“What treasure does our family have?” Kilian asked, ignoring his sister.
“Ah,” Rory murmured, turning his attention back to his son, “That is another story.”
“Tell us please,” Kilian pleaded as his father began to hum a low tune.
“All right,” Rory sighed, blinking his tired eyes at the clock on the mantle, “Long ago, there were two men like brothers. One with eyes as blue as a summer sky whose heart longed for adventure, and his mind thirsting for knowledge.”
Kilian tucked his knees to his chest, hanging on every word his father spoke.
“His friend, like a brother to him, was small and hard like stone. Together, they made a pact that they would scour the Emerald Island.”
“The most precious treasure is Emerald.” Liam whispered, lowering his glasses, and tucking them into his breast pocket. Though Liam was only two years older than Kilian he was studious, mature. Their mother liked to say that he was an old soul, though Kilian thought he just did it for the girls and praise, “Liam Kelly, with his big words, big books, and slow smile.” The idea of it had Kilian rolling his eyes.
“They were searching for-” A low rumble came from behind their living room window and rain began to pound against the thin glass, “They were looking for a book.”
“Why would they want a book?” Kilian asked, dumbfounded.
“Because,” Rory began as he ran his hands over the coarse hairs of his face, “Knowledge is the greatest treasure there is. Because knowledge is power. With it, civilizations rise and fall, millions are made, and despite all that can be gained, it is the only thing we take with us from this world. Your grandfather understood that, which is why he searched tirelessly for years for this book, and when he found it, he swore that he would keep it for the next generation of Kellys. For you.”
“Where is it?” Liam asked, his bold brows, the same as his father’s, knit together in concentration.
“What book is that?” Daniel demanded. “Can we see it?” Jumping to his feet in oversized pajamas Daniel’s hopeful blue eyes sparked as lightning flashed.
“I wish.” Rory sighed and extended a hand for the book that Kilian still held. “But it was taken from him. “Pried from his cold dead hands.”
1
The lightning flashedacross the windshield of his car sending his heart pounding in his ears, “Jesus Christ.” He groaned and ran his hands up and down his tired face, barely noticing the stubble.
He really needed to shave; he was already in violation of the police code, but he didn’t have time for such things. He'd been working around the clock to get everything taken care of and he couldn't remember the last time he had been home. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he slept through the night.
Staring blankly at the green light in front of him he fought to remember where he was going, and glanced down at the clock on the dash reading 1:00am.
He clenched his jaw in frustration, he must have fallen asleep at the wheel. Stupid. Any good cop knows his limits, and to not put others at risk. He ran his fingers through his damp hair. How long had he been asleep?
Shaking his head, he accelerated through the now yellow light, splashing puddles along the empty road on the outskirts of Galway.
Kilian Kelly was a tall man, over six feet with a slim build his mother swore up and down he would grow into. But as the years went on from childhood to adulthood, he just stretched longer, his nose too. It was something he'd always been insecure about.
He was, however, aKelly; and that meant he’d worked hard to transform a gangly boyhood form, into a tightly corded physique. And what he lacked in bulk, he made up for in lean muscle.
His mother had once, in an attempt to brighten his mood, referred to his nose as aristocratic. If she had meant to cheer him up with her words, she had done the opposite. The statement had sent his brother Daniel into a fit of giggles, earning the boy a firm punch to the gut, and Kilian boxed ears. Smiling at the memory, he jumped as the phone in the passenger seat began pulsing rhythmically signifying an incoming call.
“Damn it,” he muttered, and prayed to God he wasn’t being called in for backup on something, “Detective Kelly,” he growled, his voice thick with sleep.
“Kelly,” Dispatch yawned, “We need you over at Murphy’s Pub. There's some kind of brawl.”
“Murphy’s?” Kilian frowned as he slowed and prepared to make a U-turn on the empty road.
“Yes, the owner has called in a complaint and asked for you specifically.”
Rolling his eyes to the stained ceiling of his cruiser, he inhaled deeply. It wasn’t unusual to be called in for something involving family- and the Murphys were nothing if not family. He just wished he could catch a few hours of sleep first.
“Fine. I'm headed over now. Do you know any details?”
“Not much.” The familiar voice sighed as Kilian headed back toward the pub. “Probably involves some tourists. They’re always making trouble, aren’t they?”
Kilian said nothing, merely offered a grunt before hanging up the phone.
