Read Online Bury the Living (Revolutionary #1) by Jodi McIsaac - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jodi McIsaac
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tourists who were clogging up the entryway. Once outside, she walked briskly to the bus stop.
Go to Kildare.
“Fine,” she said out loud, startling the man standing next to her. Maybe going to Kildare was the only way she’d find answers. Then she could get back to her life and forget this madness.
She took the bus back to the city center, then walked to her hotel. She got as far as the front door before she turned around. A drink—she needed a drink before she did anything else. A few minutes later, she sat down at the bar of Murphy’s Pub and nodded to the barman.
“What’ll you have, then?”
“Jameson.”
The barman poured and mixed and conversed all at once, and she watched him to avoid thinking of the women on the stairs at the jail, of Thomas Heaney’s haunting voice, and of the chill in her bones she couldn’t shake.
“Rough day?” he said to her once her glass was nearly empty. It hadn’t taken long.
“Aye,” she said, swirling the rest of the amber liquid in her glass.
“You from the North, then?”
“Aye. Belfast.”
“Derry, myself,” he said. “Just here for the weekend?”
“I don’t know. I’m on break from my work in Darfur.”
“Darfur!” he said, raising his brows. “Now there’s a fucked-up place. You a relief worker?”
“Aye.”
“Well, then, the next one’s on the house. Saving lives—that’s a whole lot better than pulling pints.”
She smiled at him. “I’m sure you’ve saved a life or two without even knowing it.”
“Ha. Mebbe. Ready for another?”
“Aye.”
You’re making something out of nothing , she told herself as the barman returned to his other patrons. Perhaps Jan was right and she was just burned out. But then she remembered what the tour guide had said.
Maybe some of those who have passed on are trying to speak to you.
Was Thomas Heaney trying to send her a message from the afterlife? If the saints could do miracles and there really was a life after death . . . was it so impossible? She supposed she would soon find out.
Chapter Seven
When Nora awoke the next morning, she felt strangely invigorated. It took her a second to remember why. Then she sat up and flung the covers back.
I have a mission.
She showered and dressed with the efficiency of an assembly-line worker, then pulled on her favorite leather jacket. She ran across the road to grab a bun and cup of tea from the baker’s opposite her hotel. The sun was shining between clusters of cloud in the freshness of the morning as she walked from the baker’s to the train station, past shining office towers and ancient cathedrals. The River Liffey was glittering in the sunlight, a ribbon of silver through an ever-changing city.
Now that she’d made the decision to go, she didn’t know why she’d been so hesitant. Finally, this was something she could do. There were so many things she could not control in her life, but at least she could do this, as far-fetched as it seemed. The dreams, the strange experiences at Kilmainham—they all had to mean something. She’d go to Kildare, find a woman named Brigid, and see if there was some kind of message waiting for her. If there was one, then she’d have to figure out what to do about it. And if there wasn’t, she would tell Thomas Heaney to leave her the hell alone the next time she dreamed about him.
She bought her ticket from a machine outside the station and soon boarded the train. The brick and concrete turned into blurs of green as they sped toward the southwest. Less than an hour later, the automated voice broke into her thoughts with the announcement that they were approaching Kildare Station.
Nora stepped onto the platform, then watched the train continue on its way with a cocktail of foreboding and anticipation. She’d felt this way every time she’d entered a new country, a new disaster, a new opportunity for her to prove herself. Right. Don’t just stand there. Let’s get to work.
Her first destination was
Go to Kildare.
“Fine,” she said out loud, startling the man standing next to her. Maybe going to Kildare was the only way she’d find answers. Then she could get back to her life and forget this madness.
She took the bus back to the city center, then walked to her hotel. She got as far as the front door before she turned around. A drink—she needed a drink before she did anything else. A few minutes later, she sat down at the bar of Murphy’s Pub and nodded to the barman.
“What’ll you have, then?”
“Jameson.”
The barman poured and mixed and conversed all at once, and she watched him to avoid thinking of the women on the stairs at the jail, of Thomas Heaney’s haunting voice, and of the chill in her bones she couldn’t shake.
“Rough day?” he said to her once her glass was nearly empty. It hadn’t taken long.
“Aye,” she said, swirling the rest of the amber liquid in her glass.
“You from the North, then?”
“Aye. Belfast.”
“Derry, myself,” he said. “Just here for the weekend?”
“I don’t know. I’m on break from my work in Darfur.”
“Darfur!” he said, raising his brows. “Now there’s a fucked-up place. You a relief worker?”
“Aye.”
“Well, then, the next one’s on the house. Saving lives—that’s a whole lot better than pulling pints.”
She smiled at him. “I’m sure you’ve saved a life or two without even knowing it.”
“Ha. Mebbe. Ready for another?”
“Aye.”
You’re making something out of nothing , she told herself as the barman returned to his other patrons. Perhaps Jan was right and she was just burned out. But then she remembered what the tour guide had said.
Maybe some of those who have passed on are trying to speak to you.
Was Thomas Heaney trying to send her a message from the afterlife? If the saints could do miracles and there really was a life after death . . . was it so impossible? She supposed she would soon find out.
Chapter Seven
When Nora awoke the next morning, she felt strangely invigorated. It took her a second to remember why. Then she sat up and flung the covers back.
I have a mission.
She showered and dressed with the efficiency of an assembly-line worker, then pulled on her favorite leather jacket. She ran across the road to grab a bun and cup of tea from the baker’s opposite her hotel. The sun was shining between clusters of cloud in the freshness of the morning as she walked from the baker’s to the train station, past shining office towers and ancient cathedrals. The River Liffey was glittering in the sunlight, a ribbon of silver through an ever-changing city.
Now that she’d made the decision to go, she didn’t know why she’d been so hesitant. Finally, this was something she could do. There were so many things she could not control in her life, but at least she could do this, as far-fetched as it seemed. The dreams, the strange experiences at Kilmainham—they all had to mean something. She’d go to Kildare, find a woman named Brigid, and see if there was some kind of message waiting for her. If there was one, then she’d have to figure out what to do about it. And if there wasn’t, she would tell Thomas Heaney to leave her the hell alone the next time she dreamed about him.
She bought her ticket from a machine outside the station and soon boarded the train. The brick and concrete turned into blurs of green as they sped toward the southwest. Less than an hour later, the automated voice broke into her thoughts with the announcement that they were approaching Kildare Station.
Nora stepped onto the platform, then watched the train continue on its way with a cocktail of foreboding and anticipation. She’d felt this way every time she’d entered a new country, a new disaster, a new opportunity for her to prove herself. Right. Don’t just stand there. Let’s get to work.
Her first destination was
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