Survive the Dawn (17 page)

She stood knowing she couldn’t go in and felt ridiculous when a nun walked up to her. “Can I help you?”

Sebastian cleared her throat. “Is Timothy Kerrigan here?”

“Yes, he is, as a matter of fact. If you like, I can take you to him. He’s in—”

“Would you have him come out here?”

The nun cocked her head and appraised her. Sebastian adjusted the lapels of her leather coat; for some odd reason, she felt uncomfortable. She really hated these human attributes she had lately.

“If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll get him,” the nun said with a smile and walked away.

Sebastian nodded and glanced around her surroundings, noticing how the brick monastery stood amid a grove of trees that seemed to protect the old building. This wooded area was a stark contrast to the open sloping green hills. A vision suddenly flashed through her mind. It was fleeting, but it was Tatiana.

“Can I help ya?”

With the vision fading, Sebastian turned back to see a short redheaded young man standing in front of her. He was smiling; his big green eyes held a questioning gaze. The sweater he wore looked two sizes too big for him and his trousers baggy and wrinkled.

“I’m looking for Timothy Kerrigan,” Sebastian said, hoping this odd man was not him. She had a different idea of Mr. Kerrigan, the famous Irish historian.

“I’m Tim Kerrigan. What can I do for you?” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “A bit blustery today. Would you like to come in?”

Sebastian hesitated for a moment.

“I can’t.”

Tim Kerrigan raised his eyebrows as he cocked his head. Sebastian noticed him glance to her mouth, then back to look her in the eyes. “What’s your name?”

Sebastian held his gaze. “Sebastian.”

He blinked as if trying to register this information. “S-Sebastian? From the…You’re a…The ritual...That Sebastian?”

She heard the squeak in his voice and scowled deeply. “What the devil are you talking about? How do you know me?”

“No wonder ya can’t come in. This is hallowed ground. Then that myth is true? I knew it.” He clapped his hands together. “Ya mean you really can’t enter a church or—”

“Mr. Kerr—”

“Corky, please call me Corky, and you have to wait right here. There’s someone ya have to meet.”

Sebastian heard the near gleeful tone in his voice. “Corky…” She couldn’t believe she was actually addressing a mortal as Corky.

“No, please. I’ll be right back. Don’t fly away. I mean don’t go,” he said hastily over his shoulder and dashed back toward the monastery.

Sebastian, completely confused, watched as the redhead came to a skidding halt in the courtyard, seemingly trying to figure out in which direction to go next. He then ran to his left and disappeared from her sight.

Moments later, Corky reappeared. He walked backward, his arms flayed about as if he were talking to someone. What an odd man, Sebastian thought.

Sebastian then noticed a woman who nodded patiently, trying to calm him down. She patted his shoulder as she looked in Sebastian’s direction. Sebastian’s intrigue rose perceptively watching the striking woman. Perhaps the same height as she, this woman had black curly hair, which hung just at the nape of her neck. She pushed up the sleeves of the bulky Irish sweater, revealing muscular forearms. She walked toward her, and Sebastian noticed the woman had the look of a farmer, with her brown trousers and worn boots, but walked with an easy grace and confidence that had Sebastian raising an eyebrow. She tried to read this woman’s mind but was disconcerted and frankly, unnerved when she couldn’t. Sebastian narrowed her eyes, curious now as to whom this woman was and what the urgency was with Corky for them to meet.

She stood directly in front of Sebastian; their eyes met. Sebastian looked into the violet depths and knew this woman appraised her; Sebastian did the same. She was aware of Corky as he looked back and forth between them.

“Sebastian, this is Grayson
MacCarthaigh
,” Corky said. “Grayson, this is Sebastian.” He looked from Sebastian to Grayson. “Ya know, Sebastian? The one I’ve been
tellin
’ ya about? Remember from your prophecy. From the—”

“I remember, Corky,” Grayson said, never breaking eye contact with Sebastian.

Sebastian grinned slightly. “Should I be flattered?”

“If you feel the need.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m unaware of who you are, Grayson,” Sebastian said evenly.

Grayson shrugged. “I’m not surprised. I’m no one of any importance.”

“Why do I not believe that?” Sebastian was serious; somehow, this woman was someone of importance—some force.

“C-can we get out of the cold?” Corky asked as he huddled his sweater around him.

Grayson grinned broadly. “Sure, let’s go into the monastery.”

Sebastian scowled at this young woman, who continued, “No? Hmm, see I can go in.” She stepped over the threshold and directly in front of Sebastian, then stepped back on hallowed ground. “I can go out.”
Corky’s
mouth dropped when he saw the playful attitude of Grayson and the deep angry scowl of Sebastian. “Like a vampire two-step.”

“Are you finished?” Sebastian asked and gave Grayson a challenging glare.

“For now,” Grayson said with a wide smile and turned to Corky. “Go get your book, Cork. We’ll find a safe place for our new friend.”

