Eire of Aggression Page 10

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  "Shut up! Shut the hell up!"

  "Simon," Alana called to him, grabbing his bare shoulder, "wake up, Simon!"

  "Wha -" he sputtered as his eyes flickered open, not fully awake. He was on his left side in his bed, facing away from her. His half-mast eyes met with Gunnar's, who had his head on the mattress looking at his master.

  Alana was propped up on an elbow, rubbing Simon's arm. "It was just another bad dream. Who were you yelling at?"

  "Oh, uh... the television," he said groggily. "It was cussing me again. It's done it before."

  He heard a strange noise from her that brought him to full consciousness. Now wide awake, he was sure of it: she was laughing at him. He immediately felt embarrassed for admitting something he normally wouldn't, had he been wide awake. His feeling of vulnerability automatically turned defensive.

  Simon turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder. "I'm so glad you're entertained, ma'am. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go add some piss to the kettle before you go use it."

  Still chuckling, Alana slapped at his bare butt as he got out of bed. "Oh come off it, ya sour fuck. So, like, what - telly newscasters eating the head off ya? As nightmares go, that's like a Disney version." Her grin and raised brows showed her playful attitude.

  Simon wasn't in the mood for it. "If there was a way," he grunted while pulling up a pair of boxers and reaching for his jeans, "I'd swap you dreams; it'd hobble your lip pretty damn quick."

  "If you say so," she purred with honeyed sarcasm.

  He looked back to Alana after pulling a t-shirt over his head. She was languidly stretched out on his bed, still mostly covered by the blanket and with a challenging smirk on her cute face. He overcame the urge to do anything about her suggestive pose or the provocative glint in her eyes.

  Running fingers through his unkempt straw-blonde hair, Simon muttered, "You know where everything is if you want breakfast. Remember to use the bottled water; I'm not sure if the tap is good yet. I'm taking Gunnar outside." He walked out of his bedroom, not waiting for a response.

  The early morning sky was uniform gray, but little to no rain was expected for the day. Simon glanced up at it while hand-rolling a cigarette at the picnic table in his backyard. Lighting the quirley, he watched in silence as Gunnar chased a squirrel up the big, budding yew tree that shaded most of the rear lawn. He turned when he heard the sunroom door squeak open; Alana, dressed in her clothes from the night before, came out carrying two steaming mugs.

  Sitting across from him, she set both mugs down. "If you're past being an aul git, we can start the morning over. Here, I'll start: happy Saint Patrick's Day, honey."

  "Yeah, yeah, you too; I didn't mean to be so quick on the shoot, but it's a bad way to wake up."

  Alana nudged his coffee closer to him. "From the handful of times I've been here to see it, you don't sleep very sound to begin with. It may be all the hours you're putting in. Lord knows auld Gordon McCoy is scraping off all of his farrier clients on ya; itchy to retire, that one. In the meantime, you have to keep up with your and Brody's shop; Kate mentioned that some of your work is in demand. Beyond all that, you have horses in the field, and you're constantly foostherin' this place to perfection."

  Simon turned his head to exhale smoke and then back to her. "Are you saying that I'm not leaving enough time for you... for us?"

  Frowning, Alana shook her head. "No, I'm saying that maybe you're spreading yourself too thin." Her eyes lit up with a sudden thought. "And today is the perfect time to start cutting back a wee bit. After Mass, we'll take in the parade and then take the rest of the day off. Little else is open except for the chemist and pubs today anyway. And I'll bet there'll be mighty craic at Gil's tonight."

  "That may sound like a bang-up day to you," Simon said after a sip of coffee, "but it sure as hell ain't to me. No thanks."

  Alana gave an exasperated sigh. "Then don't attend services; you never do anyway. But it all starts after that. Arse around for once, would ya? What say?"

  Simon stamped out his quirley in an ashtray on the table. "Let me see here... a crowd of people in the ol' gospel mill, and me standing there itchy in my best bib and tucker. Then there'll be a bigger crowd at the parade, where I'd be surrounded by stupid grins and screamin' kids. And then I suspect Gil's will be packed tonight for some big fandango." He shook his head. "I'm not keen on crowds, Alana; I'm pretty sure I mentioned that before."

  "What's on ya?" she asked with an annoyed scowl. "Why're you so feckin' antisocial?"

  Simon sneered back. "I'm not antisocial; I'm anti-jackass. There's one in every crowd, and sooner or later I bump into him. I learned that the hard way."

  "You don't have one meg in you, do ya? Not one fuckin' ounce of fun." She saw that he was about to respond and cut him off. "And lampin' it all over your gaff isn't part of it!"

