Quentin watched as Julia prepared the hypodermic needle. He looked a little squeamish as she injected herself in the muscle of her thigh. “How long will you have to keep doing that?” he asked.
“I'm not sure, because I don't have a microscope,” Julia answered. She stroked Quentin's head when he leaned over to kiss her thigh where the needle had gone in. “I want to make sure I've got enough in my system to fight off that deviant vampire cell.” At his distressed expression, she stroked the side of his face. “I hope you're not still blaming yourself, dearheart. If anyone should've known what he was doing, it should have been me. I didn't even wake up. You probably saved me.”
He looked a little doubtful at that, but smiled brightly at her. “Ready to go see the castle?” he asked.
“I can't wait!” Julia answered enthusiastically. She threw the syringe out and put the bottle of serum back in her bag. “Let's get going!”
Dublin Castle was right in the center of the city. “This probably started out as an early ring fort,” Julia explained, as they approached the imposing structure.
“I can see it,” Quentin agreed, stopping to look around. They were on a ridge now. The castle stood on top of the ridge, where the River Liffey joined with its tributary. This would be a strategic location for a fort, all right, he thought. Of course, that would have been long before this big city went up around the castle. The tributary had a most unglamorous name: the Poddle. Quentin laughed when he heard the name. “That's obviously not a Viking name,” he observed.
“No, but you know what? We'll be able to see where the Viking fortress stood. They built on top of the original ring fort.” Julia sounded excited. “Well, I mean, we can see part of it, anyway.”
Quentin paid their way in. “Is there any place in Ireland that isn't a little bit o'this or that? The Record Tower is Norman-right next to it you've got another Gothic period chapel. I'll bet this place is full of ghosts-like Collinwood.”
“I wouldn't be surprised. It's built on Dubh Linn-did you know that?”
“No, and just what is that anyway, my love?”
“It means the `Black Pool.' That's what Dublin means, dearheart.”
“Black Pool, eh? Charming.” Quentin looked around. “It probably does have ghosts. Shall we go see if we can find some?”
Julia laughed at him. They spent an hour exploring the areas of the castle they were allowed in to see. The courtyard held the central buildings, which was built after the Dark Ages. This is where the royal family would have lived, Quentin supposed. As if to confirm the fact, Julia began to tell him that these buildings had housed the vice-regal administration. He had a brand new tape recorder that he wore on a strap over his shoulder. He'd just pressed play and let it go. There was no way he'd remember everything Julia was telling him about the castle.
Inexplicably, Julia didn't seem to share Quentin's fascination when they reached the Undercroft of the castle, which was where they were able to see part of the Viking fortress. She'd begun shivering and looked increasingly troubled. Quentin put his arm around her. “Something's wrong,” he stated.
“Quentin, let's get on a bus and get out of here.”
“Wha-at? You mean now?” Mutely, she nodded at him. Her hand was at the throat of blouse. She was clutching at something inside. “What is it Julia?” Alarmed, he realized that it must be the cross she was clutching. When she didn't answer right away, he took her into his arms. “Please tell me-is it him?”
“I'm not sure,” she said softly. “I feel something.”
“It's not dusk yet-it's not near dusk yet,” he said.
“I know-that's why I say I'm not sure.” She smiled faintly and shrugged. “Perhaps it's just the castle. Why don't we walk over to Trinity College? That's nearby, isn't it? I want to see the Book of Kells.”
“Sure-just let me get a picture of you before we go.”
She threw him an exasperated smile. “You've been taking pictures of me since we got here!”
“Well, with the castle in the background-Julia, you don't want a family history with just text in it, do you?” Quentin gave her his most charming smile.
“No, but I'd like a few pictures of you-give me the camera, please.”
“Okay, okay!” He surrendered the camera for her and posed. They began to walk toward Trinity College, which was really only a five minute walk away. He noticed her fingering her collar again. “The cross?”
“No,” she replied, sounding troubled again. “An amulet.”
He was surprised. “Amulet! Where'd you get that?”
“It was among Vicki Winters' things. I found it when Mrs. Johnson and I packed her clothes and other personal effects,” Julia explained. She hesitated, knowing he was going to ask, so she continued: “Well, it was such an odd thing that I took it to Elliot Stokes. He recognized it-he'd loaned it to Barnabas when Angelique came to Collinwood as Cassandra. She'd set a dream curse on Barnabas, but he gave it to Vicki to try and protect her.”
“How like him,” Quentin said wryly.
“Before we came to New York, I asked Elliot if I could have it.”
Quentin looked at her thoughtfully. That would have been after Barnabas' little visit to their room. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to tell you now if-if the bond was still as strong as it was that day.”
