Irish Sight: The Irish Treasures Saga, #3

By Amanda Meredith

Long ago, before men came to the shores of Ireland, there lived a race of gods who fought a great evil to keep their island from sinking into the sea. Knowing men were destined to rule the land they loved, the gods created four great treasures to guard their beloved isle should the great evil rise to destroy it once more. Thousands of years would come to pass before the treasures were needed, before man would have to fight, to save Ireland from destruction.

Maggie MacGreen thought she'd known what fate had in store for her. But when a shipwreck leaves a handsome stranger near death on the cliffs by her home, she realizes that she'd been wrong about life and love.

When Breandán MacKeet's memories return after he is found near-dead on an Irish beach, he begins to wish they'd never come back at all. Everything about his past only brings danger to those around him, especially to the red-haired beauty that saved his life.

Breandán must overcome the past that he thought defined him, while Maggie tries to accept the future that she never saw coming. Only together, can they see who they truly are, and stand a chance against the threat they face.

With a mix of magic, suspense, and plenty of romance, Irish Sight will take you on a journey that turns myth into reality and proves that the magic of accepting yourself is the only power you need to face the future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Meredith
• Release date: Dec 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781503379442

Amanda Meredith

I was born in Bay City, Texas in 1985 but grew up in a small town in Central Illinois. My husband and I have three children and now live in Colorado. From an early age, I was passionate about the written word. I LOVE to write. Romance, to be specific. I love the happily ever after that, I believe, everyone deserves. My stories aren't the 'stop and smell the roses' type romances. While I believe everyone deserves happiness and true love, I know that sometimes you have to walk a hard road to find it. Those are the types of stories I like to write. The happily ever after that wasn't found: It was earned. I work to earn mine on a daily basis and so do my characters.  When I'm not writing, I ride horses, play acoustic guitar, sing, read like I get paid for it, and support a rather distracting addiction to Pinterest.  I love to cook, which combined with my pinning addiction, leads to many experiments foisted on my unsuspecting husband and kids, with mostly good results

Book preview

Prologue

1982

Deirdre sat on the warm sand as the sun began to sink below the waves of the Atlantic. Celebrations of Alban Eiler, as the villagers called the Spring Solstice, were filling the village with laughter and music. She should have been there, with the other young girls, but instead, found herself drawn to the solitude of the beach.

Her twin sister, Delia, was there in the village, no doubt followed by her fiancé, Colin MacKenzie. Deirdre should’ve been there with her, letting some young villager follow her around, but all she wanted to do was listen to the rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore.

You shouldn’t be out here alone.

The voice made her jump, but she recovered quickly and turned with a smile. Campbell stood behind her, his dark eyes brooding. She had noticed him when he’d first come to the village a few months before. His olive-toned skin and dark eyes had stood out next to the fair-skinned locals, and his voice, though seemingly Irish, seemed different.

The villagers had avoided him, tending to be superstitious, but Deirdre found that she couldn’t avoid him; she was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. Though something inside her warned that he was dangerous, she found him beautiful, distracting, and mesmerizing. She had felt pity, more than any other emotion, and introduced herself to him. No one should have to be so alone in the world.

He sat down in the sand beside her and looked out at the water. The sun had disappeared below the waves and the dark night was creeping in. I meant what I said, he said, still staring at the ocean. You shouldn’t be out here alone.

I’m not alone anymore, she teased with a small smile.

Why aren’t you at the festival?

Though it was a question, his voice seemed emotionless. She gave a small smile and shrugged. I like the water, she answered after a moment. I’m drawn to it... as if it calls to me. That probably doesn’t make sense.

I understand, he told her, his eyes gleaming in the dark. I can hear it too. I find myself drawn to you as well. Like a... he paused, looking down at her. Ocras.

Deirdre shivered as she recognized the ancient Gaelic word. Hunger. The look in his eyes was no longer impassive but menacing. Fear sparked in her belly.

I hunger for you, he whispered.

Telling herself that there was no need for alarm, she tried to suppress her fear and gave him a small smile. Her smile quickly turned to a frown when his face remained void of emotion. I trust you, she whispered, trying to reassure her mind. He laughed suddenly and the sound was empty as it echoed across the beach. Deirdre jumped, the spark in her belly becoming a steady flame of dread.

You shouldn’t trust me, he told her, looking out at the water again.

