Ben didn’t seem fazed. “You think I’m afraid of you? A bunch of drunk micks?” There were growls and grumbles and curses from behind Miriam at the slur.
“You should be, boy-o,” came Gramps’ voice, “you’re outnumbered by a quite a fair margin, lad.” Gramps stepped forward to stand nose to nose with Ben. Miriam realized that even though Séan Byrne was stooped with age, he was still a large man, and that he had once been a powerful figure.
“I know you, son,” Gramps said, “I know what you done to this girl. And boy, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here before I kick your teeth straight down your goddamn bloody throat, y’fucking pig.” Gramps’ accent thickened as he spoke, and he seemed to straighten up, sagging muscles gaining firmness, leathery fists turning to chunks of granite.
Ben stared into Gramp’s eyes, hate seething with every breath. “I don’t hit old men,” Ben said, “or I’d kill you for that.”
Gramps huffed, mumbled a curse that Miriam didn’t quite catch, then rocketed a one-two punch combination that sent Ben to the ground, his fists moving faster than Miriam would have thought an old man capable of. “Don’t let that stop you, boy-o,” he said. “Get ‘im, boys.”
Jack, John and William darted forward, grabbed Ben by the arms and legs and carried him out of the banquet hall. Ben was screaming and thrashing, and when the brothers launched him head-first to the ground, he scrambled back up, nose bleeding, and rushed the three Byrnes. William and John stepped aside and let Jack take the rush. Miriam watched as Jack ducked to the side, slapping Ben’s initial fist away and sent a thundering right into Ben’s face, spinning him around. Ben spat blood and scrambled backward, realizing Jack wouldn’t be an easy target. Miriam recognized the look in Ben’s eyes, and it terrified her. She’d seen him do horrible things when he was like this, and she wanted Jack to be no part of it.
“Gramps, please,” she pleaded, “don’t let them do this. Call the police.”
The old man, draining a tumbler of whiskey, waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, the boy’ll be fine, girlie. The boys won’t damage him too much.” She realized he thought she was worried about Ben.
“No, you don’t understand. I’m worried about them.”
Gramps looked at her with incredulity. “Darlin’, he ain’t that scary. He’s a big’un, sure, but you don’t know my boys. They’ll handle him just fine, don’tcha worry none.” He wasn’t going to do anything but watch. If it were anyone besides Ben, he’d be right.
She ran out of the banquet hall, Gramps and Jack’s mom calling after her. She pushed between John and William, who grabbed for her, too late. Jack was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists up, body turned sideways. His nose was bleeding now as well and an eye was purpling; Ben wasn’t faring much better so far.
Just as Miriam reached Jack and caught at his sleeve, John wrapped his burly arms around her midsection and pulled her away, saying, “You’re gonna get hit, you daft girl. Jackie can take him easy.” Miriam tried to thrash free, but John had her held tight. Ben was biding his time, waiting for the right moment; she’d watched him bounce enough drunks out of the bar that she knew his style. He didn’t just toss them out, he followed them into the parking lot and wrecked them, tore them apart. He’d stand his ground, let them hit him a few times, let them think they were winning, and then he’d explode in a fury of fists and feet; not content to just break a nose or black an eye, Ben also had a taste for snapping bones, catching a punch in one hand and using the heel of his palm to crush his opponent’s elbow.
She watched, helpless, unwilling to let the magic free in this moment, knowing she might accidentally hurt John or someone else, not to mention the spectacle of it all. She felt the fires burning, seeking release, and she had to fight herself just to keep it in, keep it down.
Then, her fears came true. Jack threw a quick right jab and Ben blocked it, caught it, and flashed his opposite palm into Jack’s elbow like a lightning strike. Miriam heard the bone snap and Jack bellowed in pain; she screamed, twisted and thrashed with renewed desperation.
“Help him!” she shrieked. John let her go and rushed in. A slow smile spread across Ben’s face as he kicked Jack aside and turned to deal with John. William waited until Ben was tangled up with John and then he joined the fray. William was a stocky man with a barrel chest and buzzed hair the same color as Jack’s. He wrapped a thick arm around Ben’s neck and squeezed, holding the larger Ben nearly aloft, bending backwards to get the proper leverage. John backed away and slugged Ben repeatedly in the stomach. Miriam was at Jack’s side, but he brushed her off until he realized who it was, and then he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away, trying to get her inside. Other family members were crowded around the door at this point, watching. She heard someone in the doorway gasp, and she whirled to see that Ben had thrown William over his shoulder and was lighting into John with a wicked barrage of blows. William was on his back, moaning, struggling to his feet. Jack, cradling his arm, growled, and turned to rejoin the fight.
