Q. L. McKenna

The stone spires stood as silent sentinels, keeping watch over the green rolling countryside and the village below them. In their middle was raw power, so the stories went. Sometimes, people who came to admire the stone circle could feel the magic that hummed there. Sometimes, they claimed to have seen a woman in white darting among the stones.

The white-washed and sleepy village that nested in the valley below the Dance had been there for centuries. The people were simple people who prided themselves in the fact there was a stone circle within their county. Sheep and wool were their exports that helped support this mostly farming community. The rest depended on the tourists that came and went starting in the spring through the winter solstice. Then it quieted down again and the village became sleepy and quiet but for the local pub that was always open and always crowded of an evening, with locals providing music for dancing.

Anyone who lived there could tell a tourist anything about the Dance. Or could hold court about the Druids who lived and worshiped there in the years past, and about those that still do at the solstices. It's said that their beloved Prime Minister had worshiped there in his capacity as a Druid High Priest and the people who lived in the village were proud of the fact that the Prime Minister came to worship the sun cycle at their Dance.

The little village didn't boast a police force as such. They had a Minister of Justice and a few men of the village were duly sworn to act as deputies if the need arose. They kept the peace during the tourist season when tourists who indulged in too much Harp or Guinness could get a bit rowdy with the locals. That was about all that was needed in Halloway. If anything bigger than that arose, then they called for help from Dublin, the largest and closest city.

It was the groundskeeper that saw it first, in the gray of the morning while the sun tried to burn through the early spring fog. The strange shape that poked from the ground in the very center of the 'Dance'. Foxx was far from a frightened school kid who saw myth and legend in everything Irish, though it was true enough most things Irish were made of myth and legend. He stood curiously tilting his head, his cell phone to his ear, staring at the thing. He'd gotten about as close as he was going to get to the silver hand-shaped ‘glove’ that seemed to be growing out of the ground as if it were planted there, and decided that he needed to call someone who had more understanding of the law than he did. He called Dublin and spoke to his friend.

“Yea, that's right. It looks like some kind of metal hand. Yea, here in the middle of the Dance. I don't know how it got there, I just think someone should come and investigate.” He paused and listened for a few seconds, adamantly shaking his head. “No, I'm not going any closer than I am until you get here. What if it's something dangerous?” Sweet Jesus and Mary. “I have no idea what could possibly be dangerous all the way out here in the country, but...you just have to come and see for yourself.” He waited, listening to the other end of the conversation. “I don't know. It wasn't there at eight when I got here, but when I finished my mowing outside the Dance, it was there. So around ten-thirty.”

He nodded and clicked the phone off. What the hell was that thing? It looked to him like some kind of hand. Not a human hand, but a metallic hand. And it seemed to be just growing from the ground in the center of the Dance. He'd been working here for thirteen years and never once saw anything strange until today. No lights, no 'energy field', no ghostly visions of ancient gods or goddesses, nothing at all in thirteen years until today.

Foxx B Calhoun stood between two of the still standing stones of the Dance and waited for the police to show up. A tall and broad shouldered man, with cobalt blue Irish eyes and dark chestnut hair that was stylishly shaggy. He watched the sun climb the sky, reaching toward noon. The quick movement and flash of white caught his eye and he turned to his left just in time to see a woman disappear from view behind the King stone.

“Hey! You! Wait! Wait!” He dashed through the ancient stone circle and felt a zing on his skin that had him glancing back the way he came. Seeing nothing, he ducked behind the King stone and searched quickly for the woman in the flowing white gown. When he didn't find her anywhere, he scowled at the image in his head. Gown? Now? Here in this place?

She had to have been a tourist; one of those who thought the Dance belonged to her since she was one of the “Lady's Chosen”. He'd always thought they were a biscuit shy of a dozen himself. But if that's what they believed, who was he to question. Foxx only knew that no one other than the groundsmen and those Druid people were permitted beyond the blue ropes that kept the tourists from chipping away bits of the monoliths. The stone circles were protected now and he was glad of it.

The sound of tires on gravel had him returning to his post between the two stones; but he wouldn't forget that he'd seen a woman and he'd be sure to mention it. Tall, thin, blond and beautiful, dressed in a white gown. He didn't see only a glimpse of her face, but what he saw told him she was more stunning than any woman he'd ever known, and he wouldn't mind seeing her again.

He waited for the car to arrive, leaning against his rake. Most tourists walked up here, but there was an access road just for these circumstances so the garda didn't have to walk up the winding road to the Dance. He studied the ground in front of him intently. He would feel like a jerk if this turned out to be nothing but a practical joke, but the sight of the metallic hand popping up from the ground made him uneasy.

Top that with the strange woman that slipped away from him just now, not to mention the weird feeling he had gotten when he dashed through the circle of stones after the lady, and Foxx had a good dose of heebie-jeebies. He would be glad to pass this off to the garda and be on his way toward a pint of Harp at Tom Murphy’s pub. A bit of something to ease the case of tremors he was feeling now. He turned at the sound of a car door and felt himself relax. A familiar face approached him from the direction of the police car.

He smiled at the police captain, holding out his hand in greeting. “James. Nice to see you're on the job. I'm not sure what this may be, but I wanted a professional opinion. If it's nothing, I'll say I'm sorry and get on with my work.”

The captain jerked his head in recognition and looked beyond Foxx's shoulder to the silvery hand. “You say it wasn't there yesterday and not there this morning when you came on? But when you finished what you were doing with the lawn out here, it was there?”

Foxx nodded, as James stepped around him and went to get a close up look at the curious metal hand in the center of the stone circle. “Sure and it's still there. Looking eerie, poking out of the ground like that.” He followed James into the circle and waited to see if the police captain felt the zap. Apparently not, since he was kneeling down to have a look at the 'hand'.

James muttered to himself and shook his head. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he poked at the palm of the piece of armor and found it was impossible to push it over to it's back. A gauntlet, he thought. That's what they were called. But why was it here, in the middle of a stone circle and how did it get here?

Sighing to himself, he poked at it with the tip of the pen he'd drawn from his pocket again. He tried to look at it from every angle and shook his head. He'd have to wait until he could get permission to do a bit of digging. Nothing about this felt 'right'. Captain James Andrews frowned at the gauntlet and studied the dirt around it. It'd not been disturbed that he could tell and the hand did appear to have just grown out of the ground. But he had to get this gauntlet back to the lab so there could be DNA and other forensics run on it.

Foxx stared at the gauntlet. What in all bloody hell? How did it get there? He'd totally forgotten about seeing the woman after seeing this. How did this happen on his watch? He squatted down next to the police captain and shivered at the closer look at the hand that seemed to sprout there like some unholy flower. Dead center in the holiest of holy places in all of Ireland.

“Mary, Mother of God, James. Is that real?”

James turned and nodded grimly. “Afraid it is, Foxx. Trouble is, I have no idea how it got here or what is further under the surface. It looks as though nothing's been disturbed here, but that thing is coming out of the dirt somehow.”

Foxx was stunned. “Jesus, James. You aren't thinking of digging here! In the middle of the circle! You'll be angering more than the folks what come here to see it if you do. This is holy ground.”

James nodded in agreement. “I know. I understand. But I've got what might be a body here, Foxx. I can't leave it just here, now can I? Your tourists will have to wait or go to another dance. The Lord knows there's plenty if you know where to look and what to look for. I have to investigate, you know that.”

Foxx nodded and sighed, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. “I have some calls to make, James. You best call the Minister. They'll be after wanting you to not go digging will-he, nil-he here. He should be the first before anyone else you have to call. And the Vicar should be called, as well.”

He dug out his cell phone when he got nothing more than a grunt from James in response and made his first call to his boss to inform him of the problem and to tell him there would be no one at the Dance today and what should he do?

His next call was to his home to let his mother know that he would be very late because of a problem at work. That call took him a bit longer, as he tried to explain to his mother without actually telling her what was happening. Foxx closed his phone and returned to James in the center of the circle.

“Once the Minister gets here, permissions will start with him. You did call the Minister, didn't you?” James may know law, but Foxx knew the rules for the Dance. James nodded noncommittally and rocked back on his heels with a heavy sigh. There was nothing he could do but wait for the locals to show up and try to boss his investigation.

Just the idea of a body here, in the center of the Dance was making Foxx queasy. And the idea that said body wasn't fully visible, but buried somehow deep in the earth with no visible signs of any one digging or moving the earth in any way was just plain wrong, to his mind.

As Foxx stood and watched James work, he heard a rumbling that had him searching the skies for any signs of a storm. He scowled when he saw nothing, yet he had heard the echoing rumble of distant thunder. He glanced at the others standing around the Dance, noting that none of them seemed to have heard any sound at all.

Foxx scowled and searched the sky again. Nothing. Not a cloud anywhere to be seen. Yet he still felt the sizzle in the air of an approaching storm. Something was very off about today, and it made him very nervous indeed.

He anticipated that once the word got out, and he was sure that the Minister's secretary or someone from the garda would be spreading the word that a body had been found in the middle of the Dance, things would be a mess. By the time he finished talking to James, there were people milling about the circle and even more clicking away with their cameras taking pictures of the strange hand. Dear sweet god, how did they find out already? This kind of thing seemed to always draw a curious crowd. Murder and mayhem seemed to bring out the morbid in people.

