Click here to buy this book! Amazon Lulu Sierra Rose Books Category:  Action/Thriller Publisher: Createspace ISBN-10:  1448619831 Type: Fiction Pages: 232 Copyright: Mar 3, 2009 ISBN-13: 9781448619832 The first in a new five part paranormal romantic series. Roarke Fitzgerald must find the strength and courage to return to his homeland to face not only the brothers he has been estranged with but also the evil warlock who killed his parents and tore his life apart. The first in a five part paranormal series in which five brothers must each face their own personal challenge against a foe that seeks to destroy their very line.   Once a world famous young singing group, the Fitzgerald Brothers of Fitzgaren, Ireland believed they had it all. Until an ancient witch took the lives of their parents and ended up separating them   Now, it has been fifteen years and that evil has returned to finish the job since the long-time family prophecy has said it will only take one of the five brothers to fall in death or surrender to evil to make it fail.   Reuniting for the first time since their parents deaths, the brothers must get past the pain, their differences and years apart to begin stopping the threat,.   Roarke Fitzgerald, the fourth born son, has been many things in his twenty-six years but mainly he has been running from his past since the fateful day he witnessed his parents’ murder.   Now, forced to return to the land of his birth to face his shame and pain to protect those he cares for from harm or all that he loves will end. Can he do that or will his own demons destroy his chance for peace and love.   Can he forget his past and the bitterness he left behind and reform a bond between his brothers that many, both within their family and without, have worked hard to shred?   It will take all his power and that if his brothers to take the first step in defeating the demon who sought his death so long ago and now will seek it again if he cannot face and overcome this first challenge. Excerpt Prologue Deep within ancient walls of a stone fortress long thought forgotten a hand waved over wrinkled and aged paper with text written in a tongue no longer used. “ ‘A circle of light, a circle of five. Five into one, one becomes five to unite the circle and protect the light.’” The hand waved again and pages turned to ash as the man sneered. “Rubbish. All it will take to break the chain is for one to fall.” Appearing in his 60’s with well-kept white hair and healthy for his age, the man walked to a pool of water near a fire. Flicking a hand toward the pool, images formed of the past and present. “Fifteen mortal years have gone by since the last solstice, since the last time the circle was almost shredded. My ancient foe gave his life to save it then. This time, will those born from him and his witch have the strength to stop it or will one of them fall?” Images flashed in the pool before him until settling on five men, all sharing the smoky eyes that came from their father. With a sneer, the ancient witch known only as Sebastian took five stones from his pocket and cast his spell before dropping them into the now swirling water. “Let us see how strong the sons of Toryn Fitzgerald have become since they’ve been apart this decade and a half. Go, my minions.” The water boiled and the man laughed as he sets in motion events that would kill him or those who he has hated for years. CHAPTER ONE Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland: “I don’t see how you can be so calm. This is the first major rehearsal of the play, in front of the whole drama club.” Molly Jackson, a freshman at Dublin’s Trinity College, complained to her companion as they strolled across the campus toward the outdoor amphitheater. Originally from New Orleans, Louisiana but grew up in Boston, the perky, highly energetic black girl with curly black hair and deep brown eyes loved Trinity College and the city of Dublin but had a hard time fitting in a lot of times because she had a tendency to be over-talkative at times. It often amazed classmates and teachers alike that her best friend was the young man currently walking along with her as he was a complete opposite in many ways. “Been there, done that.” Ian Fitzgerald loved that quote he’d heard on television once and loved using it when he could, especially when he knew it annoyed Molly. At 18, Ian was a junior at Trinity since he had entered a full year earlier than most did. Majoring in drama while in college, he often felt he’d been on stage since he’d been born and in many ways he’d be right. The youngest of the singing Fitzgerald Brothers, he’d been on stage with his older brothers at the age of two but hadn’t sang publicly or even been united with all four brothers in 15 years. Not since the funeral of their parents had he seen all his brothers at once. Ian didn’t recall his early years or much about his family. His basic memory was of growing up in Dublin with distant cousins Sybil and Brandon Sullivan. As their only child, he knew he had had more than most and even more than his brothers, so he didn’t question too much. At 5’6 with wavy blond hair that the sun often turned to a lighter color and reached his shoulders, he was used to the girls at school staring at him. In fact, he was often making his classmates upset by turning away dates but Ian just wasn’t ready for that. He dated when he wanted, did well in his classes and loved acting. His bright smile and smoky gray-blue eyes were also another plus he knew but he was happy that Molly just liked him for himself. Ian was also happy that Molly didn’t mind and understood his need to sometimes talk about other things. “So, still having the dreams?” she asked after they’d past a group of students. Having grown up in New Orleans with a grandmother who was a devout voodoo priestess, Molly understood a lot about dreams and had understood the one thing about Ian that very few others even knew. Setting his satchel of books down to pick up a fallen feather, Ian sighed. “Yeah, they come every night now.” He admitted his Irish accent still present even though he could dispel it when he acted. “Don’t like ‘em.” “Talk to the Sullivan’s about them?” the girl asked carefully. Being careful to phrase that right since she knew that even though her friend had been a toddler when his parents died he never considered his foster parents as his real ones. “Nope, they’d never understand.” Ian blew the feather into the air but felt something change close to them. “Sybil and Bran are great and they’ve given me everything I could have wanted but they’re too modern to understand things like that.” Molly was about to reply when something made her turn to look at the stage and she barely repressed the scream. “Ian!” she gripped his arm hard but knew already her friend was looking. His eyes had caught something and when he looked, Ian nearly blinked his eyes right out of his head. Staring at the outdoor stage as it burned and his fellow classmates screamed, or dropped to roll on grass running red with blood, he stared. “My God! We have to get….” Molly started to run forward but soon found herself pulled back. “Ian, we need to help them! Get….” She stopped when she had spun to look and saw that her friends’ eyes had gone almost totally to smoke. “Ian?” “It’s not real, Molly.” He replied quietly, already sure of that even as he felt the pain in his head start to build. “Nobody but us is even seeing that.” Still not positive, Molly stared harder at the stage but could still only see her friends but deep inside she could