Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen) (11 page)

“Did you see that?” Liam asked.

Mary Kate tugged him by the arm. “They’re only trying to intimidate us. Bastards.”

No,
he thought.
Did you see that thing? It wasn’t human.
Seeing monsters. The tingling. The memory loss. He was beginning to question his sanity, but if he said anything Mary Kate might leave him. “It’s working then.”

“Never mind them. It’s just a short walk and then we’ll listen to some speeches.” She looped her arm through his. “You mentioned something about a wedding. Any idea when it might be?”

Sean snorted, and Mary Kate slapped him on the arm.

Locating Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher among the thousands gathered at Bishop’s Field wasn’t easy. Television and radio crews recorded the crowd as they laughed and chatted. Were it not for the banners he would have sworn it was a festival day. The sun was high in the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen, making the bad feeling in his stomach all the more incongruent. He took a deep breath of cold air and tried to relax, but the beast was still there, muttering dire warnings in the back of his brain.

“Mother!” Mary Kate pushed through the crowd, dragging him with her. Her palm was sweaty, and nervous energy fueled her voice. “We’re here!”

Mrs. Gallagher was in her Sunday best—a brown plaid coat with a hat and tall boots to match. “There you are.”

Liam hung back, uncertain. Mrs. Gallagher studied him as if she were really seeing him for the first time. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gallagher,” Liam said, feeling this was some sort of test.

Mary Kate moved next to her, the pair of them forming a judge’s line. “What do you think, mother?”

“He isn’t much to work with,” she said. “Tall. That’s good. The rest is all elbows, knees and hair.”

“Mother!” Mary Kate said. “Don’t be cruel.”

Mrs. Gallagher opened her arms with a smile. “Come give your future mother-in-law a hug, son. I’ll not bite.”

“Don’t you believe her for a moment,” Mr. Gallagher said and winked. “She has very strong teeth. As does her daughter.”

Mary Kate seemed to relax.

“Your father has good news,” Mrs. Gallagher said, pushing the hair out of Liam’s eyes. “Notice came in the mail yesterday, but it got delivered to Mr. Rooney next door.”

“What?” Mary Kate asked.

Mr. Gallagher grinned. “We’ve been awarded a house. Finally. In the Creggan.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mary Kate said, “Just in time for me to move out.”

“Congratulations,” Liam said.

“Ten years waiting. Didn’t think it’d ever happen,” Mr. Gallagher said.

Officials climbed up into the coal truck at the front of the crowd. One of the men brought a microphone to his lips. It didn’t seem to be working. His voice was lost in the noise of the crowd.

“That’s Bernadette Devlin,” Mary Kate said, pointing to the pretty brunette at the back of the coal truck. Mary Kate knew he didn’t pay attention to politics, but that didn’t stop her from explaining. “Did you know she’s only twenty-five? Elected when she was twenty-one. The youngest member of Parliament in history. I’m going to be just like her.”

Liam shook his head, feeling a blush burn on his cheeks as Sean frowned at him. “You’ll have to go to university first.”

“I’ll pass exams. You’ll see. And you’ll go with me.”

“You know I can’t,” Liam said.

“No one can stop you from going back. You could catch up. You’re not stupid. Sister Margaret. What does she know?”

Not wanting to disappoint her, he nodded.

The coal truck moved down Williams Street and the crowd with it. People sang. Others shouted slogans. Liam thought Mary Kate might be right, that he had worried for nothing—until they reached Aggro Corner. That was when he saw the troops on the roof of the abandoned shirt factory and along the wall near the Presbyterian Church. Something wasn’t right. Unlike the BA regulars, the paratroopers—Liam spotted their red berets—weren’t wearing riot gear. In sniper positions, their guns were pointed at the crowd. Why? Even he knew the IRA was taking the day off, and he had purposely avoided the subject. It gave Liam a chill. As the coal truck sped past Aggro Corner, chaos pressed in. A group bolted down Williams Street, shouting, and he and Mary Kate were carried along with them. Rocks bounced off corrugated iron nailed to the fronts of the burned-out buildings.

“I don’t like this,” he said to no one in particular. He couldn’t have explained why. The situation wasn’t any worse than usual—less so, in fact—but the Paras frightened him. Perhaps it was because this was the first time he’d been near Aggro Corner since his arrest.

