Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) by K. Francis Ryan Page B

embraced his fate. He would be the first to tell you that his is an awesome responsibility, which is why he is usually taken with the drink.
    “Still, Oi suppose if anyone would know of a suitable place it would be our good Mayor.
    “Follow the main road until you come to the first house. There you will find the Hagan. She will know where our Mr. Cahill is to be found. If you value your life, however, don’t mention that ‘Lord Mayor’ business or that you talked to me.
    “Is that the time? Oi must get ready for Mass. Feel free to attend, Mr. Blessing. You can even keep this last seat in the last pew. God can see you just fine even there.”
    “That is very kind of you, Father. Perhaps another time.”
    “Perhaps,” the priest said and his face ignited into another smile as though he knew a secret that Julian would tumble to in time.
    “By the way, Father, who is the Hagan?”
    “Oh, that you’ll learn soon enough, and may God have mercy on your soul” said the priest as he scuttled away.
    ***
    At the first house he came to, peat smoke curled from the chimney and Julian felt that this indicated a social call would not be ill timed. He approached the door of a small tidy home. As he walked up the fieldstone path, he noted that some of almost everything was growing in the yard. All the other houses and businesses he had passed had window boxes. Many had lush vegetable gardens, but this was an unconditional riot of vegetation.
    Julian set his shoulders, dropped his duffle bag beside him and straightened his jacket. Taking a breath, he knocked. His simple knock on a rustic door opened the gates of hell.
    The door fired open and before him stood an older woman whose eyes, pale gray and hard, burned into him. It was difficult to determine the precise age of the householder.
    ‘Older’ was all that would fill the bill. The curtains were drawn and a layer of thin smoke floated on the air inside the house obscuring all and giving an ominous aspect to everything within.
    “Good morning, Ma’am. I thought you might be able to direct me to Mr. Cahill.”
    “Liar!” she snarled, as she looked Julian up and down. The croak of her voice was like a rifle shot and her features were as sharp as her voice and as penetrating as her eyes.
    “Sorry?”
    “Indeed you are. You are also a liar. That nasty little priest told you to come see ‘the Hagan’. Don’t lie to me again or I’ll cuff you on the ear hole, ya eejit!”
    “Well, I suppose that is what he said, but he didn’t say it unkindly,” was all Julian could muster.
    “It is my hope that the gods save us from all priests. Yes, and other eejits!” the Hagan exclaimed.
    “Yes, well anyway, I was told the Mayor would be able to direct me to some type of lodging…”
    “You saw the barracks house as you entered the village this morning.” It wasn’t a question and neither was her knowledge of Julian’s movements since entering Cappel Vale.
    “Barracks house?” Julian asked as he tried to translate the word into something he recognized. He received a withering look for his efforts.
    “The building that says Garda, ya eejit!”
    “Oh Garda – the Police Station. I see, yes.”
    “And I see you are a bit thick headed. Go there and stay. The Mayor will be along.”
    Hell’s gate closed in Julian’s face. He was glad she was gone and with the fear she would return still roaring in his ears, he made his way to the police station to await the Lord Mayor’s pleasure.
    Perhaps the station was far enough away from the Hagan and its walls thick enough and its Gardaí beefy enough to afford him some protection from her, but he doubted that sort of safety existed anywhere on earth.
    As he walked toward the police station Julian tried desperately to convince himself of something. The last thing he wanted to acknowledge was the first thing that came to mind. “No, it couldn’t be. Not possible. No one could be that unlucky. Nah, I’m just tired. It’s been an