also sense something else. “What’s causing it?” she whispered, looking around but only hearing the loud annoying cawing of a huge bird in a tree not far from them. Knowing her Irish friend would understand her question, Molly didn’t have to explain it since she was one of the few people on campus that also knew that aside from acting and singing, Ian’s other interest was magic. However, she didn’t know why a Dublin raised boy knew so much or had such interests. Ian had heard his American friend’s question but was busy fighting the building migraine in his head and trying to ignore the buzzing caw-caw from the bird when the bird’s tone actually changed, yet he realized only he could hear the change. Looking closer at the bird, Ian’s eyes narrowed as he focused deeper as his hand closed on the claddagh medal he always wore. Sitting high in the tree while the stage seemed to burn, the bird’s burning yellow eyes seemed to stare into the boy and his caws turned to words only Ian could hear. “You were born of the Five. Five into one, one to become five but it only takes one to fall and break the circle.” It seemed to crow, the voice harsh as the flames below grew. “It only takes one weak soul to break the chain. Will that one be you, Ian Brandon Callum Fitzgerald? Will it be you who breaks as your worthless father did before you?” Fingers clenched tighter on the medallion he wore as it dawned on Ian what was causing the vision and probably his dreams of late. Not sure of all the answers yet, he was aware that this bird was apart of it and he didn’t like it. “Go back where you came from, demon.” He spoke through the loud bird caws, feeling his hand warm on the medal as he threw out his other hand that had been in his pocket and the small stone he’d blessed in his mind hit the bird in the chest and it exploded with a scream. “And leave me alone.” He finished in a whisper. Staring at where the crow was sitting, Ian finally shook himself back to reality when Molly began shaking his shoulder. “What the hell was that?” she demanded, knowing she’d missed something just by how pale her friend was. “Ian?” Not sure how to answer, Ian could recall his foster parents talking once about his real parents and the real reason they had died. “Fifteen years is a hell of a long time to keep something at bay.” He muttered looking at his medal and feeling the warmth go through him. Reaching for his satchel, Ian looked at Molly and read her concern for him. “I need to go, Molly.” Blinking at his sudden change and never hearing this tone from the usually easy-going Irishman before, Molly frowned. “What? Why? Where?” she asked all in one breathe as she jogged to catch back up to him. “What about the play?” “I have an understudy. Professor Yates can get Willie to do it and he’ll understand.” Ian replied, not ready to tell her the rest but if Molly was one thing he knew it was obstinate. Stopping shortly from the Administration building, Ian finally sighed. “I need to go to County Kerry to Fitzgaren to see my brother.” “I thought you were raised away from them.” Molly frowned, sensing his unease. “What happened with the bird, Ian?” “My foster parents and my Da’s mother told me my parents were killed in an accident on Skelling Michael Island the day they died.” He turned to look at the sky and tried not to consider the pain this was bound to bring. Molly sat down next to him, frowning. “That’s what the talk around the campus always said.” She blushed when she saw his look. “Your parents did have five famous singing sons so their deaths got some attention I take it when it happened.” “Kerry was the famous one.” Ian laughed then turned serious. “I was about eight, five years after they died, when I heard Sybil and Brandon talking one night about how they were concerned about how safe I was since no one knew how long my Da had managed to shield us from the evil that killed him and Mum.” Thinking on this caused Molly to frown deeper. “Your father died…” She stopped to think of the right word. “I only know certain things but I think Kerry would know more and that bird’s quoting about ‘the Five’ means something so I need to go find out.” Ian sighed, shrugging. “Worse thing to come out of it is I find out I’m bloody crazy.” Molly watched her friend leave and knew deep inside that whatever else Ian Fitzgerald was, crazy was not one of them. Fitzgaren, County Kerry, Ireland: The Irish town of Fitzgaren not far from Kenmare in County Kerry named for the first Fitzgerald family that had settled there when it was founded back in the 1600’s. It has always been said that due to the town’s proximity to the Druid Circle of stones that the land had magical powers. These days most of that talk was only in whispers but the older folk who remember way back when still recall events. Still recalls whispers and are wary of speaking ill of any of the family, be it living or dead. Outside of the town proper set the original Fitzgerald home, on the land where a house has always set. This last great house was built some 200 years prior by Angus Fitzgerald for his young bride Molly and passed from son to son until finally Sean Fitzgerald and his wife Kathleen took up residence and then their son Toryn and finally to its current owner and sole resident, Kerrigan Fitzgerald. It was a large three-story manor with over 120 rooms with many outbuildings and a private stable. The encompassing wooded area with a stone circle of its own and a private cemetery. The eldest of Toryn and Brenna Fitzgerald’s five sons, it was Kerry’s gift for song that started his life in music. Fabled all over Ireland and the world, he sang with his brothers until the age of 19 when it all changed with one fateful day. Now at 34, Kerry mainly kept to himself in the family manor in the small Irish town his ancestors created. He worked private businesses or investments mainly as amusements or take his mind off troubles and as he stepped outside to the cobblestone patio that was filled with roses and other flowers planted by his beloved mother and tended to by the housekeeper he knew trouble was brewing closer than he liked. A cool breeze blew his stylishly short blond hair away from smoky gray-blue that was also a Fitzgerald trait. Eyes that could go too near obsidian black with anger. They could also go to pure smoke with power that he had trained himself to keep in check. Pausing to adjust a vase of white roses, he caught his reflection and blinked. He knew he resembled his father by looks with his eyes and face but his light hair came from his mother, as did his temperament. He was tall at 6’3 with an athletic build that the regular daily workouts kept trim. His tanned face had a strong jaw and a firm mouth that always seemed more serious these days. “G’morning lad.” The bright cheerful voice of Deirdre O’Connor spoke from the patio table where the ever-present housekeeper was setting up breakfast. The short, stocky older woman had been a presence in Kerry’s life since he’d been a baby and since the events 15 years prior she’d been even more vital to him. “Just a guess I’d be eating outside this morning?” he asked curiously, his voice still carrying the accent of his birth even though his tone could change easily. “You always eat breakfast on the patio on Tuesday’s, boyo.” She replied, sitting glasses of fresh orange juice and strong coffee in front of him. “Just like your Da you are, Kerry.” Sitting down slowly at this, the innocent comment made him think of the dreams he’d been having and knowing the inevitable visit from his paternal