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Dublin had been great, in St. Patrick's Day preparation fever, and no one had noticed two more Americans. Having started to battle his way through Ulysses, Connor dragged Harry to several of the relevant spots; they also visited Oscar Wilde's birthplace at Merrion Square, feeling vaguely self-conscious about it, and were stupid enough to enter a beer drinking competition in a pub. The headaches on the morning after when they started to hit the road by car were well-deserved.
Connor could see why Ireland was called "the green island"; some of the roads were literary tunnels of green made of bushes and trees, and as it stopped raining about twelve times a day with bursts of bright sunshine, you could see the first spring buds glistening. Driving on the left side was weird, but after reading Kara's slander of his driving abilities which Harry had not refuted, he wasn't about to let Mr. Osborn have a go at the wheel. Well, at least not on the first day.
Once they ended up in County Galway, Harry couldn't resist renting a Norman Castle. If you couldn't kid your own daddy issues, who would? Besides, Loughrea was stunning. Normally, other guests would have been there - there were seven bedrooms, three in the tower - but currently, there were renovations, and it had taken a healthy bribe to allow them the use of it anyway. On top of everything it wasn't even that far from the village where once upon a time, a young man named Liam had lived and died in 1753, and had returned to the horror of all the inhabitants.
The village hadn't been difficult to find. An event that had wiped out the entire population in 1753 had become legendary, and there were several ghost stories to explain what had happened. Connor wasn't expecting any ghosts. But he did want to see it. Maybe because he owed it to Angel's victims, and maybe because he wanted to know where he came from, and maybe because he was just curious.
Harry was still unpacking - for some reason, two jeans and two sweat shirts, which had seemed a reasonable amount of luggage to take along to Connor, had not cut it with Harry Osborn - so Connor suggested he'd do a preliminary expedition on his own, and that they'd then investigate the castle afterwards. Leaving the castle, he could see one of the repair workers lighting a pipe out of the corner of his eye and figured it would be quitting time for them soon.
The modern village didn't have any eighteenth century buildings left - they had all been destroyed in various uprisings and civil wars, after the village had been repopulated - but the cemetary was still preserved, and after a while, Connor had tracked them down: the tomb stones, all showing the same year. Then, he found the one with the names he had been looking for: Liam, Beloved Son. Connor and his wife Mary. Kathy, their daughter.
Only Liam was not there, and Connor, kneeling in front of the graves and lighting candles as he had done for Daniel Holtz and his family in a Dublin church before they had left, still didn't know whether it wouldn't have been better if he was. If Liam had not met a blond woman, and if neither of them ever had an offspring.
When he returned to the castle, he was determined to put it behind him for now.
Connor could see why Ireland was called "the green island"; some of the roads were literary tunnels of green made of bushes and trees, and as it stopped raining about twelve times a day with bursts of bright sunshine, you could see the first spring buds glistening. Driving on the left side was weird, but after reading Kara's slander of his driving abilities which Harry had not refuted, he wasn't about to let Mr. Osborn have a go at the wheel. Well, at least not on the first day.
Once they ended up in County Galway, Harry couldn't resist renting a Norman Castle. If you couldn't kid your own daddy issues, who would? Besides, Loughrea was stunning. Normally, other guests would have been there - there were seven bedrooms, three in the tower - but currently, there were renovations, and it had taken a healthy bribe to allow them the use of it anyway. On top of everything it wasn't even that far from the village where once upon a time, a young man named Liam had lived and died in 1753, and had returned to the horror of all the inhabitants.
The village hadn't been difficult to find. An event that had wiped out the entire population in 1753 had become legendary, and there were several ghost stories to explain what had happened. Connor wasn't expecting any ghosts. But he did want to see it. Maybe because he owed it to Angel's victims, and maybe because he wanted to know where he came from, and maybe because he was just curious.
Harry was still unpacking - for some reason, two jeans and two sweat shirts, which had seemed a reasonable amount of luggage to take along to Connor, had not cut it with Harry Osborn - so Connor suggested he'd do a preliminary expedition on his own, and that they'd then investigate the castle afterwards. Leaving the castle, he could see one of the repair workers lighting a pipe out of the corner of his eye and figured it would be quitting time for them soon.
The modern village didn't have any eighteenth century buildings left - they had all been destroyed in various uprisings and civil wars, after the village had been repopulated - but the cemetary was still preserved, and after a while, Connor had tracked them down: the tomb stones, all showing the same year. Then, he found the one with the names he had been looking for: Liam, Beloved Son. Connor and his wife Mary. Kathy, their daughter.
Only Liam was not there, and Connor, kneeling in front of the graves and lighting candles as he had done for Daniel Holtz and his family in a Dublin church before they had left, still didn't know whether it wouldn't have been better if he was. If Liam had not met a blond woman, and if neither of them ever had an offspring.
When he returned to the castle, he was determined to put it behind him for now.
