Satan's Spawn (The Devilish Divas Series, Book 8): Women's Fiction

By M.J. Schiller

Like most good Irish stories, Killian’s is filled with humor and heartache. But with new hope in his life, he struggles to rise above his grief and overcome his past.

--Present-day Ireland (Cork, Kinsale, Old Head)--

“Lucky in love” is certainly not a description fitting for Killian Murphey.

Killian…
Yes, once again, my Bridey has flown, and I am a lost man. How many times can a man fall to his knees and rise again? It’s changed me from a person without a serious thought to a bitter lush I hardly recognize. I want to drink it all away, and if that doesn’t work, get into yet another fight until the physical pain overshadows my ache for her.

But when his aunt’s prattling tongue betrays a secret, Killian’s search for answers leads to Cork and the home of the lovely Fiona McDougal.

Fiona…
When I opened the door and saw him standing there, my stomach took a dive. The spitting image of my son, I knew who he was before he spoke his name. Had he come to take Cal away from me?

Meanwhile, Cal has fallen in love with a fair lass who happens to be his mom’s employee.

While trouble befalls the folks at What’s Your Pint?, the crazy crew of Tag, Bre, Deirdre, and Paddy, along with the locals, still manage to laugh, love and live their lives together amid the turmoil of SATAN’S SPAWN.

Publisher’s Note: This series is a fun look at the serious side of life and will be enjoyed by chick-lit and women’s fiction fans of Elin Hilderbrand, Kevin Kwan, Gail Honeyman, and Lauren Weisberger as well as Emily Griffin. These stories are best enjoyed by mature readers.

The Devilish Divas Series
To Hell in a Coach Bag
Damned if I Do
The Devil You Know
Satan, Line One
Pitchfork in the Road
Sin Worth the Penance
Hell Hath No Fury
Satan’s Spawn

• Language: English
• Publisher: ePublishing Works
• Release date: Mar 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781644572238

M.J. Schiller

Bestselling author M.J. Schiller is a retired lunch lady/romance-romantic suspense writer. She enjoys writing novels whose characters include rock stars, desert princes, teachers, futuristic Knights, construction workers, cops, and a wide variety of others. In her mind everybody has a romance. She is the mother of a twenty-two-year-old and three twenty-year-olds. That's right, triplets! So having recently taught four children to drive, she likes to escape from life on occasion by pretending to be a rock star at karaoke. However…you won’t be seeing her name on any record labels soon.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

OLD HEAD OF KINSALE, IRELAND

Killian

I was a lost man without her. Utterly lost. I mean, how many times can a man be taken down to his knees and yet rise again?

I’d managed my way through the death of my parents, flown to America, made a new life, and fallen in love with my Jo. We built ourselves a thriving business and learned Jo carried a babe. But we lost our child before they even took their first breath, and cancer stole Josephine from me. My world was shattered. But, like I did after my parents’ deaths in the warehouse fire, I clawed my way out of despair, returned to my native Ireland, and fell under Bridey’s spell.

So compelling, she was. Such a light. I wanted to cherish her. Planned to make her mine. Give her my name. Make her my wife. Grow old with her beside me each day. Walk our cliff over the Celtic Sea forever. Watch the wind blow her lovely hair. Smell the heather. Hold her close. But once again my little bird took to flight, and this time I knew she wouldn’t be coming home again. Felt it in my heart. And it was killing me. Destroying me one stinking day at a time.

I knew something was wrong that night she left in the rain—which always seemed to fall on her—but I couldn’t coax it from her. And, as life had taken me down again, I refused to get back up for another beating.

You won, Life. Feck it all.

Luck of the Irish, my arse. Losing my parents and both of the women I loved doesn’t seem very lucky to me.

As my Aunt Deirdre was at the opposite end of the bar having herself a chinwag, I stood on the rungs of my stool, reached across to snag the Jameson’s, and poured myself another wallop. Sometimes, like tonight, Bridey’s absence hit me hard. Maybe it was because of earlier, when I was in the pantry where we first kissed. I swear to God in heaven her unique fragrance washed over me, and I could taste her strawberried lips. I shut the door behind me, sat on a crate in the blackness, and began to shake. Ten seconds before, I’d been fine. But her mystical presence fair took the wind out of me and struck me to the core.

