Faolan rose from the table and stomped over to the fire, turning his back on his irritated son. He threw his body into his chair.God’s teeth. He felt a weariness echoing to the marrow of his bones. Ciara danced in the flames of the hearth. Faolan rubbed his hand across his eyes. Damn her for wedging her way into his heart. Damn her for branding his soul.
Over the pop of the wood, the hiss of the fire, he heard the scrape of Keagan’s chair. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief as the fading sound of Keagan’s footsteps told him his son was finally doing what he’d been told. Handling Keagan had become so difficult. The boy’s persistence was driving him over the edge. His own loss was as painful as a raw, open sore. He had to take care not to lash out at Keagan.
The slam of a heavy door echoed down the hallway. Faolan opened his eyes and sat up straighter in his chair. That echo had sounded from the wrong direction.Dammit!It was the passage to the north tower. The boy had gone there on his own. Faolan’s hands curled into fists and his stomach filled with dread. Now,hehad to go there…to his mother’s rooms. He hadn’t been there since her death.Damn that boy!He was as hardheaded as his infernal mother.
Faolan slipped through the passage taking care to be as silent as the darkness beyond the light of the torch. He came upon Keagan just as the boy sprinted up the winding staircase leading to the abandoned tower.
“I will tan his little arse,” Faolan grumbled under his breath. He paused behind the curve of the stair until the proper time to make his presence known to Keagan. His son was going to have to learn to listen. He stayed just out of sight, using the light from Keagan’s torch to make his way along the steps.
When Faolan’s parents had died, Faolan had ordered the northern tower sealed. The rooms of the tower had been Faolan’s mother’s rooms where she’d studied and worked her spells. The tower had also contained the massive Library of Mystics where Rachel MacKay and the chief Druid of the clan had painstakingly gathered and stored all their mystical lore. However, when Rachel’s husband had been murdered while defending the magic, she’d hidden all the mystical resources away.
Faolan couldn’t resist a smile and a sense of pride as he watched his son work his way down the passage. Keagan found the rooms with no trouble. His gifted senses honed in on the hidden passage like a bat’s radar on its prey in the night.
Keagan paused at the hidden door to the landing where he sensed the library to be. He listened and looked up and down the hall. The boy seemed to be checking to make sure he was alone. Faolan bit his lip to keep from laughing. He knew Keagan checked for the worrisome chambermaids that constantly followed the boy about. Since his mother had disappeared, and then seemed to have returned as a mindless woman, all the women of the keep had almost driven the boy insane by their constant mother-henning whenever he was about.
The shadowy halls were as silent as a tomb, just as they should be. The eerie quiet assured Keagan he was quite alone and it was safe to shift the walls. Faolan arched a brow and waited. How did the boy know the secret to shifting the walls?
Faolan inched a few steps closer, craning his neck to see.
Keagan placed his left hand as high as he could reach while at the same time positioning his right hand at the level of his chest. Then he pressed hard against the worn stone blocks until he heard the grind of the gears within. It seemed to take forever for the ten-foot section of the fitted blocks to inch inward to suffocating darkness. Keagan drummed his fingers and eyed the walls to ensure the shifting was complete before he slipped inside the passage.
Faolan squinted at the opening and shook his head. How had the boy known? Without the light of Keagan’s torch, the passage had plunged into inky darkness. Faolan slid his hand along the wall to find the doorway and slipped his way into the anteroom. Faolan hurried along the passage to catch up with the disappearing glow of Keagan’s torch. This was merely the first passage, the first doorway; Keagan had yet to pass through the final door.
Faolan stayed back far enough so Keagan couldn’t sense him; he paused when Keagan paused. He smiled as Keagan brushed away the cobwebs as though they were mere tattered curtains. His son was fearless, even though just a lad. Perhaps he’d not tan his arse after all; maybe he’d just make Keagan muck all the horseshit out of the stable.
As Keagan made his way deeper into the stifling darkness, he came upon the blackened metal door sealing away the ancient rooms. Faolan swallowed hard and edged a silent step back. Now, he’d see what his son could do.
Keagan took a deep breath and stretched on tiptoe placing his right hand upon the mystical symbol in the center of the door. Keagan closed his eyes.
“Concentrate, Keagan,” Faolan whispered too low for the lad to hear. He remembered the horrible pull of the door and the dark magic holding the seal.
The magical seal locking the door responded to the boy’s tremendous will. It creaked and groaned as though angered at being disturbed. The door grated open and swung inward to allow Keagan into the room.
“Well done, my son,” Faolan breathed in a ragged voice as he leaned against the wall. He glared at the door as though it were a vile, wicked beast about to swallow him whole. Now he had to go inside. Inside the room filled with all the ghosts. Inside the room where a lifetime ago, he’d stood at his mother’s side and learned of all the wonders magic could do.
Once inside the cavernous room, Keagan lit the additional torches staggered about the walls. The warmth of the yellow flames beat back the dry, musty darkness and illuminated the vast collection of books and mystical relics lining the dust-covered shelves. The cavernous library went on forever. Shelves spanned every wall of the chamber, running from the ceiling to the floor. Weathered wooden tables formed a crescent-shaped work area in the center of the room. Snuffed out candles stood in multi-branched iron candelabras in the middle of the tables, it appeared as though Rachel MacKay had left her workroom for a brief moment rather than entombing the magic almost twenty years ago.
Keagan settled his torch into one of the metal holders and made a slow circuit of the room. His eyes narrowed as he squinted at the items stuffed into the shelves and stacked in the corners along the walls. “Keagan.”
Keagan yelped and whirled around so fast he fell back against the shelves behind him. “Dammit, Da! Ye scared the living shite out of me!”
Faolan arched a brow at his son’s choice of words.
Keagan straightened his kilt and caught the books he’d knocked loose before they slid off onto the floor. “Sorry, Da. But ye did scare me. I didna mean to curse at ye. At least I didna take the Lord’s name in vain.”
Faolan rubbed his face to hide his smile. The boy did have a point. The tower had an eeriness about it. “What are ye doin’ here when ye were told the library would be discussed with ye at a later time?”
Keagan clasped his hands behind his back, ducked his head and remained silent.
“Keagan?” Faolan cleared his throat. Damn, the boy was too much like his mother. Whenever he was quiet, trouble brewed.
“I’ve nearly found what it’s going to take to convince ye that Mother was stolen from us. That she didn’t just decide to go away.” Keagan stubbed his foot at a non-existent spot on the floor with the worn toe of his boot.
Nearly found? Faolan didn’t like the sound of that. He fixed the boy with a wary gaze as though he were a ticking bomb. “What do ye mean ye’ve ‘nearly found’? Have ye been up here before?”
Keagan gave a quick bob of his head. “Oh aye, Da. I’ve been up here twice before. Grandmother Rachel showed me the way and helped me with spellin’ the door.”
“Mother!” Faolan growled through gritted teeth as he paced across the room.