Quentin nodded grimly. If not for the injections, she wouldn't be able to tell me this now, he thought. He felt a pang of fear. Was it really possible that Barnabas could have followed them here-so quickly? He took her hand and squeezed it as they crossed the street, heading toward Ireland's first university.
Trinity College was just ahead of them. “Now that is one beautiful campus,” Quentin exclaimed. “Look at it-it's right in the middle of the city but once you get into the campus, it's like it's in its own little world.” Busy city streets ran along the campus, but it still had a secluded look and feel to it. “You want to go see the Book of Kells first? Or go for a romantic walk?”
“Do you know your way around well enough to go for a romantic walk? We won't get lost?”
“Oh, ye of little faith! The campus isn't that big-forty acres.” They'd passed through the main gate. “Here-I know something now. This is the oldest college in Ireland-founded by Elizabeth I. Tell me you're impressed.” They were walking along a cobbled path and had entered a garden. No one was around. Julia took him by the hand and stopped him from walking. She beckoned him with her finger. He leaned over to kiss her. “Mmm, I think maybe I'm impressed.” He thought it would have been fun to find a secluded area of the park to explore a little further. He was about to suggest it to Julia when he felt her stiffen imperceptibly again. “What is it?”
“Something's wrong, Quentin. I just feel it.” She shuddered. “It's as if something's trying to get into my head.”
“Something? You mean someone, don't you?”
“I don't know.” He didn't think she was lying or being evasive. She seemed genuinely distraught. “I took the amulet as protection against-the blood bond. In case the injections didn't work fast enough.”
“Can he summon you now? It's not dark!” Quentin was shocked.
“He's not summoning me, dearheart-and I'm confused about the time in the United States. What if it's already dusk there? It might be he's looking for me, trying to find me.”
Quentin's jaw tightened and he flushed angrily. “Damn him!” he muttered. “I'm really beginning to hate him!”
“Quentin, no!” Julia exclaimed, sounding pained.
He looked at her in disbelief. “You still have feelings for him-after all this?”
For a moment she didn't answer. He was about to explode with rage. She seemed to sense it because she said softly, “It's hard to let go of friendship that easily. I hate to be the cause of the bitterness between the two of you.”
“You are not the cause of it-he is!” Quentin pointed out. “If he'd just let us alone, we'd be fine!”
“I never wanted things to work out this way,” Julia answered mournfully. “I never dreamed he'd feel this way, Quentin. I thought he'd be happy for us. I honestly thought we'd go on being friends like before.” Her eyes filled up with tears. “I never expected this.”
He wanted to comfort her, but he still felt the little niggling suspicions of fear. He put his arms around her and held her. “If you'd known he'd react like this, Julia, would you have gotten involved with me?” Julia looked up at him, into his eyes, obviously wondering if she should tell him the truth. “Don't lie to me, please?”
“No,” she answered finally. He stiffened. “But not because I wouldn't want to. I would want to protect your friendship with him-and you.”
“And what about you?”
“Quentin, if you hadn't come into my life there would be no angry Barnabas to deal with. I would have gone on as before-unhappy. Look, you didn't ask if I regret any of this. I don't. I'm just afraid for us.” She was relieved to see that this was some comfort to him. “What about you? What if you had known he would respond this way? Would you have still wanted to become involved with me?”
“You would have been even more desirable to me,” Quentin admitted. “Maybe not for such noble reasons, though. I'm glad I loved you first before I knew he wanted you.”
“Why is that?”
“Because then I know that what I'm feeling is real-it's not just to stir up the hornets' nest.” He smiled. “Well, maybe I mean it's not just to send the bats wheeling around the cave.” He was glad to see that Julia smiled too. “Julia, I do love you-and I'm just glad that I can say it's not because Barnabas wants you. It's because of you. All right, what do you want to do? Go back to the hotel? We can skip the zoo and all the museums-we can move on.”
Julia looked at him very seriously. “This is what I want to do. I want to see the Book of Kells. Then I want to go back and get just our things. I just want us to get on a bus and go. I don't want to tell anyone where we're going. Maybe we won't even know ourselves until we get on the bus.” She was relieved that he didn't object or try to remonstrate with her, as Barnabas would have done. She realized that was one of the things she found so endearing about Quentin-he was so totally impulsive that a plan like this would be very appealing to him.
He liked the idea, grinning. “Okay, we'll go underground! Let's go. Do we have time to roll on the bed once more before we get on the bus?”
“Let's wait until we get to the next town.”
He laughed. He leaned over and whispered, “Maybe we'll get off the bus and walk to the nearest farm. We'll crawl into their haystack.”
