Night of the Dark Horse (An Allegra Fairweather Mystery) Page 7

  Colum led me through fields, around hedgerows, over stone walls and stiles. He had the advantage of knowing the terrain, but I was fitter and faster. It wasn’t long before I was closing the gap between us. I could hear Colum’s labored breathing. He was tiring. Soon I’d catch him and...

  Was I close enough to bring him down with a flying tackle? I’d almost decided to chance it when I caught sight of movement from the corner of my eye.

  Too late I realized Colum had led me away from the village on purpose. The other two guys hadn’t gone off in random directions, either. They had circled around and were now coming at me from left and right. Ahead of me, Colum stopped running, turned suddenly and stood his ground.

  They cornered me in a field away from the road, away from houses. My heartbeat ramped up. Should I run? I was faster than they were. I could’ve escaped, but that would’ve let Colum off the hook. I chose to stand and fight. It’s the only thing bullies understand.

  “Bring it, tough guys,” I taunted, fists raised.

  Colum taunted right back. “Think ya pretty smart, don’t ya. But ya walked right into my trap. Eejit!”

  I was glad the fading twilight hid my embarrassment. My instinct was to rush at him, but I stood meekly, waiting for the moment when all three were within striking distance. I wondered whether Casper would make one of his eleventh hour appearances, and knew I couldn’t count on it.

  “Here’s what’s goin’ t’ happen,” said Colum. “Yer goin’ t’ leave Dingaleen. Not tomorrow. Not in half an hour. Right now.”

  Did he think I’d scare that easily? The pooka had already warned me off the case and it was a whole lot scarier than this guy.

  “Who’s gonna make me?” I said.

  Colum yelled to his mates. “Davin. Eamon. Get her.”

  “You want us to hit a girl?” squeaked Davin.

  Colum sneered, “Yer soundin’ like a pussy, mate.”

  Davin looked at me uncertainly. Should he hit this girl? Should he refuse and risk Colum’s wrath? He wavered for only a moment then the decision was made.

  Davin and Eamon didn’t come at me one at a time like bad guys in movies. They rushed me together. My fist connected with Davin’s jaw. My kick sent Eamon sprawling. Davin recovered and came at me again. I sent him away with a bloody nose. Two down, one to go.

  I looked around for the main danger, but Colum was nowhere in sight. Typical coward running off and letting his henchmen do the hard work. Davin and Eamon were both groaning. Not badly hurt—I’d gone easy on them—but they’d given up the fight. Their hearts weren’t in it now Colum had deserted.

  “Take this as a warning,” I said. “Tell Colum to leave me alone.”

  I turned away heading across the field to the road. I’d gone no more than a few steps when Colum sucker punched me. I went down.

  Through the ringing in my ear, I heard Eamon say, “She’s not movin’.”

  “Feckin’ hell,” said Davin. “You’ve killed her.”

  “She’s still breathin’,” said Colum, as his mates started to back away. “She’s got balls, that one.” I took that as a compliment, although I was sure he hadn’t meant it that way.

  When Colum realized his mates weren’t going to hang around, he stared into my half-closed eyes. “Leave Dingaleen.”

  For once I was smart enough not to tell a bad guy to fuck off. I lay still until their voices faded away. The world spun as I got to my feet. It took a while to get my bearings and find my way back to the road, where I’d left the car. And Aedan.

  He was leaning against the car talking to the old Chinese guy I’d seen on my jog the night before. When the old guy caught sight of me, he inclined his head in acknowledgement then walked silently away.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Tourist,” said Aedan. “He offered to take me to a doctor, but I insisted on waiting for you.”

  “How you doing?” I lifted the T-shirt he held to his head and checked the gash. Still bleeding way too much. I shouldn’t have left him to chase Colum. So stupid. What had it achieved? Exactly nothing.

  Aedan took a closer look my face. “Did Colum do that?”

  “Lucky punch. Does it look bad?”

  “Not so bad.” Then he muttered, “Feckin’ Colum hittin’ a woman.”

  “Trust me, this woman hit back.” Shame I hadn’t actually hit Colum, but Aedan didn’t need to know how he’d tricked me.

