Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen) (34 page)

Everything was planned. He’d go into the car park to tinker after dinner. He did it most nights well into the evening. Oran wouldn’t think it unusual, and once Oran grew bored with watching out the window—sometime around eight-thirty if the past two days were any indication—Liam would pay his visit to the ginger constable. Oran would discover him missing—that was inevitable but he could explain he’d needed a walk and accept whatever punishment came as a result. As for the killing, he would have to be careful. He couldn’t afford to be caught by Father Murray or his friends—at least not until every one of the men who’d murdered Mary Kate were done for. After that, Liam would welcome Hell. He was sure it would be Hell. He hadn’t been to confession, let alone Mass, since December. The closest Liam could bring himself was to walk to the church and stand outside while Oran and his family attended Mass. Liam wasn’t afraid of any priests coming for him. He hadn’t done anything to which the Church might object. Well, not yet.
Not lately.
Nonetheless, he couldn’t bring himself to go through confession. Come to think of it, did the spawn of fallen angels or the Good Folk even have souls? Suddenly, he almost regretted running off Father Murray before he’d asked the question.

Liam stomped on the brakes to avoid hitting a man standing in the middle of the street. The cab skidded to a halt before he understood who it was.

D.I. Haddock. Again.

Foot twitching on the brake, Liam would’ve run the man down but for the passengers waiting at the curb. He glanced out the window and noticed two of the three men were unfamiliar. That didn’t mean anything, but it didn’t put him at ease either. The third one he couldn’t rightly see as he was standing behind the others with his back turned, but he was a big bastard with blond hair and didn’t give Liam a good feeling. The men climbed into the back of the cab as expected. However, Haddock yanked open the passenger front door and slid in next to him before he could ask where they were headed.

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Haddock said. “Glad to see me?”

Liam ignored the electric bolt of fear that exploded in his stomach and set his jaw.

“Oh, come now. You’ll have to get this bitch going or someone really will take notice,” Haddock said. “Don’t worry about stopping for anyone. You’re full up. Isn’t he, boys?”

“Yes, boss.”

Liam glanced into the rearview mirror and recognized Constable Nigel Johnston’s face with its crooked nose.

“Just so you don’t decide to get creative,” Haddock said. “Johnston there has a .38 pointed at you. It will make a rather large hole in the seat before it makes another rather large hole in you. Shame to muss the car, but you have to break some eggs to make an omelet I hear. Drive.”

Setting his jaw, Liam put the car in gear. Sweat trickled down his back. Paul Simonon’s drawl buzzed out of the cab’s tinny speakers.
An’if I get aggression I give it to them two time back. Every day it’s just the same with hate an’ war on my back.

“What utter shite.” Haddock switched off the radio in disgust, nearly ripping off the knob in the process. “Now. Aren’t you going to ask what it is I want?”

Liam searched the street for an excuse to stop, but there was nothing. His heart hammered out a rapid bass solo. “You going to arrest me?”

“Knew all along you had a pretty voice,” Haddock said. “Just a matter of the right motivation, it seems.”

“Well?”

“Ah, now why would I go and do a thing like that? Especially since we have our little agreement,” Haddock said.

The street was vacant of passengers just as Haddock had said it would be.

Bastards,
Liam thought.

“Give him the envelope,” Haddock said.

A familiar brown envelope appeared over Liam’s left shoulder. He made no move to accept it. A red light forced him to stop the taxi. He considered getting out, but abandoning the cab would’ve brought down even more trouble, and on top of that the likelihood of escaping before Johnston blew his head off wasn’t exactly high.

Haddock grabbed Liam’s wounded arm. “Take your fucking medicine.”

Liam snatched Haddock’s wrist with a snarl and twisted. The tingling associated with the monster flowed under his skin.
Not now. I say when it’s time. Not you,
Liam thought. “Let me go before I rip your throat out with my teeth.” He felt something hard and cold press into the back of his head.

“Let the boss go. Now.”

Haddock’s face was pale, and he drew back the instant Liam released him. The car behind them honked, signaling the light had become green.

“You said was only the appearance that was important,” Liam said shifting and then pushing the accelerator.

Anger flooded color back into Haddock’s expression. “What the fuck are you on, Paddy boy?”

“Fuck you.”