We’re friends, Campbell. Friends trust each other, she could only whisper now, knowing in her heart that something was wrong. He chuckled at her statement and brought a hand up to push a strand of hair from her face. His fingers were cold on her flushed skin and she cringed from his touch.

I only meant to get close to you, child, he told her, his voice changing pitch, gurgling slightly.

Deirdre knew, beyond a doubt that she was in trouble. She called out for her sister telepathically, a gift they had shared from birth, begging her to get help as fast as she could. When she looked up at the boy that she had thought was a friend, she knew that help would not come soon enough. You won’t hurt me, she tried to urge him as he moved closer to her. You’re a good person. He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her, showing blacked teeth beneath dark lips. Deirdre gasped and cringed away but his cold hand had locked onto her wrist.

Wrong on both assumptions, he answered, his voice now a low hiss. "I am going to hurt you. He smiled again when her eyes widened in terror. I’m not a good person, Deirdre MacKeet. I am a monster."

The human image dissolved and she saw him for what he truly was. The creature creeping towards her was dark as pitch, slime oozing from its tangled limbs. Its red eyes glowed from deep within a deformed face.

Deirdre screamed, trying to call up her power to defend herself, but her surge of magic was swatted back. She screamed again as the monster crawled over her, ripping her dress. A new fear filled her when she realized that the thing did not intend to kill her, but do something much, much worse.

The creature laughed again, feeding off her fear. Then it thrust into her, tearing her innocence and shattering her soul. Deirdre screamed, stars bursting in her vision. The pain was a white-hot poker, ripping her in half, the shame of what was happening nearly matching it.

She fought and screamed, unable to get away from it as it drove into her. Darkness crept into her mind, threatening to swallow her. She felt its seed pouring into her and the disgrace and horror ravaged what was left of her heart. Giving up, she let the darkness take her.

Chapter 1

2009

Delia stopped cutting potatoes when the amulet she wore around her neck began to vibrate. Her hands shook as she set the knife on the counter and pulled the chain out from under her shirt.

The amulet was a simple piece of red and yellow agate, rounded and smooth. The stone symbolized the twin, and the back of the amulet was etched with her sister’s name.

The agate was glowing, the bands of color rotating with light. Delia’s heart pounded as she took a deep breath to calm herself. She turned and nearly screamed when she saw a hooded figure standing near the table. She gripped the amulet and called her power, feeling the magic surge through her.

I mean you no harm, the figure spoke as the hood fell away. A goddess, beautiful and radiant, set back the hood of her cloak and smiled.

Delia curtsied, her hands still shaking. My lady, she murmured.

Stand, Delia, the goddess told her, gesturing to her. You have no reason to bow to me.

My lady, she repeated. I am but a simple woman, a fisherman’s wife. You are a goddess.

Fisherman’s wife you may be, Delia MacKenzie, the goddess murmured with a smile. But simple, you are not. The goddess pulled a chair out and gestured for her to sit.

Delia’s hands continued to shake, but she obeyed.

The goddess gave her a comforting smile then pulled another chair out and sat across from her. You have not lived an easy life Delia, and for that, I am sorry.

Delia frowned at the goddess’s words. I’m not sorry for any of it.

Not even for the loss of your sister?

Delia bowed her head, tears threatening. Aye, she conceded. For that, I am sorry.

The burden you’ve had to bear for her has not been easy.

Delia raised her head, tears falling down her cheeks. No, my lady, it hasn’t been easy. But I’m not sorry for it. Not one bit.

The boy has grown well under your care, the goddess murmured. He is now a man, yes?

Aye, my lady. He’s twenty-six now.

You have taught him well?

I have tried to, aye.

The goddess lifted an eyebrow. I did not expect him to be able to control himself, given his parentage.

He’s a good boy, Delia stuttered, her anger rising. A kind and gentle man. There’s no evil in him.

Calm yourself, Delia, the goddess commanded with a smile. You and your husband have raised him well. I see no evidence of the monster in him.

Delia’s eyes shone with pride at her words.

However, that may change with what is to come.

My lady? Delia’s voice shook, her eyes now full of worry.

The Fomóirí has been waging war with mankind for two years now, the goddess explained, making Delia gasp. It seeks the treasures.

It can’t be, Delia whispered

It can, it is, the goddess assured her. The spear and the cauldron have already been fought for. Fate was with us, in strong and brave guardians. The first two treasures are safe from the hands of evil.