grandmother was coming closer. “How much like him am I, Deirdre?” he asked curiously, interest not on the warm breakfast she was serving but on the memories he had of his parents eating on this very patio, too many memories. Sitting the tray down on a cart next to the table, the older Irishwoman took a long look at this boy she’d helped bring into the world and saw his worry. Patting her graying red hair as she took a seat next to him, she gently laid a hand on his arm. “Your Da was a great and gentle man, Kerry.” She began easily, a soft smile forming as she recalled his parents. “Toryn loved life to its fullest and he loved his family. He’d be proud of you.” “Would he be proud that I let her take his sons away?” Kerry countered bitterly; the one thing he hated himself for was also the biggest thing he despised Kathleen Murphy Fitzgerald. “That I haven’t seen all my brothers together in this house in 15 years.” “Your Mum and Da would know if it’s meant to happen it’ll happen, laddie.” The older woman replied, not sure what to say to comfort a man who was like a son to her. Kerry scowled into his coffee, wishing he could see that clearly but his gift of sight wasn’t always clear and what it had been showing him these days he could do without. About to ask about the new mare that was due to be brought in this week, Kerry was suddenly brought short by the wave of pain searing through his head as the clear blue morning sky darkened with black clouds and howling winds. “Well, this storm certainly blew in quick.” Deirdre spoke over the howling winds as she grabbed for a plate of food. “You get yourself in before it starts….” “It’s not real.” Kerry sighed, reaching for his coffee to sip when a strong gust of wind like a hand slap took it from his grip. “Not wise.” He spoke coolly as his tone began to frost over. Deirdre had heard that tone before in her former employer but not in Kerry. At least not in awhile so as she started to turn toward him the large shadow at the edge of the woods caught her attention. “Lord preserves us.” She whispered, automatically crossing herself. “Kerry, do ye see…” The hand on her arm that gently nudged the woman behind him said that the master of the house had indeed seen the creature of shadow standing on the outside of the main property line. “The land’s been protected by circles cast by generations of my family so you aren’t coming any closer than you have.” His voice had gone to icy frost with power that came from both sides of his family; gray-blue eyes were starting to change. “I’d back off if I were you, mate.” Wind kicked up and swirled as the shadow’s red eyes seemed to glow with hate but even as Deirdre started to gasp, Kerry’s hand that bore a ring passed down from his father raised and the wind stopped. “Child’s game.” He sneered. “You want to impress me, try something else.” “Your baby brother has more power than you, boy.” The creature seemed to speak from the wind. Kerry felt his blood run cold then his eyes went to slits. “Mind your tongue, demon and leave my land.” A mocking laughter came from around them, as the wind seemed to sing. “You were born the eldest of the five. Five into one, one to become five but it will take only one to fall to break the circle.” It taunted, loudly. “The weak one will fall. Will you fall this time, Kerrigan Douglas Nolan Fitzgerald? “Named for the whore that brought you into this world, will it be you who falls this time as your weak-willed father fell 15 years ago protecting her and the brat?” it asked in a sneer. Feeling his temper starting to spike, Kerry knew with a sudden burst of clarity what this was and suddenly felt weak done to his bones. “You have no power here nor does your master. Leave now and tell Sebastian that my father stopped him for 15 years and he should stay where he is because he will not win.” Smoky eyes showed with power as Kerry’s hand moved and lightning flashed to strike the shadow in its heart. “My father and mother gave their lives to protect what was theirs and he still won’t hurt them.” He murmured to himself as the sky cleared and he sat down heavily. “Kerry?!” Deirdre was by his side with water and concern. She hadn’t seen or heard the entire event but knew by the way his eyes were still slit and his fingers sparking that something major had happened. “Are you alright?!” After several shaky breaths, Kerry finally was able to shake off the past and look at the woman. “I’d prepare some rooms, Deirdre.” He sighed, standing uneasily a moment before regaining his balance and heading for his private rooms in the upstairs. Before the confused housekeeper could ask for whom, Kerry paused to look back with an odd look of mixed emotions. “For the first time in 15 years, this house will have all five of my parents’ sons in it.” “Blessed be.” The older woman breathed at that thought, unsure of how that would be and knowing that it could cause more problems. Cork, Ireland: County Cork, “I need to examine my own damn bloody head for this.” It was hard not to hear the grousing voice muttering to his self as he crossed the yard from the stables. The voice was strong and with a light and natural Irish accent but seemed to match the rugged build of the tall and lean man it matched. Patrick ‘Mac’ Fitzgerald easily vaulted over the stone fence of his patio to see the reason he was muttering to himself already setting up a tape recorder. “Your cook said I could come on out and set up, Mr. Fitzgerald.” A soft, lilting musical voice called his way as Mac approached the table. Maggie Cavanaugh was a freelance reporter for a local newspaper from Mayo who had been badgering him for months for an interview and for some reason this time Mac gave in and allowed the young woman into his private home in Cork. Mac had done enough research on her to know she was a decent writer or else he wouldn’t have agreed to talk to her but he hadn’t been expecting the 5’4 ball of energy with long wild and curly red hair that was waiting on him. “Yeah, well she’s not much on guests so you’re lucky she showed you this far.” He shrugged, sitting in a chair across from Maggie to watch her set up some equipment but what intrigued him most were the glasses she kept pushing aside. “Near or far-sighted?” he asked offhandedly, figuring it was probably the former since she had spotted him a good five yards away. Maggie blinked bright green eyes as she paused to think then she remembered the glasses. “I’m near-sighted, really but I only use ‘em when I’m working.” She replied, sitting back in the chair to look closer at her host. A professional writer and reporter, she’d done a lot of research into the Fitzgerald family in general and the 2nd born son in particular. He was better looking than she’d been expecting. He seemed more rugged with long legs. His dark blond hair, cut very short, had streaks of a lighter blond running in it and. She knew from family sources about his singing career with his brothers and that it had stopped when he’d been 16. The information since was sparse and muddled except he grew up in County Cork with relatives and was very diverse in his occupations. Mac sat and waited, figuring on and amused by what she was doing. “So, what makes me so interesting to your paper that you’d spend months badgering my office?” he finally asked, a small pull in his mind putting him off slightly. Looking up with a genuinely honest and chipper smile, Maggie just grinned at him. “You’re interesting.” Was her reply, opening a small notebook. “You were a member of the famous Fitzgerald brothers who even