  Aedan raised his clenched fist. “Colum will pay for this.” So cheesy, but I appreciated the sentiment.

  “Better get you patched up before you take on Colum,” I said. “Where does that doctor live?”

  “His name is Dr. Gallagher.”

  “Right, and his address?”

  “The Lane, where old Deirdre Flynn lives.”

  It was only a couple of blocks away, but Aedan was in no condition to walk. I opened the car door. “Get in and don’t forget to buckle your seatbelt.” I wasn’t taking any chances with him.

  Thankfully the car had only suffered minor damage when I ran off the road. It started immediately.

  I drove in silence until he said, “Stop here. This is Doctor G’s place.”

  The doctor and his wife were watching TV, but he seemed happy to abandon his soap opera for a patient. Although he had retired several years earlier, he was used to treating people in emergencies. Just as well, because there were no other doctors in the village. Aedan insisted on him checking me out too.

  I protested, “Really, there’s no need, I’m fine.”

  Dr. Gallagher told me, in the nicest possible way, to shut up and let him do his thing. He wanted me to go for an X-ray, and though I promised to do it in the morning, I was so lying. My face was fine...except for the nagging pain. But I could deal. I got off a lot lighter than Aedan, who needed stitches in his head.

  I did score a prescription for Mrs. Gallagher’s tea, which would apparently make me feel a whole lot better.

  At first I declined, but Mrs. Gallagher, with her frizzy gray hair and soothing manner, wouldn’t take no for an answer. She soon had me settled in a fat armchair holding a delicate porcelain cup and saucer. Gold-rimmed, lilac floral pattern—the kind you’d expect Elizabeth Bennett to use when she wasn’t busting Mr. Darcy’s balls.

  “Biscuit?” offered Mrs. Gallagher. “They’re choc-chip.”

  Mmm, my favorite, except I called them cookies. What’s in a name, right? They’d taste as good in any language.

  Mrs. Gallagher folded her neat, if a bit saggy body, into the twin of my chair and inhaled the aroma from her own cup. “Excuse my dressin’ gown. Declan and I like to get comfortable in the evenings. Old age, you know,” she added, as though getting older was no big deal. “Would it be impolite to ask how your case is goin’? Sure, I understand some things are confidential, but I’m intrigued by the life of a paranormal investigator. Do you specialize in pookas?”

  “I handle all kinds of paranormal problems.” I didn’t want to tell her this was my first genuine Irish pooka. Of course, I’d handled other shapeshifters.

  Mrs. Gallagher might be the wrong side of seventy but she was sharp as a werewolf’s teeth. “Your first?” she guessed correctly. “Sure, you’ve a heavy load to shoulder. This pooka will not be easy to tame.”

  “I’ve faced worse,” I said, thinking of Ignatio, the evil spirit of a Spanish Inquisition torturer. The very one who was responsible for Casper’s current weakness.

  “You look as though you could do with another cuppa,” said Mrs. Gallagher. When I declined she peered at me through silver-rimmed glasses. “You look tired. Go on, go home. We’ll take care of Aedan.” She patted my shoulder with her small gnarled hand. “Don’t feel too bad about the accident. Sure, it wasn’t your fault. Some people are born unlucky. Aedan is one of them. The villagers used to talk about him being cursed. It’s understandable they’d look for a way to explain bad luck, but the truth is there’s no explanation. I’ve been wed to a doctor for fifty years. I know bet
ter than most that bad things happen to the best people. Don’t you worry about Aedan. We’ll keep him here tonight and make sure he gets home safe in the mornin’.”

  “If only I could change his luck.” I thought of my wish-pebbles and wondered whether changing Aedan’s luck would fall under Padraig’s description of a wish that was too lavish.

  Mrs. Gallagher was more pragmatic than me. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could change things just by wishin’. But that’s not a place for healthy minds to wander. What if? If only... Pah! Worst words in the English language.”

  “You’re a wise woman, Mrs. Gallagher.”

  “And you’re a smart one. I’m glad the fate of Dingaleen is in your hands.”