Foxx wondered why that was and started to speak to James when he saw her again. She was standing beside the King stone, watching with guarded curiosity, her expression one of great sadness. This time, she wore the clothing of a huntress, complete with bow and quiver, instead of the long white gown he'd first seen her in. He wanted to shout, but somehow he knew she would simply vanish again. So he quietly started to edge that way.

When he was nearly to her, she shifted her attention to him and his breath caught in his throat. She was staring directly at him and he felt his heart stumble a beat or two. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Sharp gray eyes captured his blue ones and she smiled beguilingly. Foxx opened his mouth to speak and couldn't find words that would work well enough.

The woman stared at him for another instant, then turned and stepped behind the King stone. Foxx hurriedly followed, but when he rounded the stone, she had already disappeared. Twice in one day, he had seen her. Foxx shook his head to clear it, then turned back again to the center of the circle itself. He had nearly forgotten to tell James about the woman. Well, now he could tell him more of what she looked like. That would make it more truthful, though he would never lie to a policeman.

James looked up as Foxx approached and nodded. He stopped a few feet away from the hand and motioned James to him. When James approached, he tried to think of a way to broach the subject without sounding like a fool.

“I almost forgot to tell you about the woman.” Foxx twisted the cap he’d removed as he had approached the woman in his hands and waited. James just nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I saw a woman just after I called you about this. She darted behind the King stone, and by the time I'd gotten there, she was gone. Not a trace of her to be seen. I just saw her again. She was watching everything and she looked so very sad. I got close to her before she saw me. Then she looked dead at me and stepped behind the stone again. When I circled around, I couldn't see her. She was gone again.”

James scowled. “Why didn't you call me? We might have been able to catch her.” Foxx shrugged. He knew the answer, but didn't want to express it to his friend. He knew there was something more to the woman than just being a woman. She was 'different'. He wasn't sure why or how she was different, but he understood that she was. And he had the uncanny feeling she wanted to speak with him. It made him uneasy to grasp that idea. And it made him more uneasy to not know why he felt that way.

“I can describe her if you need me to. I don't think she has anything to do with 'that'”, nodding his head at the hand. “Doesn't that look a bit too real?”

James snorted and shrugged. “I'll see if I can take it in to the lab. It's a bit too strange to me. I can't explain it, Foxx. I can't explain any of this.”

Another rumble of thunder, this one sounding closer, startled Foxx into looking again up to the clear blue sky. ”Do you hear thunder? I swear I hear thunder.” James chuckled and shook his head.

“Christ Jesus, Foxx. Seeing disappearing ladies and hearing non-existent thunder. Are you sure you didn't tip one too many at Murphy's last night?” He pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket and pursed his lips. “The woman, Foxx. What did she look like? How old do you say she was? What was she wearing?”

Foxx shifted and glanced at the King Stone before he spoke. “I'd say that she was in her thirties, long blond hair like spun gold, depthless gray eyes and a soft mouth.” James scowled then chuckled.

“You sound like you're in love with her, Foxx. Just tell me what she looked like without all the editorial comments.”

Foxx blinked and laughed. “Sorry, James. But I've never seen a woman quite like her. She was tall, slender, blond, gray eyes. This time, she was dressed in a green tunic thing and tan pants. Low boots, if I recall, and complete with a quiver and bow. The first time I saw her, she wore a long white gown. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. She looked right at me, James. I felt like she knew more about me in that short glance than anyone ever has. It was a bit uncomfortable, I do have to say.”

James made quick notes on his pad and nodded. “I'll get this out to others as soon as I get back to the station. Foxx? You think you might be able to give what you saw to a sketch artist? Maybe we can get lucky and someone local will recognize her.”

Foxx nodded. There goes his plan to get very very drunk. “How long will that take, James? I had a few loose plans for tonight.” James beamed him a smile. “You'll be home well before pub-time, Foxx.”

James turned at the sound of a truck and started to return to the center of the circle. Foxx was about to get back to work on his lawn and try to fit time with the sketch artist into his day. The people milling about were beginning to chatter amongst themselves and move around to try to get a better view of the 'hand'.

Foxx heard again the roll of thunder and turned back to James just as lightning streaked from the sky and struck the ground. Foxx lurched and stumbled and saw James fall, then scramble on his hands and knees away from the strike zone, his clothes smoking from the electrical charge the lightning sent into the ground.

Foxx's teeth hurt and he could taste blood before he understood that he was on his stomach in the dirt. He looked at James to see the man crawling away from a burned spot in the grass, others struggling to gain their feet and some of the people staring unbelieving at the spot where the curious hand had been.

Gone! It was totally gone. The hand was absolutely no longer there. Foxx blinked and shuddered at the strangeness of the day. James was pulling himself to his feet and gaping at the barren spot on the ground where the hand had been, along with everyone else.

“Sweet Mother of God!” James muttered as he staggered forward to look at the ground. Foxx joined him at the center and several people muttered excitedly. Others stood in stunned silence and stared at the burned circle inside the stone circle.

Foxx shivered, not knowing why. His eyes tracked to the King Stone and his breathing hitched. She was standing there, clear as a bell, dressed in pale blue and wearing a circlet of gold. There were tears on her cheeks as she canted her head slightly when she caught him watching her.

Foxx thought about nudging James, but something told him if he did, she would be gone again as soon as he spoke out loud. He felt the ice creep down his spine and he shivered. She stood and watched him for a long time, before she stepped behind the King stone. Foxx assumed she disappeared, just like last time.

All he wanted to do was get away from here and hit the local pub. He needed an ale and some time to relax and give this some thought. He glanced over at James, who was staring toward the King stone. He canted his head and frowned.

“Something wrong, James? You look like you're deep in thought.”

“I thought I felt someone watching me. Gave me shivers. I just couldn't pinpoint it. I don't know. Was strange, that's for certain.” James shuddered and glanced back at the place where the hand used to be. “What do you think happened here, Foxx? Some kind of explosive rigged to go off at a certain time?”

Foxx shrugged and turned his attention to James. “Why would you think I would know about anything like that? I called you. I have no idea what it was, what it meant, why it was here. That's your job to figure out, not mine.” He looked at the man who was his childhood friend. “You thinking I had something to do with this?”

James shook his head. “No, not really. But I'm thinking you know something that you're not saying. And I'm curious why you aren't saying it.”

Foxx wasn't pleased with being in this position. He scowled at James and shook his head. “That makes no sense, James. No sense at all. Why would I try to hide anything from you? We've been friends since childhood. I've never lied to you or tried to make myself innocent when I wasn't. Why in all hell would I try to do that now?”

James shrugged and smiled as best he could and still look serious about his work. “I wasn't accusing you of anything Foxx. I'm just trying to find answers. Since you were the one to find it and seem to be the one seeing non-existent women and hearing thunder that isn't there, I had to assume you may know something that would help us solve this.”

Foxx scowled and shook his head again. “I know what you know, James. At a little past ten-thirty this morning, I saw what looked like a metal hand standing upright in the center of the Stone Circle. While I was waiting for you, I saw a woman in white flitting among the stones. Thinking she was a tourist and may have seen something, I gave chase. She ducked behind the King Stone and I was mere seconds behind her, but when I got to that point, she was gone. Simply gone. There was no trace of her anywhere. I returned to my original place to wait for you. After you arrived, I saw her again, in green, like a huntress. Again, by the time I got to the King Stone, she was gone with nary a trace. I saw her again after the hand thing disappeared, dressed in blue. And she appeared to be crying. I heard thunder before the hand thing disappeared and saw the lightning streak. Jesus and Mary, James, I thought you were struck dead. It was grateful I was to see you move. Was it hot? Did it burn?”

James chuckled and shook his head. “It felt like a bomb had gone off directly in front of me. For a minute, I couldn't see or hear, my ears were ringing and the bright light from the flash blinded me. I thought my career was ended and I'd be a blind and deaf cripple for the rest of my life. When I finally realized what had happened, my instinct was to get away as fast as I could. Everything felt hot for one solid minute, before my legs and arms moved enough to get me away from the source of the blast. I didn't know the hand was gone until I was able to settle myself and catch my breath. That's when I heard you curse and I looked in this direction and saw the hand was gone.”

He was about to continue his story when the Vicar came rushing into the circle, waving his hands wildly, his black cassock flying behind him in the slight breeze. “You can't dig here!! STOP!!!” Foxx chuckled and James just stared at the man in disbelief.

“Vicar, no one is digging anything at the moment. But this IS a crime scene and you're walking all over evidence.” James' voice was bland and his face schooled into a neutral expression. “But we will have to dig at some point. I don't care if I have to take this to the Taoiseach to gain permissions.”

Vicar Timothy O'Malley stopped running and leaned forward to catch his breath. “Thank the heavens, Captain. I heard from Mrs. O'Brien that there was a body here buried in the ground. There should be a dispensation for digging here. I assume you will be getting the proper papers?” Under his cassock, the Vicar wore a pair of faded jeans and scuffed work boots. Foxx would have bet a week's wage he also wore a beat up flannel shirt as well.

“I don't have any idea, Vicar, just what will happen. I will ask whoever I need to get this crime solved. We need to figure out what happened here and why. If I have to dig to God damned China, then I'll do so.” James snarled at his frustration and wondered just how this had gotten so out of hand so quickly.

The Vicar frowned. “There's no need to take the Lord's name, James Andrews. I'll hear your confession on Saturday. I won't argue if the proper papers are signed and sealed giving you permission to dig here. I just want to make sure that nothing is destroyed in the business of your investigation. This is not only a National Monument, James, it's a religious place. Sacred ground. Things have to be done with respect and care.”