Corky adjusted his glasses and hovered over the leather-bound book as Grayson knelt on the hearth and started the peat fire burning. Sebastian glanced around the thatched cottage; visions flashed through her mind. Visions of women, old and young who lived in this dwelling. She saw a young dark-haired girl laughing and playing, the visions faded.

“This is your birthplace,” Sebastian said. It was not a question.

Grayson looked up. “Yes, it is. My mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother were all born here.”

Sebastian heard the fondness in Grayson’s voice as she regarded her. “Who are you, Grayson?”

Corky was oblivious as he read. Grayson dusted off her hands and looked at her left hand. She ran the fingers of her right hand over her palm. “I’m not sure.”

Sebastian heard the honest tone as she looked at Grayson’s hand and noticed the crescent-shaped scar on her palm. “An injury?”

“No,” Grayson said and stood. “A birthmark.”

“A birthright.” Corky absently corrected her, then looked up. “Now, Sebastian, are ya here about the upheaval in the vampire community?”

“What upheaval?” Sebastian asked. “How do you know these things? I came here to find information that Edward Scanlon—”

“You know Ed Scanlon?” Corky asked and took off his glasses. “I had no idea he knew of such things.” He stopped and nodded confidently. “A familiar. I understand. I suppose we humans can go places you cannot. Edward is a good man.”

“Mr. Scanlon is unimportant,” Sebastian said and continued, “What does your book say about a certain box—”

“A box?” Corky asked with excitement. “What kind of box? I’d have to go through hundreds of rituals and legends. Look at the size of this book. Can you narrow it down for me?”

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, then took the letter from Tatiana out of her breast pocket. She glanced at Grayson, who was leaning against the stone fireplace, her arms folded across her chest. Why did Grayson unnerve her so?

Corky itched with anticipation. “What do you have there?”

Sebastian handed him the letter. “This will explain better than I can.”

Corky reverently opened the letter and began reading Tatiana’s letter to Sebastian explaining how the box came to be.

While Corky read, Sebastian watched him but felt Grayson’s eyes on her. She unsuccessfully tried to ignore the penetrating gaze. Finally, she turned to Grayson. “Is there something you’d like to ask? Or are you going to stare the entire time?” She felt irritated with herself for sounding so human.

Grayson raised an eyebrow; a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Sebastian took a deep angry breath and let it out slowly.

“Sorry, was I staring?” Grayson asked. “I was wondering how you came to be a…a…”

“Vampire,” Sebastian finished for her in an exasperated voice as she walked toward her. “Okay? I’m a vampire.”

Grayson shrugged. “It’s okay with me. I don’t give a
shi
—”

“A very important vampire, it seems,” Corky said as he looked up from the letter. “I can’t believe this.” He held the letter out to Grayson, who was still smirking, much to Sebastian’s ire, as she took the letter.

Sebastian watched her as she read. When Grayson’s head shot up and looked at Corky, Sebastian glanced back and forth between them.

“This is true?” Grayson asked Corky, who nodded solemnly. “
Figol
?”

“Who’s
Figol
?” Sebastian asked.

“He made the box, Grayson.” Corky shook his head.

“How can you possibly know this
Figol
person? It was centuries ago,” Sebastian asked.

Grayson paced back and forth. She waved her hand at Sebastian. “Corky, explain it to her.”

Sebastian bristled at the dismissive attitude from this immortal. However, she turned her attention to Corky. “
Figol
is far older than a few centuries, Sebastian. He was a sorcerer who defied the ancient ones in Ireland and caused all sorts of havoc here. He really got around, Gray.”

Grayson stopped pacing and sat on the back of the couch, facing them. “It would appear so.”

“I suppose it would make sense. I mean, before Christianity, there were druids, gods, and goddesses, why not vampires and sorcerers? That he assisted in this makes an interesting connection between the two of you.” Corky looked from Sebastian to Grayson.

“What does this sorcerer have to do with you?” Sebastian asked, looking at Grayson.

“His son, Phelan,” Corky said with a worried tone.

Sebastian continued to give a questioning glance toward Grayson, who shrugged and answered, “He’s taking over for daddy.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “
Figol
, from centuries ago, had a son whom you know now? How is this possible?”

“We believe he is a changeling, or a shape-shifter, and can morph into a wolf. He’s an immortal, like Grayson,” Corky said. “We had a run-in with him about a month ago…” His voice trailed off as he stared at his book.

There was a somber silence as Sebastian watched the frown that creased Grayson’s brow.

“We have something in common,” Sebastian said in a low voice.

Grayson looked into Sebastian’s eyes.
Yes, we do
.

She heard Grayson’s voice in her mind and was not surprised; she answered in kind,
I suppose we will find out how much from your historian.

Grayson merely nodded in agreement.

“If this letter is accurate, you are much like Grayson,” Corky said.

“How so?” Sebastian watched Grayson, who absently ran her thumb across the palm of her left hand.

“Tell her,” Grayson said to Corky, all the while she looked at Sebastian.

“Are ya sure, Gray?” he asked.

Grayson cocked her head as if contemplating the question; she then nodded.