Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen)

by Stina Leicht

  She spoke to the wall, not to him. “Was making cocoa. Your fath—Patrick called. Father Murray said—” She stopped herself. “I suppose this means you won’t be staying?”

  “No, I won’t.”

  Nodding, her jaw twitched and for a moment the tight line that was her mouth softened.

  “Ma is in trouble.” He was babbling a bit. He wasn’t entirely sure why. She affected him like that. Always had. He shrugged on the coat.

  His Gran blinked. “You were almost dead yesterday. Now, you’re on your feet as if nothing happened.”

  He waited for whatever it was she would say next. He didn’t expect it’d be grandmotherly. To his experience, it never was. His heart was beating fast, slamming against his breastbone hard enough for her to hear.

  “You’re one of Them, aren’t you?” she asked in a whisper. “I knew it. Saw it in you from the start.”

  Saw it in you—

  No. Liam clamped down on a bolt of anxiety.

  “Even as a babe your eyes were never right. Red, they were. Like fire. I saw it. Send that boy to Church, I said. See he gets baptized. I was wrong.”

  “I must go, Gran.”

  “You never had a soul to save. You and Him both.”

  Clutching his rising anger in one fist, Liam moved to push past her, but she grabbed his arm, and it brought him up short. She was stronger than she appeared. There was iron in his Gran. Steel. No other element sprang to mind when he thought of her.

  “She was a wayward child, our Kathleen. My William wanted to send her off. To the nuns. To the Laundry.” She tugged at the sleeve of his shirt. “I wouldn’t stand for it. That place. As much as a death sentence, that. For what? You? Still, she wouldn’t give you up.” She scrunched up her face in disgust. He moved to jerk away, but she clutched tighter. “No more than I would give her up. It’s the way of it.” She clamped down upon his arm with both hands, and it hurt. “You find her.”

  Father Murray walked into the hallway carrying a large duffel bag over one shoulder, and stopped. It was obvious to Liam that his Gran wasn’t aware the priest was behind her. She didn’t move. Liam couldn’t remember a time when she’d so much as touched him, but there she was, staring up into his face with fierce eyes and tears shining on her pale cheeks. She was a specter in the half-light coming from the next room.

  “Find my daughter before it’s too late. She’s your mother. If there’s anything human in you, you’ll find her. Do that and—”She swallowed, shutting her eyes with a shudder. “I will accept you as my grandson.”

  He wanted to tell her to sod off, but the lump in his throat prevented it. She seemed to be waiting for something from him. Her eyes were almost pleading—as close to it as he’d ever witnessed in his entire existence. Her grip on his arm tightened, and her neat fingernails were digging into his skin. Father Murray mouthed, Go on.

  Liam gave her a nod and that was it. She finally released him.

  “Go,” she said. “Bring her home. Alive.”

  “We should leave,” Father Murray said. “It’s been too long as it is.”

  Liam followed Father Murray out of the house to an ecumenical black 1970 Volkswagen Beetle held together with leprous patches of body repair putty. Liam paused before getting in. “I don’t fucking understand her.”

  “Who?” Father Murray asked, opening the driver’s side door.

  Liam looked back at the house. “Gran.” He climbed into the passenger seat. The Beetle’s engine snarled and then let out its distinctive purr. It rolled backward as Father Murray shifted into gear and let up on the clutch. Liam winced as the transmission gears ground together before catching and driving the car forward.

  “She loves her family,” Father Murray said. “What’s to understand?”

  “Are you fucking joking?” Liam asked. “All she’s ever done is make Ma’s life a misery. She never once used my name. Referred to me as ‘that creature’ ever since I can remember. My own Gran. Hated me from the day I was born. And now she’ll claim me?”

  Father Murray sighed. “She’s attempting to tell you something the only way she knows how.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Turning, Father Murray’s face was a mix of emotions. “She doesn’t understand who you are or even what you are. You terrify her. But she loves you.”

  Liam blinked. “That’s not what it sounded like.”

  “Nonetheless, it is what she was trying to say.”

  They drove in silence through the sleeping city. Liam couldn’t make out where they were headed. He tried to relax anyway. Based upon Father Murray’s circuitous route, there was time before he’d have to be ready to do anything. He shut his eyes and leaned back. When they pulled up in front of St. Brendan’s he understood that Father Murray had gone the long way around to avoid a checkpoint.

  The engine stopped purring and coughed once before quieting.

  “Why are we here?” Liam asked.

  “It’s one of the places I can contact your father,” Father Murray said. He climbed out of the VW Beetle and headed for the churchyard.

  My real father, Liam thought. “Why is it you can reach him but I can’t?”

  “I’ve only seen him myself three or four times counting the day before. And he didn’t permit me to contact him until recently. Even then, he doesn’t always show himself.”

  “You don’t know for certain if you can contact him?” Liam ran to catch up. “Why are we wasting the time? Why are we not looking for my Ma?”

  Father Murray produced a white envelope from his coat pocket. “This is why.”

  Liam opened the envelope and slid the note card free. The handwriting was so ornate that he could barely make out the words. His stomach did a sick lurch. He’d seen the like once before. Among the destruction that had once been the home he’d shared with Mary Kate. His skin prickled, and he shuddered.

