Mulligan Stew (24 page)

Again, he forced the vault door shut and mentally turned a key.
Not now. Jacob is now. Jacob is now. Jacob is now....

Culley's son.

"I'm coming in after you," he said more firmly, listening for any sound. The only light in the main chamber came from broken windows high overhead. All the lower ones had been boarded over more than a century ago.

Memory told Riley that the stairway curving toward the tower was to his right, and he prayed Jacob hadn't gone up there. The ground floor might be sound, but the tower was another matter. Besides, that was where the curse had commenced. To his left, another stone stairway led to the bowels of the castle.

"Jacob, don't hide from me, lad," he said, forcing his tone to remain steady, without a trace of anger. "If you show yourself now, maybe your mum won't punish you."
And maybe I won't.

Another sneeze came from the direction of the massive stone steps. Riley remained frozen, inhaling dusty air and trying to ignore the flapping of wings far overhead. He had no time for bats.

Or memories.

He clenched his jaw so tightly, it was a miracle his teeth didn't shatter. Gradually, his eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness and he made out several shapes. He'd never been any farther into the castle than this main chamber, but that had been more than enough to last him a lifetime.

"Jacob, lad...?" He walked slowly toward the stairs, discerning their shape through the darkness. "It's time to go. The women are worried."

Riley heard a sniffle and wondered if the lad was crying. Well, he'd been older than Jacob that long ago day, and he'd wept, too. Of course, he'd had more reason.

His gut twisted and his heart pressed against it. "You're keeping me from my work," he said, forcing his tone to sound light. "I thought you were going to help me drive the tractor today."

"You..." Jacob's young voice echoed off the stone walls. "You're mad at my momma."

Riley squeezed his eyes shut and searched for words. "Aye, but that's no reason to—"

"There isn't any stupid curse," Jacob said, his voice stronger now. "We're inside and nothin' bad has happened to either one of us."

Yet.
Riley clenched his fists. "And I'm glad of it, but it's still not safe, lad."

"Don't be mad at my momma."

"Jacob, I—"

"Jacob," Bridget's voice came from directly behind Riley and he spun around to see her silhouetted against the light filtering in around the massive wooden doors.

"Don't come any farther," he warned. "It isn't safe."

"Is, too," Jacob argued.

The little
muzzy
is pushing too far.
Riley clenched his fists and buried his temper beneath a mountain of worry. "We don't
know
if it's safe or not, Jacob."

"I don't care," Bridget said, her voice quivering. "All I care about is my son."

"Will Uncle Riley let you use the castle?"

Blackmail! And from a child, no less. Riley chewed his lower lip, wondering what the lad would do if he gave the wrong answer. Would he vanish deeper into this hideous place? Would he fall to his death?

Would the curse take yet another Mulligan?

Riley's breath froze in his throat and he struggled to fill his lungs for several seconds. "I can't... promise," he said finally, expecting to fall dead at any moment.

"Jacob, come out now," Bridget said, her shuffling steps coming closer to Riley as she spoke. "I want you to forget about what you heard last night."

"No."

Riley could just see the lad's flashing green eyes, his chin thrust out defiantly, his little arms folded over his narrow chest. "Aren't you the stubbornest lad?" He exhaled in a loud whoosh, pondering his options. Any reputable inspector would find
Caisleán Dubh
unworthy of renovation. Wouldn't he?

"I'm a Frye," Jacob said. "We're stubborn. Granny always said so."

"And Mulligans aren't?" Maggie said from outside the opening.

At least one of them had the sense to stay outside. "Well then, that means Jacob is doubly stubborn," Riley said, forming a plan as he spoke. He couldn't trust a six-year-old's judgment enough to be certain the lad wouldn't run deeper into the castle and into harm's way if Riley refused to succumb to the blackmail.

"All right, Jacob," he said, the darkness closing in around him. "If you'll come out now, we'll have someone inspect the castle, but only if you agree to abide by his findings."

Bridget gripped Riley's arm and he felt her tremble against him. Her breathing sounded ragged, and he suspected she felt much like he had that day he'd followed someone he loved into this hell hole.

Today would have a different conclusion. Already, Riley sensed the difference. Later, he would ponder the why of it. "Are you ready now, lad?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.

"What's that 'abide by' thing mean?"

Riley couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at his mouth. "It means that you," he looked at Bridget's shape standing at his side, "and your mum, accept the inspector's word as final."

"Okay. You promise to really do it?" the small voice asked from the darkness. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"

Riley bit his lower lip. "Now why would I be hoping such a thing?" He forced levity into his voice, though the mere mention of death in this place made him want to run screaming. "Of course, I promise."

Jacob's footsteps approached them, then he took shape a few feet away. "All right."

Bridget released her death grip on Riley and gathered her son into her arms. She wept and laughed intermittently, smothering the lad with kisses. A moment later, she pulled back to scold the child.

"Jacob Samuel Mulligan, you scared ten years off my life. Don't you ever run off like that again." She drew a ragged breath and started sobbing again.

Weren't women the most confounding creatures?

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get out of here before
Caisleán Dubh
comes down around our ears." He wasn't teasing. This was the place of his most hideous nightmares. "And we'll find you an inspector."

They stepped into the sunlight to find Maggie and Mum huddled together. He recognized fear in their eyes, and he knew his own mirrored theirs.

Maggie might not remember the day that had changed all their lives forever, but Riley would never forget. His gaze went to his mum. Tears spilled from her eyes.

They were part relief, and part mourning for the man they'd both lost to the Curse of
Caisleán Dubh
twenty-one years ago.

