Her father awaited her in the foyer. He had no bag and no coat, and she scanned the foyer.
"Forgive me, daughter, but I can't go with you," he said and glanced at his watch. "You go on ahead. I'll drive out tomorrow."
"Father, I'd rather-"
"No," he said sharply. "You'll go now."
She flinched, but he didn't hit her this time. The strange note was in his voice again. Instead of speaking, she kissed him on the cheek and hurried out the door, where her car had already been pulled in front of the manor. She darted through the cold rain into the warm car and tossed her things in back. Her father stood in the doorway of the house, framed against the light of the foyer.
Shivering, she couldn't help thinking something was very wrong. She drove the winding roads from her father's manor through County Clare and south towards the Cliffs of Moher to Doolin, one of her favorite day trips. The sun set too early on the autumn day, and she finished the trip to Doolin in darkness. She went to the main strip, where the pubs were not yet busy in the early evening.
"Your father called, Yully! I saved your seat!" the bartender called as she entered. "Nice seein' ya in town again."
"Thanks, Sean," she replied with a wave. She shook off the rain in the doorway and crossed to the small booth near the bar that she and her father usually shared.
"Ye want the usual?" Sean asked. A burly redhead who towered over her, his face was flushed from the heat of the warm pub. She'd always felt comfortable around him. He was one of the only people who didn't shy away from her or treat her like she was a leper. Once, she thought she'd seen the same shimmer of power around him that she saw around her father.
"Yes, thanks, Sean." She peeled off the thick coat and draped it over one bench before seating herself facing the door, as her father had taught her. Sean brought her a bowl of thick beef stew, soda bread, and a Coke.
"You fall again?" he asked, gaze on her bruised cheekbone.
"Yeah." She looked away. He said nothing else and moved away.
Yully ate slowly, enjoying the stew enough to start a second bowl. Some of the locals she knew from her frequent visits seated themselves before Sean at the bar. One glanced her way, his gaze lingering. Self-conscious of the effect her gift had on people, she moved deeper into the booth. Normally, she'd leave before it got too crowded; her father preferred she avoided people altogether. With nothing but her troubled thoughts, the cold rain, and a lonely room in the bed and breakfast down the road, she didn't feel like leaving just yet.