Julia laughed too. “My, it has been years-or you haven't gone into the country. There are no barns here, my lad-only cottages with turf or thatched roofs.”
“Those cottages can be pretty cozy, I'm thinking,” Quentin said, looking at her with a great deal of desire. “Maybe we'll find an abandoned one.” He put his arm around her, letting his hand drop below her waist. He gave her a teasing squeeze.
“Don't do that on the mainfare, me bucko, you'll have the Church after you!” Julia scolded kiddingly. She did not, however, tell him to remove his hand. As they began to exit the garden, he moved his arm again so that it was wrapped decently around her waist.
“Where is this Book of Kells housed, me love?” he asked her. “I have to admit, I'm kind of interested in seeing it, too-up close, I mean. I've seen pictures of it.”
“It is beautiful, isn't it? I think the book is in Long Room--the library here.” They strolled along leisurely together until they reached the Library and went inside to see the beautifully illustrated book. The “Long Room” was actually the library itself; almost three hundred feet long, it had a huge barrel ceiling and was illuminated by hundreds of windows.
The Book of Kells was, of course, kept under glass. The curator explained that every day a page was turned. He left them alone to admire the book. Awed, Julia whispered, “Can you imagine doing this by hand?”
For once, Quentin had nothing cynical or funny to say in response. There was a certain reverence to be felt in looking at such a beautiful piece of work. “There's one talent that's been lost over all these years,” he remarked. “I can't imagine anyone being able to reproduce that by hand now.” Quentin's camera had a filter and flash on it, and he took several pictures of the Book of Kells from various angles. They briefly looked at the books of Durrow and Armagh, which was also in this collection.
On their way out, Quentin stopped before an early Irish harp. Now he was back to his old teasing self. “Why don't you pretend to play it?” he suggested, and Julia gave his shoulder a light shove.
“On with ye, then!” she responded, and he laughed. It was the first time she'd attempted an Irish accent, he thought, and she wasn't half-bad at it, at that! “I'd like to come back here and explore some more later,” she said more seriously. “I really hate to leave now, when there's so much to see.”
He made believe he was shrugging it off. “We'll come back here for our honeymoon-or part of it. The important thing is to make sure you're safe first.”
They walked back to the hotel, deep in thought. In the room, they packed up their belongings, and then Quentin left Julia in the lobby while he went to check them out and to ask about a bus. Entering the lobby, he was surprised and not at all pleased to see Julia engaged in animated conversation with a man who was seated across from her. The man wore a tweed jacket; his once all-black hair was shot through with streaks of white and gray. He laughed uproariously as Quentin joined them, placing his hand possessively on Julia's shoulder. The man was just her age and not at all unattractive.
“Quentin, this is the most extraordinary coincidence,” Julia began laughing. She looked up and saw his thunderous expression.
The man noticed, too. “Never fear, me bucko. I've no intention of moving in on your mam, word of honor.”
“Mam!” Quentin retorted hotly. “This is not my mother, mister! This is my fiancée!”
The man blushed with embarrassment. “`Tis sorry I am, young man. I always seem to be sticking my foot in it, that I do. I meant no harm-and I still wasn't putting the moves on your lady, sir.”
Mollified, Quentin held his hand out. “Quentin Collins.”
There was a brief flicker in the man's eyes as he shook hands with Quentin. Quentin wondered about it but said nothing. The man's hand was very cool and dry. “Pleased I am to meet you, Mr. Collins. I am Jason McGuire.”
Quentin frowned. The name sounded familiar. “That's the coincidence I was about to tell you about, dearheart,” Julia was saying.
“I think I've heard that name before,” he answered.
“Briefly-in connection with Elizabeth.” Julia smiled. “They're not related at all, however.”
“Whist now, I didn't say that now,” McGuire objected. “We are, I think--we could be cousins once or twice removed for all I know. McGuire is a common enough name.” Quentin nodded and tried to remember what it was Barnabas had told him about the Collinsport Jason McGuire. It was something unpleasant…the man's voice broke into his thoughts. “I was just explainin that at this time of the year, ye'd be better off goin by train. Not so many buses off season, y'see.”
“What about renting a car?” Quentin asked.
“Well, sure now an you could do that. I'll tell ye though, ye'll find the petrol expensive an the drivin on the other side of the street ye'll find awkward. If it's Ireland you're after seein, ye're better off walkin-or taking the train. An where is it that you'll be headin for now?”
Quentin didn't want to tell him, but Julia answered, “We're headed west to Sligo. That's where our families originated.”
