Read Online Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen) by Stina Leicht - Free Book Online
Authors: Stina Leicht
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apologized without noting who it was she’d bumped and joined the others politely waiting for the grieving family to exit first.
“What is it? Is something wrong?” Barney asked her, frightened.
Kathleen paused before answering. “No. Everything is fine.”
“We should get back to the flat,” Barney said. “They’ll be coming for me after the dinner.”
Geraldine’s dull eyes grew sharp, and she clutched Barney’s arm in a panic. “No! I need you home! They can’t take you from me! Not now!”
He curled a protective arm around Geraldine and made soothing noises. “There. There. Calm yourself now. It’s going to be all right.”
“No it won’t! They’ll kill you too. Like they did our Michael. He didn’t do anything!”
Kathleen forgot about Bran and turned to help Barney quiet Geraldine. Slowly the hysterical cries faded into sobs. Kathleen and Barney were able to half carry her as far as the gate. Then Geraldine tore herself free from Kathleen’s grasp.
“Go away home, yous! Murderers!” Geraldine pointed a finger through the iron gate bars at a young private.
The private brought his rifle to bear. All at once, someone screamed, the mourners scattered, and the constable dropped to a defensive crouch. Kathleen tensed up in anticipation of gunfire. She scanned the churchyard for Sheila and the children, but didn’t see them. Father Murray stepped next to Geraldine. Barney rushed in to pull his wife from danger. Kathleen moved to follow but felt a cold hand on her wrist.
“Stay back,” Bran whispered in her ear and tugged her toward the shelter of a tombstone.
“They let my boy die! He was sick! And they let him die!” Geraldine turned away from the soldier, throwing herself into Barney’s arms.
Father Murray held his hands up, and at the sudden movement the end of the rifle changed targets, digging into his chest. It made a dent in his vestment robes. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” His tone became steady and quiet. “Please, Private. Put down the gun. This is a funeral. These people are grieving. No one here means you any harm.”
The young Private’s face was pale, and his grey eyes were wide. He blinked and swallowed. Kathleen thought she saw him shudder as the rifle was lowered.
“Thank you, Private,” Father Murray said.
Crouched behind a large tombstone with Bran, Kathleen let go of the breath she was holding.
“That could have been a mess,” Bran whispered.
Kathleen nodded, afraid to speak. Glancing up and to her left, she saw Barney comforting his wife less than six feet away.
“And you almost walked right into the middle of it,” Bran said, keeping his voice low.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a fierce whisper, still searching for her children.
“Protecting you from your own foolishness, it seems.”
“What about your war? I thought you had more important things to do?”
Bran smiled in an obvious attempt at charm. “What could be more important than keeping my sweet Kathleen safe from harm?” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles.
The gesture was so tender that she winced and checked to see if anyone was looking. “You have to leave,” she said. “Now. Before someone sees you.”
“Let them. What does it matter?” He edged closer.
Unable to stop herself, she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him as she always did and remembered a time when she’d been truly happy. “There’ll be talk.”
“It’s only words, love. Mortals have short memories.”
“Not all do,” she said. “It’s a married woman, I am. That may not mean much to you. But it means a great deal to me. I swore an oath when I married Patrick—”
“You keep your oath, but does he do the same? And where is he?” Bran gazed across the churchyard at the thinning crowd.
She stood up and dusted off her dress. “He’s gone to the pub, I imagine.”
“And the coward left you and the children to the danger?”
And how is it what you’ve
“What is it? Is something wrong?” Barney asked her, frightened.
Kathleen paused before answering. “No. Everything is fine.”
“We should get back to the flat,” Barney said. “They’ll be coming for me after the dinner.”
Geraldine’s dull eyes grew sharp, and she clutched Barney’s arm in a panic. “No! I need you home! They can’t take you from me! Not now!”
He curled a protective arm around Geraldine and made soothing noises. “There. There. Calm yourself now. It’s going to be all right.”
“No it won’t! They’ll kill you too. Like they did our Michael. He didn’t do anything!”
Kathleen forgot about Bran and turned to help Barney quiet Geraldine. Slowly the hysterical cries faded into sobs. Kathleen and Barney were able to half carry her as far as the gate. Then Geraldine tore herself free from Kathleen’s grasp.
“Go away home, yous! Murderers!” Geraldine pointed a finger through the iron gate bars at a young private.
The private brought his rifle to bear. All at once, someone screamed, the mourners scattered, and the constable dropped to a defensive crouch. Kathleen tensed up in anticipation of gunfire. She scanned the churchyard for Sheila and the children, but didn’t see them. Father Murray stepped next to Geraldine. Barney rushed in to pull his wife from danger. Kathleen moved to follow but felt a cold hand on her wrist.
“Stay back,” Bran whispered in her ear and tugged her toward the shelter of a tombstone.
“They let my boy die! He was sick! And they let him die!” Geraldine turned away from the soldier, throwing herself into Barney’s arms.
Father Murray held his hands up, and at the sudden movement the end of the rifle changed targets, digging into his chest. It made a dent in his vestment robes. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” His tone became steady and quiet. “Please, Private. Put down the gun. This is a funeral. These people are grieving. No one here means you any harm.”
The young Private’s face was pale, and his grey eyes were wide. He blinked and swallowed. Kathleen thought she saw him shudder as the rifle was lowered.
“Thank you, Private,” Father Murray said.
Crouched behind a large tombstone with Bran, Kathleen let go of the breath she was holding.
“That could have been a mess,” Bran whispered.
Kathleen nodded, afraid to speak. Glancing up and to her left, she saw Barney comforting his wife less than six feet away.
“And you almost walked right into the middle of it,” Bran said, keeping his voice low.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a fierce whisper, still searching for her children.
“Protecting you from your own foolishness, it seems.”
“What about your war? I thought you had more important things to do?”
Bran smiled in an obvious attempt at charm. “What could be more important than keeping my sweet Kathleen safe from harm?” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles.
The gesture was so tender that she winced and checked to see if anyone was looking. “You have to leave,” she said. “Now. Before someone sees you.”
“Let them. What does it matter?” He edged closer.
Unable to stop herself, she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him as she always did and remembered a time when she’d been truly happy. “There’ll be talk.”
“It’s only words, love. Mortals have short memories.”
“Not all do,” she said. “It’s a married woman, I am. That may not mean much to you. But it means a great deal to me. I swore an oath when I married Patrick—”
“You keep your oath, but does he do the same? And where is he?” Bran gazed across the churchyard at the thinning crowd.
She stood up and dusted off her dress. “He’s gone to the pub, I imagine.”
“And the coward left you and the children to the danger?”
And how is it what you’ve
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