James sighed and studied the ground at his feet, feeling the heat of embarrassment touch his cheeks. “I know, Vicar. I'm sorry. I'll get all the papers in order and then there won't be any problems. I'll be careful and respectful and everything will be put back the way it was, I promise you.”

Tim O'Malley nodded. “Then let's look at this, James. What kind of crime do you think has been committed here? Where's your evidence?” The Vicar looked around the inside of the circle curiously. “I was told there was body part exposed, but I don't see it anywhere.”

James smiled grimly. “Everyone wants to be a detective,” he mumbled to himself before giving over his attention to the Vicar. “I think someone was murdered here, Vicar. I think their body was buried here in the middle of the dance. I don't know if it was something ritualistic or if it was just because it's the Dance. There was a hand in a silver gauntlet that appeared to be growing from the ground. It was just there. Then the lightning came and it disappeared. We haven't been back to the spot to see if we can tell what happened here. I thought I might as well wait on the Minister so I won't be repeating myself yet again.”

The Vicar stared at James and furrowed his brow in thought. “A hand you say? In a gauntlet? There's an old tale about this Dance. Have you ever heard it?”

James shook his head and settled himself on one of the toppled stones, figuring he was about to hear the story whether he wanted to or not. He had the time. He had to get papers signed for authorization for the digging and the Minister wasn't here yet.

Timothy sat down next to James and Foxx joined them. He smiled at the interest the two men suddenly showed and settled in for the telling.

“Long and long ago, in a time before time, there was a Lady who fell in love with a warrior. He was beneath her status as her father was a Baron and he was just a warrior. A man who loved the Baron's daughter with all that he was, everything that was in him to give, he gave to her. And she returned his love tenfold. They wanted desperately to marry and so made plans to do so. But the Baron had other plans for his beautiful daughter and refused to give his permission for the bans of marriage to be announced. Instead, he offered his daughter to any man who would kill the warrior and rid him of this disgrace.

“A man stepped forward; a Duke from a neighboring land. He had admired the Lady from afar and decided to accept the Baron's challenge. He befriended the Lady's warrior and found out their plan to meet at the Dance and run away. The Duke had other ideas, so he summoned the warrior to his home and killed him easily since the warrior wasn't expecting him to bury his dagger in the warrior's heart.

“The legend says the Lady waited at the Dance for her lover, who never came. The weather turned bitter and she waited, true and faithful to her warrior. She froze to death in the storm and when they finally found her, she was clinging to her warriors hand. Apparently, his body had gone to her, even though he had died hours before. But the only thing that could make the transition from ether to corporeal was his left hand. She had slipped a ring onto his finger and died there, clutching his hand to her breast.

“It is also said that when the time was right, she would return to the Dance and wait for him. That he would reincarnate and return here, to meet her again. Once they were together, they would make the choice as to where they would remain. Here or there...one place or the other.

“The legend says that the Duke rushed to the Dance, but he was too late to save the woman. He swore vengeance upon the Warrior and the woman as well as the gods for taking her from him. A streak of lightning, a freak thing in the dead of winter, struck the Duke and killed him. Some say the gods punished him by burying his body so the Lady's rescuers never found him.”

The Vicar looked over at the King stone and shook his head. “For some reason, the King stone is an important part of the story, but I can't recall now what it is. I'm sure there are things that have been written about the legend and could be found in the library. I think you may find something interesting there about what's happened here. Perhaps, the Lady has realized that her lover has returned.”

Foxx swallowed and shivered. Now he really did need that drink. He was the only one to have seen the Lady. The only one she seemed focused on. Sweet holy Mother. Did that mean that he was her lover of old? He had no idea what it meant, but he didn't think he liked it. He wanted no part of ghostly apparitions from the past, no matter how distant that past was.

James chuckled. “You really think this has to do with a legend that's hundreds of years old, Vicar? That hand was there. I touched it, and it wasn't some ghostly apparition. And somewhere under the earth is a body that belongs to that hand. I can't base my police work in myth and legend.”

The Vicar nodded and looked thoughtfully at the scorched mark in the middle of the circle. “Maybe, this time, James, you'll have to at least consider what was and what might be.” He stood and looked around. “I'll trust you'll get the permissions before you go to digging. I have to go and visit the good Widow Gracey. She's feeling poorly and has asked for confession. You'll keep me informed of the progress?”

He started out of the circle when he paused and turned back to the two men sitting side by side on the toppled stone. They'd been friends for as long as Timothy could remember. When Foxx's father had died in a horrific accident, it was James' parents who took him under their wing and saw to his well-being, taking the greater load of raising a boy alone off his mother. When James’ first marriage had hit the rocks, it was Foxx who was there for him to help him pick up the pieces. This very strange case would affect the both of them in some manner, he was sure of it. He would add both men to his prayer list tonight.

Foxx sat quietly, considering the Vicar's words. “You think he was serious, James? What if it's true? What if the Lady is here because she's come for her lover?” James snorted and shook his head.

“Are you serious, Foxx? It was just a legend, a story. There's no way that would actually have happened and no way in hell it would come true now. You really didn't believe him, did you? Damn, man! Use your head. Why would you even think that this could be a possibility?”

“Then you tell me, James. Why am I the only one to see her? She appears when the place is crawling with people and no one sees her but me. I was the one to see the hand first. I saw the woman, I heard the thunder. No one else, including you, saw or heard anything. No one other than myself. And to be honest, James, it's making me a bit nervy. I'm ready to go home. Or to the pub, which ever place is nearest, and drink myself into sleep. I wish I hadn't come to work today, that's what I wish. And I really wish you would stop talking to me like I'm one of your suspects.” He tossed his work gloves onto the rock and cursed inventively. “I'm going, James. If you've a need to arrest me, I'll be at Murphy's.”

Foxx stomped off, leaving the Captain looking ashamed and embarrassed. Foxx was his friend, they had been like brothers since childhood. But there was just something that James could sense and it made him uneasy. Why WAS Foxx the only one to see and hear these things? It made little sense to him and until he could figure it out, he would keep making his friend uncomfortable. It didn't matter. James knew where to find Foxx if he needed him. The man was always true to his word. He would be where he said he would be, of that James had no concerns.

What did concern him was the why of it. And until he had answers, he'd continue to be concerned. Not only for Foxx, but for Foxx's safety and sanity. If this was some kind of prank, some kind of challenge to Foxx, then he would find a way to stop it before someone got hurt. Having decided that, James took himself back to the place where the hand had been. There wasn't any indication at all that anything like a hand had been there. And if James hadn't seen it himself, he would have doubted Foxx.

Foxx was nearly off the tor before his anger subsided and he could think clearly. He couldn't get the vision of the woman out of his head as he logged out at the gate. He nodded to the night man and turned toward the village and Murphy's pub. James was just doing his job. That was all. He hadn't actually accused Foxx of any crime other than being stupid. Foxx gained a better hold on his temper with every step.

By the time he reached Murphy's, he was almost back to himself. He smiled as he pushed open the door. Tom Murphy was behind the bar, a towel slung over one shoulder and a rag in his hand. He wiped at a spot and Foxx claimed the stool. Murphy was a large man, broad shouldered, green-eyed and a red headed Irish temper to match his size. The pub was his woman. Murphy had never married.

“What's up with the Dance, Foxx? People been in and out of here all day saying there's some kind of investigatin' going on up there. I told them to come back around pub-time tonight and you'd tell them what it's all about.” Murphy looked at Foxx expectantly as he drew up the pint of Harp Foxx had ordered.

“I'm not sure what's going on up there, Tom. Strange stuff as near as I can tell. Things appearing and disappearing all over up there. Vicar O'Malley told us about the legend that goes with this particular Dance. You know they all have them. Do you know the legend?”

Murphy nodded with a knowing smile. “I do, yes. Tim O'Malley spends every Saturday after confession here. I think he's trying to drown out all those sins he hears of a week all in one night. But he's a good story teller, he is. He's told that legend in here a lot lately. Almost as if he's trying to make us believe that there's a woman who haunts the Dance waiting for her lost love.”

Foxx nodded and sipped the ale that Murphy had set in front of him. “James thinks there's a body buried in the Dance. He wants to dig it up.” He placed the pint down and looked up at Murphy. “I saw the woman, Tom. I saw her three times up there this morning. God's witness, Murphy. She was standing next to the King stone, big as you please.”

Tom Murphy eyeballed his friend and frowned. “A body, you say? Sweet Mother of God, Foxx. How did it get there?” Murphy ignored the last statement Foxx had made, pretending his friend and customer hadn't told him about the woman. He didn't want to talk about haunts in his pub.

“Jesus, Murphy. Did you hear what I said? I saw the woman. Big as you please. Just like I'm seeing you now.” Foxx took a long drink of his ale and let it settle in his stomach for a bit.

“I heard you, Foxx. I just don't like talkin' about the Dance and the woman.” Now Tom Murphy had Foxx's attention and both men stared at one another. “Don't like it a'tall.”

“You've seen her too, haven't you? Murphy, you have to tell me. I thought I was losing my mind. Seeing women and hearing thunder and....c'mon, Tom Murphy. 'Fess up.”