  Meet at the stone circle, it read. The one that Roman Catholic whore led you to. Raven’s Hill. Bring Bran and his bastard. Tonight. Before dawn.

  “What the hell is this about?” Liam asked.

  Father Murray pushed the iron gate. The hinges screamed displeasure as if angry for being awakened at such an hour. “This was also inside.” He turned and placed a small disc in Liam’s palm.

  Tilting it toward the light, Liam recognized it at once. First, Mary Kate. Now, Ma. “It’s that coin. The one I found the night Mary Kate died.”

  “It isn’t the same,” Father Murray said. “It’s another just like it. The note is from the Redcap. The creature you told me you saw the day you were arrested. The one that almost beat your head in.”

  “You’re telling me a bogey man is responsible for Mary Kate’s death?” Liam went through the gate after Father Murray. “Was Loyalists. The fucking RUC. I saw them.” The fourth trail had led to nothing. As if the man had vanished.

  “That may be so,” Father Murray said. “But the Redcap was there as well. That coin proves it.”

  “How?”

  “There’s not much time to explain,” Father Murray said, stopping under a huge oak tree at the back of the churchyard. “But it was what I needed to confirm that day. When I left you. Before the—before you were hurt. I told your father about the coin that day. It’s why he was able to find you as soon as he did. You’d have died.”

  “So, that thing I saw all those years ago. It was real? I’m not mad?”

  “You’re real. Your father is real. Fallen angels are real. Why not your father’s sworn enemy?”

  “He hates my father, but he came for Mary Kate and me and now Ma?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “All that time I thought I was going off my nut. There was a real danger, and no one thought to fucking tell me about it?”

  “We were protecting you.”

  “Protecting? Why is it whenever someone lies to me they say it’s for my own good? Mary Kate died, Father. Because of me. How is that protection?” The tingling in his arms was getting worse.
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  “I didn’t think it was my place. I made a mistake—”

  “Another mistake? Father, any more of your mistakes, and I’m not likely to fucking survive it.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. But there’ll be no more hiding the truth. I said so before, and I’m serious.” Father Murray looked at his watch and then up at the night sky. “Well, I suppose we should get this over with.”

  “What is it you have to do?” Liam felt suddenly uneasy.

  “Call his name. Your mother says that anywhere with a connection to the Other Side will work. A churchyard is easiest to find.” Father Murray closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Bran? Are you here?”

  Liam searched for a sign. He looked up at the sky and then the trees. Anything. Nothing happened. No sound. No movement. “Father—”

  “We need you. Your son needs you,” Father Murray said. “Kathleen Kelly is in danger.”

  A wind gust swirled through the graveyard, sprinkling them with moisture the leaves had collected earlier in the night. Liam pulled his borrowed anorak tighter as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like this at all. He felt a shimmer in the air before he heard an echoing whisper in the wind.

  “My Kathleen.”

  Swallowing, Liam shifted so that his back was to the big tree.

  “She’s gone,” Father Murray said. “It appears the Redcap took her.”

  “You’re certain of this, priest?” Bran’s voice came from behind the big Celtic cross at the center of the churchyard.

  “I am. He sent a message,” Father Murray said.

  Liam caught the scent of old forest, blood and campfire before Bran appeared from behind the granite cross. He was dressed for a battle—a silver torc at his neck and a leather breastplate over a linen shirt and baggy trousers. He held a spear and carried a sword in a leather scabbard. A round wooden shield was strapped to his back. His clothes were dirty, torn and bloodstained. His eyes glowed red in the darkness. There was something about him that spoke of ancient power. Danger.

  Bran’s eyes flashed red, and Liam understood he was staring back. “You’ve decided to live, have you?”

  Before Liam could come up with a retort Father Murray interrupted, motioning for Liam to hand over the envelope. “I discovered this note on my car an hour ago. I didn’t find it until after Patrick called to say she was missing. He’s called the RUC as well.”

  Bran scowled at the sound of Patrick’s name.

  “The envelope contained one of those coins,” Father Murray said. “Incase there was doubt, I assume. I thought you said the Redcap was in prison and would remain there?”

  “I was deceived. And that was the least of the Queen’s betrayals.” Bran set the spear into the ground with an angry thump and then accepted the note from Father Murray. “Cross it! The creature is mad. His timing is—” Then suddenly, his expression changed from defeated to calculating. “Of course. That was the plan all along, was it not?” He took in a deep breath and then released it. “Right. There is something I must see to first. I will meet you both at the Raven’s Hill, priest. Do not enter the circle. Either of you. Not until I’m there. Understood?”

  Father Murray nodded.

  “What is this about?” Liam asked.

  “The short of it is—you and your mother have been caught up in a war that is not of your making.”

  “Damn you, I had a family!” Liam took a step forward with a clenched fist.

  Father Murray put a restraining hand on his arm.

  “Until recently, I thought I’d handled the problem,” Bran said. “I thought you and yours were safe. By the time I understood otherwise it was too late. Your wife was— I’m so sorry.”