sang for the Queen.” “I was eight and hardly remember that.” Mac shrugged it off, reaching for a glass of tea on the table and shooting a look that clearly spoke volumes but if the reporter caught it she chose to ignore it. “You’ve got licenses in medicine, law and veterinary medicine.” Maggie went on easily, looking up. “You seem to want to be a lot of things.” Mac’s smile was easy, the one he used when wanting to distract. “I get bored easily so I have a lot of ways to go.” He poured her tea out of manners his mother pounded into him. “You stopped singing when you were 16.” Her eyes took on a curious look. “Around the same time as when your parents died.” This time his smile stayed but it tightened, as did his eyes that Maggie saw actually spark. “That’s a closed subject.” He replied evenly, refusing to speak to anyone about that. Sensing that he meant it, Maggie let it drop. Figuring it time to change the subject, she looked to the fields. “You raise horses?” “Sometimes, mostly it’s a hobby.” On safer ground, Mac followed her eyes but he also felt something in the distance that was making his lunch twist in his stomach. “We toured the States once and my father showed us some Appaloosas on a farm in Virginia. I like them a lot.” The woman felt that love when he spoke of the horses but also caught the loss when he spoke of his family. After a couple minutes of silence, she coughed and looked at her book again. “My editor gave me a couple mandatory questions he insisted I ask you so I’ll apologize in advance.” She laughed lightly but couldn’t quite cover the unease she had. “Uh-oh, that’s never good.” Mac grinned to put her at ease because he did like this quirky girl and sensed her unease. “Ask away. Trust me, I’ve been asked everything.” Maggie wasn’t sure about that but took a deep breath. “Well, the main thing he wanted me to ask was how you manage to do it all?” “All?” Mac’s brow rose. “Like what?” “Do everything you do, travel like you do and still manage to be…. a practicing witch?” If he was startled by the question outwardly, Mac didn’t let on as he grinned easily at the woman but inside his gut was twisting. “Your editor must have a lot of guts to try that since it’d be real easy for a libel suit on that one.” He sipped his tea in order to gain some time, to gauge how much this perky redhead may actually know. Maggie took a deep breath but didn’t flinch from the cold eyes that were now aimed at her. “How right is he?” she countered then raised a hand to begin ticking off points on her fingers. “You were born in Fitzgaren in County Kerry. The town was founded by your ancestors and legend has it the Fitzgerald family has long held the power. Your mother was Brenna Kerrigan whose own mother never made any denial that she was a…” “My mother is off-limits.” This time there was no denying the edge to Mac’s voice but before he could go on a sudden snarling was heard from the fields where a lovely white stallion was heard making all kind of noise. Looking away from the equally firm green eyes, Mac stood to see what the issue was when he saw the large black wolf in the fenced off area with the horse. “What the bloody hell?” He whispered, instinct had him laying a hand on the patio fence to jump it and try to help the horse when the wolf raised its head and blazing red eyes stared into his and he felt the blow to his chest. “Oh My God!” Maggie screamed as the wolf jumped on the horse and began to shred it but she also knew she couldn’t leave Mac in this shape as she dropped to her knees next to him, shocked to see what she was but also shocked to see his eyes. His smoky gray-blue eyes had gone totally to smoke and his words, muttered to himself, were in Gaelic. A language she only knew a few words. “The wolf…” the horses scream was ringing in her ears but then so was something else, like the taunting laughter of a child. “It’s not real.” She slowly came to realize, grabbing at Mac’s arm. “It’s not real, is it?” Not hearing her, Mac focused fully on the wolf as he shook off the blow. Leaning on the wall, his eyes sharpened to stare at the big black wolf tearing into his horse but he could hear above the noise the words in the winds. “You were born of the five. Five into one, one to become five but it only takes one to fall and break the circle.” The taunting child crooned from somewhere. “Which will it be? Who is the weak one this time? Will you fall, Patrick MacKinley Fitzgerald? Will you fall like your whore mother and coward of a father?” Mac’s eyes flashed but Maggie’s grip on his arm held him back as she threw something from her huge bag into the tree line. “You can’t enter here, monster!” she shouted defiantly, eyes dark with anger that whatever this was would use that which this man loved to hurt him. “Get away or….” “Hush.” Mac’s tone was quiet but firm as he edged her away from the wall to face the now snapping wolf but it hadn’t come any closer. “You won’t win by taunting someone who grew up with the brothers I did, demon. Go away and try that on someone else.” The wolf seemed to sneer but the boy on the fence looked straight into Mac’s eyes. “Three have refused my master, two there are to go and two with the temper of your father. Which of your brothers will accept the offer that your despised father spurned? It only takes one to fall to break a circle.” It was several seconds of uneasy silence after both wolf and boy had vanished did Mac breath fully then it was a harsh Irish oath. “Shit.” He muttered, slumping down in a chair then remembered the reporter. “You saw that?” he asked, wondering how hard it would be to get her to forget. Maggie was staring at him in plain shock but just as Mac was about to pour a glass of whiskey, she sat down. “You’re one of the five.” It wasn’t a question but a statement in almost awe. “What?” Mac blinked, hoping she wasn’t catching onto too many things. “What that thing said, about the five into one and all that.” She gestured. “You’re one of the five that forms the circle said to shield the world from evil.” Knowing his day couldn’t get much worse; Mac poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank it with a hiss. “What’s a nice Mayo reporter doing knowing about such paranormal things like that?” he tried to make light but his chest was hurting too much and his head was pounding. “My Gran’s Book of Shadow had a whole section in it about ‘the five’” she replied, still shocked at everything she’d seen. “Yeah well most of…” Mac stopped in mid-sentence to stare at her. “Book of Shadows?” he repeated warily. “You’ve seen an actual book of Shadows?” Maggie shrugged. “My Gran on my Mum’s side had a Book of Shadows which came to me after her death. She also kept this big book on you and your brothers.” She smiled slightly with dimples that winked. “Always said ‘those dang Fitzgerald lads were of the five’” “Your Grandmother on your Mum’s side?” Mac stared hard, for the first time actually looking deeper, and again started muttering under his breath. “Oh, this is just bloody great.” He slumped back and closed his eyes, “You’re a bloody witch.” “I prefer the term ‘user of everyday practical magic.’” Maggie shot back with a sniff then blushed as he just lifted a brow at her. “Alright, but I haven’t really practiced seriously. I mostly know enough to know which spells to use to not blow my brothers up from time to time.” “Well isn’t that just fine and dandy then.” Mac muttered, making a choice that could doom them both. “Well, I hope you like traveling cause you’re about to meet my family.” He decided. “What?” Maggie