  "Uh, say again?"

  "Sex, ya eejit!" Alana swung her legs out from under the picnic table and stood. "Jaysus, you can be right thick sometimes. Cop on; you only get one shot at it."

  "Shot at what?" he asked, bewildered. "Do you mean you?"

  Alana growled with infuriation before shouting at him, "I mean life! Fuck!" She spun and stormed off around the house to her car out front. Simon heard it roar to life; three seconds later he caught a glimpse of the hood as she drove away.

  After another sip of coffee, he muttered to himself, "Well, shit."

  "If ye don't mind me sayin', Mister Rike," came a soft, feminine voice from a distance behind him, "the fiery lass might be havin' a sure point."

  Simon turned toward the far end of his lawn. Hovering over the blooming bushes that hedged his small garden was Liadan. His eyes narrowed. "I don't think I could take the opinion of another woman right now, my kind or fairy. So, if ya would," he turned his back to her, "just... go away."

  "Aye, sir," he heard her say, "I'll leave ye be."

  Grunting out a harsh breath, Simon knew his fuss with Alana would rub him raw before the day's end. The problem was that he had no idea how he was supposed to fix it. He didn't want to call Kate; she and Alana were peas in a pod and she might get sore at him too. He had no other immediate options except one.

  He quickly looked behind him once more, hoping that Liadan hadn't moved too far off yet. "Hey, L -" Simon's loud call caught in his throat; she was still hovering in the exact same spot. "Uh, what are you still doing back there?"

  "As I said, sir, I'd leave ye to it - sulking, that is. But I saw the turmoil turning sour in ye, I did, and thought ye might need a way to get it sorted." She began floating slowly and gracefully toward him. "And afore ye wonder: no, fae and human women not all be the same, but share the traits that matter, we do. I've been about long enough to know that, to be sure."

  Liadan landed gently on the picnic table. Simon scooted back on his bench to give her space. "Traits..." He pondered the word as he pulled the coffee mugs and ashtray out of the way. "Like what?"

  Her dimples deepened with her grin. "Ah, truth be told, Mister Rike, we'd be smarter, on the whole; more complex, if ye like."

  "Yeah, complex," he replied with a hint of derision. "Your 'complexities' drive men to drink."

  "Suggesting that we're trouble now, aye? And ye'd be the pot, or is it the kettle?"

  "Huh?"

  Liadan frowned at him. "I hear tell that - as one of a long list - ye don't like crowds. Some might say ye'd be complex as well."

  "It's not crowds - it's all the people in 'em I ain't fond of."

  Sliding her tiny hands in the pockets of her apron, Liadan cocked her head to the side and asked, "And what of just one person? Take the lass that just marched away, for example. Is it that ye can't fathom Miss Quinn, or that mayhap she touched a tender spot?"

  Simon looked away with a shake of his head. "Sometimes I don't get her at all, but maybe that's some game you women play. And, what did you say - tender spot? It's not that I don't... It's been a while for me, and I - I've never had a way...
"

  "Just speak the heart of it, Mister Rike," Liadan cut in.

  After two mute, open-mouthed attempts in trying to explain his feelings - something he had rare practice with - Simon finally blurted, "Blue hell, she makes me nervous, alright?"

  "Ye might need to clear that up a wee bit, if ye would; nervous in what way?"

  "That's what's stumpin' me - it's both ways, good and bad! This whole damn thing's got me chasin' my own tail." He took a deep breath while gripping his hands tightly together. He then explained in a calmer tone of voice. "The good part is what ya might expect; quick-witted, sharp tongue, easy on the eyes and a top-notch roll in the hay. I never know what she's gonna say or do next, but you can bet your hat that it ain't gonna be boring. She's makin' me more interested in her than I ever been with a gal before, and I ain't too sure how to play my hand. The other thing is I'm not sure if I'm the only one sparkin' that filly. If she's got other courters, that ain't none of my affair. At least not yet, it ain't."

  Liadan did her best not to let her confusion of his figures of speech show; she caught the general intent, and reading his aura helped. "Fair enough; Miss Quinn catches your fancy in many ways, although ye can't be sure how to properly court in these modern times - and with a feisty Irish lass, no less."

  "Yeah, but then there's the other side of the coin. Brody says there's a fight comin'. From what he and Kate - and you - say, it's between your kind, but some of us regular folks ain't gonna be left out of it. I'm includin' myself in that; if trouble is comin' for my cousin and his lady, I'm right there with 'em. I got some things in the works that might lend a hand, but that keeps me busy - well, busier. Thing is, knowin' that someone's on the shoot for Brody - who ain't done nothin' to earn it - keeps my temper kinda hot, ya know?"