Riley went to her while Maggie and Bridget fussed over the wee blackmailer. Riley purposely turned Mum away from the castle to face the sea, placing his arm across her shoulders. They stood there for what seemed like forever, remembering and trying to forget at the same time.

Finally, Maggie appeared in front of them. "Thank you, Riley." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You're a hero. Why, even Saint Patrick would be proud."

"Women." He shook his head. "I'm a bloody extortion victim—not a hero and not a bit proud." Riley swallowed the lump in his throat and felt Mum shiver against his side. "I did what needed doing, and we'll all have to live with the consequences."

"What did you do?" Mum pulled away and looked into his eyes.

"I let a six-year-old blackmail me," he said on a sigh. "And I'll rue the day, for certain. Jacob definitely has his da's gift for tossing words about."

He glanced over his shoulder at Bridget and Jacob, who were walking around discussing the castle as they pointed to various parts of it. A shudder rippled through him and his knees wobbled, though he managed to hide it.

They were all alive.
Why?
They'd entered that wretched tomb-like place and all walked out alive. It didn't make a bit of sense.

An image of his ten-year-old self dragging his da from inside
Caisleán Dubh
exploded in his mind. Nausea welled within him and for several moments, all he could do was concentrate on breathing. Mum patted his arm.

They were having the same thought. Why hadn't it taken
his
life? Riley looked over his shoulder again at his nephew. Or Jacob's? They were both Mulligans by blood.

What was different? Why had they been spared?

"Maybe the curse expired," Maggie said as if reading their minds.

"Expired, is it?" Mum asked, making a tsking sound with her tongue. "
Expired
, lass?"

Riley tilted his head back to look up at the tower. Still staring, he drew a deep breath and said, "No, Maggie. Evil doesn't expire."

"Well, you're all out now," she said. "Safely. Nothing happened."

"Aye," he said, turning his gaze upon the sinister black stones of
Caisleán Dubh
again. "For now."

* * *

Still shaken from this morning's adventure, Bridget decided to bake bread. Not Irish soda bread, but
real
bread. She would have preferred sourdough, but the starter wasn't quite ready. A few more days, maybe a week, and it would be fermented enough to have a good bubble to it.

Maggie went on to school tardy, and Fiona bustled around the cottage, catching up on her chores. She was so happy to be up and about again, she seemed to have put the castle incident out of her mind.

Somehow, Bridget doubted that. Fiona was an amazing woman who'd learned to live with whatever life threw at her. In many ways, she reminded Bridget of Granny.

Bridget had reluctantly allowed Jacob to accompany Riley on his chores today, but only after she'd reminded her son that if he ever disappeared like that again, she would break her own rule against spanking. She'd never raised her hand to him, but maybe Granny had been right about even good children needing an occasional swat on the rump.

Thank you, Lord, for keeping him safe.
She chewed her lower lip and shook her head. She should've been sterner with Jacob, but her relief that he'd been found unharmed had left her weak. Later, she would talk with him again and make absolutely certain he realized how serious his actions were.

At least working on the farm with Riley wasn't like being taken out for ice cream. It wasn't a
reward
. Exactly. Besides, if they were staying in Ireland permanently, her son would need to work the farm alongside his uncle. The fresh air and sunshine would do the boy good, and Riley would keep him safe.

Still, she kept glancing out the window to watch her son sitting in front of Riley on the tractor seat. At least Jacob hadn't run off to
Caisleán Dubh
again.

Her heart skipped a beat as she recalled the fear all over again. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she realized she'd bitten the side of her tongue. Foolishness. Jacob was fine. They all were.

Curse or no curse.

She'd vowed to enter the castle, but not this way. There'd been no powerful feelings of a personal connection today. Only fear and desperation. She hadn't even heard the whispering.

And the roof hadn't caved in on their heads or anything. Maybe the castle really was safe. Maybe it
could
be restored.

Maybe Mulligan Stew would really happen.

She almost smiled, but caught herself in time.
Don't count those chickens before they're hatched.

She
would
go back to the castle, though. Alone. And she would take a doggone flashlight this time.

Smiling to herself, she checked the dough again to see if it was ready. Both loaves had at least doubled in size. She placed them in the oven just as someone knocked on the front door.

"Well, if it isn't Brady Rearden himself come home where he belongs," Fiona said as she opened the door and admitted their visitor.

Rearden?
Bridget peeked into the parlor to confirm the man's identity. Was he related to Katie? Would he remember Bridget and Jacob? Had Brady heard terrible things about her from Katie?

The elderly man stepped into the cottage and doffed his hat, before sweeping Fiona into his arms for a hug and a big sloppy kiss. "And isn't Fiona Mulligan still the prettiest lass in three counties?"

"Oh, go on with you, Brady. And don't you be forgettin' that you're old enough to be me own da." Fiona blushed and giggled like a young girl. "You always were full of the blarney."

"Aye, and I never intend to stop, no matter how old."

He caught sight of Bridget in the doorway and smiled again. "Ah, the lass from the plane has found her Mulligans."

"Yes, thank you. It's a pleasure to see you again, sir." Bridget smiled and wiped her floured hands on her apron.

"Sir? What is it with all the young folks callin' me sir, Fiona?"

Laughing, she shook her head. "Good manners, you suppose?"

"Well, 'tis better than bad ones."

"Jacob mentioned meetin' you on the plane after he saw you at mass." Fiona turned toward the kitchen. "Kettle's on. I'll just wet the leaves and we'll have us a nice chat with Bridget here."