Tom signaled Foxx to the other end of the bar where they could talk in private. “I saw her. Once. Beautiful like an angel she was. All tall and slender in that white gown, lookin' sad and alone. I went to talk to her, you know, friendly like. And when I reached the King stone, she was gone. Gave my heart a hard thump, it did. I dreamed about her for a week after. I never told anyone about it. Just didn't seem right. Then O'Malley comes in here tellin' his tales and it made me think of her all over again. I haven't been back to the Dance since that day. Not since then. I was too scared to go back, Foxx. Now you're tellin' me you've seen her too. What about James? Did he see her as well?”

Foxx shook his head. “He didn't, no. Only me. I saw her three times, Murph. Three times near the King stone and she looked at me with those sad gray eyes and it seemed she was wantin' me to come talk. But every time I tried, she would slip behind the King stone and disappear. I thought it was just me. James all but said I was crazy or stupid. But you've seen her and I'm laying a week's wage that Father O'Malley saw her too. That's why he tells the legend. I just want to know why I'm seeing her; what it means. Maybe tomorrow I'll head into Dublin to the library and see if there's anything written on the legend. Maybe start to find some answers.”

Murphy nodded and went to help the last couple of people who had wandered into the pub. Foxx shrugged off a feeling of being watched and stood, having finished his ale. He wanted to go home, get something to eat and return later this evening. He felt exhausted as he slid the mug across to Murphy.

“Headed home. I'll be back after dinner. Maybe we can talk more then.” Murphy saluted Foxx as the man headed out the door, happy to return to his customers. Foxx turned toward home and started his walk. The late afternoon had turned a bit nippy so he tugged the collar of his jacket up and wished to hell he'd had remembered his scarf this morning or that he hadn't tossed his gloves at James.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned the corner onto his street. When he did, he looked up and froze in his tracks. There, in front of his home, stood the woman he'd seen at the Dance. And she was talking to his mother as if she'd known her all her life. Foxx got his legs to moving and sped to his gate. He'd bloody well get some answers now.

The woman looked up as he hurried along and offered him a bemused smile. “You're Foxx. You're mother has been so kind and has told me a great deal about you. My name is Marissa. Would it be alright if we spoke a bit? I have a tale to tell you, Foxx, if you'll listen.”

Foxx was so startled that she spoke, he could only nod his head and swallow the sharp remark that danced glibly on his tongue. She spoke! She actually spoke! And she didn't disappear like before. She was real. He could touch her. She smiled at him again and the heat shot through him like an arrow and settled in his groin. He shifted slightly to hide his uneasiness.

“What is it you want from me? Did you put that hand in the Dance? If you did, you need to tell me why and we need to go talk to James.”

Marissa only shook her head. “I didn't put the hand in the dance, Foxx. It came there of it's own accord. It's time. And because it's time, I must tell you a story.” When she took his hand, Foxx couldn't have told her 'no' if he wanted to. And he didn't want to. He needed to hear this story and try to figure this out .

They walked together into Foxx's house and settled at the table. Tea and a hearty soup was waiting, and Marissa smiled. “It's been awhile since I've had high tea, Mrs. Calhoun. I thank you for the consideration.” The older woman simply smiled and nodded, then joined them at the table. Foxx frowned at his mother and started to object when Marissa interrupted him.

“No, Foxx. She is part of this, so she must remain. Your mother...well, it will come with the telling of the tale I need to tell now.” Marissa, smiled and sipped at her tea to wet her throat before she began her story.

“I'm sure that the Vicar has told this tale many times in the village and to people who have been to the Dance. But I will give you the true tale and you will be able to understand more than you do now. Together we will tell you all you need to know, your mother and I. We will give you the understanding that hopefully will make sense to you.

“My father was a man of wealth and privilege, who had little time for a heart's fancy. I was far too old to be single, yet far too young to be on my own without a man's guiding hand. My father longed for me to marry for the betterment of the land and for money.

“But I was in love with a warrior. My warrior hadn't the social or political standing he needed to marry me to please my father's demands. Yet I was determined to have him, to make a life with him in spite of my father's wishes. I plotted and planned with him to run away to wed and return triumphant in my foolish plan to thwart my father.

“Little did I know that he was planning my warrior's demise. He had sent out a plea and the Duke responded to his message. They plotted a way for my warrior to meet with the Duke by claiming the Duke had work for him that would make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. He accepted the work, befriending the Duke. The man made arrangements for my warrior to meet him to do the work that the Duke had asked him to do. When my warrior went to the place to meet with the Duke, he was ambushed and killed.

“I had also made a plan to meet with my warrior after the work had been completed. We were to meet at the Dance and run away together. I was to wait for him to come to me. I waited and waited long into the night, but he never came. Instead, my priestess met me and told me what had happened. She told me that she had cast a spell and the warrior would return to me in a future time. But she couldn't separate the men and so, when my warrior returned, so would the Duke and my father. And they would again try to kill my love and take him from me unless he could remember and stop it from happening again.

“I've been given only three days in which to have my warrior remember enough to stop the attack, or I will lose him again forever. I died at the Dance. I can't tell you more than that. What happened after, I have no knowledge of.”

Foxx stared at the woman in front of him and then at his mother, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you know the legend? What else did you know? Who is she? Who am I? Why is all this happening, now? Mother? What is it you aren't telling me?”

Foxx's mother smiled sadly and shook her head. “I was Marissa’s witch, Foxx and even that I didn't know until I started to hear the stories of people seeing the 'White Lady' at the dance. And when you told me today that there had been a problem at the Stone circle, I put two and two together and came up with the answer.”

Her green eyes, as deep and intense as Foxx's blue ones, studied him for a long moment. “You have been chosen, Foxx. I should have known you would be. You have always been destined for something greater than what you are. There's more you need to know, son. More we need to tell you.”

His mother poured more tea and sat quietly until her son stopped staring at his cup and looked up at her. “What more do I need to know?” He took a long study of his mother's face and shook his head. He was nearly thirty. Why in bloody hell was his life changing so drastically? What had he done to deserve this?

Marissa reached and touched his mother's hand and the older woman smiled at her. She looked back at Foxx. “The people involved in your life, Foxx. Those you know and call friend are part of this. Your true friend will always remain your friend, but there is an enemy among them and not so easily spotted. It will be a difficult journey for you. There will be hard choices for you to make. I can't force you to this; this is one choice you must make yourself. I will help you as much as I can. I will leave you and your mother to discuss. I can only stay in this form a few hours every day. But I will return here each day and answer what questions I can. Until we talk again, stay safe.”

Foxx sat quietly as the woman moved away from the table and went out the door. It seemed to him that she would have just disappeared if she was a ghost, like she had at the Dance. He turned to his mother. “What do you know that you aren't telling me? If I'm to survive this thing, I need to know what you know.”

His mother looked him in the eyes, green to green. “Not everyone or everything is as it seems, Foxx. Not everyone or everything is good or bad. Sometimes, one must become an enemy to remain a friend. You will do well to remember that.”

Foxx nodded and stood from the table to help his mother clear the dishes and cups. He wasn't in the mood now for the pub, nor was he in the mood for James and his inane questions. How was he to explain this to him? James was as much a non-believer as he is..was..may yet again be. He was sure that James would always be his friend and would help him in whatever he chose to do. He and James had always been fast friends. There shouldn't be any question as to James' loyalty. But there was. The woman, Marissa, had put it there. She had placed doubt squarely on his shoulders about the people he thought of as friends.

He sat by the fire that evening, numbing his mind with a glass of Irish. The whiskey felt good in his belly, letting him forget what he'd seen and heard today. It had been a very long and very trying day. He wanted to talk to someone, but who would believe him and who could he trust? He wasn't even sure he could trust his own Mother.

He leaned his head back and drew in a deep breath. He would close his eyes for a moment. Just a bit of a rest to curb the dull ache that was starting right behind his eyes. He could rest for only a few minutes, then maybe he would wander to the pub. Perhaps music and people would be what he needed.

It all happened so fast, Foxx couldn't orient himself. He was ripped from his chair near the hearth, and tossed, arse over tin cups, into a vision. The land was harsh. Early Spring had clogged the roads with mud and the land was drenched to over capacity. There were no streets or houses in the immediate vicinity, just a cart track that disappeared over the closest hillside. He heard the rushing roar of water as a local stream gushed passed, causing a small bridge to tremble from its force. Was he an active part of this vision or was he just an observer?

The sounds and smells of battle came to him first before it materialized in front of him, slashing swords and swinging maces. Men on foot and on horseback, shouting, yelling, attacking. The ground was soaked with blood and dead bodies were everywhere. Foxx was stunned as he took in the scene. Just an observer, then. He walked slowly among them, warriors and dead alike. Who were these people and why did it matter that he see this particular battle?

He couldn't speak to any of them, all he could do was watch as they killed and maimed one another, as men were wont to do. He saw a man on his war horse, slashing and killing with abandon, his Love's favor tied to his arm, a blaze of brilliant blue against the bloodstained armor. The vision was blurred enough that Foxx couldn't see the man's face and doubted he would know him if he could have seen him.

Then everything slowed to a crawl, the man on the war steed turned his head and looked straight at Foxx. The visor of his helm was down, and all Foxx could see were the man's blue eyes. There was rage and fury there as they stared at one another for only a few seconds. Then the warrior lifted his blade in a salute and the vision faded. Foxx found himself in his chair in front of the hearth. And he suddenly had an urge for the pub and company.