What of the others? Delia asked, her hands once again shaking.

Two more guardians must fight, the goddess answered. Have you not questioned why he was born, Delia?

I had hoped it wouldn’t be so, my lady, she whispered.

The goddess’ eyes were full of sympathy as she nodded. I do not wish my children such difficult fates, she murmured, reaching out to hold Delia’s hand.

The warmth when their fingers touched spread through Delia, calming her nerves.

It matters not that I am a goddess. Fate makes paths that even I must take.

Delia’s eyes filled with tears again. I’ll have to tell him now, won’t I?  

It is time, the goddess answered. His upbringing has never been more important. The Fomóirí did not foresee him knowing love, being accepted, having a family. It has proven to be a grave error on its part. He has grown powerful, yet humble. We shall have to see if he will be a worthy guardian.

I can’t ask this of him, my lady, Delia moaned, tears choking her voice. He’s my son.

No, he is not, the goddess stated firmly, though sympathy filled her features. He is the keeper of Nauda’s Sword, descendant of Téthur MacCecht and the Goddess Queen Fodla. Half man, half Fomóirí. She squeezed Delia’s hand before rising from the chair. The goddess looked down at her as tears filled her eyes. He has a hard journey ahead, Delia. He will be either savior or bringer of destruction. The choice is his alone.

Delia closed her eyes as a bright light filled the room. When she opened them, the goddess was gone, but a single tear lay shimmering on the table, and as she watched, it hardened into a sapphire. Delia carefully lifted it, feeling the power emanating from the stone. Hearing a boat pulling into the cove, she sighed, and tucked the precious stone into her pocket before walking out the door.

BREANDÁN GUIDED THE boat to the cove with practiced ease. The gentle waves lapped at the sides as it sliced through the water.

I’ll get the line, his father called from the port bow.

Aye. He smiled, and eased back on the throttle, letting the momentum carry the boat to the dock. His father stepped onto the wood planks without missing a beat and quickly tied the rope to the post.

Tis a shame Sean and Sophie are still at school, his dad mused as he looked at their catch lying in the aft storage bay. Could’ve used the help.

It’s not too bad, Breandán answered, killing the engine. We can handle it.

They worked in tandem for the next few hours, unloading the fish and putting them in the ice chests to take to the village market.

I’ll be off then. Good job today, son.

His father slapped him on the back with a smile. You too, Da. He chuckled, waving off his father as he got in the truck to drive to the village. He turned to grab the hose and began to spray off the deck.

He sensed his mother walking down the path before he saw her. I’ll just be another minute, Mum, he shouted as he shut the hose off and stripped off his rain gear. We had quite a catch today. A hundred Cod. He lost his smile when he turned to his mother. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying. What’s wrong? He ran to her, checking her over for injury.

Let’s go sit, she murmured, pointing to the bench at the end of the dock. Colin had built it for her years ago, when Breandán was small, and had first started going out on the boat with his father. She would sit and watch for them until they pulled back into the cove.

He sat beside her and noticed that her hands fidgeted in her pockets. Are you well?

I’ve some things to tell you, she began, her voice shaky.

You aren’t sick, are you? he interrupted.

No, dear, she answered, giving him a weak smile. It’s about you, not me.

He felt chills going down his spine and shivered. What’s the matter? His mother reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out the amulet she normally wore around her neck. He’d never seen her take it off.

Do you remember what I told you when you asked about this? she whispered as the agate shimmered in the sunlight.

You told me it was a symbol of the Gemini, the twin, and that you wore it for the sister you lost long ago.

Aye, she murmured, flipping the amulet over and showing him the name etched on the back. Deirdre was my twin, just two minutes older. We shared a link that I can’t even begin to explain to you. I could hear her speak in my head from long distances with no trouble. We could feel each other’s hurts.

What happened to her? he asked softly.

She died, a week after you were born. She sighed, slipping the amulet back over her head. I have a letter for you, she whispered as she reached into her pocket. She wrote it to you the day you were born.

Why would she write me a letter? he asked as he took the yellowed envelope with trembling hands.

She looked out to the sea and took a deep breath before answering. Because, Breandán, she sighed, tears filling her eyes. She was your mother.

Chapter 2

BREANDÁN STOOD AT THE helm and stared out at the waves, his eyes no longer able to cry. He’d spent all the tears, and now he was empty. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and read it once again.