stared at him, “Why?” “First off because you saw the same thing I did which no one should have been able to so that means you could be in danger.” Mac replied then sighed. “And second, because you’re a hereditary witch with a Book of Shadows on the one thing that we need in order to stop another disaster.” Still reeling at this sudden turn it took Maggie a second to realize he’d left the patio. “Wait a bloody minute.” She ran after Mac to find him in the kitchen giving orders to the cook. “According to my sources, all five of you haven’t been in one place in….” “Fifteen years.” Mac finished with a dry laugh. “Kerry tries to stay in touch but all five of us haven’t been in the same place since the day our parents were put in the ground so I won’t promise it’ll be a friendly reunion given Ryan’s attitude.” “What was that thing?” she finally had to ask. “If it could break the circle, so to speak, why hasn’t it before?” Mac paused to consider that. It had been something he’d studied and thought on a lot since he’d been 16 years old. “Kerry’s the oldest so he’ll know more but from my point of view, it couldn’t because of something either one of or both of my parents did on the island 15 years ago when they died.” He sighed, lightly touching a photo on a shelf. “Whatever that was, belonged to what killed them and it knows it’ll take only one of us to either give in to it or die for it to win.” Maggie didn’t care for that much but she considered. “So who does it consider the weakest?” Surprised by how fast she was catching on, Mac shrugged. He knew by what the boy had said what would happen. “ ‘Two that are left with my father’s temper.’ He repeated, rolling his eyes. “Ryan and Roarke both got our Da’s temper when it’s unleashed and both have weaknesses to exploit but as to who would give in…” he only shrugged. “Who knows and I hope Kerry’s ready for company and has answers.” Maggie Cavanaugh began to wonder if she shouldn’t have left this assignment alone while she wondered around the downstairs. “You said your Gran had a book on us.” Mac came back down the stairs with an overnight bag slung on his shoulder. “Just clippings of a devoted fan or…” “She always seemed interested and had all the albums your family put out until the last one.” Maggie considered that question. “When it was announced that you wouldn’t be together anymore due to a death in the family she didn’t seem surprised. In fact, she seemed to be expecting it cause she told my Ma once that it was contained for now but….” Mac swore silently under his breath. “Kerry had to know. She had to know.” He was angry but fought to control it as he saw the young woman’s confusion. “Short of it…. A warlock tried to kill my brother 15 years ago and my parents got in the way. They died, Roarke lived and we found ourselves yanked apart. My theory is, on that island 15 years ago my parents, before they died, cast some sort of shield to bind the evil but something that powerful can only be held so long and it looks like it’s loose and God help us all if it can’t be stopped again.” Monte Carlo, Monaco: A normal night in the small country usually meant calm seas, clear skies and crowds of tourists or visitors crammed onto the beaches or the casinos. World known for its Royal Family and also for its casinos, it’s where a lot of people came when seeking to lose themselves for awhile in noise, in the luck of cards or slots or table games. Some went away with much less than they arrived with and then those very few came away from a night at the tables with much more. Then there were the ones who broke even when luck just couldn’t seem to make up her mind. That was certainly how security consultant for the rich and famous, Ryan Fitzgerald, was seeing the night. Finishing a security upgrade job for a wealthy client in the small country, the Irish born native had decided to stick it out the weekend to see if his luck would hold up in the casinos. Normally the 6’ Irishman always seem to have the fabled Irish luck riding on his narrow shoulders when he gambled. Ryan gambled as he liked to live, hard and fast, and it usually paid off. While playing cards or anything he won both the pot and the women since he’d never had trouble attracting attention from the opposite sex with his slender, rangy build and chiseled upper body. Women were usually flocking around but on this trip, he barely broke even and wasn’t even remotely interested in the few females he noticed. “Well this night bloody well sucked.” He muttered darkly as he walked through the casino parking lot to where his car was waiting. A naturally cocky man who seemed arrogant at most times, Ryan knew that was how others saw him and accepted that easily. In fact, he usually played into it with the cocky tone with his natural accent that came or went depending on what he wanted. He didn’t care and hadn’t for many years. He was a single man who often looked out for himself, did his job well and played when he wanted to and how he wanted without having to care what others thought. The warm breeze blew his thick long black hair into his smoky gray-blue eyes and he shoved it out with a rare show of bitter impatience. Ryan accepted his poor showing in cards may have been due to his temper and impatience being higher than normal but the recent days had left him rawer than he’d been in years and he didn’t care for it or for the blasted dreams. Almost to his car, Ryan stopped in the lot to look around. Having been in security for awhile now and having had his time in learning the ins and out of being a thief he knew when to accept his 6th sense was warning him and right then both his 6th and 7th senses were screaming and it was that last one that really irked him. “Alright, we don’t really want to try this crap on me.” He spoke clearly and firmly, all the arrogance he felt coming out in the tone as his eyes shifted around him. “You always were impatient weren’t you, luv?” the soft musically lilted tone from the edge of the dark parking lot nearly brought the strong, stubborn man to his knees. “Always knew what you wanted and went for it.” Ryan’s breath had caught in his throat as the voice finally stepped into the mild light offered by the bright moonlight. “Annie.” He breathed, his natural accent coming back on instinct. Facing him was a lovely girl with pale skin and nearly white blond hair that hung down to her narrow waist. Dressed in a pale blue dress with a flowered apron, she smiled serenely at Ryan. “Can ye recall all the dreams we had, Ry?” she asked, stopping a few feet from him as her soft tone took on sadness. “All the promises you made to me about the future? How we’d wed and leave Clare behind us.” His heart still beating wildly in his chest, Ryan’s eyes had looked away from the pale blue eyes facing him. “Aye, I do.” He whispered, fighting both the pain in his heart and the sudden pain in his head. “You said you loved me and would love me until we died.” Anastasia Cleary spoke sadly, voice hollow. “If you meant it why did you lie to me? Why didn’t we die together?” “Just overplayed it, mate.” Ryan’s smoky eyes started to grow darker as he lifted his head, the muscles in his strong jaw tight. “You had it right until you played that card cause Annie never doubted my love for her and knew bloody well if I could have saved her I would have. Now get the hell out of my sight!” His temper had always been a bad thing and Ryan knew it but he wanted the image away but before he could cast the spell in his mind, an invisible fist slammed into his stomach and knocked him