“We’re not supposed to be here. We were supposed to go to Rossville Street,” Mary Kate screamed over the crowd. She stumbled. “Liam!” She grabbed for his hand, and he folded himself around her in an attempt to keep her from getting trampled.

“We have to get out of here,” he shouted in her ear to be heard. Then he pulled her up, steadying her.

A man’s voice over the loudspeaker made an announcement. “This assembly may lead to a breach of the peace. You are to disperse immediately.”

The crowd let out a roar and rushed the barricade. A volley of stones, bottles, boards, anything close to hand shot into the air aimed at the soldiers. Liam grabbed Mary Kate and held her to his chest as they were propelled closer to McCool’s Newsagent and the barricade. In the crush, Liam heard the growl of a diesel engine. The pavement shuddered under his feet and then a flood of water smashed into the man standing beside him, driving him to the ground. Liam was soaked. Riot guns went off. Protesters scattered, and he was able to see the water cannon lumbering down the street. Two CS cloud columns drifted toward the barricade. The troops were laughing and cheering.

With the crowd dispersing, he was able to pull Mary Kate a few steps in the direction of Chamberlain Street.

Someone somewhere shouted in a sing-song voice, “Where is your brother, taig? Where is your Da?”

“Don’t you laugh! Don’t you dare!” She jerked her arm from his grip and snatched up a paving stone from a pile of rubble. “Bastards!” She threw it with all her might.

“Mary Kate! Stop!” He dashed after her. More CS gas canisters bounced and clattered in the street, spewing a fog of peppery smoke in their wake. Liam put a hand over his face to keep from breathing it in. More riot guns thumped and flashed in the smoke. He’d lost her. Rubber bullets whizzed past. People screamed. Cried. Then Mary Kate trotted back to him in the mist, holding a handkerchief over her nose and mouth. She stuffed a wet cloth into his other hand, and he smashed it to his face. Breathing in vinegar, his eyes watered. Nearby, someone threw up.

Have to do something,
he thought.
Get her out of here.

He tied the handkerchief over his mouth and nose like a television bandit from the Wild West. Once it was in place, he grabbed her arm again. When she struggled he pulled her up against his chest and half-carried her. “We’re going home.”

“Those bastards! They can’t treat us like this! They laughed! They’ve no right!”

He got her as far as the first doorway before she kneed him in her frenzy. He released her at once and stooped with his hands on his knees, blinking back the pain.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it the gas?”

“If you’re planning on us having children one day I’d suggest you not do that again.”

She put both hands over her mouth, stifling a horrified laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

A window hissed open and a woman’s voice shouted from above, “Girl, get your young man out of here before he’s taken.”

He looked up.

“Purple dye. You’re covered in it. They’ll know you for a rioter for sure. Hurry up. They’re coming.” The woman slammed the window shut.

Mary Kate said, “Oh, Liam, your new sweater. It’s ruined.”

People jogged past. Some of them were sobbing. Even more flooded the narrow street. In a moment there wouldn’t be room enough to run. Again, he grabbed her hand, and they trotted together. He heard panicked screams and glanced behind.
This isn’t happening,
he thought.
It can’t be.
A large group of Paras charged down the street. Saracens brought up the rear. One stopped, disgorging troops who snatched men from the crowd. He heard gun fire and couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from. The sound was different from the riot guns. Sharper.

“They’ve killed a boy on Rossville!” A woman screamed as they passed Eden Place. Tears streamed down her face. “A little boy! Shot him dead. In the back. I saw it.”

He wanted to stop and help her, but the soldiers were closing, and he had to get Mary Kate somewhere safe. More shots. More screams. Something thumped him hard in the back. He stumbled.
Rubber bullet,
he thought.
Only a rubber bullet. If it were real it’d hurt worse. Right?
He slowed. It was hard to breathe.

A man shouted, “They’re killing us!”

Mary Kate grasped Liam’s arm with both hands tight enough to bruise, and then someone slammed him against the brick wall. Through the pain he saw Mary Kate throw herself on a Para, knocking his red beret off.

“Let him go!”

The Para turned on Mary Kate. He swung the barrel of his gun, hitting her in the face. Drops of blood dotted the concrete in slow motion. Mary Kate collapsed. The Para stood over her, holding his rifle like a club.

“No!”

The Para looked at him. His face shifted, and he grinned. It was that same wrinkled face. The same teeth filed to sharp points. The same red glowing eyes. “Hello, dog. The mac Cumhaill is a long way from here. Your master won’t help you now.”

