Blood

Fletch hadn’t told Reid about the fight in the pub.

Actually, he hadn’t told him anything. Not about seeing me there, not about me leaving with Mallory. Hell, Reid doesn’t even know I was in town. Turns out, he was already asleep when I left, at six-fucking thirty. And I got back before Dad and Seanie, so nobody in my household had even the slightest clue as to how I’d spent my Friday night. And I’m glad for that.

Then again, I don’t have any doubt that they’ll have found out sometime during the last couple hours, after-all, how could any good Catholic keep their mouth shut about such wonderful gossip on a Sunday of all days.

What I’ve been trying to figure out as I stare into nothing out of the rose-tinted windows of Saint Agatha’s is why Fletch didn’t tell Reid. It’s not exactly like him. Firstly, because I don’t think there’s anything that he hasn’t told Reid, or the other way around.

And secondly because Fletch loves to get me in trouble.

Then beside all of that wondering, I’ve been trying to avoid figuring out anything relating to Mallory, which takes a lot more effort than you’d expect, and so I have a bit of a headache. It also means that I hadn’t heard a word of mass, and I can’t remember where my family is, seeing as the service is over and the church is mostly empty.

I don’t know what I should be doing, and that is really damn annoying. I mean, it isn’t like I spend too much time planning, or nothing, but I just feel so confused. I frigging hate it.

“Heya,” says a voice right by my ear.

I jump, which is answered with laughter, soft laughter. Not like Reid’s or Fletch’s, more like Mallory’s. But fuck, why would I think that? It’s Mattie.

“Your da left you here,” he says, sliding into the pew.

I frown at him. “What?”

“Yeah,” he says with an air of arrogance. “Reid stood right there and yelled at you and you just kept looking out the window, so he and Uncle Mikey thought it’d be funny to leave you here.” He points towards the door, which is only one pew back.

The church is a cramped building, smelling of mildew and wine. I’m pretty sure the Father’s a drunk. Father Fairlie, that is. I think he’s my Aunt Hailey’s, Fletch’s mum’s, cousin or summat.

“You’re kidding,” I say. I can’t see my dad leaving me here. Gram? Sure. Reid? Maybe, but not my dad.

Mattie shrugs, “Yeah, though I was told to come in here and get you.”

I frown at him. “Why were you told to come and get me?”

He laughs, although a tad bit bitterly. “Well, your dad told your brother he was to go find you, but he didn’t fancy that plan, so he made me do it.”

I roll my eyes. “He made you do it? You’re, like, a foot taller than him!” I say.

Mattie’s eyes go wide. “Have you met Reid?”

“Alright, get on then,” I say, shooing him away while mentally rolling my eyes.

“You Owens are all bloody mad,” he says as he stands. “It must be something with the name.”

I follow him out of the church, clutching at my jacket as the cold air hits me.

It’s terrible. You’d think the sun would make it warmer but it just seems to make it feel colder, so cold the air itself is solid and almost unbreathable.

Is unbreathable a word? It doesn’t sound like one…

“What the hell?” Mattie mutters, pulling me to the side.

I look up and see someone lying in the snow to the right of the church, and there’s a woman screaming something, like, “Help!”

“Where’s Seanie?” I ask Mattie.

God, if it’s the Good Folk, they’d be here for a child.

Jesus Christ! What the fuck are the Good Folk doing at the church? They aren’t allowed here. The water. The…the…ground. Something about the ground? They can’t be here.

Mattie’s shaking his head.

“Mattie!” I yell at him.

He shakes his head again. “I dunno,” he says.

Jesus, no. No, no, nonononono.

I walk towards the person, lying in a patch of quickly reddening snow.

It’s not Seanie, I tell myself. It’s not Reid. It’s not Dad. It can’t be. It’s a woman, I think.

“Oh, God,” I say, beginning to recognise the woman lying in the snow.

I feel sick.

It’s Aunt Jo.

“Mattie,” I say. He’s back where I left him.

He comes forward, looking at me timidly, before he recognises his mother.

“Mum!” he says, running to her.

I think the blood’s coming from her stomach. Her jacket’s all mashed up and torn there.

Jesus, I think.

I have to find my dad.

I look around for anyone and all I see are faces. I don’t think I recognise anyone around me. And that’s not even possible.

“Michael!” I yell.

There’s no response.

I look around for our car, but I don’t see it, all I can see is people.

“Lorna.”

I jump as someone grabs my arm.

“Jesus Christ, Reid,” I say.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Where’s Sean?”

He tightens his grip on my arm. I don’t think he’d meant to, but it hurts all the same. “In the car. Who is it?”

“Aunt Jo,” I say without looking at my brother.

He lets go of my arm, and starts to walk off.

“Where’s dad?” I call after him.

“Hell if I know!” He calls back. “Just get in the car!”

Normally, I’d scream at him, or I’d mutter to myself about him being a sexist pig, but all I want to do right now is get to Sean. Except I also can’t help but think of Mattie, and I find myself pushing my way further into the crowd, instead.

“…I swear, I have no idea what happened. I mean, he was so, he…he would never…” cries a woman to my right. I glance in that direction and see Cynthia Quigley. And my father.

“But he did!” My dad yells at her. “Where did he go?”

“Dad,” I say, but he doesn’t know.

“I…I don’t know,” Cynthia cries. “Justin would never. I don’t…he wouldn’t. I…I think he drove off.”

Justin?

Justin Fionn attacked my aunt? Justin Fionn.

I have to see Mallory.

And that’s all I can think, even with the crying and the anger all around me, I manage to find my way into the cab of Reid’s truck, by myself.

We’d taken both his truck and the car since we’d taken Mattie and Aunt Jo today since neither of them likes driving and Rob is sick.

Jesus fuck, who’s going to tell Uncle Rob?

But instead of staying to try and help figure that out, or going to the car to be with Sean, I leave in my brother’s truck for God knows what reason.

This could be my fault.

What if this is my fault for not giving back the stone? So, I have to see Mallory right? I need to…I don’t know. I just need.