“Is that a fact now? Well, finer country you'll never see an my name isn't Jason Edward McGuire. It happens I'm headin west meself, an it's glad I'd be to be travellin with ye part of the way.” He saw the look on Quentin's face. Turning to Julia, he saw that she, too, had a guarded expression on her face. “Listen, it's after helpin you I am. And I mean that. Ye don't trust me now, I realize it-no, don't say anythin for I can see it in your faces. And yet I tell you I also know ye're on the run from someone dangerous.”
Both Quentin and Julia visibly started. “How would you know that?” Julia demanded. “You just said that you didn't know me-“
“True, good lady, I don't know you nor the young man ye're betrothed to. But I never said I did not know the evil you've come here to escape from.”
“What is this?” Quentin burst out.
“Now, now laddiebuck, don't get your nose out of joint. Tis after helpin ye, I am. I'm not so much different from everyone else here. Ye've got friends in this country. People willin to talk to ye, help ye out if ye need it, give ye guidance, too-“
“Well, thanks, but would you mind being just a little more specific?” Quentin demanded. “Just what evil do you think we're here to escape from?”
“The evil that's followin ye from home o'course,” McGuire answered cryptically. Quentin felt chilled. He looked at Julia, who'd gone pale. Her freckles stood out sharply on her face. “You have nothin to fear from me,” McGuire whispered. “I want to help you.”
“Why?” Quentin asked, but he had a dawning suspicion that he knew. His eyes met those of McGuire's, and he felt the words to the question he wanted to ask die in his throat. Maybe I don't want to know.
“Justice,” McGuire answered. “Now, then, d'ye mind if I accompany you on the train? We could talk some more.”
Quentin and Julia exchanged glances. “It's a free country,” Quentin said finally.
“Aye, so it tis-here. Just like in the United States of America.” McGuire laughed, and there seemed no malevolence at all in his manner. Still, Quentin felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. This is the same guy, he thought, and he was as sure of that as he was of his own name. I just wish I could remember what it was Barnabas said about him.
On the train headed north, Quentin turned his tape recorder on again when Jason began talking about prehistoric Ireland. McGuire looked suspiciously at the recorder and then at Quentin. “It's just to help me with my book,” Quentin explained.
“Ah, a book you're writing, is it?” McGuire asked, raising his brows. “Mightn't y'do better to take notes, then?”
“Too lazy,” Quentin answered with a grin.
McGuire gave him a curious smile. “Your loss then, me boy. All right, turn your machine on, then.” He had Quentin's full attention; Julia turned and looked out the window. McGuire was speaking of people from the Mesolithic period-“cavemen times” Quentin thought-who'd been hunters and gatherers. They'd managed to cross the North Channel from Britain and had spread into the south west of the country. Later, they'd settled down and become farmers. “One of the finest things you'll see in this country are the tombs-there's one at Newgrange. I highly recommend it,” McGuire was saying as the train gently rocked and rolled them.
Quentin felt a weight on his shoulder. Looking down, he saw that Julia had leaned against him and had fallen asleep. He wasn't sure if it was from boredom or fatigue. He smiled at her gently. He turned his attention back toward McGuire and noticed he was watching, too, his face completely devoid of expression. He felt a chill again and was about to ask a question when McGuire said: “Well, I fear I've nattered on long enough for the night, lad. We should both get some rest, don't you think?” Quentin nodded and felt suddenly sleepy. When he opened his eyes briefly sometime later, he was surprised to see that McGuire was gone.
Julia began to stir again first, stretching and moving restlessly in her seat. She started to sit up and realized that Quentin had slumped a little bit, his head resting against hers. She hated to disturb him but didn't think she could just sit like this very much longer, and so she sat up. Quentin opened his eyes sleepily. “When did our friend leave?” she asked.
“I don't know,” he answered honestly. “I just closed my eyes a minute and he was gone. The last thing I remembered was him saying we should stop at Newgrange.”
“What's wrong?” Julia asked, noting the puzzled and worried look in his blue eyes.
He tried to brush her off. “Nothing's wrong. What do you mean, what's wrong?”
“Quentin, come on-something's bothering you.”
“Well,” he hedged. “Do you feel anything?”
“You mean from Barnabas? No, not a thing. I think it helped that we left when we did.”
“Julia, do you think he could've come over here so soon?”
“I don't know. He's very clever, and there is a bond between us-even if it is weakening. And we did tell the family where we were going-“ Julia stopped, studying her lover's face. “What else is bothering you?”
“Did you ever meet Jason McGuire before?”
Julia reacted with surprise. “No! He was already gone by the time I got to Collinsport.”
“Who was he-really?”
“Well,” Julia began, looking around to make sure the man really was gone, “he was a friend of Paul Stoddard's. He returned to Collinsport with a friend of his-Willie Loomis-to blackmail Elizabeth. She'd always believed she'd killed Paul Stoddard in an argument. What actually happened was that Paul left her.”
