Blood

“So why did you come by?” Mallory asks from across an old table that seems to beg to be repainted.

It’s the table I normally sit at with Mattie, in the very back, opposite the fireplace.

“Uh,” I say, trying to figure out how to say what’s in my head.

George had been at the house this morning to pick up the blue car, which I guess he’s bought off of Reid.

George works in a mine between Madrick’s Bay and Ristahill, but I think they’ve tapped it just about dry, so he’s going to have to start working down towards the Port, meaning he’ll need a car, since he lives on the way to Ristahill.

For whatever reason, George had felt the need to bring his wife, so while the boys played with the cars out back, I’d had to stay in the kitchen with Gram and Sarah to “chat”

At first, I’d been able to get along with a simple “yeah” or “no” or “Lord” but then Sarah had started to actually ask me shit, especially about Mallory. She’d had the nerve to ask if we were thinking about getting fucking married, “eventually,” as she put it. There’s no way she could be that stupid. It’s not like she ever talked about marrying Reid, and they were sleeping together.

I still don’t get what he saw in her, other than her tits.

“I haven’t had the best day.”

Mallory nods slightly and takes a drink of whatever’s in the glass in front of him. I know it’s some kind of liquor, but I have no idea what kind. He sets the glass back on the table and says, “Fair enough.”

I don’t really know why I’d asked him to take me to the pub. I could have taken him home just as easily. Gram had gone to Fletch’s after George left, and my dad and Sean went off somewhere with Davie Floyd, meaning it’d only be Reid there. And for all I know he’s somewhere else as well.

And Mallory doesn’t seem to take too well to people, although he seemed fine once he started drinking, which was about as soon as we got here.

It doesn’t really bother me, except I’m not allowed to smoke in here, and I don’t think it’s really right to let people indulge in one vice while not the other, unless it’s sex or summat.

Mind you, the only reason Beth doesn’t let people smoke is because they live up stairs, so she doesn’t want the smoke to get to her kids.

Kid, I think, correcting myself. The Good Folk got the girl.

I glance back at Mallory. He’s looking at the table in front of him.

I scan the room for Beth or Sam. I don’t see either anywhere, although I do see Justin at the bar and Fletch in a crowd of boys that work on the docks. I should be able to recognise them all, but only the O’Toole boys with their thick arms and red faces stick out, and I can’t tell which one’s James and which is Sam. It’s not like it really makes a difference.

Fletch hasn’t noticed me yet, and I really hope it stays that way.

“Did Justin tell you about Beth’s daughter?” I ask.

Mallory looks up at me with just his eyes, staying kind of crouched over the table. “Uh, yeah, he did. But I’d reckon They’ll take another.”

I frown at him. “And why would you say that?”

He shakes his head. “Uh, sorry, I suppose that was a bit…insensitive.”

“Fuck, I don’t care. But, why d’ya say They’ll take another?”

His pale eyes flick towards the bar. “Well, I’m not exactly sure, it’s just kind of a feeling I have…” he trails off. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?” I ask, glancing at the bar as well.

Justin’s still there, but now he’s looking in our direction and rolling his eyes. Fucker.

Mallory looks back at me. I think he’s annoyed. “Just my brother.”

“He ain’t exactly fond of me, eh?” I say.

It’s still a bit strange, since I’m used to Justin trying to bed me. That said, I think I prefer him just plain hating me to hitting on me.

Mallory smiles slightly. “He doesn’t take too well to rejection.”

I roll my eyes. “I’d bet that he’s still in that ruddy pool, though.”

“What pool?” he asks taking another drink.

I have to laugh, which makes Mallory tilt his head a little.

“God, you’re weird.”

He frowns, a little hurt, maybe.

Shit, I hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“I’m sorry?” he asks.

“Oh, there’s a bet on which of the boys can fuck me first.”

“Which boys?” he asks, kind of crossly. His eyes look cold.

I shiver, despite the warmth of the pub.

Mallory shakes his head, looking down at the table in front of him. “Sorry…you don’t have to answer that.”

He looks back up at me with a smile. It’s not a real smile. It might be a sad one, or one of irony. “I’m sorry. I’m not too good at talking. Not exactly the best company.”