down hard. “Yeah, that’s right. Can’t use a girl as a weapon go for the magic fist?” He sneered, not positive what he was facing and not caring even as he could hear other things in his head. Another hard blow took his breath and he felt his vision blur and his nosebleed as the power sought to hurt until his temper finally got his feet under him again and his hand shot out to shoot a wave of electric energy from his fingers in a burst like the ones he hadn’t had to use in years. “Yeah, that was productive.” He chastised himself sourly, trying to get to his feet but feeling too weak. “You do have your father’s temper don’t you, Ryan Shawn Alaister Fitzgerald?” Giving up trying to stand, Ryan just slumped back against a pole to see who was speaking and sneered again at the silver haired well-dressed man. “So I’ve been told by many a person.” He replied, shifting a look and wasn’t surprised to see that the parking lot was still. “So, is this happening in real time or my mind?” Pleased by the boy’s alertness, Sebastian smiled. “Let us say that none of the mortals wasting their lives inside will know of these events. “Do you know who I am, Ryan?” he asked curiously. The migraine was building so he had a bad hunch he did know but he’d never been one to show his hand that easily. “Well, it’s too early to be the Easter Bunny.” He saw the man eyes flash in annoyance as he grinned through the growing pain. “So I’m guessing a man of your age, the silver hair, and the well-bred voice could only be Mrs. Santa Claus.” Sebastian’s eyes flashed red but before he could react, Ryan showed he wasn’t quite as defeated as had been thought as a light shove sent the older warlock back a step. “You may have gained Toryn’s temper but you inherited Brenna’s caustic wit, I see.” He nodded, almost pleased by the defiance. “You loved this girl once, didn’t you?” “You picked a bad subject.” Ryan warned lowly, refusing to remember how much he had loved Annie and how much it had hurt him when someone had killed her while after him. “You have much of your father in you, Ryan. Toryn and I were bitter rivals but I respect the way you’ve handled yourself here.” Sebastian watched the boy closely to see he had his attention. “I offered your father a choice long ago. A choice that had he accepted your family wouldn’t have been torn asunder like it has been.” That caused Ryan to look closer and he missed the warlock’s look. “I can offer you the same choice and by accepting I can give you back your lost love.” Sebastian motioned to the now still image of Annie Cleary. “She died in your arms didn’t she? It was after some self-styled boy who fancied himself a witch attempted an attack on your life. I can return her to you, whole and like she was.” The night sky had darkened and the calm winds had suddenly began blowing harder but Ryan was only hearing that the only woman in his life that he’d let himself love could be his again. However as much as that appealed to him, Ryan had been a gambler since he’d been 13 years old and knew that such an appealing offer always had a catch. “What’s the offer?” he asked casually, feeling the weight on the trinity medal he wore actually heat against his skin. Confident of his win, Sebastian smiled easily. “Just join my cause, Ryan Fitzgerald.” He held up a smooth hand to help his would be apprentice to his feet. “Accept the offer your father so stupidly spurned that day on the island when he could have saved your mother and his self by letting fate have its day and all that you wish can be yours.” Looking fully at the figure of his almost fiancée for a long time, it took a couple minutes for those last words to break through and he looked up. “So all Da would have had to do was let the brat die that day and he and Mum would have lived and…” “And your family would still be together.” Sebastian nodded. “You were never told of the awful curse brought on your family the day your brother was born and it would have been lifted if your father would have listened to me and not the woman.” Staring at the hand offered him, Ryan slowly accepted it but even as the ancient wizard’s fingers closed on his, his eyes went to slits and he tightened his grip. “The only curse my family had was at times having these powers and the only one who gets to call my baby brother a curse is me.” He gritted, knowing he didn’t have the power to defeat the man responsible for his parents’ death but could sure shake him up. “My father and mother died to save their son and maybe you thought you could reason to my own fears and weaknesses the one thing you don’t do is mock the real reason my Da gave his life.” Ryan’s eyes flashed and shoved Sebastian away in shock. “My father gave his life to protect his wife and son and he kept you at bay for 15 bleedin’ years so why don’t you go back to hell!” Sebastian’s eyes blazed red as his anger took hold, not believing he had lost this round to this mortal witch. “Fool!” he screamed, throwing a hand out to lash out and blasted Ryan off his feet and hard to the concrete. “You could have had it all and spared yourself! “You were born of the five. Five into one, one to become five but it only takes one weak one to fall to break the circle.” He sneered as he opened the portal to leave. “You’ve refused my offer, boy but the weakest one will fall as secrets have yet to be revealed and I know how much guilt he still harbors for the breaking of your family.” As the wizard disappeared and things began moving in real time again, Ryan was finally able to push himself back up to his feet from that last blast that he was sure gave him a few cracked ribs. “Damn.” He gritted, lifting his shirt to see the singe marks and bruises then sat against his car hood to consider the last words. Not always considered the brightest of the five sons Toryn Fitzgerald and his wife brought into this world, Ryan was smarter than he let on and right then he knew it didn’t take an Einstein to figure out what the ancient witch had been muttering about. “Roarke, he means the brat.” He whispered, slamming a fist on his hood as he thought about his younger brother and knowing that it had been Roarke his parent’s had died to save that day and apparently it was time to face it again. “That’s just bloody great.” He muttered, easing his aching body into the car and keying his cell to call one of his operators. Hearing the blare of loud music, Ryan literally winced. “Olav, turn that bloody crap off!” he snapped, letting the bright red Lamborghini roar to life and squealed from the lot. “What’s up, boss?” the big blond Swede asked after turning his music down. “Want the schedule?” Considering things, Ryan sighed and made a choice that, for once in years, wasn’t based on himself. “No, family stuff’s come up. Tell Andi she’ll have to handle the upgrade to the Baron’s place and all of the coming stuff until I get back in with you.” Surprise was clear as Olav Vanhoove, one of the security agents who worked with Ryan, took this in and knew that rarely did his boss ditch jobs. “You need help?” “Not unless you know a bloody good demon hunter.” Ryan laughed, and then turned serious. “If I do, I’ll call and mate?” he paused to remind the man. “Tell Andi not to slap anyone this time.” His friend was laughing as he hung up but Ryan could not get rid of the dull pain in his head, swearing under his breath. “Damn it all to hell! That brat better be worth this.” The French Quarter, New Orleans, Louisiana: Legends about New Orleans, Louisiana and the French Quarter have abounded since the city first came into