Sample Pages 9-Oíche Dáta, Deasghnátha, agus Cosantóirí Saol

“Not many want to take the tour here these days, I’m afraid. I’m Michael, and I’ll be glad to give you the tour.” He certainly knew his stuff. “The best known accounts of the Bostwyck-Needhams lay back in the mists of time. Not much is known of the early family; we know that the Second Lord Bostwyck-Needham married an Irish commonwoman and was killed by a servant as a result. His son, the Third Lord Bostwyck-Needham, lived a long life and had numerous children. Harold, the Twelfth Lord Bostwyck-Needham, died of pneumonia. But the Twenty-Third Lord Bostwyck-Needham, John, was best known-and reviled by some-for his work behind the scenes with both the founding of the Bank of England and the smoothing out of relations between some of the nobility and William and Mary.” Angie nodded, thinking to herself “Buster, you don’t know the half of that story” He turned and smiled disarmingly at her. “I beg to differ with you, Mrs. Sullivan. I know many of the stories well, because I’m Michael Bostwyck-Needham…the Thirty-Sixth Lord Bostwyck-Needham, Duke of Garrett, Earl of Crane’s Dell, Defender of Leedinghamshire and Knight of the Realm. I’m a telepath, as are many of my forebears. Forgive my impertinence for reading your mind; I know you find it rude to do so without permission. Since it’s just the two of us with cumais on the tour, allow me to show better hospitality to you by getting us some tea-so we can talk where we won’t be disturbed.”

————–

“Hey, Dad, can we chat a moment? Gwenny, you too.” Tom looked at his youngest. “If thou wishest to say something, then by all means….” Lance shot a dirty look at his father. **Not out loud. I don’t want Mom to get all freaked out.** Tom motioned to him, and Gwen drew near as well. **What’s up, Lance?** she asked, touching his shoulder. **Bad news from Art. The feds are looking for us.** **Why wouldst they do such a thing, Lancelot? We payest the IRS, we hold up our….** **Not us specifically, Dad. Us being Cosantóirí.” Tom scowled. **Lance, if thou art pulling my leg, I shall….** **Sorry, Dad. Art called, said one of his tribe members just told him not that long ago. They’re looking for psionic adults and college aged kids, so Gwen and I should be okay. Should is the operative word, this is the government, after all. You’ll probably see them over at County Community.** **What is this thing of which you speak, this tribe?** Lance looked at him. **That’s going to have to be our little secret, like a few other things we keep from Mom.** **Understood, Lancelot, though I wishest I knew more. Guinevere, thou shalt sayest nothing, ever-or I shall ground thee until thou art fifty.** **Understood, Dad.** Lance nodded and let them go, then followed Gwen into her room. **Gwenny, Art sent a special greeting to you-and warned you especially to stay clear. He knew something I didn’t. Please tell me you don’t have a fake ID.** She reached into her purse, pulled out a card and showed it to him. He glared at her. **You wanna get in trouble with Dad, fine. But for pete’s sake….** She turned and tossed it in the shredder, and shredded it. He raised an eyebrow. **What’d you do that for?** She grabbed his wrist. **Baby bro, I’ve had that for a year. The thing is worse than useless-and if they do come looking for high schoolers, the last thing I need is something showing me as a few years older. And after watching Art and Monica, and now this, I think it’s time I grew up just a little.** She smiled, then batted her younger brother on the head. **I don’t need telepathy to know what just went through your head, brat.**

————–

Cait had walked in and was back toward Russ’ office when she heard part of a phone call. She stopped, and while Russ’ business was not her business, she couldn’t help but overhear part of the conversation. “Sure thing. I can bring those for you when I get in. I’ll take care of ár Jill, not to worry. I have to go now; Cait will be here any minute.” A pause, then “I’ll see you then. Looking forward to spending some time with you. Grá agat freisin, mil. G’bye.”

Cait was instantly angry. She knew Jill was out front talking to Ryan, and here was Russ, professing his love for someone on the phone! She couldn’t help herself. She barged into Russ’ office. “Hi, Caitlin. What’s…” “Don’t you ‘Hi, Caitlin’ me, you weasel! How could you do that to Aunt Jill?” Tears were forming in her eyes. Russ was confused. “Do what to ár Jill?” “I heard the last part of your phone call. Dammit, Uncle Russ, I have half a mind to tell her you’re cheating on her! I know enough gaeilge to know when someone’s telling another they love them!” Russ looked at her, and started laughing. “Oh, that. I was just talking with ár Sue….” “Oh, that’s even worse!”  Ryan and Jill had wandered back, wondering what was keeping Russ and Caitlin. “What’s worse, dear?” Jill asked as she walked in. “Just got off the phone with ár Sue. Wants me to bring some rolls home, and wanted to know if I’m free tonight.” Jill shrugged. “For how long? Couple of hours, or all night?” Cait just sat there, dumbfounded. Ryan-who knew what was going on-just sat there like this discussion was absolutely normal. “Couple of hours; she knows you have a massage seminar tonight and wanted to throw darts down at the pub. Though if I know her, she’ll want to drag me off to Lookout Point for a few minutes when we’re done.” Cait was looking angry now. “Lookout Point? Uncle Russ, you’re cruel! Aunt Jill, he told her he loved her!” Jill looked at her calmly. “I’m sure he did, Caitlin. That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

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