I put myself back together, like I always did, and finished my shift. But now I was half on the way to getting wrote off for the night, scuttered to a whole new level. I was pissed at my weakness, pissed at Bridey, pissed at life. And I didn’t care who knew it, either.

Cam? I addressed Cameron MacElwee, who sat to my right. Have ya ever been in love, lad?

’Ere we go again, Robbie Nyland grumbled from beyond him.

Shut yer trap, Robbie, or I’ll shut it for ya.

Rattling the ice in his tumbler, he muttered, Aye. Sure ya will, sonny boy. He sucked down the dregs of his drink.

I considered taking it up with him, but the donnybrook I was in the night previous shook my auntie, so I let it slide, for the moment.

Aye. I guess ya could say I was, Cam returned thoughtfully.

I tilted my head. Was she true?

He nodded vigorously. Aye. She was true, all right.

Did she leave ya?

He waved a hand. Nah. It was just, the morning after, I didn’t love her no more.

Robbie cut up, slapping the lad’s back and leaning on him for support.

Mind yerself, Robbie, I growled.

He sobered and rose to his feet. Ya know, Killian, he said as he clenched his fists, I’m getting sick and tired of the way yar gob’s always flapping away like a woman’s.

One of our waitresses, Bre McDermott, stopped in mid-stride with a tray full of drinks to scowl at him.

Robbie cleared his throat. No offense, of course.

Hmpf. She stomped off.

I looked at Robbie, searching myself for the strength to stand. I wanted to give him a clattering. Beat the shit out of him. And I wanted to get battered, too. Knocked around until my physical pain took away my ache for her. I glanced at Aunt Deirdre. She hadn’t noticed the row yet. With a sigh, I unfolded myself from my stool like a rusty ladder.

Outside.

Killian— Cam started, rising to get between us. I pushed him back onto his stool. It was mean, but that’s what I’d become. Mean, and desperate angry, my insides gnawing at themselves day after day.

All right, then, Cam quipped, turning to the bar.

I moved toward the front door, and Robbie and a half-dozen others followed me.

The night air bit at my bar-warmed cheeks as I stumbled into the street, faced Robbie, and raised my fists. I’d become a decent fighter since she left, becoming better for the frequency of the altercations.

Robbie shrugged out of his coat. Hold my jacket while I pulverize this fool lush, would ya?

Jude O’Duggan took the article from him and folded it over the railing running along the wooden walkway in front of the building, looking pleased with his role in the proceedings.

Robbie pulled up his sleeves, spit on his hands, and rubbed them together before taking a similar stance to mine.

Come on, Robbie. Give ’im what’s coming, someone jeered.

Steady now, Killian, someone else rooted from the sidelines.

A figure stepped into the street to my right about ten feet away, and I glanced in that direction, angling a little in case I was being doubled up on. Next thing I knew, I was on my arse, flashes of light blinding me and a bolt of pain searing a pathway to my brain. I scrambled to my feet and rushed my opponent, barreling into his midsection and taking him into the sidewalk’s railing. People scattered to get out of our way. Robbie screamed as his back bent unnaturally over the bar.

Son of a bitch! He shoved me off and threw a right hook, which landed solidly on the side of my skull, but I countered with an uppercut to his chin, rocking his head back. Excited shouts and whistles rent the night, and the taste of testosterone and adrenaline permeated the surrounding air. I threw a jab before he could retaliate, but he ducked and came up under my arm, pounding my torso like he was tenderizing beef. The flurry of punches exacerbated the injuries from the night before.