I’ve gone mad,
Liam thought.

“Is she sweet, your plaything?” the creature asked, its voice like gravel. It sniffed the air over Mary Kate who was bunched up and sobbing on the pavement with her hands over her head. “I smell your spunk. You’ve had her. Shall I shoot?” It pointed the rifle.

Liam flung himself over Mary Kate. He heard the creature guffaw and then the blows came. From a long way away he heard Mary Kate screaming.
Please God, let him shoot me, not her,
he prayed.
She’s going to be an MP. She’ll save us all. I can’t even read.

“You should’ve stayed in Long Kesh.” The creature switched from hitting to kicking. More laughter. Others joined in. Liam was cocooned in dull pain.

I’ve lived through this before,
he thought.
Won’t be so bad.
Then something smashed into the back of his head, and it all went black.

Chapter 10

Malone Prison

Malone, County Antrim, Northern Ireland

August 1972

A blast of cold moist air stung Liam’s cheeks and penetrated his coat. Malone wasn’t much different from the Kesh—more structured, perhaps. Another hastily converted WWII facility, it was slightly less crowded and somewhat cleaner. There were fewer internees, and the prisoners were more hardened. All appeared to be paramilitaries of one stripe or another. Squatting with his back against the hut he shared with thirty others, he pulled his anorak tighter to no avail. A game was taking place in the football pitch, and shouts echoed off the tin buildings. Aloud thump reverberated through the corrugated metal at Liam’s back. Assuming it didn’t involve him, he didn’t bother looking down the narrow path. Instead, he wished himself invisible.

He was new to Cage Seven and as such, sitting alone was dangerous. One of the others might happen along at any moment, but he was having one of his bad days, and the narrow spaces between the nissen huts were the closest thing to privacy available. The corroding tin wall wasn’t much of a view. However, there weren’t many alternatives since Cage Seven was located in the center of the prison. Looking out through the chain-link fence would only mean seeing yet another cage and other prisoners—which was fine if you wanted to trade or needed news of the outside, but Liam had had his fill of news from the outside.

Mary Kate had been accepted at Queen’s University. She would be leaving for Belfast any day now. A confusion of emotions crowded his skull. On one hand, he was proud of her, but he was angry too. She was off living her life. A life he couldn’t share through no fault of his own. Then there was the fear. Compared to Derry, Belfast was a metropolitan city, and she would navigate it without the support of her family and more importantly, without him.

An image of Mary Kate tossing chunks of pavement stone at BAs sprang to mind, and a reluctant smile crept across his face.

Perhaps, it’s not her I should worry for,
he thought.

Crunching footsteps snapped him out of his reverie. A stocky man whose square face was framed in a neat brown beard settled in the gravel next to him. Reaching into a pocket, the man said, “My name is Jack.” He held out a cigarette and a lighter, “Yours?”

“Liam.” He accepted the proffered lighter with a pounding heart and lit the cigarette.

Gazing down the path toward the game, Jack pocketed the lighter. “Been watching you, Liam.”

Liam focused on the end of his cigarette in an effort to disguise his fear. He had kept to himself to prevent trouble, and more importantly, to keep a tight rein on the beast that lurked so close under his skin. He’d had nightmares of what would happen if the thing got loose again, but every day it became more difficult to maintain control. Twice during questioning at the Holywood interrogation center it had almost slipped free. He was proud of having managed to keep from harming anyone in spite of how far he’d been pushed. Luckily, he wasn’t in Holywood anymore. At Malone the BAs patrolled outside the walls, not within them, and so for the most part he’d been left alone. In return, he had done his best not to draw attention. His first week at Malone had been spent doing what was expected without complaint or comment. He got up when he was told, participated in cleaning the barrack when it was his turn, kept the boiler full of water for the tea as assigned and otherwise walked the grounds as the others did. Everything was going to plan.

Until now.

In spite of the repercussions, it was obvious the prison guards at Malone didn’t exert any special effort to segregate Republicans from Loyalists, let alone Official IRA from Provisional; however, based on snatches of overheard conversation, he had surmised the men in Cage Seven were mainly Provos. A few of them seemed to know one another from the outside, and based upon what he’d overheard, Liam was relatively certain the man next to him was the OC—Officer in Charge.