Now Quentin remembered. “Barnabas killed him. Jason McGuire?”
“Well, yes. Why?”
“Julia, I think he is Jason McGuire.”
“Well, that's what he said-“ She broke off, her eyes widening as she realized what Quentin meant. “No, dearheart, I'm sure Barnabas really killed him-he strangled him.”
“But, Julia, even I was a ghost once.” As serious as he felt about the matter, Quentin couldn't help but smile.
Julia returned the smile; she couldn't help it either. He was so charming, she thought, and so heart-breakingly handsome. “What does he want with us?” She wondered.
“I don't know,” Quentin answered softly. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. “Let's get off at the next stop, Julia. We'll find an inn or one of those bed and breakfast places.”
“We don't know where we are, do we?”
“What difference does it make? We're away,” he declared. Then he added in a mock-petulant voice, “Besides, I'm cold, and I need you to warm me.”
Julia slipped her hand under his sweater. “You don't feel cold to me. You feel warm.”
“All right, you caught me. I want to share the warmth with you, then.”
Julia laughed and tickled his stomach with her fingers, causing him to double over. He was very ticklish. She felt herself flushing with desire, looking at him. “All right, we'll get off at the next stop.”
To their delight, their getting-off point was Kells. “Does that have anything to do with the book at Trinity College?” Quentin asked the conductor.
“Sure an o'course it does,” the conductor answered. “Kells has got a lot of the monastic ruins about still. Ye'd be able to spend days wandering about, I'm sure. If ye've seen the real thing, ye may not be so interested but the town's got three worthy copies of the book to look at. One is at the St. Columba's church. Beautiful book that it `tis, don't you know the monks just considered it as part of their daily work. To them, twas not anything to make a fuss about.”
“That's hard to imagine-they did such beautiful work,” Julia said.
“Aye an that they did,” the conductor agreed.
“Is Newgrange very far away?”
“Not atall. In fact, ye could not pick a better place t'explore the Boyne Valley than Kells. Newgrange tisn't the only place to see a burial mound, if that's what ye're about. Ye can also go an see the passage graves at Knowth as well.”
“Why do you call them passage graves?” Quentin asked. Everything anyone had said about the friendliness of the Irish people was certainly true. The conductor genially explained that each tomb had a passage which led to a chamber within. The chamber had a roof consisting of a flat stone or some kind of corbelled structure. Sometimes there were other chambers off the main one, containing stone basins. The tomb was covered by a circular mound of earth or stones and was kept in place by a ring of upright stones.
“Oh and when ye've had yer fill of history, `tis only a forty-five minute trip to the seaside if ye fancy a walk along the beach. Did ye know that there is no where in all of Ireland that is more than one hundred miles from the sea?”
“I know, and how grand that is,” Quentin answered, turning on all his charm. “Where's the best place to stay here?”
“Well, considering the time, young feller, I'd be goin to the Kells hostel. An if ye do decide to stay on, I'd try the Lennoxbrook. Tis a fair B and B, don't ye know. They'll even pack you a lunch.”
The train was coming to a halt, and Julia and Quentin thanked the conductor. They made their way to the Kells hostel, engaging a room with a double bed. The manager told them that while they'd missed the evening meal, they were welcome to the use of the kitchen and anything they found there. “I like this country,” Quentin said, following Julia to the kitchen. They made themselves thick sandwiches and found bottles of Guinness stout to take back to their room.
“Look how comfortable that bed looks,” Quentin said, putting his sandwich and beer down on the night table. He jumped onto the bed and bounced up and down, patting a spot next to him to indicate that Julia should join him.
Julia laughed. “You're like a little boy.”
Quentin stopped bouncing and growled. “Come on over here and you'll see I'm no little boy.”
Julia put her own sandwich and beer down and climbed onto the bed with him. They both bounced up and down a few times until they both burst out laughing, falling against each other. Quentin immediately pulled her down and rolled onto her. “It's a comfortable bed, isn't it, my lady?” he asked, still using a growling voice. “More cushioning for all the pushing.” He began to nuzzle her neck, taking her hand and moving it down to his jeans. “Still think I'm a little boy?”
“No, not a little boy. A big boy,” Julia amended, still laughing.
He laughed, too, and then looked at her long and hard before bending down to kiss her again. “Julia,” he whispered passionately, his hands moving over her. Her arms went around him as she felt her own passion quicken and intensify. They stripped the clothes off each other and threw them carelessly to the floor. Julia grabbed him, guiding him to her; she was eager to have him and bit her lip when he entered her. “What?” he asked, stopping.