Getting a hand between us, I pushed away and then came at him with roundhouse after roundhouse. The haymakers knocked him back a few feet. He looked dazed for a moment. Seizing my advantage, I pushed forward, but his next blow came at a lightning speed I wouldn’t have guessed him having. Blood spurted from my nose, and the crowd groaned for me. My eye must have been swelling from his initial clout as I was finding it difficult to see clearly, and breathe as well. A second jab jolted me and I tasted blood. Spitting to the side, I came at him. The sharp sounds of flesh meeting flesh and the thumps of body blows were satisfying and cathartic, releasing pent up energy and anger. I struck out blindly and connected, if the surge of the crowd noise was any indicator. My hands were numb, so I couldn’t be sure. I teetered on my feet, whether from the earlier alcohol consumption or the thumps I’d taken, it was hard to tell.

Robbie cursed and pressed forward, landing punches so fast I had no time to react. I received them, one after the other, as if in slow motion, her face swimming before my eyes.

I love you, Killian.

Bam.

The way I feel about you, I felt that way about no other.

Whomp.

I’m yars.

Boom. Crash. Bop.

Scenes played in my head. The kiss in the press. Her, naked in my bed as the sun rose and spread its rays across the quilt wrapped around us. Her smile. Walking on the cliff.

The next blow rattled me and I staggered backward. One more and it was nightie-night.

I woke up as someone was dragging me to the curb. The extension of my limbs put pressure on my core and made me groan.

Well, now. It appears the eejit is alive yet.

They propped me against a pole and swung next to me on the curb, huffing. I didn’t need my swollen shut eye to know it was Rory McDermott and Ryan MacAteer. Where one was, there was the other. As close as two peanuts in a shell. But what were two guys in their nineties lugging me to the curb for?

Something cold and wet slid down my cheek. I licked my lips and the metallic taste of blood turned my stomach. I could only lift my head halfway up and my vision, what I had of it, was going in and out, so I didn’t see it coming. Ice water doused me, shocking my senses. I gasped and shook my head violently, regretting it in an instant.

Heh-heh-heh, the old men cackled.

I panted, my heart rate accelerating with the shock of my brisk impromptu shower. If I had an ounce of energy, I growled faintly, or an inch of unbruised flesh…I’d be giving the two of yous the beating of your life.

Rory’s laughing came to a wheezing stop as he shook the empty water glass in my face. Yeah? We’re not scared of ya.

Rory Colman McDermott! My auntie’s sweet, fierce little voice was easily recognizable.

He looked up from under his bushy eyebrows. Now her—her I’m afraid of, he muttered, rising.

Aye. She could hurt ya. She could make ya pay your tab, his partner commented, which sent them off in chortles again until Auntie leveled them with a withering glare.

And you, Ryan MacAteer. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Pickin’ on a poor lost soul like this. She bent her roundish figure and circled my waist with her arm, trying to help support me and raise me from the ground.

Rory spat to the side. Ya know, you’re only encouraging his shenanigans. The lad’s plain twisted.

She led me forward a few feet. I can see for my own eyes he’s pure buckled, Rory, without the likes of you letting on.

Come now. Look at the boy. He’s as useless as a cigarette lighter on a motor bike, he is, Ryan added. He quickly shut his gob, though, when another savage scowl put him in his place.

"You mean to tell me the two of yous ain’t never slid your arses off my barstools because you were too ossified to even sit straight? Is that what you’re sayin’?

Well, no. You’d never hear that from me, Rory spouted.

At the same time, Ryan declared, Of course not.

Then I say you best let Gawd do the judgin’ and you leave well enough alone with it. Besides, she studied me, raising her brows until they disappeared into her hair, Killian knows I’m not exactly high on his scrapping, don’t ya lad? She frowned at the end.

I sighed, wincing as it made my chest ache. Aye, auntie. I’m remorseful. Truly.

Hmm, she responded doubtfully. Which was fair. I’d given her my share of things to doubt in the past months.

Clinging to her shoulder, I failed to get my foot high enough to clear the curb and pitched some. The jerk it caused sent a shock of pain through my middle. I wrapped my free arm round it with a moan.

Break a rib, did ya? my aunt asked. The worry in her eyes pained me more than the rebuke did.

I sucked in a breath. No. I’m fair.