Miriam felt desperation run through her; these people had welcomed her as family, treated her kindly and with affection. She couldn’t just stand by and watch as Ben tore them apart. Not over her. She wasn’t worth it. Miriam put her hands around Jack’s broken elbow and channeled the magic, felt it respond to her call and rush into Jack, healing him instantly. He looked at her, pain fading from his eyes to be replaced by fear for her. He could tell what she was planning.
“Jack,” she whispered. “I…” she shook her head and turned away from him, feeling something inside her tear open.
Before Jack could stop her, she kicked off her heels and darted in between Ben and John, pushing Ben away with her hands on his chest, meeting his crazed eyes with her own. “Stop, Ben,” she said to him, “please stop. Leave him alone. I’ll–I’ll go with you. Just stop.” Ben backed off, and John staggered away, bleeding from his nose and cuts to his forehead and cheekbones. He was battered and enraged, brushed the blood away and charged back at Ben, but Miriam stopped him.
“No, John, it’s okay. I’ll go.” She couldn’t let anyone get hurt because of her.
John looked down at her, shaking his head. “No, you can’t–”
Jack was beside him, reaching for Miriam. “What are you doing? Miriam, talk to me! You can’t! Don’t do this!”
She only shook her head, turned away. If she looked at Jack, her resolve would weaken. These people would gang up on Ben if she asked them to, and they’d win, eventually, but the cost…too many people would get hurt. Jack’s arm was broken, John was gushing blood from a dozen places and clutching his ribs, and William was still gasping for breath and rubbing his neck where Ben had wrenched it nearly to breaking.
“Stop, all of you,” Miriam pleaded, her voice catching. “I’m so sorry…I caused this. I shouldn’t have come here, I shouldn’t have–” Miriam saw Mary, the bride, standing next to Jack, the hem of her beautiful dress dragging through the dirt of the parking lot. “Mary, I’m so sorry I ruined your wedding…” Miriam’s voice broke then, and she turned to Ben, pushed him to his car.
She heard Jack behind her, still pleading with her, but she heard Gramps’ voice raised over his, “Let her go, son. It’s her choice. Let her go.” Jack seemed close to sobbing, and she heard Gramps say, “if she loves you, son, she’ll find a way.” Oh, Jack.
Miriam slid into the leather seat, hearing Ben’s ragged breathing beside her. “I’m glad you came to your senses, Miri,” he said, wiping blood from his chin. She wasn’t sure this was coming to her senses, but she didn’t know what else to do.
* * *
Ben was silent all the way back to his apartment, and that suited Miriam just fine. She had nothing to say. She had gone with him to stop the violence, not to be with him. The thought of him touching her, after what she’d experienced with Jack…no way. Not again. She would die before letting Ben touch her again. She delved inside herself for the coiled heat of the magic,
seeking its reassurance, felt it brush against her, reach for her.
She followed Ben into his apartment, sat down on the couch and rubbed her aching, blackened feet. She had kicked off her heels and was now shoeless. She desperately wanted to change out of the dress, but she had no clothes here. Except…she glanced at Ben, leaning against a counter in the kitchen, an icepack against his cheek, staring at his phone. She padded on silent feet into Ben’s room, dug in the bottom drawer of the dresser and found a pair of gray U of M sweat pants and long T-shirt with a picture of a long-eared, sad-looking donkey on the front. Eeyore? Really? She hated the thought of wearing her clothes, but anything was better than being on display for Ben.
When she came out, Ben glanced up and saw what she was wearing. “What the hell Miriam? You can’t just go around wearing other people’s clothes. Besides, I liked you in that dress.” He acted like nothing had happened. Like everything was normal.