  “No pressure, then.”

  She smiled as though she thought I could handle the pressure just fine.

  It was a relief to leave Aedan in their care. Mrs. Gallagher had been right about one thing. I was tired. Bone weary. I’d planned to head right back to Ronan’s but when I saw the lights were on in Liam’s house, I just had to stop by and ask a few questions.

  My knock was answered by a pretty woman. She was slim for someone in her early forties and had golden hair just like the twin girls who hovered behind her.

  “Go back to your homework,” she instructed. They obeyed faster than Stepford wives.

  Before I could ask to speak to Liam, she said, “Allegra Fairweather, isn’t it?”

  “Mrs. O’Reilly?” She confirmed it, but didn’t tell me her first name. I guess she didn’t want us bonding or anything. “Nice to meet you.” I was so sucking up.

  “Are you here to question me? It’s only fair to warn you I don’t believe in the paranormal.”

  “And yet you call your son a changeling,” I said.

  “Obviously we know Liam’s human. We’re not crazy. But he’s such a strange kid—talking to himself, always running away, and—well, frankly he’s not very good at school. We got into the habit of calling him a changeling. It was a joke at first, but when the girls came along...well, they’re so well behaved. The school has classified them both as gifted and there’s talk of them skipping a grade. Even as babies they hardly cried. Liam was always a challenge.”

  “Would it be okay if I spoke with him?”

  “As part of your investigation?”

  “He might have information about the pooka.”

  “You don’t seriously believe a pooka has been calling people to ride?”

  Had she been living under a rock? The whole village was talking about the pooka. Trying not to sound too incredulous, I said, “You think the pooka is fiction?”

  “Of course it’s fiction. Sure, and I know the villagers have seen something, but it’s most likely a horse escaped from a farm. At night, people imagine all sorts of things.”

  “Like nostrils snorting fire.”

  “Exactly. It’s possible to have too much imagination.” She looked at me as though I was a prime candidate for that.

  Ignoring her intended insult, I asked again, “Can I speak with Liam?”

  “No.”

  Would I take no for an answer? Not in this lifetime.

  “This is really important, Mrs. O’Reilly. Whether you believe in the pooka or not, people have been injured. It’s only a matter of time before someone dies. Liam might have information that will lead me to the—um—wild horse,” I said, using language she’d be sure to understand. “When I stop the horse, no one else gets hurt. Including your family.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “The only threat to you is from the poo—the wild horse.”

  “Mum,” called one of the golden-haired twins. “We’ve finished our maths homework. Can we do some history now?”

  These kids were how old? They looked about five, but maybe they were small for their age.

  “Be there in a minute,” called Mrs. O’Reilly. She began to shut the door in my face.

  “Not so fast,” I said, forcing it open. “About Liam...”

  She sighed and glanced over her shoulder to the room where the girls were studying. “Liam’s not here.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s run off again. There’s no telling when he’ll be home.”

  I repeated, “Where is he?”

  “If we knew that, we’d have brought him home, wouldn’t we? He might be a naughty boy, but we always do our best for him.”

  Struggling to remain patient, I asked, “Where are his favorite places?”

  “He likes Pebbly Creek and those hills near the oak at the triple fork in the road. I think there are caves up there. Sometimes he stays out all night. We can’t control him.” Her composure almost slipped, but she pulled herself together. “If you find him I’d rather you didn’t speak with him about the paranormal. Filling his head with that nonsense will only make him more unmanageable.”

  We parted with deep mistrust on both sides.

  I began my search at Pebbly Creek. “Liam,” I called raking the banks with the beam of my flashlight. “Liaaam.” I fell silent listening for a kid’s voice to say, Okay, you found me. And, hey, I confess my alter ego is the pooka. Needless to say that didn’t happen.

  After a thorough search of both creek banks and a good section of the surrounding terrain, I had nothing to show for my efforts. Not even a wisp of pooka-dark hair. My frustration at not finding him wasn’t helped by my concern for his welfare. Eight was too young to be wandering the countryside alone at night.