The barrel of the gun was shoved farther into the back of Liam’s head.

“Answer the boss.”

“What’s he fucking care?” Liam asked, leaning away from the Peeler in the back seat.

“Take the envelope, you Fenian bastard, or I’ll let Johnston splatter your brains all over the wind-screen,” Haddock said.

Liam took the envelope.

“Good boy,” Haddock said. “Bet your Mum is right proud of you.”

“At least I know who she is,” Liam said. “Unlike you.”

Haddock punched, and to Liam it felt like his jaw had exploded. The cab bounced off the curb, and for a moment it was difficult to see. He blinked watery eyes, maneuvering half-blind and somehow managing to avoid running into any of the other cars or pedestrians in the process.

“Don’t you wind me up! Don’t you dare! I’ll fucking break you in two!” Haddock held his breath. After a moment he slowly let it out. “Let that be a lesson to you. Pull over here.”

Happy to be rid of Haddock, Liam did just that. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of a hand.

“We’ll be seeing you,” Haddock said and slammed the door.

The other three got out of the back, laughing.

Fuckers,
Liam thought. He got out his handkerchief and daubed his lip until it stopped bleeding, then crammed the envelope in the glove compartment.
One day I’ll repay you in kind. Maybe tonight.
He slammed the glove box shut and then hit the dashboard four times while the monster inside him raged to get out. When he’d calmed down enough to drive he finished his route. At the end of the day, he navigated the safest path to the river. It was a bad area of town, and it was foolish of him as a Catholic to go near there after dark, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else he could safely dump the smack. Standing on the concrete re-enforced bank, he stared at the murky water.

Don’t have to get rid of all of it,
he thought.
Just one hit. Could be real careful. Use a vein in my foot. Between the toes. Oran won’t look there. Just one hit.

Then he remembered how potent the smack had been, how lovely the high, and thought why toss it at all? But where would he hide it? He couldn’t bring drugs into Elizabeth’s home. Wouldn’t. Not with the weans. Never. He wouldn’t repay her and Oran that way.

The cab.

First place Oran would look,
Liam thought. Take that one hit tonight and then what? He glanced to his left and saw a group of toughs gathered in a tight knot a block away. They were drinking and seemed not to have noticed him, but that would change soon.
Oran is sure to be wondering where I am. Knows when my shift ends. So, turn up late with dilated pupils? That’s a fast track to a bullet in the brain, that is—assuming I survive being half out of my mind in this place. And even so, where am I going to find a needle on the bank of the Farset? No, I have to get rid of the shite. No one for the road. Not even half.

In the distance, a gun went off. It could’ve been a car backfire, but he doubted it since most cars didn’t sound anything like a Kalashnikov. He opened the envelope, looked inside and almost laughed. Haddock had supplied everything. Just in case.

Of course. Fucking bastard.

It took every ounce of will Liam possessed, but he emptied the envelope, threw the lot in the Queen’s channel and ran back the cab. Racing for Oran’s flat, he struggled with a deep desire to go back to the river. It would be suicide in more ways than he could count, but that didn’t matter to the hunger. Somehow, he managed to get home, though. Everyone was at the dinner table when he opened the door. Elizabeth gave him a leery stare, but when he didn’t stagger or show any other outward sign of the drugs or drink she went back to eating.

“Where’ve you been?” Oran asked.

“Bit of trouble with the cab,” Liam said, mentally kicking himself for taking too long.
So much for getting free of Oran tonight.
“Fixed her up just fine. Should check on it after dinner, though. I’ll wash up.”

Oran got up from the table, blocking his path. “Mind if I check your pockets first?”

“I wasn’t… I’m not….” Liam sighed and put his hands behind his head—half in imitation of a police search and half to hide the fact that his hands weren’t dirty with grease. “Go ahead.”

Oran looked hurt and remorseful. “It isn’t like that.”

“I know,” Liam said, feeling his face burn while Elizabeth watched. Suddenly, he was very glad he’d made the right choice, as hard as it had been. “I’ve given you reason enough to mistrust me. Check my eyes too if you like.”

“Eat your dinner, youse,” Elizabeth said to the children. “Stop your gawking.”

Liam waited while Oran gave his pockets a cursory check and then returned to the table, embarrassed. Elizabeth’s mouth was tight with tension while she stirred the contents of her plate. Liam couldn’t avoid hearing her fierce whisper as he went to the washroom to rid his hands of nonexistent grease.