She stood in the entry to the kitchen, letting her disgust and hate for him show in her eyes, letting her anger boil just beneath the surface. “I don’t care what you like, Ben. I’m not here for you. Nothing has changed, understand that.” She wanted to let the fire burst through her skin, send it out to consume him, but she reigned it in. “I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m nothing to you. No one. I fucking hate you, Ben. I only came with you because those people didn’t deserve that. Not for me”
Ben shifted forward, put his hands on her arms, acting as if he cared. As if he had a single kind bone in his body. “But you came, and that’s what counts.” He leaned in as if to kiss her, and she jerked herself out of his grasp, clenched her fist and swung it at him with all her strength, letting a bit of magic into her arm. She felt her fist connect with his jaw, heard a resounding crack and Ben flew backwards against the wall. He stared at her with shock, spat a tooth out into his palm, along with gobbet of blood and saliva.
“What the fuck, Miriam?” He probed the gap where his tooth had been with his tongue.
“Do not touch me. Don’t you lay a goddamned finger on me,” Miriam said. Her anger was roused, her adrenaline pumping. She didn’t care anymore. He could do what he wanted, say what he wanted. She’d had an amazing man, and she’d walked away from him.
He threw the tooth away, ripped a strip of paper towel from a roll hanging under a cabinet, placed a piece of ice in it and held it against his gum. “I’ll let that one go, but if you ever do that to me again, I’ll–”
“You’ll what?” Miriam interrupted. “Beat me half to death? Oh wait, you already did that. Break my ribs? Crack my cheekbones? Force me to sleep with you? Yep, you’ve done all that too. What’s left, Ben? Or should I even ask that? Are you going to actually rape me, this time? Bring Rachel over here and screw her in front of me? Or the other way around? Or maybe you want a threesome? Is that it? Want us both at the same time?” She grabbed his balls in one hand and squeezed as hard as she could, saying, “Or maybe I should drop to my knees and suck you off, like a good little girlfriend? But then, I wasn’t ever your girlfriend, was I? I was just a…what did Rachel call me? A side-fuck? A piece of ass on the side?” Ben slapped her hand away, massaging himself gingerly.
“It wasn’t like that,” he mumbled. “Seriously, Miriam, what the hell has gotten into you?” Ben pushed her away from him and retreated to the living room.
“What’s gotten into me? I’m finally past caring what you do or say, that’s what.” She followed him, feeling invincible. She knew he’d snap eventually, but she didn’t care. She’d lost Jack, and that was all that mattered.
“You need to calm down.” Ben sat down and turned on the TV, trying to dismiss her. She grabbed the remote from him and hurled it through the TV screen.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You’ve treated me like shit for three years, you hit me and talk down to me, and what do I do? Do I leave you, like any sane person would? No! I stayed with you, because I thought you cared about me, somehow, deep down maybe, past all the bullshit and the PTSD. But then I find out that you’ve had another girlfriend, the whole time? And she knew about me?” Miriam was pacing in front of Ben, seething and feeling half-crazed.
Ben was speechless at her outburst, staring with comical sadness at his ruined flat-screen. “You crazy bitch,” he finally said, “look what you did to my TV! That thing cost me two-thousand dollars!”
“I don’t give two shits about your TV, Ben!” She grabbed the top of it and pulled it over, threw it to the ground. “I’m sick of you! I hate you!”
“God, Miriam, you’ve really lost it, haven’t you?” He shoved her out of the way, and she could feel his anger starting to rise. He’d actually thought he’d won her back. As if she’d just come crawling back to him like a little puppy dog.
“Yes! I’ve finally lost it, Ben. You crashed Jack’s sister’s wedding. You hurt Jack and John and William, and you probably would’ve hit Gramps if he hadn’t hit you first.”
“Gramps? What are they, your family now? And he hit me. I don’t hit old men.”
“Yes, they’re like family to me. And Gramps is more of a man than you could ever hope to be.”
“You’re starting to piss me off, Miriam. I promised myself I was done hitting you, but you’re making it hard to keep that promise.” Ben turned away from her, righting the TV.
“You think I care if you hit me? I’m used to it. Go ahead. Nothing matters anymore. I walked away from the man I love to keep you from hurting him or his family any worse.” She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t realized she loved Jack, but it had popped out, and she realized how deeply she meant it.
“The man you love?” Ben whirled back to her, fist raised. Miriam didn’t flinch. “You’ve known him for what, two weeks? Three? What about me?”