  "I think I can understand," Liadan said thoughtfully.

  Simon finished his thought. "Alana makes me forget all that when she's around, and I can't afford to get caught unawares. It makes me jumpy, and honestly, it tuckers me out. And it sure as hell ain't fair to Alana, but I can't go tellin' her all that."

  After venting his thoughts and feelings in a rush, Simon looked intently at the tiny fae for her reaction. Liadan looked back at him with an odd grin and let it linger for a few seconds. "How pleasant," she finally said.

  Simon's eyes narrowed. "That sounded pleasant to you?"

  "Ah, for the most part, no; I'd only be referring to a couple of fine points, if ye will. I'll be finding it pleasant to hear of the loyalty ye and Mister Brody hold for one another; with fae, loyalty without compensation be a rare thing. It gladdens me to know ye will be there as well, standing with them and me self. Both your temper and your knives will be welcome, to be sure."

  Simon's surprise could be heard in his voice. "You're joining in? Brody said you wouldn't run, but I didn't expect..."

  "I be knowin' that ye have grudges with me kind, but don't think so little of some, if ye would. Me greatest treasures here in this realm be those I call friends, and I'll be adding a few humans to that short list, I will. Grown quick fond of Miss Kate and Mister Brody, I have; not unlike ye, those humans be full of spirit." She smiled at Simon's small nod of appreciation for the compliment. "As for the other point of pleasantry, I also be finding it a comfort to hear ye speak your mind with me. Most often, ye choose to say little my way, or naught when you're of the mood."

  Simon's discomfort showed on his careworn face. "Hey, cut me some slack on that. Since I've been here, I've seen little fairi - uh, fae - people, ugly bat monsters, and giants doing all sorts of weird shit. Regular folks just don't go takin' that in with the time of day. The only reasons we're havin' a chat is because Brody trusts you, and if I didn't get this out I'd go do somethin' stupid. Just get over yourself."

  Liadan didn't have to read the man's aura to see through his weak bluster. That they were speaking at all was a big step forward, so she didn't push it. "Me original purpose for speaking up, Mister Rike, was this: let yourself go to enjoy what you're fighting for."

  "Meanin' what, exactly?"

  "Miss Quinn did have a point. Your anger's a dog on a thin rope, and ye make sure it be stayin' riled. It's hot for the fight that no longer be lookin' for ye. It's expecting it - hoping for it, even. Whether ye be knowin' it or not, Mister Brody's learned a lesson or two from ye; learn one from him as well. He takes no time for granted and looks to enjoy each moment if he can. Mayhap you've earned just as much."

  "Easier said than done," Simon muttered with a frown. "Did you already forget that demon I killed just over there by the barn not long ago? And, because of shit like that and the fae-fight comin' up, I can't let my guard slip. All my projects in the shop yonder keep me busy and sharp for whatever's next. That angry dog you spoke of might be the only thing that's kept me alive."

  Liadan stared off absently in contemplation before studying him a moment. "Would ye entertain the offer of a pact with me, Mister Rike? There'd be nothing unseemly to it; no twisted meanings, no penalties for failure to live up to any part of it."

  Simon studied her solemn face as well before saying, "Let's hear your terms."

  "Here's everything I'd be requestin', to begin. Being a farrier and an artist - I'd be knowin' ye take pride in all your grand work. Let it show. Try a smile or a warm word now and again for your clients. Ye have special projects. Fine, finish them now and put them aside until called for; whatever they be, they apparently make ye think foul thoughts that won't serve a purpose until autumn. And lastly, ye have a new life here but you're not living it. Go out, often if ye can, and see what this new life of yours has to offer. There'll still be plenty of time for your pets, for your land, and mostly for yourself."

  "That all sounds well and good," Simon replied with a grimace, "but I don't think I could pull off some of those requests. And anyway, there's no time to go livin' high on the hog when I got work to do around here. Don't think it ain't crossed my mind, but there just ain't no way I can do it."

  "Mister Rike," Liadan said calmly, "if it were to be easy, ye wouldn't need to be pressed to try. Now, ye have responsibilities to be sure, but not so many as ye might think. Here's me offer in return. Being of the race of brownie, I'll be quite skilled at tinkerin', if ye will. Ask Mister Brody if ye hold doubt on that. If allowed, I'll keep most simple things on your property in fine order; housecleaning, bushes and garden tended, fences mended, stalls mucked, and the like. What's more, at least until autumn ye can rest easy about foul fae pests on your land; I'll see to it me self that you'll not have so much as the sight of one anywhere near here. Ye have me word on it."