He polished off the Irish in his glass then stood from his chair on shaky legs. What was happening to him and why? He carried his glass to the kitchen where his mother was mixing what he knew would be soda bread for the coming week end. A ceili in honor of some bans of marriage or other. Foxx couldn't recall now. But his mother would bake the bread and special foods along with several of the neighbor women.

She looked up from her work and nodded. “Headed for the pub, are you?” Foxx smiled at her and slipped his arms around her waist. “I am. Enough of the evening's been wasted. I won't be out late. I just want to talk to Murphy for a bit.”

He kissed her cheek and smiled at her. “Don't be over-tiring yourself, Ma. You know how the doctor fusses when you do.” She smiled and nodded and returned to her bread making. “What does he know? Can't have a good ceili or a good wake without good food.”

That had Foxx chuckling to himself as he stepped out the door. He knew there was no sense in fretting over her. Maggie Calhoun would die with her hands in bread dough and a smile on her face. After her heart trouble last year, Foxx tried to get her to slow down. Her only response was God would come for her when he was ready for her, made no difference if she was sitting doing nothing or baking bread for the next wedding, ceili or wake. Foxx couldn't argue with any of that logic and just let her be. It was better that she was active. It helped keep her sharp.

Once Foxx was gone from the house, Maggie sighed. This was surely an unexpected turn of events. She'd have to see what she could do to discourage Foxx from pursuing this legend story. She would have to stop him and she wasn't sure how she would accomplish that task. She continued making her bread, letting her mind wander a bit.

Why in all hell had that Vicar started telling the story? There was a purpose there, she was certain of it. Then the strange woman showing up at her gate, saying her name was Marissa and offering no other, looking for Foxx. Maggie had known her straight away and was staggered by her sudden appearance. Of course, she would have to stop that before the boy found out the truth. Maggie's lips twitched into a sneer as she turned out the bread dough to knead. She would find a way to stop it. Had to find a way to stop it.

Foxx strolled along the hedgerow headed toward the village pub. It would do him good, he imagined, to be among the people he knew best. The drink, the music, the dancing...and perhaps pretty little Mary Elizabeth O'Dell would be waiting the tables, too. The hedgerow closed in around him, making him feel like he was walking in a tunnel of Irish green. The cares of the day slipped from his shoulders and his mood lightened.

The thought of the pretty maid gave Foxx's heart a bit of a bump and made him smile. And of course, the thoughts of Mary Elizabeth pushed all the other thoughts out of his head. By the time he'd reached the pub, he was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He heard the music before he got close enough to open the door, heard Tom Murphy's voice, heard Mary Beth's laughing response to a question, heard the laughter of the other patrons as they drank their pints and glasses and sipped their whiskey.

He stepped inside and sidled up to the bar, parked on a stool and nodded at Murphy. “Build me a pint, then, Murphy. And I'll be havin' a bag of those new crisps while I’m waitin'.” Tom nodded at Foxx to indicate he'd heard him, finished the pint he'd been building and slid it down the bar to Charly Hennessy.

Tom Murphy slid the bag of crisps over the bar and wiped the spot in front of where Foxx was sitting. “Everything okay, then?” Foxx tipped his head at Murphy's question. “'Tis. Nothing new here? Father O'Malley hasn't been in or a strange woman?”

At Foxx's question, Tom stopped wiping the bar. “I haven't see Tim O'Malley yet this evenin' and there's been no strangers, woman nor man, tonight. Why do you ask, Foxx? Something wrong?”

Foxx nodded only slightly and eyed the others at the bar. They all seemed to be involved in their own trouble, so he leaned closer to Murphy's ear. “She was at the house when I got home today. The woman from the Dance. She was conversin' with me mother as free as you please. Ma invited her in for tea. Jesus, Murphy. What's a man to do about something like that?”

Murphy continued to wipe at the same spot in front of Foxx and gape at the man. “Your MOTHER saw her and talked to her? She was at your house?” Tom rubbed his free hand over his stunned expression and tried to school his face into something akin to neutral. “Mother of God, Foxx. Why is all this happening now? Why now?”

Foxx shook his head and shrugged. “I have no idea, Murphy. I think I'm headed into Dublin to the library there in the morning and see what's been written about the stones here. Whatever is happening, it has to do with them. I need to find out what I can.”

Tom jerked his head once in acknowledgement. “Good luck to you, then, Foxx. I hope something can be found to settle this nonsense once and for all.” Murphy wandered down the bar to take the order from new patrons and Foxx fixed his attention on Mary Elizabeth as she waited tables.

Foxx had always thought they would be a solid couple one day. They were just seeing one another now, but that could change at any time. She was making signs like she would like to make it a permanent relationship and Foxx was more than ready to do that, but not as soon as Mary Beth had planned. He thought it would make his mother happy if she knew he had someone to share his life with, though why it worried her was beyond his thinking.

Mary Beth had winked at Foxx several times as she passed him in her rush to get orders made to the kitchen for 'pub grub' and ale orders to the bar. As she paused to wait while Tom built two ales for her, she sidled to Foxx, offering him her sweet smile and a toss of red curls.

“It's a good evening to you Foxx. How's your sweet mother? I hear she's making food for the ceili on Saturday. It promises to be a beautiful day and I heard that Jared's family is all coming up from Derry for it. I hope I'll be seeing you there?” Foxx nodded and Mary Beth picked up her tray to deliver the ales to her customers.

Foxx would go to the ceili and enjoy himself. Especially if Mary Elizabeth was going to be there. His mind wandered as a man's would to her sweet curves and pretty Irish green eyes. He would have a taste of her lips and be content. If she would allow him more, there would be more. But with her strict upbringing, Foxx wasn't planning on much more than a kiss or two.

Mary Elizabeth O'Dell had a multitude of plans in her lovely head for Foxx Calhoun, and all of them led to the altar and Father Timothy O'Malley. She just had to convince Foxx that was what he wanted more than anything. She smiled at him several times tonight and talked to him about the ceili. Now that she knew he would be there, she knew exactly what she would do to give him a boot toward finalizing her plans.

She thought anyone with any lick of brains would know she and Foxx were destined to be together. She also knew that Foxx's mother would be a hurdle she'll have to jump in order to get him where she wanted him. She didn't know why she knew or how she knew, she just knew things would be difficult when it came down to his mother.

Foxx would like nothing better than a tumble with Mary Beth. But he knew she had white gowns and church bells in her head, and that wasn't what he was about. He would play along for a while and try to talk her out of her clothes, but if it didn't work, Foxx would eventually move along. Wedding bells were just the key that turned the lock, and he wasn't ready for locks.

The music was bright and the lights low as Foxx sipped his second ale of the evening. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, seeing's he was watching Mary Beth at the moment. He was smiling, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the whistle and drum. Someone beside him picked up the spoons and the rhythm was getting wild even for the Irish.

Then in his head, he heard the voice. It brought everything in him to a stop and his breath caught in his chest, his heart pounded. It sounded like...Fox wasn't sure what it sounded like. But he would never forget it for as long as he lived.

“It is I who comes for you. I who will do for you. You will die here, Foxx Calhoun. And no one will be here to save you.”

It was coming from behind him and in front of him and from the side. Foxx spun, his mug raised and nearly clouted old Jimeson Gray in the head with it before he realized that Tom Murphy had hold of the mug, his eyes wide with fear, and was calling Foxx's name.

“Foxx. Foxx? Foxx! Give the mug to me, lad. Give it to me.” Foxx felt his fingers relax as he nodded and the panic gave way to fear. His blue eyes, as deep and sharp as blue skies, stared at Murphy. His mouth was open, but he couldn't form words as he watched Murphy nod and take the mug from his hand.

“It's okay, now, Foxx. There's a lad. Sit down, I'll have Nell bring you something to eat. You'll feel better for it.” Foxx nodded at Tom's words and shuddered once before he turned those eyes back to old Jimeson.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what I saw or who I saw, but it wasn't you, Jimeson. Christ Jesus, I didn't mean to scare you and you know I'd never hurt you.”

The old man nodded and swallowed. “I don' know who you thought I was, Foxx. You was talkin' in some language I di'n'a know. If 'twas Gaelic, it's none I've heard before. And you kept saying 'ainmhithe'. I know what that means, Foxx. I don't think you was being polite.”

Foxx simply stared at the old man and shook his head. “I'll apologize again, Jimeson, and say I can't tell you what came over me in the moment. I'll buy you a pint, then and we'll be over it.”

The old man nodded, accepting the apology and the pint. “'Twas more 'n a moment, Foxx. Liam and the boys, they played three jigs and a sweet song while you was threatenin' to bean me head.”

Foxx shook his head and his lips twitched. “Make it two pints, Tom. Jimeson here needs it. I think he's lost his marbles tonight. Saying I was speakin' Gaelic, calling him ‘animal’. What was that all about?”

Tom peered at Foxx over the rim of the coffee mug he had nearly to his mouth. “You were saying something, Foxx. None of us knew what you were saying. You just kept saying to Jimeson 'ainmhithe' and threatening him with your mug. I don't know what was happening in your head, Foxx, but it was scary, to be sure.”

Foxx stared at Tom, then shook his head. “I hardly know Gaelic. I don't know how I would be talking in any other. And I don't know why I would be callin’ Jimeson an animal. I've never done so before. We’re friends, why would I call him names?” His mind worked overtime as he tried to think why he would keep saying it over and over to poor old Jimeson.

