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“I am Veritas,” she said loud and clear, smiling as her delightful helpers applauded.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
The door to his prison squeaked as it opened.
Liam kept his eyes closed, unwilling to give Malcolm the satisfaction he sought. On the man’s last visit, the one he’d paid with Aunt Mary, Liam had given away too much by challenging her and her powers. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
A chair scraped across the concrete, and Liam felt the air shift as Malcolm’s large form came forward and landed heavily in front of him. “The guards say you’re quite adept at sitting in absolute silence for hours. It’s really quite impressive. But I thought you deserved to know that poor Veritas simply couldn’t stand for you to assume his identity.”
Liam opened his eyes at that. He’d tuned in to Taylor’s energy as much as possible, so he’d known she was up to something. He’d seen an image of her with a spray can in one hand, surrounded by a shrouded group of tall, dark men, all of whom felt like giant protectors. He’d assumed she was making another mural, but he had no idea who the men were, only that she trusted them, which was something rare and special. “Since I’m not Veritas, that isn’t a surprise really. I wouldn’t want someone else claiming my work.”
“The mural went up in Waterford.”
Waterford? An interesting choice, not that he’d thought Taylor would paint another in Caisleán. Malcolm thrust out a tablet, which Liam took casually. He schooled his face before looking at the photo. My, how he wanted to smile as he took in the story it told. She’d done a brilliant job rendering Malcolm as a malevolent figure in ebony paint while the rest of Ireland and Liam and some sheep all were depicted as the kind of crystal figures Waterford was known for. “Thank you,” he said, handing back the tablet.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Malcolm tapped the screen against his thighs. “Don’t you want to know what happened afterward?”
He closed his eyes again. “I figure you’re here to tell me. Why ask the obvious?”
Malcolm’s foot nudged him, but Liam kept himself still. He was aware of Malcolm’s rapid breathing. He was growing angry. Hopefully not enough to put his hands around Liam’s neck again.
“The Irish government has deemed the Waterford mural the work of a copycat,” Malcolm practically sneered. “That means you’re staying here. Unless you cooperate.”
So they were back to blackmail…
“I told you the center serves the greater community, and I am proud to not only serve as an employee but a resident of Caisleán. Malcolm, you won’t get me to work against my people. Not even if you keep me here for years.”
He’d been releasing his fear about the amount of time Malcolm could hold him. Taylor and he had just come together, and he wanted to be reunited with her and continue with their lives together. More than anything. He also wanted to be back amongst his family and friends. That worm of dread stole his peace, and he needed all of it to face the silence and long hours. So far, he’d looked on this time as a retreat. Forced, of course, but everything in life was about perspective. He meditated on his beautiful future with Taylor and all the construction projects the center planned along with meetings at the pub with friends and family. Those visions kept his spirits up and his heart whole. They kept Malcolm from winning.
“You have proven a more worthy adversary in many ways than Linc and your mother. I’ve rendered Linc’s fancy Dublin lawyers useless and neutralized all of your mum’s weepy pleas for your release on social media and her heartfelt gratitude to Veritas for the Waterford mural.”
The chair scraped again, and Liam could feel Malcolm’s breath on the top of his head. He was looming over him in that chair, his dark energy pressing in against the light-filled bubble Liam had created around himself.
There was a hard tap on something, and then Liam heard his mum’s emotion-clogged voice. His heart tightened, feeling her pain, but he opened his eyes and watched as she bravely battled her feelings to speak her truth. Her face was lined with fatigue, but he focused on the love she radiated. When it finished, Malcolm was practically salivating at having won this round.
Liam only smiled again. “I’m a lucky man to have a mum like that. Thank you for visiting me, Malcolm. It was most enlightening.”
He wasn’t sure how the man would greet his echo of the words from their last exchange. Malcolm’s face tightened with fury as he shoved out of the chair hard enough for it to topple onto its side. “You think you can best me? I have more power than you could ever imagine, enough to wreck you and your whole village. We’ll see how you feel when I transfer you to a place no one in the government knows about and throw away the key.”
He could see the place suddenly. It was in an old abandoned building on the sea. Miles away from civilization. If Malcolm followed through, Liam wasn’t certain anyone would be able to find him. He forced his eyes closed. He would deal with it if it came to pass. In the meantime, he would focus on his family and his friends. And Taylor…
She’d gone and painted a mural on the fly in another part of Ireland, hoping to secure his release, and let others help her. Talk about love.
“I bid you a good evening, Malcolm,” he said, turning his attention to his breath.
“You don’t even know what time it is. Who’s the poor lad now?”
The door slammed shut, and Liam kept his focus on his practice until he smelled oranges. When he opened his eyes again, Sorcha was kneeling in front of him.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” she said softly, a vision of light in her white dress and long, cascading hair.
“I said prayers for you,” Liam told her, “when I heard you might be in trouble for what you’d done with Mary. You need to be careful with her.”
“I know it well, but it was your prayers and a few others that led to me being able to choose who I would visit, as you’re still in my charge.” She sank to the ground in front of him. “You seemed to need it more. Taylor continues to land on her feet. You should see the men she’s working with in Kinsale. If they weren’t already happily married, I would sign up to be their matchmaker.”
Kinsale. Now he understood. She’d gone to Arthur Hale and his nephews. Watertown was a reasonable drive from there. And she’d trusted them with her secret. He was so proud of her. “I’m glad she has support,” he answered. “And I know my mum does as well.”
Sorcha folded her arms in her lap. “Even now, you’re thinking about others. It’s why you’re so pure of heart and wiser than the rest. Even Kade in some things. And look at you, sparring with Malcolm and coming out on top. I wanted to tell you to keep the faith. There are things in the works, ones we hope will see all wrongs righted.”
