Page 31 of Heart of the Wren
My shoulders tensed. I hardly moved at all. “Tell him.”
Dara gave him a look to confirm what he’d heard. “Phouka are real,” Dara said. “I’ve encountered a few on my travels. I’ve ridden one. In County Wicklow, one Easter Sunday, years ago. And what’s been happening to Lorcan, to the farm, it’s real too. There’s a supernatural force at play here.”
“And how would you know?” Bullseye all but sneered at him.
I didn’t like this side of him.
“I’m a witch,” Dara said. “I make it my business to know these things.”
Bullseye stared at him for a moment before barking out a harsh laugh. “I was right. You’re a feckin’ headcase.”
“He’s telling the truth.” I kept both hands clamped around my tumbler of whiskey.
Bullseye’s beady eyes darted back and forth. He pushed his glasses up. “Right. Okay. So… You were attacked by a demon horse, or a ghost horse, or phouka, whatever you want to call it. And he’s a witch. And his magic stone saved you.” He shook his head. “Carol, you’re coming home with me. You are not spending another minute in this house with this madness.” He pointed to Dara. “This is your doing. Filling his head with nonsense. He was never like this before you came along.”
“I’m not leaving, Daddy.” Carol didn’t budge.
“Come on, now.” Bullseye marched to the front door. “Get your coat and come on.”
I spoke to her under my breath. “I think you should. For tonight, anyway. It’s a lot for him to take in. You might be able to help him understand.” I slid the black stone over to her. “Just in case.”
Carol rolled her eyes, took the stone, and grabbed her coat from the newel at the bottom of the stairs.
Me and Dara stood at the front door. The fog had all but receded.
“Is it safe for them to walk home?” I asked.
“It should be,” Dara said. “Whatever the spirit is, it doesn’t want them. It wants you.”
Chapter 19
DARA
LORCAN BENT over by the open boot of his car and pulled off his baggy jeans to reveal a pair of small white shorts underneath. They hugged him in all the right places. He also wore a scruffy Munster team jersey with a hole in the armpit.
“Nice legs.” I grinned at him and made sure no one could hear.
Lorcan hopped from one foot to the other, trying to warm up. “Give over, you. Last thing I need before I go out there is to be gettin’ hard.”
Lorcan had no shorts big enough for me so I resolvedto playing in a pair of jogging bottoms I kept in the van. They could have done with a wash but I didn’t think it would matter. They’d end up getting mud on them, anyway. He had a bunch of spare hurley sticks so I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt and picked what was clearly the best one. The tape around the grip had worn away in places and started to flake, and the bulbous end had started to splinter, but it would do. I swung it around, getting the heft of it.
I hadn’t played a game of hurling in years. The last time I’d been on a pitch, I’d taken a sliotar to the nose. It swelled up and turned purple but luckily it didn’t break. Injuries weren’t uncommon in the game, and I’d sooner take a ball to the face than a hurley. I crouched to stretch my legs. The sole of my boot flopped and I wondered if it would last for the whole game.
A number of cars lined one side of the pitch, each with a man in various stages of preparedness. The men wore a variety of jersey colours with a couple of them opting for thin jumpers instead. Supporters gathered, bundled in warm coats and hats, ready to cheer and boo, as needed.
Bullseye pulled up in his brown Datsun Sunny and parked close to us. He was already dressed in the closest thing to a professional kit we were likely to see. A green and gold County Kerry team jersey with socks to match, and bone white shorts, showing off his toned thighs. I knew he was wiry but I hadn’t realised how in shape he actually was. Every muscle on show was taut as a drum. Another man with bushy hair and large ears got out of the car. He wore a similar kit.
“We’ll not be needing you after all, Dara.” Bullseye didn’t look at me when he spoke. “Aine’s brother is filling in.”
Aine’s brother scowled at him so I took it to mean he’d beencoerced. “Donal,” he said, by way of introduction.
I can’t say I felt disappointed, exactly, but it would have been nice to know in advance.
Lorcan gripped his hurley tightly with both hands. “What are you doing?”
Bullseye stood close to him. “I found someone else to play, so we don’t need him anymore. That’s all.”
Lorcan’s eyes narrowed. “You can be our substitute, Dara,” he said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