Miriam laughed, a harsh cough of sarcasm. “You? You think I’ve ever loved you? I was afraid of you. I thought you loved me, or at least cared about me. And then I met Jack and he showed me how a real man loves.”
That one hurt him. “You slept with him? You are a slut, aren’t you?” He was trying to hurt her back now, and succeeding. Miriam threw another punch at him, but he saw this one coming, blocked it lazily, slapped her across the face.
Miriam barely felt it. “Say what you want, Ben. Nothing you say matters.” She wanted to hurt him. She chose her next words with care, wanting them to dig deep. “Sex with Jack was the best thing I’ve ever felt. He knows what I want and how to give it to me. He’s a bigger, better man than you in every single way.” She hadn’t slept with Jack yet, but she wanted to hurt Ben, and that was the quickest way. Rage filled Ben’s eyes, and his fists clenched, lifted. Miriam tilted her head back, kept her hands at her sides. Let him do it, then. She didn’t care. She could use the fire inside to protect herself, but why bother? She’d brought what was coming on herself with her words, and she refused to use her magic to protect herself. Miriam almost laughed out loud, thinking how easily the word ‘magic’ came to her now. She had magic. She was a creature of fire. She didn’t know where it had come from, or why it hadn’t protected her before, or how she had gotten it, and that was a set of questions that needed answering. She waited, expecting a blow that never came. Chest heaving with anger, Ben grabbed Miriam by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her arms. He wrenched open his door and threw her out, hard enough to slam against the far wall.
“Get out of here. Get out before I kill you.” The rage in his eyes was murderous, but he seemed in better control of it than she’d ever seen him. She didn’t question it, though. She turned and fled, hearing the door slam behind her.
Some instinct in Miriam’s gut told her this wasn’t over. Ben wouldn’t let this go, not this easily. Not after the things she’d said.
The walk home was long, and by the time she reached her door, her feet were bleeding. She let them bleed.
Chapter 13: Now
Jack Byrne’s apartment was empty, and the manager had no idea where he was or how long he’d been gone. She did have
his parent’s address, though. Carson and Jenn went there next. They knocked on the door, and an old man answered it.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Carson answered. “I’m Detective Hale and this is Detective Lawrence. We’re looking for Jack Byrne, is he here?” Carson and Jenn both showed him their badges, but the old man didn’t even glance at them.
“No. What do you want with Jackie?”
“Can we come in, Mister…”
“Séan Byrne. I’m Jackie’s grandfather. And you can tell me what you want.”
Carson stifled a sigh. Ornery old people. “We just have a few questions for you, Mister Byrne. We’re investigating the death of Benjamin Omar.”
“Don’t know him.” Carson pulled a folded sheet of printer paper with Ben’s Marine Corps photo, showed it to Séan. “Oh, that one. Right bastard, he is. Well, come on in then, and I’ll tell you what I can, but it ain’t much.”
When they were sitting down in the living room, Carson asked. “Did Jack have any reason to dislike Mister Omar, that you know of?”
“Well of course he did. He hated the way Ben treated Miriam, and wanted nothing more than an excuse to rip into the bastard. He got it too, only it turned out to be a bit more than he could chew.”
“So Jack hated Ben?” Carson tried an obvious, leading question.
“Well sure, but he didn’t do nothing to him. Jackie’s a good boy. They tangled at the wedding, and poor Jackie didn’t come out of it none too well, I’m sorry to say. That boy, Ben you called him? He was a rough customer. Took on all three of my boys and dealt with ‘em handy, too. I coulda taken the boy down, back in my prime, I’ll tell you that for free.”
“At the wedding? When was this?”
“Oh, ‘bout two weeks ago now, I’d say. It was my granddaughter Mary’s wedding. Jack brought Miriam with him. That’s a lovely girl, that Miriam. Quite lovely. Oh, she and Jack make quite a pair, they do, dancin’ together. She was right nervous, poor Miriam was. She don’t have much family, I don’t think, so bein’ around a ruckus bunch like the Byrne’s at a wedding…I can see how it’d make her a bit nervous. Jack kept her calm though, and she even danced with me, and boy, if I was younger, I might give young Jackie a run for his money. That Miriam is a fine woman, a damn fine woman, I tell you.
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