“Don't stop!” she exclaimed. “It's just that I don't know how thick the walls are.”
“Who the hell cares? Yell if you want to,” he answered, beginning to move again. Julia, though, was too reticent for that. Instead, she circled his hips with her legs, drawing him into her deeply, and that caused them both to climax violently. “Look what we did,” he said, awed. They'd knocked off the extra pillows and all the bedding onto the floor as well as the clock on one of the nightstands. If the bed hadn't been so heavy, they probably would've moved it around the room.
“I may not live long enough for this wedding,” Julia gasped. She was surprised when Quentin suddenly blanched.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Don't say that!” he cried out harshly. “Don't ever say that!”
“Quentin!” Julia was stunned. “I didn't mean-my God, dearheart, I only meant-“
He let go of her, already reddening. “I'm sorry, Julia. I didn't mean to do that-I know what you meant.” He sat up, looking very embarrassed. Julia sat up too, feeling drained not only by the passionate sex but also by the weight of Quentin's worry for her. She put her hand on his cheek, and he turned and kissed it. “Can you feel him anywhere?”
“No,” she assured him again. He sighed with relief and pulled her to him. She felt tempted for a cigarette, especially now. Instead, she said, “Why don't we eat? I think we could use it.”
He nodded and handed her a sandwich and one of the bottles. “Oh, I almost forgot!” he exclaimed. “You slept through most of this, but I'd bet you'd be interested in it. It's got to do with Newgrange-some of it.”
“Oh, the Neolithic tomb!” Julia exclaimed with forced enthusiasm. She knew that he was doing this just to take their minds off Barnabas. Quentin rewound the tape and pressed `play'. Several seconds went by, and nothing happened.
Frowning, Quentin pulled the player onto his lap and pressed the fast forward button. Then he hit the play button again. The only sound was a light hissing noise. “What the hell--?” Quentin began, irritated.
“Are you sure you had it on?” Julia asked.
Quentin scowled at her and shook the tape player. “Julia, I distinctly remember turning it on!” He pushed the fast forward button again and then play. There was still nothing. “I don't understand!” he exclaimed in annoyed frustration. “I know I turned it on because he said-“ He stopped suddenly, remembering what it was McGuire had said.
“What did he say?”
Quentin was shaking his head. It didn't seem real. “He said I should take notes. When I said it was easier to let the tape machine run, he said it was my loss.”
Julia's eyebrows shot up. “Well! Is it possible that he-” Now she stopped herself and considered. “Quentin, if he's a ghost, would his voice record?”
“How should I know?” Quentin shrugged and put the tape back on the nightstand. He picked up his beer and took a deep swallow from it before he got up and began searching the drawers in the room.
Julia watched him, admiring his backside. He was tightly muscled. He didn't sag-as she was sure she did. Right now that didn't matter, though. She was enjoying the view. Finally, she asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Paper. He really said some interesting stuff-I just want to make sure I get some of it down while I still remember.” He turned. “Do you have a pen-Julia!” He'd seen the look in her eyes and began laughing.
Julia hugged her knees to her chest. “I'm just a dirty old lady, I guess,” she said sheepishly. “I'm sure I have a pen somewhere in my purse.”
“Hold that thought for a few minutes, would you?” he kidded, searching through Julia's bag for a pen. He climbed back on the bed beside her and sat cross-legged on the bed, scribbling everything he could remember. Julia began to stroke his leg lightly. “Ah, ah, ah,” he chided lightly. “I can't think if you're going to do that.”
Julia laughed. “All right, I'll let you write.” She leaned against him companionably and ate her sandwich as she looked over his shoulder and tried to read what he was writing. “I remember some of your conversation with Jason about this megalithic gravesite.”
“Just some, I'll bet-you nodded off pretty quickly,” Quentin said, scribbling busily. “A lot of it was the same stuff the conductor told us anyway.”
“Yes, I did, and I wasn't even sleepy,” Julia agreed musingly. Looking at the dates, she exclaimed: “You know, if that's correct then Newgrange is older than the pyramids.”
“Older than Stonehenge, too, Julia.”
“With similar stone circles, though.”
“Yeah-McGuire says it's a gravesite, but I'd still like to see it. Maybe it was used for ceremonies. It could be from the way he describes it.” Quentin spoke from memory, slowing his writing down. He was writing phrases and numbers now instead of whole sentences. “McGuire said it's a three hundred foot circular building. It's got inserts of granite stone, brought down from the mountains.”
“It sounds like an early church, doesn't it?”
“It does, doesn't it? Well, listen to this-he said that originally there were about thirty five standing stones near this thing. There's just twelve left.”
