niall Ballagh, a man who’d killed his own wife. Danni clenched her fist in hurt and anger. She tucked the towel around her, realizing she’d forgotten clean clothes when she’d come in. With a growl of frustration, she scooped up the pile on the floor and yanked open the door. Sean looked up from the fireplace with surprise and stared at her. For a moment, she could only stare back. The fire gilded him in warm gold, making the dark of his hair into a glittery cap of silken light. It gleamed with hues of blue black and starlit velvet. His face, wind burned and sun touched, glowed with an inner luminance, turning his eyes into bright green and silver orbs surrounded by sooty lashes and shifting shadows. In that moment, he looked nothing like his father, nothing like the man who would destroy her world, and Danni was more grateful than she could say or even understand. He stood, graceful even in the small action. She watched his tall body unfold and stretch. Drank in the sight of his broad shoulders, the power of his strong arms flexing, the lithe beauty of his form. He watched her watching him, an unfathomable gleam deep in his shining eyes. “That was a quick shower,” he said. It felt like days had passed while she’d waded through that icy pool of betrayal with her mother. “Are you okay, Danni?” he asked, stepping closer. She caught his scent. Bracing wind, salty ocean, man. Even after the long day, he smelled good to her. She inhaled, letting him chase away the lingering memory of the cave, the steaming scent of dark secrets. She wanted to bury her face against Sean’s chest and breathe him in, forever. Tentatively Sean reached a hand out and touched her shoulder. Danni stared into his eyes, helpless to fight the pain eating her from inside out. He seemed confused and yet he knew just what to do. He pulled her into his arms, cradled her head against his chest, and held her while she cried.