  “Because of you. And now that thing has Ma. Because of you. Why couldn’t you be arsed to marry her proper in the first place? Or was it because of me? Was it because you had no need of the responsibility?”

  “You’ve no understanding of the matter at all.” Angry, Bran freed the spear from the ground. He paused and the rage faded. “But then how could you? We’ll discuss it. Later. After this is done. You, your mother and I.”

  “Aye. We fucking will,” Liam said. “I promise you.”

  “Come on, Liam,” Father Murray said.

  “I’ll meet you at the road. At the bottom of Raven’s Hill,” Bran said. He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes flashed once before he vanished behind the big stone cross.

  “Liam, we should go. It’s a drive.” Father Murray tugged on his arm.

  Liam followed him out of the graveyard, slamming the gate. He got to the car and threw himself inside the Beetle.

  Silent, Father Murray turned the key. He waited to speak until they were out of the car park. “Are you all right?”

  “Me? I’m fucking grand.” Liam stared out at the empty road and tried to get control of the roaring in the back of his head. He knew this wasn’t the time or place. His mother was more important, and he was determined to not let himself banjax everything by throwing a childish fit for being treated like a wean.

  “We can’t go into this divided.”

  Liam slammed a fist into the dashboard. “Don’t you think I know that!”

  Father Murray swallowed. He seemed to be running through a list of things to say, and Liam wondered which Uni Psychology textbook had anything to say about out-of-control Fey.

  Stop it, he thought. He reached into his pocket, brought out his lighter and ran a finger over the tricolor painted on it. He took a deep breath. “Was just wondering what Mary Kate would have thought about all this.”

  “And?”

  Liam gripped the square of steel tight in the palm of his hand. “I think she’d tell me I was being an arse.”

  “It’s quite a lot to process.”

  Liam nodded.

  “That said, I’ve some bad news.”

  “Aye?”

  “We can’t avoid all the checkpoints on the way out of Derry.”

  Liam felt a grim smile spread over his face. “And so I thought. When the BAs stop us what are they going to find in your wee gym bag, Father?”

  Father Murray’s mouth twitched. “A pistol, a rifle, ammunition and several knives.”

  Liam whistled. “An impressive arsenal for a pacifist.”

  “You know, I never told you I was a pacifist.”

  “How did you come by all this?”

  “Sacred dispensation.” Father Murray shrugged.

  “I thought you quit.”

  “I did,” Father Murray said. “Can I help that no one bothered to ask me to return my weapons?”

  “And you thought we’d need all this tonight?”

  Father Murray looked away. “I’m familiar with the Fallen, but I’ve never dealt with the Fey before—at least not to my knowledge. The Redcap doesn’t appear to be the sort that can be reasoned with, and I understand steel can be useful. I thought it best to be prepared,” he said. “I assume you know how to fire a gun?”

  “Aye, I do,” Liam said. “But I was a fucking wheelman, Father. Not the bloody infantry. And while I’m a fair shot I’m certainly no sniper.”

  “Were you any good at it? The driving?”

  “According to Oran,” Liam said, “I was the best the ’Ra had ever seen.”

  “Right.” Father Murray slowed the car and steered to the side of the street. “I don’t know the first thing about running Army checkpoints.”

  “Clearly. We should give this serious consideration, Father.”

  “All right. Do you have a better idea?”

  There was no time for preparation. Volkswagen Beetles, while common, tended to stand out a bit more than a Ford four-door. He didn’t know the car, and there wasn’t time to get acquainted. Although he could certainly drive it, he wasn’t certain he could trust it—given the state of the clutch. He didn’t know the last time Father Murray had had the thing looked at by a mechanic, or even if the mechanic was good at his job. Once they were through, there were other fact
ors to consider. What were the road conditions like outside of Derry? Not good, more than likely. The shortest way out of town would be Rossville Street to William Street to Creggan Road and straight out to Groarty Road. How would the BAs respond? How many helicopters would they have access to? How good were the Derry Peelers? There wasn’t much out there. Not many places to hide and certainly not much room to evade both the Peelers and the BAs. Could he afford to be chased all the way up to the Raven’s Hill? They needed to get where they were going quickly, but they also needed to do it quietly.

  Too risky. Too many factors over which he had no control.

  Liam remembered the times when he’d walked through the Shankill after dumping stolen cars and came to a decision. “Give me your wee bag. Before we get to the checkpoint I’ll get out of the car and walk. You drive up. Talk to the nice murdering bastards. When you’re done I’ll meet you on the other side.”

  “You’ll be caught. And if you’re caught with guns you’ll never see the outside world again.”

  “They won’t notice me if I don’t want them to, Father. I’ve done it before. Can’t explain why it works, but it does.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “If you think this car can handle the road as well as a RS1600 and hold together in spite of being driven through a wooden barrier, and if you’re willing to do for a few BAs as we run through, and if you think we can do it without you getting hit with a stray bullet… well, I’m willing to reconsider your proposition.”

  Father Murray slumped.

  “It’s better this way. If I do get stopped, you can still make the meeting. Tell my father—” The words felt strange on his lips, but it didn’t feel right using his name.“—what happened. We can sort it out later. Anyway, we’ve established it’s not me that fuck wants. It’s him.”