I roll my eyes and look back over Mallory’s shoulder at where Fletch is throwing some kind of fit, likely as some sort of joke. I’m still pretty sure he hasn’t noticed me here. Thank God.

“I’ve been in worse company,” I nod in my cousin’s direction. “Now Fletch is horrible company.”

Mallory laughs, turning to look back at me. “I can’t imagine that.”

“Yeah, well you have short hair.”

He tilts his head to the side, as though thinking. “Where did Fletch come from?”

I make a face, and Mallory laughs a little.

“Spirits, I didn’t mean that. I mean, or I meant, where the name came from. I get that he’s a Fletcher, but…why?” He shakes his head again, his face burning red. “I mean, I know why he’s a Fletcher, but—oh, fuck it.” He says, shaking his head.

I smile and open my mouth to answer before realising that I haven’t the slightest idea why Fletch doesn’t go by David. Or how he got the name Fletch, or when we started calling him Fletch.

“I honestly have no idea,” I say.

Mallory sits back, the red seeming to fade from his cheeks.“Alright.”

I glance back at Fletch, unfortunately meeting his eyes.

He has a look on his face that says he’s going to tell my brother.

My fingers feel all numb.

“Fuck, I need a smoke,” I say. I glance back at Mallory, grabbing my jacket off the back of my chair. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but then changes his mind and finishes off his drink.

I weave through the pub, shrugging on my jacket as I go.

As I get to open the heavy wooden door, it pushes towards me so that I almost fall over. But a rough hand catches my hip.

For Christ’s sake, I think.

Jamie Hannagan smiles at me in that eerie way of his.

“Thanks,” I mutter and duck around him into the cold night.

As I walk through the parking lot, snow blowing all around, I pull a cigarette from the carton in my jacket pocket and pull a lighter from the pocket of my jeans.

“Piece of shit,” I mutter as I try to get it to catch.

After a few more tries a flame licks at my fingers and lights the end of my cigarette. My stomach had been starting to unsettle, but the instant the vile smoke fills my lungs I feel my nerves back away, leaving me slightly better off.

I wonder what Dad and Sean are up to. They’re likely playing cards. And that’s about what I can hope for, as long as Dad doesn’t drink too much.

On Faer, education is a little less formal than on the Mainland. You’re just kind of expected to teach little kids their basics—math, reading, writing—and then let them fill in the gaps when they go off to work. It causes a lot of trouble for folk that want to go off to the Mainland, since it’s hard for them to get into any kind of schooling. But I think there’s some kind of exception at their schools for us.

Playing cards helps Sean with his math, and he likes doing it, so it’s all for the better.

A couple of cars race past the pub, taking both sides of the road for their sport. Reid and Fletch do that kind of shit, but it’s really pointless, since Fletch is a crappy driver, so he always loses. I guess Reid could let him win, but Fletch is cocky enough on his own, so that wouldn’t end well for anyone.

My cigarette’s burnt half way down, already. I glare at it and throw it in the snow.

I suppose it’s a bit wasteful, but I don’t really give a damn.

I’ve walked my way back to our blue truck, which I’d taken to the Fionn’s. I think of all our vehicles, it’s my favourite. I hate Mary in general and the grey car is always so crowded, but this truck is kind of mine. Mary is Reid’s and the grey car is the family’s while the blue car had just kind of been there, but this truck is mine.

Is it horrible that I just kind of want to drive away from here? I couldn’t do it, but God I want to.

Which is absolutely terrible since I’m the one that asked Mallory here. I don’t know what I should do with myself.

But I can’t really bring myself to go back inside.

When I go inside, Fletch will be there, and so will Hannagan.

But so is Mallory, I think. I don’t know when he’d started holding so much sway over me. Worse, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t realise he does. I think he still thinks he’s some kind of nuisance or summat.

So I make myself trek back through the parking lot to the pub’s door.

Light floods my vision and a fiddle fills my ears for a moment before my eyes adjust. I turn back towards my table and feel my stomach twist.

Of course, Hannagan is hovering beside my table with his back to me.

I walk across the pub as slowly as possible, hoping that Hannagan will disappear, but he doesn’t.

As I get closer, I notice the way Mallory’s sitting. He’s leaning back in his chair, which isn’t odd on its own, but he’s staring up at Hannagan with a hatred I don’t recognise. I mean, I’ve seen him cold, but his eyes seem the opposite of cold when he looks at Hannagan. If looks could kill…

“Lost?” I ask, a little bit sharper than I should. Sharp makes Hannagan laugh.