creation. Tales of ghosts walking the streets, roaming the halls of the historic and colorful homes were also plentiful as well as other undead creatures. Many put the stories off to legend or just colorful tales to please the flocks of tourists. One visitor wasn’t sure how true the stories were but considering some of the things he’d seen and done, a few ghosts didn’t bother him. So long as they weren’t his own. Relaxing on a bed in one of the French Quarters more colorful town houses, Roarke Fitzgerald felt at ease. Something he hardly ever was on any given day. At 26 years of age, he’d been many things so far in his life. The more colorful included a singer, a spy, a security engineer to his current favorite hobby, that of ghost buster. Tall at 6’2 with a slender athletic build and long legs that carries his natural agility well, he wore his jet-black hair long as it often passed his shoulders or pulled away from eyes that were often a smoky grayish blue color. Right then those eyes had drifted closed as he lay under an antique white lace canopy that matched the quilt he had stretched his lean frame out on top. Roarke kept his eyes closed as he let his other senses roam the room but smiled as he centered on the other occupant in the room Roarke had come to the Big Easy to visit friends and do some casual tourist things for once. That had included earlier that day, helping a small boy just learning to play guitar for street money a few chords. “That little boy will probably be talking about you for weeks.” The soft British accent spoke from the side of the bedroom where a mirrored vanity was located. “If not him then at least his older sister will be.” That thinly veiled comment made his smile grow slightly since he knew what the opposite sex saw in him since he’d been told for awhile he had an elegant face with an English nose and high cheekbones. He often wished he were plainer looking. However, right then the attention caused him to grin since he knew it made his friend more than a little jealous. “She was 16 or younger, a stor (‘My Dear’). She was a little too young for me.” Without even looking, he knew the young woman sitting at the vanity was rolling her blue eyes at him. “Jealous?” “There a reason to be, Romeo?” Jessica Hadley countered with a laugh as she continued to brush her long auburn hair but was pleased to hear Roarke’s laughter. Her friend had been quiet for a long while and his voice had lacked its usual soothing or musical lilt that came from his Irish accent and that worried her. “No, never any reason to worry about that.” He replied, finally opening his eyes to watch his 26-year-old friend. A British girl with natural pale skin and soft blue eyes that tended to change with emotion, Jessica shared many of his own interests so they’d bonded quickly when they’d been kids. She owned an international company that did quite well but unknown too many others was her work in the anti-terrorist fields. It was a job for the United States DEA agency that had brought her and her main subsidiary team to New Orleans and after it was over they’d asked Roarke to spend some time. He had known without Cameron telling him that the main reason he’d asked him down was that Jessie was hurt and something else was wrong. That was something else they shared. Rolling over so that he was now at the bottom of the bed, Roarke let his eyes roam the room before again settling on his friend. “You know, that’s one of the few girly-girl things I’ve ever seen you do.” Little lights flashed behind her blue eyes but Jessie just narrowed a look at him through the mirror. “Brushing my hair is a way to relax, just because I don’t have a closet full of designer clothes or shoes don’t mean I couldn’t compete with some of the tramps you’ve dated.” “Don’t doubt it, a gra.” Roarke smiled, easing his shirt off since he knew it was just the two of them. “Especially considering I really only plan on dating one woman.” “Flattery won’t help now, Roarke.” Jessie countered, going back to brushing her hair but watching her friend’s reflection and again seeing the white scars that littered his back from years earlier and knowing where the many others were. “Roarke, are they hurting?” Rolling off the bed to go close the balcony doors to stop the street noise, he paused next to her to meet her eyes in the mirror. “Let it go, luv.” He read her concern easily, lightly pressing a soft kiss into her hair. “I’m fine, just a slight headache.” A mild lie he knew but Roarke knew if he told Jessie the headache had been with him for the past several days and had turned into a full-fledged migraine tonight that she’d worry and he didn’t want her to worry. He sat back on the bed to watch Jessica finish what he knew was a nightly routine. Roarke was silently considering how to go about conning his friend into spending the night in his room, which was something they’d never talked about before when something from the mirror made him look. The mirror on the vanity was a large oval one that was almost 150 years old and was sure to look different in varying lights but as Roarke’s eyes narrowed to study it harder he found it more difficult to see Jessica’s reflection as it began to cloud over. “What the bloody?” he whispered, easing forward on the bed as a form began to take shape in the mirror and he found himself looking into green eyes that he remembered so well. “Mum?” Jessica had been finishing brushing her hair, wincing as a wound on her shoulder pulled slightly she glanced back to see if Roarke had noticed when she frowned at him. “Roarke? What’s wrong?” Her friend was sitting up in the center of the bed; his one hand flat on the bed while his other was reaching toward something. Roarke’s skin had always been a healthy tan from his time outdoors but right then it was a near sickly white while his eyes where almost dilated as he stared at her mirror. “Roarke, what’s wrong?” she asked, shifting on the seat to look at him fully and not liking the sudden feelings in her room. “Roarke!” After trying to get his attention for several minutes but failing and feeling an uneasy sense of dread getting closer, Jessica keyed the in-house intercom while keeping her eyes on her now trembling friend. “Cam! I need you and Nick up here, now!” Not able to hear the response from her friend as a sudden squealing came from the radio. Looking at the radio to check it, she felt the cold before she saw the shadow. “Shit!” Jessica started to swing on the stool to face the growing shadow but didn’t have a chance to move or defend herself as something cold gripped her throat stilling her scream and her powers. Very oblivious to the events threatening his friend, Roarke was staring into the bright green eyes of his mother as they formed in the ancient mirror. “Mum?” he asked again, his usually quiet voice going even more so as the image of Brenna Kerrigan Fitzgerald formed in the mirror. “Hello my brave little boy.” The vision of his mother spoke in her same soft accent that he recalled so vividly and at times so painfully. “It’s been so long, Roarke.” Blinking his eyes and struggling to breathe, he finally was able to see the solid image. “Are you real?” The same soft musical laugh he’d grown up hearing and adoring until he was 11. It was his mother’s laugh that he could recall hearing before his nightmare started 15 years earlier. “Do you doubt your own eyes, boyo?” she asked cheerfully, stepping fully from the mirror and wearing a lovely, form fitting dress in a bright sunny yellow that seem to go perfectly with her blond hair. “Can