She gave another hum of skepticism. Throwing a glance behind her, she barked, The two of yous are as useless as tits on a bull. Git the other side.

The old men fair fell over themselves coming to take my right, Rory slapping at Ryan’s hands when he beat him.

Let’s get ’im to a stool.

The pair managed to plop me unceremoniously onto a stool. I cast my gaze down the bar where Robbie sat holding a dish towel, presumably full of ice, to his cheek. His lip was split and he seemed a bit worse for wear on the whole. I didn’t remember scoring so many points in the fight. He stared at me darkly, but didn’t cross to cause any further damage as he appeared as knackered as I. I’d need to buy him a drink, for sure.

Paddy stood across the bar from him, giving me a disgusted look, too. I wasn’t on my uncle’s list of favorites these days. Anyone who caused his Deir to worry as she did, they were the devil’s best in his eyes. And to think I used to be the good egg, too, compared to their boys. My fall from grace was swift and meteoric.

My aunt came round with a wet bar towel and lifted it to my lip.

I sucked in a hissing breath. That one smarted the most, and I had a feeling she knew it. My sudden intake of air caused my chest to feel like someone was playing pickle ball in there with a boulder. I grimaced and stifled the groan on my lips, my arm again reflexively coming to my middle as if it could block the blow at this late juncture.

I’d wager ya broke another rib. Or irritated the last one. She went to the kitchen and muttered, Barely healed, it was. She returned in minutes. Get his shirt off.

That’s not nec—Oww! Hold it now. Shite!

I was mugged by those blackguards Rory and Ryan. They forced my arms up as they tugged the shirt over my head and the pain fierce took my breath away. And just like that, I was back in my bed the night the bastards beat Bridey and she came to my room, a bloody mess, wheezing like a pair of bellows filled with jelly.

I didn’t know where else to go.

I heard her voice as if she was sitting beside me. I was so scared of losing her that night. Little did I know she’d survive then disappear out of my life months later. After accepting my ring. Damn it to hell, I missed her. Losing her had eclipsed the pain of losing my Josie, as it was fresh, raw, my heart bruising and bleeding as sure as my jaw. I was a dolt for falling for these women so hard. But they were bright, beautiful, strong—they kept me on my toes. And now I was falling on my arse. Usually at the other end of someone’s fist.

I hated this person I’d become. Hated him with a passion. And that self-loathing coupled with my self-pity, made a hard duo to defeat.

You all right? Auntie asked.

No. Aye.

She circled a roll of bandages around my rib cage, passing it from one hand to the other behind my back. You’re a piss poor liar, Killian, she said softly.

I chuckled, shaking my head. Aye. I reached to still her movements, even though it hurt to do so. I’m sorry, Auntie. I don’t like the man I’ve become.

She stared at me for a moment, her eyes glistening. I know ya don’t, love. She started her wrapping again. You’re gonna kill yourself one of these times. Her voice broke at the end, and she pressed her lips together.

I know. I’ll stop. I swear, I will. She’d heard it all before, but she was as foolish as I was to believe it.

Ya ought to take a break. Go fishin’.

Fishin’, huh? I chuckled again. That was Paddy’s game, not mine.

She smiled. Well, maybe not fishin’. Maybe you could take up chess.

Oh, aye. I rolled my eyes. Sounds like quite a romp, that chess.

She raised her chin. You could do with a little less rompin’. She gave me a meaningful look.

Aye. She was worried about tomorrow. I didn’t work, and instead of that being better, it made things worse. Too much time to think. To remember. When I was running my arse off behind the bar, I didn’t have time to think of her face. To think of how it felt to wake and realize she was gone. I huffed out a breath. If I was lucky, I’d be so bushed tonight I would at least have a chance of falling asleep. I’m…umm…going to…the cottage. To do some work there.

My aunt knew I was referring to Bridey’s gaff, but I couldn’t bear to say her name. Are you sure that’s a good idea? She finished her wrapping and tucked the end in. With this? She indicated her first aid job.

No. I squinted up at her. But I need to.