“I think I'd best be headed home, Murphy. I have too much on my mind for ales and music tonight. I want to get an early start in the morning with the Library in Dublin and see what I can learn about the Dance and the woman.”

Foxx tossed a few bills on the bar and nodded to Jimeson. “That should cover him for a few more rounds. I'll stop by tomorrow when I get back.” Tom nodded and swiped the bills off the bar and wiped up the wet where Foxx's mug had been sitting.

“You take care, Foxx. Strange things happening all around us now. Just remember, I got your back if you need it.” Foxx nodded, frowned at the odd statement from Tom and stepped out the door into the cool early spring evening. He would head home and try to get some rest before he started out in the morning. It wasn't a long drive to Dublin and he was sure his Lorrie could handle it. He'd stop for petrol on his way out of town and just___

He looked up at the sound that seemed to be directly in front of him and staggered back a couple of steps. The man had a sword aimed at Foxx's chest and a leering grin on his face. Foxx backed against the wall of the building behind him and swallowed hard.

“What do you want with me? Who are you?” The man kept advancing until the point of his sword was just touching Foxx.

“It's I who will do for you, Foxx Calhoun. I who will end you.” The man stepped forward quickly and the sword pierced Foxx's chest. He felt the pain, saw the blood and grasping the metal in his hands, he dropped to his knees. He looked up at the man as he stood over him and couldn't believe what he saw vaguely in the man's face. He blinked and the world faded.

When Foxx woke, he found himself staring up at old Jimeson and Mary Beth. His fist was resting on his chest and grasped nothing. There was no blood on his shirt nor evidence of a sword wound. But his chest felt as if someone had hit him hard with a rock. He blinked and struggled to stand, watching Mary Beth and Jimeson as they watched him. Not one of them spoke until Foxx was totally on his feet and leaning against the wall of the building, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs.

“Are ye' fine, there Foxx?” Jimeson canted his head and frowned. “Ye' don' look so good, boyo. Maybe we should get you to home, son so's you can rest? Mary Beth here found you just layin' here and mumbling to y'self. She came right back to the Inn and got me and we came to see if you was dead or just drunk. Seems ye's neither one. You was moanin' and clutchin' at your chest there like y' was holdin' onto somethin'.”

Foxx was too stunned to speak. He had been run through with a sword. He knew that, felt it, saw the blood. Yet here he stood, breathing in air like a tire pump and staring at the woman he wanted and the old man he damn near killed with an empty mug at Murphy's. How could he explain what he'd just seen and felt? How could he even begin to explain it when he couldn't get his own head around it? He groped for the right words and found himself totally without them.

Mary Beth pushed old Jimeson aside gently and took Foxx's hand in hers. “I'll see he gets home, Jimeson. Thank you for helping me with him. I'm sure Foxx will be ready to talk tomorrow. You go on home, now, Jimeson. I think I can handle it from here.”

She smiled at Foxx and pulled him gently away from the wall. “You feel okay to walk or should I see about finding a ride?” Foxx shook his head. “I'm fine to walk. Truly, Mary Beth, you don't have to walk with me. I'm out of your way and you shouldn't be wandering about alone at night. I should be walking you home.”

Mary Beth smiled and nodded. “Then I'll just stay at your house until morning.” She chuckled at his shocked expression. “I wish I had a camera, Foxx. Your mother has an empty room, doesn't she? I can just stay there until daylight, then make my own way home. But I'll see you to your door tonight, Foxx Calhoun. And you'll be safer for it.”

Foxx let her lead him away from the village and toward home. He finally stopped walking and shook his head. Resetting his newsboy cap and adjusting his long scarf, he smiled at her. “You're an amazing woman, Mary Elizabeth O'Dell. An amazing woman. If you weren't so dead set on marrying, I'd talk you right out of your clothes tonight in my own room.”

She smiled back and wrapped her arms around him for a short spell, then took a step back. “It's cold, Foxx and you've had a shock of some sort. We should keep walking. Do you want to tell me what happened to you? Or is that something that you'd rather not talk about?”

Foxx turned his gaze to Mary Beth and sighed. “I really don't know how to explain what happened to me. I lost total blocks of time tonight and I have no reasonable explanation as to why. Not to mention trying to beat Jimeson to death with my mug. Today was just a very strange day.”

Mary Beth nodded and slipped her arm through his as they continued to walk. “I'm a good listener, Foxx. And it sounds to me like you need a listener. Maybe even a good friend or two, while you're at it.”

Foxx gave her a sidelong glance and sighed again. “You amaze me, woman. I could use someone with a new set of eyes. Would you...would you consider going to Dublin with me tomorrow, Mary Beth? I want to go to the library there and look up some stuff on the legend of our Dance. I could use some fresh eyes on this. I'll tell you about my very strange day, if you'll agree to not laugh and to help me figure this out.”

Mary Beth nodded. “Okay, I can promise you I won't laugh. And I can give you all the help you need on this whatever it is.” She paused and furrowed her brow in thought. “It's legal, isn't it? I mean, we won't be doing anything that will cause my arrest, will we?”

Fox laughed and pulled her into a sideways hug. “By going to Dublin to get information from the library? I hardly doubt that would end in your arrest, unless it's against the law to do research.”

As they neared Foxx's gate, Mary Beth shivered. Foxx cast a glance at her. “Something wrong?” She shook her head. “I don't think so. But I can't say for certain, Foxx. Is your mother ill?”

He stared at the woman with him for a long moment before he responded. “No. She's fine. She was baking for the ceili when I left. Why do you ask. Mary Beth?”

The woman didn't answer him right away, she just started for the gate. “I think we need to hurry, Foxx. I think we need to hurry and get the information as soon as possible. We should leave as early in the morning as we can. I think there are lives depending on us finding that information.”

Foxx hurried after her, his brow furrowed, his eyes full of concern. He'd never seen Mary Beth so agitated. He nearly had to run to keep up with her, then get ahead of her to open the door. He headed for the kitchen, where he thought his mother would be. He peered in the door and smiled.

“Ma? I'm home and brought Mary Beth with me.” The woman was standing at the stove and didn't turn right away. When she finally did, she smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Foxx thought she may be getting tired, so he nodded to the kettle. “I'll fix tea. Why don't you go and sit with Mary Beth while I do this?”

She nodded and reached her hand to caress his cheek. Foxx shivered at the coldness of her skin and he looked at her, confusion filling his eyes. “Are you okay? You look strange. Are you having pain?”

The woman shook her head. “No, Foxx. I think I just need to sit down, you're right. I'll go and sit with Mary Beth. Why is she here? Did you tell me? Is she okay and her family?”

Foxx nodded at his mother. “She's fine. She's staying here tonight so we can go into Dublin in the morning. We have some things to do there.” For some unexplained reason, Foxx felt as though he couldn't tell his mother why they were going to Dublin. He shivered as ice crawled down his spine and thought again about letting Mary Beth sleep in the guest room alone.

He lifted the kettle and was pleased to find it full of water. He turned on the heat, gathered the cups, tea, sugar and cream, placed them on the tray and carried it into the dining room. He smiled at Mary Beth and placed the tray on the table. “Water will be hot soon. Should I get scones or biscuits?”

Mary Beth smiled and nodded. “Either one will do well enough, Foxx. I've not had anything to eat since the mid-day meal.”

Foxx frowned and went back to the kitchen. He took soda bread from the bin and sliced thick slices, got ham, beef and cheese from the refrigerator, placing that on a tray with condiments, put scones, butter and sweet biscuits on a plate then on the tray and carried it all into the dining room again.

“You have to eat, Mary Beth. Please.” He removed the items from the tray and placed them on the table in front of her, before he turned to his mother. “Do you want something to eat? I'll make you a sandwich, if you want.”

She smiled at him. “What a good boy you are, Foxx. Thank you. That would be nice.”

Foxx studied his mother intently, not sure what was wrong with her, but there was something. He pondered having Mrs. Kelly from next door come and stay with her tomorrow, but changed his mind. There was something he couldn't put his finger on that was making him uneasy in his own home and with his own mother.

He made her a small sandwich, knowing they had high tea and she wouldn't be wanting more than that. He put that and two scones on her plate, then turned back to Mary Beth. She was watching his mother more intently than he was.

“Mary Beth....” She looked at him and he drew a breath, but before he could speak, she reached to take his hand. “I don't want to be alone, tonight, Foxx. Please don't leave me alone.” She glanced again at Foxx's mother the same time Foxx did. The woman was staring at both of them and grinning with what appeared to be demented glee.

The kettle whistled and he stood to get the water. He all but ran to the kitchen and ran back. He poured hot water into the pot, then settled the tea leaves inside to steep. Something not right. Something wild and feral and vicious seemed to be circling the room, and it gave Foxx the sense of unsure footing on an icy walk.

What was happening here? What was wrong with his mother? He poured tea and finally sat as close to Mary Beth as he could. “Mum. Are you alright?” The woman turned her head, blinked and smiled. “Of course I'm all right, dear. Why wouldn't I be?”

Foxx felt something inside his mind click and he nodded. “Eat your sandwich, Mother. I'll take Mary Beth up to her room.” Before either woman could protest, Foxx had pulled Mary Beth to her feet and led her from the room. Once they were upstairs, Foxx took her into his room.