“This has got to stop. Think of the children.”

After dinner Oran followed him outside to have a look at the cab while Elizabeth put the little ones to bed. There wasn’t anything for it. Liam knew he had to come clean. Even if he had no intention of doing so, Oran knew enough about cars that he’d know a bad lie, and Liam was sick of lying. Oran knew he was covering for something. That was obvious by his expression.

It was best to just come out with it and be done.

Lifting the car’s hood, Oran leaned in for a closer look.

Liam took the plunge. “I lied about the cab breaking down,” he said. “Haddock was at me again today.”

“Is that where you got the lip?” Oran straightened and blew air out of his cheeks. “Told you to ignore the bastard. What did you do?”

“He was in my cab. Him and two others. He… he…” Liam paused.
Get on with it. It’s half out already.
“He had heroin.”

“What happened?” Oran asked in a hard voice, his eyes squeezed into a squint. “Tell me. Exactly.”

Liam told him everything right down to throwing the lot in the river and wishing he hadn’t. “Sorry I lied to you, but I couldn’t. Not in front of Elizabeth and the little ones. You get enough shite over me as it is.”

Oran’s shoulders drooped. “That’s all right.”

“He’s not going to stop, you know,” Liam said. “Don’t know how much more of this I can take. That was fucking close.”

Oran nodded. Liam tried to puzzle out his expression but couldn’t.

“Wouldn’t blame you for putting one in my skull right now,” Liam said. “I’m a weak spot. The bastard will keep pressing. You going to tell Éamon?”

There was a long pause, and Liam searched Oran’s face for some sign of what to expect.

“No,” Oran said, seeming to come to a difficult decision. He looked extremely uncomfortable about whatever it was. “I’ll not tell Éamon. And I’ll not shoot you either.”

Liam didn’t know why he was relieved.

“There’s… someone I can talk to. Take care of it,” Oran said.

“Of Haddock, you mean?”

“Aye.”

Liam nodded. “I could do it.” He really could. He was already prepared to do for three others. What was one more? And if there was a Peeler who needed his throat ripped out Haddock was the one.

“You’re in enough shite as it is, mate.”

“I suppose I am at that.”

It started to mist.

“Better get inside before we’re soaked, and Elizabeth is on us for tracking the damp on her clean floor.”

“Oran?”

“Aye?”

“It’ll be all right, won’t it?” Liam found himself asking. After everything that had happened, after Mary Kate, after Ballymena, after the last arrest, after Haddock—he wanted to be reassured like a boy gone to his big brother with a nightmare. He’d made mistakes, and everything he knew, what little of it that remained, was so fragile. It could break apart, and he would break apart with it in ways he never imagined before.

“It will,” Oran said, and even though Liam knew it was a lie he was grateful. “Come on. We’ll have a couple of pints.”

Liam thought about his original plan for the evening. He could go inside with Oran. They could have those pints, maybe even get a bit drunk and everything would blow over. Liam wanted it more than anything, but that would mean the men that had murdered Mary Kate would live one more night, and he couldn’t bear the thought. “Would it be all right if I went for a wee walk? I… I need to think.”

Oran gave him another long, hard look. “Give me your word this is not about going back to the river.”

“I swear. It isn’t. I’ll not go anywhere near there.”

Liam listened to the rain as it gathered force, the moisture grouping together to form ever-larger drops. Oran turned up his collar.

“What if Haddock comes after you again?”

“I love the little ones. I do. And you. And Elizabeth, no matter what she thinks of me now. But I can’t breathe in that place. I’m being watched every second. My skin crawls with it.”

“Was that or top you,” Oran said in a quiet voice. “Was the only choice HQ gave us.”

Liam shook his head with a sigh. “You made the wrong choice.”

“I didn’t! You’re my mate!”

“I’m grateful you took the chance, Oran. I am. But I’m a liability to the cause now. HQ was right.”

Oran snorted. “Liability? Where did you learn such shite language?”

Liam’s chest ached, but it was a bearable pain unlike before. Guilt and relief hit him in the moment of realization that he no longer felt like dying at the mere touch of her memory. “Mary Kate. She wanted to be a solicitor, remember?”