  Simon's scowl was borne of confusion. "What's in it f - uh, I mean, why are you makin' me such a good offer? No offense, little lady, but what's the rub? To be honest, I ain't done you no favors." He took a moment to lighten his tone. "It sounds like a sweet deal, but only on my end. So... I don't get it."

  "All it might cost ye is getting accustomed to seein' me regular sure enough when I be seein' to chores. As for what I get in return... Ye may not understand yet, Mister Rike, but the more contentment and goodwill the area around Ballaghadaere has, the better off we all might fare come autumn. Me pact is to make ye a truly worthy and invested member of the community, for all our sakes. Will that answer be holdin' ye for the now?"

  "And no tricks?" he asked, cautiously hopeful.

  "On me honor, it'll be no more or less than me words. If efforts be made but satisfaction cannot be met, then the pact is dissolved with no ill will. Would ye not at least try, if for no one else but yourself? Let that dog sleep until he'd be needed."

  Simon's answer came slowly with a nod. "I'm not sure what all that goodwill talk is about, but... alright, it's a deal. Ya got my word that I'll try to be more sociable, or at least ease off the trigger some."

  "And I'll be meeting your expectations of chores, if not more so." Liadan nodded once as a sign of finality. "This'll be a bound pact, then. Let it be done and so."

  "Uh, hold on a second. Is co
oking anywhere in your part of the bargain?"

  Liadan shrugged as she began to float slowly away from the table. "I may make a trifle now and again if the mood strikes, but don't ye go expectin' full meals." Her dimples made one more appearance before she simply vanished like a popped soap bubble.

  Simon glanced around the empty yard before muttering, "Alright, toast it is." He called Gunnar to him and carried the coffee mugs inside with an unexpectedly positive attitude.

  Nearly two hours later, he was on his couch making sketches for final designs on a few projects. With the radio playing mellow music in the background and his focus set on visualizing details, Simon didn't hear the car pull up out front. The knock on his front screen door therefore surprised him. Gunnar beat him there, his tail wagging wildly. The dog's happy and silent reaction narrowed who the visitor might be to a very few.

  Brody stood just outside with a goofy grin on his face. He was dressed in a normal style of sweater and jeans, but the huge wool top hat on his head was a ridiculous new look for him. It was vertically striped in Ireland's colors, nearly two feet tall, and drooping from its own weight. "Hey there, cuz - happy Saint Paddy's Day," he said in greeting.

  Simon couldn't help but laugh out loud and then pushed the door open. "Are you sure you don't mean 'happy silly-ass hat day'? You look like an overgrown Irish moron."

  Brody didn't step in, so Simon followed Gunnar out onto the lawn. "Yeah, I know, but what the hell. So anyway, I can't stick around too long. After Mass, Kate went over to Jack and Fiona's and I'm supposed to meet up with all of 'em in front of the shop before the parade starts up. I'm a little early so I swung by to make sure you didn't want to hang out and watch it with us. I knew you said you didn't wanna the other day, and I get why. I'm just throwin' it out there again in case you changed your mind. It's no big deal if you didn't."

  Heartened by Brody's offer of inclusion, Simon had no proper reaction and so just stuck his hands in his pockets. He had deliberated seeing the parade after his talk with Liadan, despite his original choice not to and his aversion to crowds. Still, he gave his word to finish his special projects up and prioritize his time. But then a counter-offer came to mind. "I'm actually kinda tempted now, but I really wanna finish up on a thing or two around here."

  "Oh, okay; like I said - no big deal."

  But I tell ya what," he said quickly before Brody could try to hide his disappointment, "how about you and Kate save me a seat at the bingo games tomorrow night?"

  "No shit?" Brody blurted with raised eyebrows.

  "No shit, cuz," Simon repeated him, but with a grin. "You don't mind, do ya?"

  "Hell no, I don't mind. Hey, come over for dinner tomorrow and we'll all go together."

  "Sounds great," he answered while glancing up at the green, white, and orange monstrosity on his cousin's head. "Now get that stupid hat away from me. Go have a good time, take a bunch of pictures, and tell everyone I said hey."

  Brody frowned at his cousin's uncharacteristic pleasantry, but it quickly turned back into a grin. "You got it." He began walking back to his car. "See ya at the store in the morning." Removing the big silly hat, he got back into his SUV and drove off with a wave.

  Simon swore that he'd try to be more sociable, to take a chance and deny all the fears and anxieties that had been thrust upon him. And if this wasn't trying, he didn't know what was. "Bingo..." he muttered to himself as he and Gunnar went back inside, "I must be outta my damn mind."