“Stay here, Mary Beth. There's something not exactly right here tonight and I agree with you. The sooner we find out what we can, the better off we'll be. We'll leave at first light. Do you want anything right now? I can go back down and get the sandwich if you're hungry?”

Mary Beth shook her head. “No, Foxx. Please. Don't leave me alone for a minute. I don't know what's going on in this house, but I think once we're out of here in the morning, it would behove you to not return until this is settled. I'd kill for tea, but it will just have to wait until morning. Saints protect and preserve us, Foxx. I think we're caught up in something terribly evil and your mother is part of it.”

As bad as that sounded, Foxx had to agree. His mother was acting strangely and he had no explanation for it. He settled Mary Beth in his bed and made sure she was comfortable in his old robe and warm enough, then he took the chair and made himself as comfortable as he could. As much as he thought about Mary Beth in 'that' way, he felt that tonight wasn't the night for sexual advances. He had decided he needed her help and he didn't need her angry with him right now.

He gave his bed over to her and pulled up the overstuffed chair for himself. When she started to protest, he shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “You take the bed. It's bad enough I've kidnapped you from the comfort of your own home. I won't deny you the comfort of a bed as well. Good night, Mary Beth. We'll talk in the morning.”

Foxx was awake before the dawn, cleaned up and dressed, ready for the day. He sat back down in the chair he had vacated and watched Mary Beth as she slept. He would have to disturb her and wake her soon, but he wanted to give her as much sleep as he could.

As he sat, he pondered everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. He would have to research the legend and how it came to be. And he hoped that he would find information on the woman he had seen and actually spoken to yesterday.

With a sigh, he leaned forward and touched Mary Beth's shoulder. “Mary Beth. Time to wake up. We need to be on our way shortly.”

She snapped awake and stared at him for a moment, then smiled as recognition came into her eyes. “Foxx. Why did you let me sleep like this? I could have gotten up and been ready when you were.”

Foxx shook his head. “You needed to rest. You were up late and had quite an experience yesterday. The bath is through that door”, nodding to his left. “You go on and get ready, I'm going down to make tea. We can put it in an insulated flask and take it along with us.”

He rose and started for the door, then stopped and turned back to her. “Mary Beth. Thanks for coming along with me and believing in my nonsense. I appreciate your help in more ways than you'll know.”

She smiled over her shoulder at him and nodded as she headed for the bath. She'd have to wear what she had the day before for now, but perhaps they could take the time to stop and she could change. She would ask him when she went down.

She gathered her things to get ready to take a hot shower then jerked as she turned to see Foxx's mother standing in the open door. The woman smiled, but there was a wicked gleam in her eye.

“You'll help him die.” The strange voice came from the woman in the doorway. “And you'll die with him.”

Then the little woman's demeanor changed and the smile was sweet. “Mary Elizabeth. I didn't know you stayed. Come down for tea, dear.”

Mary Beth could only nod. “After I have a shower. I'll be down in a few, but I think Foxx has gone down to make tea. We're going into Dublin this morning. Go on down, now and I'll be along shortly.”

She sighed with relief when the elder woman turned and walked away. There's something going on in this house, and Mary Beth will be glad to be on their way. She prayed while she showered and dressed that they could get away without further attention from this entity that had laid claim to Foxx's mother.

As she made her way down the stairs, she could hear them in the small kitchen. She hurried her steps as the voices grew louder. “Foxx.” She spoke his name as she stepped into the room. When he turned to her, she nodded.

“I think we can stop and get tea and breakfast along the way. I would like to go now, if we could. I want to stop at home and change into fresh clothing and I should think our business will take most of the day as it is.”

Foxx smiled gratefully and side-stepped around his mother. “I'll be back when I get back, mum. You have a nice day. I'll send Mrs. O'Toole to help you today, if you wish, but I have to go now.”

He brushed her cheek and took his cap from the hook near the door. He was almost to his truck when his mother called to him. “Drive safely. I won't be needing Mrs. O'Toole, Foxx. Not today.”

He held the truck door for Mary Beth, then made his way around to the driver's door once she was in and safely buckled up. When he climbed in, he looked over at her and she was pale as paper.

“What is it? Are you not well? Do you want to stay home?”

She looked over at him and shook her head. “No. I want away from here, Foxx. There's something very odd with your mother.” Foxx canted his head, “My mum? Why would you think that, luv?”

“Because she stopped in the room just just before I took my shower and said something in a voice I knew wasn’t hers. Foxx, what’s going on?”

He turned to Mary Beth and blinked. “If I’d have known, Mary Beth, I would be telling you, now wouldn’t I? If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t be needin’ this trip to Dublin and the big library there. Something’s going on, that’s a sure thing. But what exactly, I don’t know. Yesterday morning at the Dance, I saw what James thought was a dead hand poking up from the ground. Then it disappeared and this woman was running about the circle there. Then the Vicar is telling me some legend about this woman and how she’ll come back when her lover does and me being the only one who saw her at the dance when that hand poked up from the ground.”

He turned his attention back to the road then huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Mary Beth. Maybe I’m just hungry and that’s why I’m irritable. There’s a place to eat just up the road, if you’d like to stop. I’ll refuel my caffeine and get something to satisfy my.....sweet holy Mary!”

As the little red lorry crested a hill, the valley laid out before them. Battle sounds and war cries could be heard. Fox slammed on the brakes and cut the wheel sharply to the right. The truck grumbled to a stop along the side of the cart path that had once been a road. He glanced at Mary Beth, saw she was as pale as death and reached for her hand. “It’s not real, Mary Beth. Whatever this is, it isn’t real. It’s some sort of vision and I don’t know if it’s a warning or something else. We’ll just have to wait it out. Hopefully, it won’t last long and we can be on our way.”

Mary Beth’s hand trembled in his, but he saw her swallow and look out at the field of battle on a shuddering breath. “It’s like a dream, Foxx. Like a lucid dream. Are we able to get out? Can we just leave?”

Foxx shook his head. “I’ve not been able to get loose of it until it was finished with me. Stay in the truck, Mary Beth. We’re safer here, I think.” Foxx watched the scene unfold in front of him and waited for the one who always showed himself in these epic battle scenes. He was glad he wasn’t alone and Mary Beth was also seeing the images and hearing the clash of steel and the roar of battle.

Men fell in front of them, horses leaped the truck as if it were a wall and perhaps in this time and this place, it was a wall. Foxx saw him coming across the battlefield, sword held high and shield wet with blood, his and others. He stopped in front of the truck and as before, his visor was down and Foxx could only see his eyes. The intense blue of them sparkled with mirth as he saluted and turned back to battle as the image and scene faded.

Foxx leaned his head back against the seat of the lorry and drew breath slowly to calm his quaking and the nerves that danced on razor’s edge. He glanced at Mary Beth who had become very quiet and still.

“Mary Beth? Are you alright? Do you want me to take you home? I can go to Dublin alone. This had to have been quite unsettling for you. I can’t explain what just happened. I can only tell you it’s been happening ever since I found that thing in the middle of the circle.”

Mary Beth turned to Foxx and shook her head. “Let’s get on to Dublin then and the library. We need to see what we can find about this battle and this warrior and woman. There’s a reason why you keep seeing them, Foxx, and I think it involves your mother somehow. “ Foxx looked at her and was stunned at how dark and depth-less her eyes were, how glassy. “I just thing we need to go, Foxx. Now.”

Foxx pulled the little lorry away from the side of the road and drove ahead toward Dublin. Another fifteen kilometers and they pulled into the parking lot of a small diner. “I need to eat something, and you will be wanting tea, I’m sure. We won’t linger long here, Mary Beth. But if I don’t eat, I won’t be worth much in the research.” He grinned at her and got out to go round and open her door. Helping her out, he tugged her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry that back there frightened you.”

Mary Beth returned his hug and smiled up at him. “Startled, certainly. But hardly frightened. I found it fascinating to say the least. Intriguing at best. So let’s go in and eat and we’ll get on our way to Dublin. You could phone up James and see if he’s free for lunch or high tea. Maybe he will have some information for you that will help.”

Foxx nodded and pulled out his phone just as it rang. He answered it with a chuckle. “This is what I call serendipity. I was just reaching for the phone to give you a call, James. What’s up?” Foxx furrowed his brow at his friend’s voice. “Mary Beth is with me. She was wanting to meet up and have lunch or high tea with you since we’ll be in Dublin in about an hour. We’re going to the library there. I want to research something. Yea, sure and it’s glad I’ll be to get to the end of it. Okay, then we’ll see you there.”

Foxx turned to Mary Beth and sighed. “James will meet us at the library. He says he has some information I might be interested in. He sounded odd on the phone. Perhaps he was just tired. But we’ll see him in an hour or so.”

He opened the door to the diner and they stepped inside. It was empty but for the staff and one gentleman at the end of a long counter. They slipped into a booth and waited for the girl to come with the menu. Foxx hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was until he sat down. He looked about for the waitress and sighed when he didn’t see her. It wasn’t like they were busy. He and Mary Beth were the only ones here, save the man at the end of the counter.

“Where has the waitress gone?” He kept looking for her and spotted her when she came out of the kitchen. She smiled at Foxx and Mary Beth, picking up menus as she started for their table.

As she approached, she changed. She became the woman from the dance and Foxx couldn’t help but stare. She smiled sadly. “Hello, Foxx. You have yet to figure out the mystery. I would help you if I could, but I’m not permitted to give you the information you need to find. Just remember, not every friend is a friend and there is one who is an enemy.”