  I left the creek, widening my search to include the nearby fields. When I saw a shadow moving toward me, I thought I’d got lucky. One sweep of my flashlight revealed that the shadow belonged to Casper, which was a whole other way of getting lucky.

  “What’re you doing here?” I asked.

  “I got bored resting on Cloud 9.” He noticed my face and the bruising Colum had inflicted, and his expression changed. “I didn’t know you were hurt.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “I should have sensed you were in danger.”

  “What? From Colum? I gave worse than I got.” At least to Davin and Eamon.

  “I used to know exactly what was happening to you every second of the day. I could feel it.” He touched my bruised cheek. “I didn’t feel that.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it. No biggie. Do you know where Liam is?”

  But Casper was still beating himself up over my injuries. “I’m so sorry, Allegra.”

  “Just drop it, okay.” When he continued to stroke my cheek, I said, “Seriously, enough,” and pushed his hand away. I was scared he might do something stupid like voluntarily resign from guarding me. “Focus on the case. Where is Liam?”

  “If he’s not here he must be...somewhere else.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Care to elaborate?”

  “Look at this logically. If Liam is the pooka, and I’m not saying he is, where would he go?”

  “His mom said he liked the hills. Come on. We’ll take Ronan’s car.”

  As Casper climbed into the passenger seat, I said, “Don’t puke,” and hit the accelerator.

  Casper had no time to buckle his seatbelt. He grabbed the door handle and hung on as I floored it down the road and out of Dingaleen.

  “Keep a look out for the triple fork near the big oak.”

  The country road was unlit and my headlights were no match for the thick darkness. I’d probably still be driving if Casper hadn’t yelled, “Stop.”

  I hit the brake and swerved to the side of the road. Casper scrambled out and doubled over, retching. After making sure he was more or less okay, I swept my flashlight over the wooded terrain, searching without much hope for a sight of Liam. If he really was the pooka, he was probably still hanging out in his favorite cave waiting for the next storm.

  As we climbed the wooded slope, I was strongly reminded of a case I’d handled the previous year in Scotland. I’d been running through a wood with dust in my eyes. Unable to see where I was going, I had run right over the edge of a cli
ff—or creag, as they’d called it in the Scottish village of Furness.

  “Hey, Casper, does this remind you of anything?” I said as we reached a plateau and began to hike along level ground. “Casper?” When he failed to answer, I swept my flashlight over the place he’d been walking only moments before. He was no longer there. What the—? “Where are you?” I yelled. Silence. “This is so not funny.” Right about then my flashlight revealed the dark slash of a crevasse. I rushed to the edge and shone my light into the blackness. Casper was spread-eagled on a ledge half way down. He wasn’t moving.

  “I’m coming,” I called.

  He roused himself long enough to say, “Stay where you are. Give me a minute to recover. I’ll be able to fly up.”

  “You need help. I’m coming down.”

  “Allegra, listen to me. Keep away from the edge. It’s unstable. If you fall... I don’t have the strength to fly us both out.”

  Wise words, but they came too late. The land suddenly crumbled beneath my feet. I yelped. My arms flew up and I went down. I didn’t even realize I’d dropped the flashlight until I came to rest on the ledge beside Casper. The breath was knocked out of me. Bruises bloomed on my skin like demon-flowers. On the upside, nothing seemed broken. I sent a quick thank you to the Powers-That-Be. Oops. Big mistake. I didn’t want Them looking this way and remembering Casper was earmarked for retirement.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I feel like I’ve been kicked by the pooka, but I think I’ll live. You?” I didn’t expect an honest answer so I made my own assessment of his condition. It wasn’t easy without a flashlight or permission to run my hands over his body, but he seemed to be moving and his voice wasn’t distorted by pain.

  “You think you can fly out of here?”

  “Maybe so long as I don’t have a passenger.”

  “No problem, I’ll climb. It’s not far.” I stood up. Bad move. My knees buckled. I grabbed for the rock face, steadying myself, wincing as all my torn muscles protested. Climbing up that cliff face wouldn’t be easy, especially in darkness, but it was better than spending a night on the ledge. Sucking it up, I said, “Let’s get out of here.”