Jamie turns around partially, standing sideways between me and Mallory.

“Not at all, love. Just congratulating your girl, here. Seems he’s won hisself a fair little purse.”

He says it without the grin you’d think he’d have.

Really, there’s no reason for him to grin. It wasn’t an overly clever thing to say. Mind you, it makes me scowl all the same. Maybe it’s just because Hannagan called me love, and I don’t even like it when my family does that.

“You’re contradicting yourself,” Mallory says. He hasn’t moved at all, but something seems a little different than it had a minute ago.

Hannagan turns to him. “What’s that?”

“I can’t be both a he and a girl, Hannagan. If I’m a girl—and if you think I am you’ve gotten some awfully bad weed—then you should use she.”

Hannagan sneers, turning more towards Mallory. “Thanks for the grammar lesson, Fionn. I wasn’t fucking talking to you.”

He turns back to me, and I notice for the first time that his mate, something-rather Pate, is standing just out of the way, so that you don’t necessarily see him if you aren’t looking. All six feet and three hundred pounds of him.

I feel my stomach twist again.

Alright, David, now’s the time for you to fucking notice me, I think, albeit, it is a stupid thing to think. I shouldn’t need my cousin to save me.

“Bit of a rude bastard you’ve found, Lorna. You know, if it’s what makes you feel all hot, I could put on a dress for ya.”

I scowl, rolling my eyes as Pate laughs. I open my mouth to say something less than kind, but Mallory mutters something that makes Hannagan turn around and Pate stop laughing.

“Come again, Mallory, dear,” he almost spits.

Mallory glances at me for less than a second, not long enough to know why. Then his eyes lock on Hannagan again. And I feel like I should be doing something to help, maybe yelling at Fletch, but I don’t.

“All I said is that I’d reckon you like wearing dresses,” Mallory says in a low voice, so low I almost can’t hear him, even though I can’t be more than a couple feet away. “Probably make you feel all pretty.”

Hannagan laughs, high and forced. I glance around, noticing a couple glances drifting this way, the normal pub noises beginning to quiet in that way they do when something more entertaining comes along.

“Shit!”

And there’s the sound of a chair falling, glass breaking.

I turn back and,

FUCK!

Pate’s grabbed Mallory from where he was sitting, dragged him to near standing. And Mallory’s struggling, but not hard enough to be able to escape the logs that Pate has for arms.

And then Hannagan’s punching him, first in the stomach, and then the jaw.

He doesn’t stop, unlike me. I can’t move. There’s blood spilling from somewhere on Mallory’s face.

But he’s not fighting back.

He’s struggling, but he’s not trying to kick Hannagan, or break Pate’s knee, or—

Hannagan’s fist smashes into Mallory’s jaw again, and there’s a full spray of blood, and he’s spitting blood at Hannagan.

I have to do something, but my feet won’t move.

Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

What can I do?

Oh, I think. But…can I do that?

I run up to Hannagan, pulling at his arm.

“Jamie!” I yell, tugging at his arm, almost getting an elbow in my face.

I steel myself for an instant before slipping under Jamie Hannagan’s arm and forcing myself between him and Mallory.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” he sneers, grabbing at my upper arm so hard it hurts, even though I’m still wearing my heavy jacket.

“Jamie, stop.” I say, laying my hand against his chest and pressing myself against him.

Despite himself, the sick bastard goes hard.

There’s wonder in his face as he looks down at me, which means he’s forgotten about Mallory, at least for the moment.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I murmur, staring over Hannagan’s shoulder at Fletch.

Come on, you ass, I think, trying to still my heart, which I think has turned to a little bird, thrashing against my ribs as though they were its cage.

“What kind of deal?” Hannagan asks.

I swallow hard. “Let this wretch go,” I say, jerking my head a little, motioning towards Mallory. “And I’ll get you your money.”

Hannagan looks over the top of my head, smirking, and then back at me.

“I don’t believe you,” he says in a way that sounds like he’s teasing me.

But you want to, don’t you? Sick fucking bastard. Why the fuck would I want to be with you?

