When Irish Eyes Are Haunting: A Krewe of Hunters Novella by Heather Graham

one of the great chairs by the hearth, allowing himself to doze now and then.
    He was armed.
    He’d chosen a small knife from the weapons above the hearth in the great hall. It was unfortunate that they had come as tourists—without their weapons.
    But this killer wasn’t walking around with a gun. A gun would be too obvious. This killer was trying to murder his victims in ways that made it appear that natural causes or fear itself had done them in.
    So far, the killer had attempted to kill older men who had lived their lives steeped in legend.
    They hadn’t gone after an able-bodied American trained in arms and self-defense.
    He jarred upright to the least crackle of the fire. He slipped out to the hall now and then, and even back downstairs. He checked to see that the pub was locked up tight for the night.
    There was no movement. The castle guests were in their own wing, most probably sleeping.
    As were Aidan and Michael. Rocky would have heard them had they left their rooms.
    He checked in with Devin at the hospital every so often.
    She was fine. Brendan was fine.
    At seven a.m., he received the call he expected; Will Chan and Kat Sokolov had arrived. They had landed in Dublin; they would be there within a few hours.
    Rocky was grateful that they were on their way. Kat was a tiny, very pretty blonde—the last person one would expect to be an excellent medical examiner. Will Chan was intriguing—his background was Trinidadian and Chinese and a mix of American-Northern European. He’d been in magic, in theater, in film—and computers. If anyone could figure out a computer or machine engineered haunting, it was Will.
    Together, they were a handsome, engaging—and deadly competent couple.
    Rocky was cheerful as he rose and headed down to the pub.
    Michael and Aidan were there and hailed him when he came in, urging him to join them.
    “Where is the missus?” Aidan asked him.
    “She spent the night at the hospital with Kelly,” Rocky explained.
    “Ah, of course,” Michael said. “He’s doing well? Brendan is doing well?”
    “Stable and holding,” Rocky assured them. “How about you two? You sleep well? Any interruptions?”
    “The banshee?” Michael asked solemnly.
    “Don’t make him think we’re daft,” Aidan said. “No, but, I admit—I didn’t sleep well. It’s unnerving. First Collum. Then, Brendan. And that wailing people talked about. I slept with my door bolted, I’ll tell you that.”
    “I considered going back to Dublin,” Michael admitted.
    “You can’t. We’re always here for St. Paddy’s Day,” Aidan said.
    “Aye, but, people aren’t usually dropping like flies around the feast day,” Michael said. He looked hard at Rocky. “Do you think we’re in danger?”
    “I think that something is going on. And I will find out what,” Rocky said.
    “We’re all right—we’re all right as long as Seamus and Kelly are all right,” Aidan said.
    “And you think something is going to happen to Seamus next?” his brother asked, appalled.
    “They’re next,” Aidan said softly.
    “Have you been back up here lately—as in around when Collum died?” Rocky asked.
    “Aye—we came for the funeral,” Michael said sadly. “Collum’s funeral.”
    The two sounded sincere.
    But, it was difficult to be sure.
    “I meant before that,” Rocky said.
    “Are you suggesting something?” Aidan demanded.
    Rocky shook his head. “No. I’m wondering if you saw or heard anything peculiar.”
    “I hadn’t been here in months,” Michael said.
    “Nor I,” Aidan said flatly.
    “Well, thank you. We will get to the bottom of it all,” he assured them with a smile.
    He rose and left them.
    Upstairs in his room, he checked his e-mail. He had received information from the home office. He went through everything that they’d been able to pull on Michael and Aidan Karney, Siobhan McFarley, Dr. Kirkland, Sheriff Murphy, Allen Fitzhugh, and Gary Duffy.
    Sheriff Murphy had a wonderful record.