“And?”
“And they were supposed to be a boundary-to keep away the spirits of the dead. Well, if it was a gravesite, why would you have to keep out spirits of the dead?” Julia shrugged. Quentin went on, “There's two other places with these kind of stones. One's excavated and the other isn't. Can you imagine our ancestors dragging these stones out of the mountains to build these things?”
“Do you think so? We're not far enough west yet, Quentin.”
“Well, those people in Sligo got there somehow, didn't they? Maybe they started out here. That's what McGuire was talking about.”
Instead of answering him directly, Julia put her head on his shoulder and wondered: “What happened to him, anyway? Where do you suppose he went?”
There was a light rain falling when they set out for Newgrange after breakfast the next morning. It became a little heavier as they got closer to the site. They were taking another bus, and as it rounded a bend in the road, a large stone building came into view. Julia's eyes widened, almost overwhelmed by the magnificence of the ancient structure. They got off the bus, both of them speechless, and Quentin paid the entrance fee. The man who took their money gave them a yellow sticker, explaining that they should walk across the field to the entrance and wait for the guide to meet them.
“This is like `The Quiet Man' isn't it?” Quentin said, as they headed for the shelter of the tomb. They were both wearing rain gear so they took their time walking so that they could enjoy the full view of the beautiful and mystical burial site-if that's what it was.
“I think there was a thunderstorm in that movie,” Julia replied, trying to be contrary. Quentin just laughed at her. The kerbstones around the tomb awed them; some of them were engraved. The entrance stone at the doorway of the chamber had some especially elaborate artwork. They were inside the passage climbing into the cruciform. More than sixty feet long, it was lined on both sides by decorated upright stones. Julia stood before one of the stones, gently tracing the artwork. “Quentin, these must have been done even before the stones were put into place-don't you think?”
She turned to find him standing right there, something other than the stones on his mind. He pulled her to him, kissing her deeply, his arms going around her tightly. Surprised, she began to respond but then remembered where they were and managed to break their kiss long enough to say, “Dearheart, there are people-“
“No, there aren't any people. We're alone,” he told her, putting his mouth on hers again. They had the same thought almost at the same time: where is everybody? Julia felt a pang of fear, but Quentin's mind was still on “The Quiet Man”. He seemed to have every intention of acting out the role of the John Wayne character.
“Here, now, none of that! Be mindful of where ye are!” a voice came from behind.
Quentin let go of Julia reluctantly and half turned. “I'm sorry, there was no one here-“ He stopped when he saw who it was, stunned. He heard Julia gasp with surprise as well.
“That doesn't give ye leave to go behavin like a young buck in heat,” Jason McGuire was admonishing Quentin sternly. “This here is a reverent place, don't ye know.”
“You!” Quentin exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”
“`Tis late I am for your tour, and I do apologize, but-“
“You know what I mean!” Quentin interrupted.
“Laddie, `tis only when I saw you were falling asleep yerself that I took my leave,” McGuire explained. “I didn't want to disturb you now.”
“Where did you go?” Quentin demanded. He added suspiciously, “You didn't get off with us.” When McGuire didn't answer right away, Quentin challenged him again. “You're the Jason McGuire who came to blackmail Elizabeth Stoddard, aren't you?”
McGuire burst into laughter. “Tis ravin ye are, man!”
“Raving I may be, but there's too much going on here I don't understand. What are you-a ghost?”
McGuire laughed harder. “A ghost! Lad, you are ravin!” He moved suddenly, flicking Quentin's nose contemptuously as if he was one of the Three Stooges. “Would a ghost be able to do that, laddie?”
McGuire roared with laughter. Quentin instinctively swung at him, angry at being treated like Curly Joe. McGuire moved swiftly, driving his fist into Quentin's abdomen. The blow didn't hurt, but it did knock all the air out of him and he went down on his knees, doubled over and wheezing. Julia cried out in protest and bent down next to him. “I'm all right!” Quentin gasped, feeling humiliated.
“The lad's not hurt,” McGuire said reassuringly from above. “Don't try that again, laddy-buck. Young and strong ye may be, but I'll beat ye every time an I'm sure ye don't want to be embarrassed like that in front of your lady, do ye now?” Quentin had stopped wheezing and was starting to sit back, glaring up at McGuire resentfully. “Excuse me,” McGuire said, cupping a hand behind his ear. His voice had taken on a menacing tone. “I'm afraid I can't hear ye, lad. I asked ye a question, didn't I? Ye don't want me beatin you up in front of your lady friend, do ye, me boy?”
Quentin was sorely tempted to throw himself upon the man he'd once considered a friendly person and pound his fists into his face. He felt Julia nudging him. It was obvious how she felt. “No,” he finally mumbled, furious.