you doubt your own senses?” Her long fingers lightly touched his hair as it had done so many years before. “So many doubts and fears you have, little boy.” “I saw you die so I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming, Mum.” Roarke shook his head, a buzzing beneath his skin trying to get his attention but Brenna’s smile kept his attention. “Aye, I know you did. It was a tragic event when a child of your age had to see your father and I give our lives up to save you.” A gentle mother’s tone spoke the words but they still made him cringe as the buried guilt began creeping back up. Among the many other things, he buried in his 26 years, the fact that he’d been told plainly that his parents had sacrificed their own lives for his weighed heavily on him to this day. “If I could’ve stopped it I would have, Mum.” He whispered the buzzing in his brain really starting to hurt now. “I didn’t want you or Da to die.” “Oh, I know that my dear heart,” Brenna’s green eyes had flashed something else but her ‘son’ had missed it. “You were but a child and a parent’s sole duty is to their children even if it meant also leaving your brothers to fend for them selves so was it a fair tradeoff?” The sudden burning tears blinded him but also something else began to burn. “Jessica.” He whispered, shivering as his ‘mother’ gently touched his face. “The girl isn’t an issue for you, my child.” She soothed with a smile. “I can take all your pain, your fears and guilt away and all the pain your brothers will face soon will also go away. “Give me your hand come with me to join your father and all will be as it was meant to be.” She told him softly. “No more fears or shame, my little boy because how will Kerry or the lads react if they learn the truth behind all you hide?” This caused Roarke too nearly recoil and the slight break in contact that caused his mind to hear the scream and the gunshots. Jessica had been struggling against the cold power that gripped her throat and was slowly pulling the life and power from her even as she saw the shadow close to Roarke. Unable to use her powers that she rarely used or scream for Roarke, the panic was about to set in when the first loud shot was heard hitting the sealed bedroom door but didn’t break. The shot didn’t break the door but it did interrupt the focus of whatever had entered the room since she felt its grip lessen slightly. “Roarke!” the scream was muted and weak but seemed to have some effect when, before she started to lose consciousness, she saw his eyes flicker to pure smoke. “Fight it!” It was the terror he felt in his mind that caused the young Irishman to shift his attention from his ‘mother’ to the voice and he finally saw past the gray mists and saw the shadow striking at Jessica from inside the mirror. “Leave her alone.” His tone was low and dull but as he looked toward Brenna, his temper was starting to surface. “Join your father and….” The shadow woman broke off when the boy broke free of her grip and lunged forward. “No!” Roarke’s action was to both free him self and grab Jessica away from the grip of the shadow creature that was now pulling her toward the mirror. “Leave her alone!” he yelled, emotion more than control causing his powers to break the mirror and the girl to collapse into his arms gasping. “You’re not my mother.” The shadow woman smiled cruelly as more shots came through the door. “No, but do you often wonder if she’d hate you for causing such misery to your family?” Stepping away from them and toward the now open balcony doors, it looked back just as the bedroom door burst in. “You were born of the five. Five into one, one to become five but it only will take one to finally fall to break that accursed circle and free my master. “You were meant to die that day, Roarke Michael Quinn Fitzgerald and without your brothers you will see that death come soon fore why would they suffer the pain for one such as you?” it taunted, eyes dropping to Jessica then back to him. “The Mistress of Shadow and Light cannot protect you as you will end up destroying them all if you don’t end it yourself.” A bolt of light and flame shot to the creature’s heart just as it vanished with an echoing laugh as Jessica lowered her hand. “Get outta my house, demon.” She managed to get out, breath still not wanting to come. “What in the hell was that thing and why did I put two clips from my magnum in the damn door but it wouldn’t budge?” Cameron Young, the long black haired brown-eyed leader of the Mavericks, demanded as he entered the room warily with his team close behind. “Boss, what the hell’s going on?” Jessica didn’t have the answers her friend would want or accept but what she did know was that to face what it had been they’d have to go back to the one country that Roarke had refused to go near in years. “Later.” She waved the upset mercs off to focus on Roarke whose arms were still around her but he’d gone almost totally into himself as he did when in shock or hurt too bad. “It’s alright, luv.” She whispered, feeling his arms pull tighter as they had one time before. “It was wrong and we’ll make it better.” Cam was sure that was a bold lie as he motioned to his medic to help him. It took a good couple hours to get Roarke calm enough that he was able to sleep alone or at least so Cam could get Jessica away. “Answers?” he challenged, hearing his accountant muttering about damages. “Nick said the thing was a conjured demon.” “We need to take him back to Ireland.” She replied slowly, still feeling the grip on her throat and the evil that was in that room. “That thing knew too much so I think Kerry will be expecting it.” Knowing what that could mean, Cam rubbed his eyes. “I hate magic crap and especially when it means facing some centuries old wizard with delusions of grandeur.” “No choice.” Jessica heard the first shout and knew it would be hard on her friend to go home for more than one reason. “It knows how to hurt him. He still has too much guilt and Kerry needs to make things right or….” “Or we make things right.” Cam smiled, tapping his .357 Desert Eagle Magnum on his palm. “Call Kerry and tell him.” His employer ordered even as Roarke screamed in terror and Young knew this nightmare was of the day he witnessed his parents murdered in front of him. “Yep, this should be fun.” The merc leader muttered.

Holly Christine-Pittsburgh Book Examiner
Independent author Sierra Rose has successfully developed an intriguingly unique paranormal romance series. Celtic Evil takes place in Dublin and tells the story of Roarke, the fourth born in the Fitzgerald "circle of five."

The first in the Fitzgerald Brother series, Roarke is filled with magic, charm and enchantment. The Prologue introduces the reader to the evil Sebastian, casting a spell of destruction on the family five: "A circle of light, a circle of five. Five into one, one becomes five to unite the circle and protect the light." The novel is filled with an exceptional combination of poetic prose and thrills.

Roarke's story is unique because as a witness to the murder of his parents, he has led an emotionally troubled youth. After years of keeping his secret safe, he is forced to deal with his painful memories in order to keep those closest to him safe. Roarke's story is one of redemption and love.

Well-written and equally spellbinding, Sierra Rose has developed a creative series with characters to love and adore. Her research is deeply imaginative. Sierra's website features an in-depth character list, causing the reader to patiently ponder the next in the series.