I can’t say that, though. Because then he’ll do something worse to Mallory than he already has. He’ll probably hit me, too. And how would I explain a bruise like that to Sean?

I swallow again, forcing down the bile at the back of my throat, before pulling Hannagan’s face towards my own, kissing his lips.

And holy shit, it’s the worst thing I think I’ve done in my life. Firstly, Hannagan has no idea what he’s doing. Secondly, Mallory’s right behind me. And Reid’ll hear about this.

I pull away, trying not to show all the disgust I’m feeling, but Hannagan’s smiling, so I suppose I’m doing a half decent job.

“Fuck,” I mutter as Hannagan grabs my waist and spins me to his side.

What the fuck is wrong with this place?

What the fuck is wrong with Fletch? Why isn’t he helping me?

And Justin! It’s his fucking brother that just got the living shit beat out of him!

Pate drops Mallory at a gesture from Hannagan, but Mallory never stops looking at Hannagan, glaring at him with mad eyes.

“Fickle lovers, these Island bitches, aren’t—” Hannagan says before I knee him in the groin.

He makes a noise that I don’t think is really human.

I drop to my knees in front of Mallory, who doesn’t look at me.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, staring at the blood splattered floor.

“I wouldn’t do that, mate,” says someone behind me, I don’t really care who.

“Mal,” I say, not knowing what I want to say.

He meets my eyes, but I wish he hadn’t.

I can’t tell if it’s anger or hatred I see.

Fuck, he can’t hate me. Not for this.

“I’m fine.”

I nod, and stand, brushing some dirt off my knees. What I really want to get rid of is this whole evening.

“Could you…drive me home?” Mallory asks, from beside me.

I look up at him, at his bloodied face. For some reason, the blood doesn’t seem that out of place, like that’s how he’s used to being.

“…Or I could walk.”

I shake my head. “No, I can—”

“Fuck, are you alright?” asks Justin, running up beside me. “I…I was in the kitchen, so—”

Mallory shakes his head, dismissively. “I’m fine.”

He turns and starts walking away, and I go to follow him, but Justin grabs my arm.

Haven’t I had enough for one night?

You brought this on yourself, I think.

Justin looks at the ground, letting go of my wrist. “I saw what you did…for him, and I appreciate it.”

Better than what I’d expected, but I still sneer. “Well I didn’t do it for you!”

He nods, turning to look back over his shoulder.

I look around for Mallory, and don’t see him. So I push through the idiots all around me, feeling almost as stupid as they should, as I force my way to the exit.

The cold air burns my face and a couple tears do as well.

I lean against the pub’s wall, slightly away from the door, and fumble for a cigarette in my pocket.

My hands are shaking, so I can’t get the little wheel on my lighter to flick.

“Lorna,” says Mallory, appearing from the dark.

I drop my lighter. “Shit,” I mutter, laughing slightly, mostly from nerves. My insides feel like pudding.

Mallory crouches down and picks my lighter up, standing and offering it to me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it with still-unsteady fingers.

I try to get a flame, but I can’t, even after shaking it, which almost ends with me dropping it.

“Would you like me to do that for you?” Mallory asks, leaning against the building as well. Whatever had been in his face before is gone, and he looks like he normally does.

I shove the lighter and cigarette back in my pocket. “Uh, no. Thank you.”

I kick at the snow, and try to figure out what I’m supposed to say. I reckon I should apologise for kissing Hannagan, but he had to realise that I didn’t want to. Albeit, I don’t regret it. Fuck, it’s not like anyone else in the ruddy place was doing anything.

“Here, give me your keys and I’ll drive,” Mallory says.

I squint up at him. “What? No, you’re hurt.”

Mallory shrugs. “Not as hurt as you are,” he says, and then looks away fast. “I’d reckon, anyway.”

“I’m fine,” I say, shaking my head.

“Let’s see your hands, then.”

“What? No.”

He frowns. “Do you even like driving?”

No.

But I shrug.

He shakes his head.

I hadn’t thought he could be this…stubborn, I suppose.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll walk.”

He turns and starts to walk away, towards the dark road where all kind of nasty things lurk this time of year.

I take a deep breath and call his name.

Mallory turns without stopping, walking backwards.

I toss him my keys, which, and I can’t really tell in the dim light, I think makes him smile.

Fucking weird.