“Good lad!” Jason exclaimed, friendly again. He reached down and helped Quentin get up. “Now then, ye surely must be convinced by now I'm not a ghost. Tis not me purpose to be quarrelin with ye, so it's relieved I am that ye've seen reason.”
“What is your purpose then?” Quentin asked, still seething.
“Why, to show you around o'course. I'm your guide.”
“I had no idea that you were a guide, Mr. McGuire. And where are all the other people?” Julia asked, trying to intervene between the two men.
“Well, I suppose the rain's driven them off.”
“Why would it? I thought it always rains in Ireland?” Quentin's question had a challenging tone to it.
“Sure, an it does that,” Jason agreed amiably. He didn't elaborate any further. “Would ye care to come along then?”
Julia took Quentin's hand and squeezed it in mute appeal. After a moment, he squeezed her hand back to assure her that he wouldn't make any more trouble. They entered the central chamber and listened to Jason explain the architecture of the room. There were three smaller chambers with basins-just as McGuire had said on the train. “What are the basins for?” Julia asked.
“Some think it's to hold the cremated remains of the dearly departed,” McGuire answered and then gave them a mirthless smile. “Funny,” he reflected, “how so many of them's thinkin the people of Ireland were just dumb animals when twas clever engineers and architects they were. Let me show you something. They knew something of astronomy, too.” He took them back out to the entranceway to show them an opening over the entrance. “Ye might not have noticed this opening faces east. Well, `twas to catch the sun's rays during the winter solstice.”
“For pagan ceremonies?” Quentin asked.
“Could be, aye,” McGuire agreed. “There's some who's thinking that these are burial grounds. Then there's others believe that this is a place for ceremonies.”
“What kind? Seances? Things like that?”
“In a manner of speakin, that's right. There's legends and myths about this place all right, and I can tell ye of them if ye'd like to hear.”
“You'd better let me get my paper and pencil out,” Quentin replied dryly. “I don't suppose it would do any good to turn my tape recorder on?”
McGuire laughed. “I'm sure ye've learned that by now, haven't ye then?” They were in the center of the mound now, and McGuire suddenly became very serious. “As ye can tell, we are all alone. I would be talkin to ye while we have the privacy.”
Julia and Quentin looked at each other. “About what?” Julia asked cautiously.
“About how to protect yerselves o'course.”
“From `the evil that's followed us from home'?” Quentin asked, feeling adrenaline pumping through his body again. “You are that Jason McGuire, aren't you? Well, if you're not a ghost, what exactly are you?”
McGuire smiled briefly. “Ye might like to call me yer guardian angel.”
Julia started a little, but Quentin steeled himself against showing any surprise and commented in a dry, sarcastic tone, “Well, as George Bailey said, `you look just like the kind of an angel I'd get'.”
“An so I am, lad,” McGuire agreed, undisturbed by Quentin's tone.
Julia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “From what Barnabas told me, you wouldn't have ended up anyone's angel.”
“Barnabas is hardly one to talk now, is he?” McGuire snapped, showing real anger for the first time. “Besides, I only said ye might like to call me yer guardian angel. Perhaps I'm not an angel atall. Nor a divil neither. Perhaps I've only crossed over.”
“From where?”
“Another place-another time. You're no stranger to it, then, doctor.”
“Parallel time?” Julia exclaimed, her eyes becoming huge.
“I don't know whatcha call it then. I only know that here is different from there.”
“If you're that Jason McGuire, then why aren't you dead? I thought Barnabas killed you.”
“Listen carefully to me now. Ye know I'm not dead for ye've touched me yerself. Yet, I can't stay long here. I kinda go back and forth, as it were. I can stay long as I want there but not so long here. Ya follow?”
“I'm not sure. What's `there'? And why do you want to help us?”
“Well, t'answer your second question first, let's just say it's-personal. And is for where is `there'-perhaps I can show ye. If it's meant to be, that is.” Quentin and Julia exchanged looks again. McGuire went on: “This thing you call `parallel' time, well-it happens all over here. Ireland is a magical land, don't ye know. There's all manner of places to slip through. Places like this-this is one o'them.” At the looks on their faces, he laughed again. “Don't be affrighted-tell ye what, why don't we go to the local pub in Kells? I can tell ye more of what ye need to know over a pint or two.”
Quentin and Julia were only too eager to agree with him. A discussion of vampires and parallel time was best conducted in a pub, not in an ancient burial ground-all superstitions aside. They allowed Jason to lead them out of the inner chamber to the main hallway and out into the bright sunshine. The rain had stopped, and the sun was warm on their faces.
