“Except when they’re shooting at us or trying to kidnap you.”
“I’m just saying their overall aims aren’t the worst. They care about our history, our cultural heritage. They strive for unity instead of fragmentation. There’s much in the past that binds the Irish, Scottish, and even some English and French together.”
“That can be a good thing, or it can be a slippery slope toward xenophobia.”
Isla shook her head. “I’m not making a lot of sense here. Bear with me.” She took a deep breath. “For argument’s sake, let’s presume that there are,” she paused, searching for the proper word, “powers that defy the laws of science.”
Maddock nodded. “Go on.”
“Let’s also assume that at least some of the ancient legends are much more than that.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.” A strange glimmer sparkled in his blue eyes as he spoke. “It’s one of those things I haven’t told you about. I didn’t want you to think Bones and I are crazy.”
The tension drained from Isla’s body, and she smiled. “Thank the gods. I’ve been holding this back, too. I believe the gods of the Tuatha are real, or at least, they were. I don’t know if the treasures actually have any supernatural powers, but I’m open to the possibility. The Roman Empire and the Catholic Church shattered us. We lost our identity. Finding these treasures could bring back who we were.”
Maddock took a step back, held up his hands. “I hear you, I really do. But I need you to understand. On more occasions than I can count, Bones and I have run up against people who had the same, exact idea, and none of them were what I would call good guys.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about bringing back pride and hope, getting out from beneath the weight of oppression. I promise.”
“How can you know that for certain if you aren’t a part of the organization?”
Isla hung her head. “I suppose I can’t, but I know my parents. Or at least, I knew them. They were decent people, and they wouldn’t have supported a sinister agenda.” A solitary tear traced a path down her cheek. She’d tried so hard not to think about her parents.
Maddock moved closer to her, so close they were almost touching.
“What happened to them?” he asked softly.
“They died a few years ago, while I was living in America. At least, that’s what Fairly told me. They went to Patagonia in search of some lost Celtic tribe or some such. He said they died along with several other Tuatha in a massive cave collapse. Their bodies were never recovered.”
“I’m sorry.”
She felt Maddock’s strong arms wrap around her, felt his tight embrace. And then he stepped back. “I’d better get back before Bones comes knocking on the door. Thanks for trusting me with this.”
“Wait.” Before she could change her mind, Isla grabbed him around the neck and kissed him. For a brief, beautiful moment, she felt him respond. His hand moved to her shoulders.
And then, gently, he pushed her away.
“I’m sorry. I can’t right now. I’ve got…”
“A fiancée.” The bitterness of rejection tinged her words. “I understand.”
“Exactly.” He couldn’t quite meet her eye as he spoke. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He stepped out the door and gently closed it behind him, leaving Isla simmering in a stew of her own disappointment, jealousy, and anger.
The loud rumble of tires on gravel told Brown he’d once again drifted off the road. He was in desperate need of sleep, but after losing Isla Mulheron and her crew, his neck was on the chopping block. Literally. Brigid had told him as much when Brown had reported the tires being slashed on both of their vehicles.
There had been no dressing down from the leader of the Tuatha de Dannan. Not even a disapproving stare. Brigid simply made a call and had the tires replaced. Afterward, she handed the keys to Brown and said, “If you have not found Isla by the time I see you next, I will cut off your head.”
The cold, matter of fact way in which she made the promise was the most chilling thing Brown had ever heard. In fact, the memory brought some life back to his fatigue-soaked brain.
He’d driven everywhere searching for any sign of Mulheron or the big American Indian with whom she appeared to be working. He’d searched all over Culloden, in case she’d tried to fool him by staying put. Then he drove around Inverness, checking hotel parking lots for a vehicle that resembled hers. The problem was, there were a fair number of red Kia Sportages in the city, all of which he had to check out, but none of those he saw bore the Scottish Adventure window sticker he was searching for. Finally, half on a hunch, half out of desperation, he’d driven to Loch Ness. It seemed like the sort of place the Tuatha would hide their treasure, though Brigid and Fairly insisted otherwise.
He’d circled the Loch half a dozen times, but still no sign of his quarry. He had to find her.
“Hells bells. What am I going to do?” he whispered. “I can’t go back.” Not for the first time tonight, he wondered what would happen if he just fled the country. Would Brigid bother to send someone after him? After all, the woman had said, “When I see you next.” Maybe if she never saw Brown again…
The blare of a car horn brought him back to full alert. He had drifted into the oncoming lane! He yanked the wheel hard to the left to avoid an oncoming SUV. He jerked his head around to see a man giving him the finger. He couldn’t believe it. It was the Indian!
His spirits buoyed, he watched in his rear-view mirror until the vehicle rounded a bend out of sight, then he made a quick U-turn. He’d follow them and try to avoid notice, but he was not going to let them out of his sight this time.
Should he report in now? Call for backup? Had he completed his task by finding Isla, or was the order to eliminate her companions still in play? He hadn’t had the courage to ask. He mulled it over. Reaching out to Brigid was out of the question. The woman had hung a sword of Damocles over Brown’s head, and she was a notoriously impatient type.
He’d take his chances with Fairly. He dialed the number and waited, heart in his throat, as it rang five, six, seven times before a tired voice answered.
“You’re up early.”
“Sorry,” Brown said, “but I found Isa Mulheron, and I thought I should report in.”
“And you didn’t want to tell Brigid?”
“I got the impression she didn’t want to hear from me until I’d finished the job. And I’m not sure if that job still includes killing Isla’s traveling companions. Still, I thought her whereabouts shouldn’t be kept a secret.”
“Where is she?”
“Leaving Loch Ness. Heading south in a hurry.”
Fairly fell silent for a moment. “Heading south. Must be on her way to Borthwick. But how did she know? Damn that Meikle. He’s playing both sides.”
“Borthwick?” Brown asked.
“Isla found a clue at Culloden. Meikle decoded it, says it points to Borthwick Castle.”
Brown considered this new bit of information. It didn’t sit well with him. He was certain Mulheron and her party had arrived at Culloden after the Tuatha, and had turned around and left right away.
“I think it’s a red herring,” he said.
“I’ve considered that possibility myself,” Fairly said. “Follow them. Keep me apprised of their whereabouts.”
“Brigid wanted them killed. At least, she wanted Isla’s companions killed. Are those still my orders?”
The line went silent. After a few confused seconds in which Brown worried he’d dropped the call, Fairly cleared his throat.
“No. At least, not for the moment. Let Isla be our hound, sniffing out the treasure. It might be that her companions are providing essential support. I’ve kept an eye on her for years, and she made little progress until she joined forces with these men. Let’s see what they accomplish. We can kill as many of them as we like when the time comes, assuming, of course, Brigid doesn’t change her mind.”