She nodded, sighed, and grabbed my head, tilting it forward to kiss it. Ya’ll be the death of me yet. She spun on her heel and walked away.

I needed to pull myself together and fly right. If for no other reason than the fact that I loved Aunt Deirdre.

CHAPTER 2

CORK, IRELAND

FIONA

His voice through the phone slid over my arms, making the skin prickle with anticipation. It had always been so. But before, in our early days, it was because the smooth, rich bass enticed that bodily reaction, and others, including the gripping of my heart. I was so in love with him. Bought in with everything I had. I had hope at the start. And he was exceedingly good to me, with a deliberateness I failed to see. I should have known someone with those devastatingly dark, handsome looks could only be interested in me as an object to manipulate. But I was naïve.

Time and experience taught me the subtle nuances his voice could hold. Now I could taste the anger simmering beneath the pleasantness, trying to disguise it. The tight control that both kept his tone smooth and caused the fear to squeeze me. I wanted out desperately, but could see no path to lead me there safely.

I pocketed my phone slowly. Maybe I was imagining things. After all, how much could one tell on the phone when he was calling from a crowded bar? While I sensed he was reeling in the chain that bound us together so he could get whatever sick pleasure he did out of torturing me, it could be me overreacting. Either way, it didn’t matter. I would do what he asked and pick him up. I had no choice.

And when I got there, he made me believe, as he always did, that everything was good. I told myself he would be sweet tonight, like in the early days. Maybe because that was what I needed badly.

There’s my gal. Come here, princess. He tugged me to him by the hips and ran his gaze over me. You look nice. That fire in his eyes, I thought, would lead to a heavenly romp in bed. My body reacted, not listening to the faint alarm bells that seemed to ring almost constantly these days. He covered my lips with his, and his tongue slid with skill across mine. The taste of beer on his breath brought with it a response born of the early days, the good times, which I still saw glimpses of every once in a while. He pulled the stool next to him closer and patted the top. Have a seat. What’s yar pleasure? Irish cream? He signaled to the bartender who frowned and approached leisurely. I’ll take another and bring some of your finest Irish cream for my darlin’ Fee.

I cleared my throat. Did ya get a lot of work done today?

He grunted. He was a sculptor but had lost inspiration lately. Something he blamed on me. Aye. Some. He ran his fingers through his long curly hair then took a band from his wrist and secured a section away from his face, leaving the back loose. I loved it that way. He finished the rest of his beer as our drinks arrived. What about you? How was your work today? He smiled at me, and I breathed a little more deeply.

It was good.

He raised his eyebrows. Did ya bring anything home, perchance?

I grinned. I got some of the caramel kind you’re always after. I worked at a bakery, and he loved all of our pastries but had a special fondness for the caramel.

He slapped the bar. Bang on. He put a palm on the outside of my thigh. Yar a good woman. He leaned in to kiss me again, and brought his hand to the back of my head, bunching my hair tightly. I stiffened. He liked to use my hair at times to subdue me. His opposite hand slid along my jeans, all the way to the crotch. With strong fingers, he attempted to stroke me through the fabric.

I tried to pull away to ask him to stop, and he jerked on my hair, keeping me in place as he shoved his tongue deeper. My heartrate picked up, and I was having trouble breathing with the way he was smothering me with his mouth. I pushed on the front of his shoulders and managed to get space between us.

Ronan, don’t.

He clamped onto my crotch. What, you don’t like the way that feels, Fee?

I… I glanced around. The bar was dark, and his movements were fairly hidden in my lap, but he was still drawing some attention. I forced a smile. No. It feels good. I tried to sound as seductive as possible. It feels really good. But let’s wait until we get home. I knew what he would want when we got home. He’d want me on my knees. And he would make it hurt. But at least it wouldn’t be on display for everyone and their mother to see. Most of the time he was fine with keeping his brutishness at home, but every once in a while he got off on showing his dominance in public.

The bartender approached, placed my drink before me, and put Ronan’s down like he was moving in slow motion. He looked from me to Ronan and back. You… he