Then the woman was back to the waitress and Mary Beth was nudging his knee with her foot under the table. “Foxx! Where are you? The girl is waiting for your order. I thought you were hungry.”

Fox blinked himself back to the present and flushed from embarrassment. “Yes, sorry, lass. I was woolgathering apparently. I’ll have a full breakfast and tea. Have you ordered then, Mary Beth?”

She nodded and when the girl moved away, Mary Beth looked at Foxx. “What was going on? You looked really strange, Foxx.” She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. “It’s something about here, isn’t it? What did you see?”

Fox shook his head and chewed on his lower lip. “I thought I saw the woman. She spoke to me through the waitress. She was as cryptic as she was before. I’m no closer now.”

Mary Beth nodded and squeezed his hand. “Foxx. Wasn’t there a man sitting at the end of the counter there?” Foxx nodded. “There was, yes. An older gentleman, if I recall.” Mary Beth frowned. “He’s gone. In order for him to have left, he would have had to pass straight by us. He didn’t. And I’ve seen him before. My job requires me to remember faces and such, Foxx. I have to in order to work at a busy pub. He was at the Pub the other night when you nearly hit poor old Jimeson with your mug. I also saw him walking along the road just before we drove into whatever it was we were witness to before we came here. He was walking along the roadway. Foxx, could he have something to do with this do you think?”

Foxx stared at the woman across the table from him. How did he miss seeing the old man and how did Mary Beth see him when he hadn’t? “Mary Beth, why didn’t you mention the old man before? He might be important to solving this.”

She looked at Foxx and sighed. “And maybe he’s part of the problem, Foxx. He seems to me to be showing up everywhere there’s trouble. I’m just suggesting we try to find him and speak with him.”

Fox thought long and hard, then shook his head. “I think we should give this over to James and let him handle the questioning. Can you recall what the man looked like? Would you know if we see him again?”

Mary Beth smiled and nodded. “I would know, Foxx. He’s not easy to miss, as he shows himself often. I’m wondering if he’s part of this. Didn’t I hear once that the legend claims the Lady’s father, as well as her warrior and the one who killed him would all return at the same time? I just think it warrants looking into.”

Fox nodded and dug out money for the bill and stood, reaching for Mary Beth’s hand. “Let’s get back on the way, then. James will be looking for us to show up soon, and we’ve dallied here long enough. Shouldn’t be long now.”

The rest of the journey into Dublin went without incident. They pulled up in front of the library and climbed out of the lorry to look for James. Foxx spotted him as he was coming up the walk and went forward to meet him. “Glad you could make it. You remember Mary Beth.”

James nodded and smiled. “I do. Did he have to hog tie you to come along? I didn’t know anyone would be willing to spend time with that mug.”

Mary Beth laughed and shook her head. “I asked to come. I wanted to help him. He’s had a rough time the last little while.” She glanced at Foxx and waited for him to launch into an explanation. Foxx sighed heavily and shook his head. “I think we’ll need tea for that. Maybe when we’re finished here, James can join us for lunch?”

Mary Beth didn’t agree. “Foxx, he’s a busy man.” She turned to James. “Foxx has been having visions, I suppose you could call them.” She launched into the telling of them from the Jameson problem at the pub to the battle vision they both shared on their way into the city. But she never mentioned the old man she had kept seeing. Foxx puzzled that as they made their way into the library and into the historical section where the history of Ireland, both legend and fact, was stored.

Pulling Mary Beth aside, he asked her quietly why she hadn’t mentioned the old man. Mary Beth shrugged and shook her head. “Because I’m not sure where he fits, Foxx. If he’s part of the visions or part of the reality. Until we know for certain sure, we can’t mention him or James will be trying to find him, thinking he’s real. He may be a part of this, Foxx, but I think we need to decide what role he plays before we include him in our conversations with James.”

Mary Beth turned and started to follow James into the library. “You coming, Foxx? Daylight is wasting.”

Foxx followed, still puzzling over Mary Beth’s words when his cell buzzed angrily in his pocket. He frowned when he saw it was his own phone. “Mum? Are you alright?” There was static on the line before foxx heard the female voice.

“She’s fine, Foxx, for now. She’s had a bit of a scare and I’ll remain with her until you get home. She said someone had been in her house and she didn’t know where you were.”

“Mrs. Kelly. She knew where I’d gone. I’m in Dublin at the library. Mary Beth is with me and we’re doing some work. Who was in the house? When we left, she was in the kitchen making food for the Ceili. She wouldn’t allow me to call you. She said she was fine and she appeared so. Have you called the Dr? I can’t come just yet, but can you stay with her until I get back?”

Maggie Kelly agreed to stay, assuring Foxx his mother was fine in every aspect. She’d just had a fright, was all. She would speak to Foxx when he returned home. Foxx clicked off his phone, bewildered by the turn of events at home. He felt Mary Beth’s hand on his arm and turned to her.

“Mrs. Kelly is with my mother. She’s had a scare and told Mrs. Kelly there had been someone in the house with her. She’ll stay with my mother until I get back. I should have called her before I left.” With a heavy sigh, Foxx shook his head and went on into the library. Mary Beth wasn’t so sure that Foxx’s mother was scared. Something about this phone call made her stomach roil. “Mrs. Kelly,” Foxx continued on, “told me that my mother didn’t know where I had gone. We both told her where we were going, didn’t we?”

Foxx furrowed his brow in thought. He wasn’t sure of anything at this point except that he was unsure what was happening around him. His world had shifted sharply and he wasn’t sure he liked the way it was now.

Mary Beth nodded. “We told her, Foxx. Perhaps you should have the doctor look in on her when we return. It sounds like she’s had a spell of some sort.”

Foxx nodded with a heavy sigh. He really didn’t need this on top of everything else. He nodded to the old gentleman reading the news, not paying much mind. Mary Beth stopped to stare and the old man looked up from his paper and winked at her. She managed a smile, then moved away from him right away.

“Foxx. That old man reading the paper. It’s him, he’s the one who shows up every time something happens. Foxx? Foxx!”

Foxx was on his knees, grasping his head as if he were in pain. Blood dripped from his nose as James knelt over him protectively. Mary Beth turned toward the reading section, but the old man was gone. She pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket and held it out to Foxx, who couldn’t have been more surprised. He took it from her to staunch the flow of blood, but his eyes were distant and had the look Mary Beth recognized from the tavern the night before when he attacked Jimeson.

“Foxx, we’re at the library in Dublin. Remember? James is here as well. What are you seeing, Foxx? What’s happened?”

Foxx came out of his stupor more slowly this time. He blinked at Mary Beth and James, confused and dazzled.

“I wasn’t here. I’d stepped onto a battlefield the minute I stepped into this room. I was more than observing this time. I was swinging a battle ax and I felt it when it struck, felt the warm blood on my hands. Jesus and Mary, I feel sick. I’ve never...I haven’t...sweet mother of Hades!” He cringed as the memory of what he had seen flooded back and overwhelmed him.

James pulled him to his feet and got him into a chair. “Foxx, what’s this all about? What’s going on here? Tell me, man! If you’re sick, we can get you to a hospital.”

Foxx smiled up at his friend. “I’m not sick. At least, not in the way you mean. This all started when I saw that gauntlet at the Dance. I’ve been tossed into and out of battle scenes ever since. Mary Beth is too kind to tell you that I nearly killed Jimeson with my beer mug last night at the pub. If it hadn’t been for Murphy, you’d have me in custody for murder right now. I wish I knew what the in Jesus’ name is going on, but I haven’t a clue other than I’m not feeling very well at the moment. By the Saints, James, I was killing men with a battle ax. I could feel every strike, smell the blood, feel it warm on my hands. That’s why we’re here. I need to research that particular Dance and see if I can make sense of this before my head explodes. I was hoping you could give me a hand when you have time to spare.”

James stared at his lifelong friend and shook his head. “I have some time coming up. Nearly four weeks of vacation time. I’ll put in for it today and you’ll have me for those four weeks. I can spare the time, Foxx. Let me help you. The last thing I want is to arrest you or see you sick and in hospital.”

He changed focus and turned to Mary Beth. “I want to know every time he has a spell. Where he is and what’s happened starting now. You mentioned to him about an old man in the reading room. I didn’t see anyone. How does he fit into this?”

Mary Beth sighed. “I’m not sure, James. But anytime I’ve been with Foxx and he’s had a spell, the old man was there. Either just before or just after. When I go to speak to him, he’s gone. I’m not sure if he fades away or leaves and I don’t see him do so, but he’s gone.”

James nodded and handed Mary Beth a calling card. “My cell number and home phone. I don’t care what time of day or night, Mary Beth. You call me when he needs me. I know you’re there with him, but you aren’t an investigator. We’ll figure this out soon. Foxx? You want to stay and research or go on home and leave that up to me?”

Foxx, grateful to his friend, shook his head. “I’ll stay. I’m feeling better and I need to do this. I need to look into this, even with help from the two of you. I won’t rest easy at home, waiting. I’m better doing, James, you know me well enough to know that.”

The police captain nodded and smiled. “Then I think we need to get going on it. The sooner we find information, perhaps the sooner we can solve this. Come on. We’ll hit the research room first. It has listings of all the historical sites and small stories about each one. Once we find the one we want, we can cross reference to the bigger books and the tales that go along with it. If we can find one answer, we can find the rest.”