It was from a woman named Deirdre, his mother. Not the woman who had raised him, but his actual birth mother. She had died after he was born, complications from a difficult pregnancy and birth taking her from the world.

Delia, the woman he had called Mum for the last twenty-six years, had revealed everything earlier that morning. She had told him the story of his birth, and how they had become his parents. He cringed at the memory, not only because the story itself was horrible, but because it had hurt Delia to tell it. Delia was really his aunt, his birth mother’s twin.

He tasted the bile in his throat and managed to lean over the gunwale just in time to vomit what was left of his lunch into the ocean. Delia had told him, through bitter tears, the horrifying details that had brought him into existence. She had told him of his mother’s rape; how she had heard her sister’s screams of terror in her mind, seconds before they were heard aloud.

They had found her on the beach, covered in blood. Her clothes were ripped, her skin layered with claw marks from her attacker. She was shaking uncontrollably when they reached her, screaming on the empty beach. She had gone silent as soon as she’d seen Delia’s face and hadn’t spoken again. Only five months later Breandán had been born.

He had grown in his mother’s womb faster than humanly possible. Her small body couldn’t handle the strain. Breandán had been born, full-term size, four months too early. Dierdre had died a week later.

Breandán looked at the letter again, reading the words she had written the day he’d been born. His eyes scanned the words on the page, settling on a few that he would never forget.

Monster. Not your fault. Forgive me.

He crumpled the letter and threw it overboard, crying out in agony. He instantly regretted what he had done and turned to watch the one thing he had left of his real mother, sink below the dark waves. He cursed the monster that had created him as the paper disappeared below the water.

His mother had wanted his forgiveness. He shook his head, angry with himself, with her. She had nothing to be sorry for. She had been raped, by a monster, no less.

His mother’s mind had snapped that day on the beach but instead of getting rid of the thing growing inside her, she had decided to carry it. She had decided to give him life when he should’ve been given death. Even in her despair, his mother had thought of him first. He had no reason to forgive her. She’d had nothing to apologize for in the first place.

He cursed Delia and Colin for never telling him, immediately regretting those words as well. They had taken him in, loved him, cared for him, even though he was half monster. They had been young, not even married yet, when they had decided to be his parents.

He knew he hadn’t been an easy baby to care for. He’d been born deformed, a grisly reminder of his parentage. The doctors had given many names for what was wrong with him: cleft lip and palate, clubfoot, fused fingers, scoliosis, and bowed legs, but his family had known what it really was.

Still, they had taken him in as one of their own. They had fought to get financing for the surgery to repair his face, limbs, hands, and spine. They had sat next to his crib for every operation, twelve total, and held him when he’d cried in pain. They’d patiently taught him how to walk, then run, in the braces he’d worn his entire childhood to straighten out the bones in his legs and feet.

They had given him a life, and a good one at that. They’d eventually had children of their own, but he’d always been a son to them, and had never once been treated differently.

He’d become a fisherman, a tradition that the men in Colin’s family passed down to all their sons. Their blood was for the water and nothing else. Colin had taught him to fish and sail, to captain a boat, and live off the sea. Breandán was drawn to the water, spending every moment he could sailing its foamy depths.

Delia had taught him about the magic that was in him. Her family had passed the power to every child, in every generation. Each had their own unique gifts, and Delia had showed him how to use his. He remembered seeing the worry in her eyes when he would do things that were beyond the power of a normal witch.

Half of him was a mystery, a dark magic passed down through an ancient race. He’d never understood why Delia hadn’t told him why he was so different, but now he knew. He couldn’t hate her for not telling him; in her place, he might have done the same.

He cursed the gods for not giving him a chance to meet his mother. To tell her all the things he was thinking now, but with the same breath, he thanked them for giving him parents that loved him. He smiled, his fingers automatically reaching up to touch the scar above his lip, one of the physical reminders of his parentage. He would go home, talk to his mother and father, and let them know that he understood, that he wasn’t angry.

He’d left after Delia had told him. She hadn’t chased him, choosing instead to give him space, though she probably hadn’t known if he would ever come back. He had run for his boat, his escape. He’d swung it windward, out into the harbor, then the open sea, not really caring where he ended up, just wanting to be away. Now that he’d calmed down, he knew he couldn’t leave his family, no matter how angry he’d been. They had done the best that they could, and he was thankful