But if Declan wanted to see this massacre as something more than what it was—a tragedy and an example of what people can become when there are no laws to rein them in—then Mike needed to stop that line of thinking now before it went any further.
“We’ll investigate, of course,” Mike said. “But whoever did this has probably moved on. These are times rife for evil and evildoers, Dec.”
“Remember what I said? About how the sacrifices will move up the chain? From dogs no one gives a shite about to goats?” He waved a hand at the mound of bones.
“You’re telling me your own people are the in-between sacrificial offering between goats and the rest of the Irish people?”
“That’s how they would see it,” Declan replied bitterly.
“They who?”
Declan turned on Mike, his face a mask of fierce anger.
“You know who, goddammit. Are you so determined to present yourself as the last educated man in a destroyed world that you won’t see what’s right in front of you?”
“Not if it involves believing trees walk at night, no,” Mike said. “People did this. Not fairies or goblins. People looking for answers in the old ways.”
Mike looked across old Seamus’s pasture and tried to settle his mind. Seamus had lived in London most of his life and then retired to Ballinagh where he became the village schoolmaster for more than twenty years. He and his wife were murdered by a band of marauding gypsies just months after all the lights went out in Ireland.
“Mike?”
Mike turned back to Declan. “If it is people fancying themselves druids or whatnot why haven’t we heard of them up to now?”
“Maybe it took something like this to make us see them.”
Mike went back to his horse and mounted up. Little could be done here without a forensic kit—which they didn’t have. Declan seemed to know or suspect something. One thing was clear, the man was holding back.
“Alright,” Mike said, “where are they then?”
*****
Fiona jostled the baby on one knee while Sarah rolled out dough for biscuits.
There was nothing for the fact that both boys had heard Declan’s terrible news this morning and had gone about their chores quieter than usual—especially since Mike had forbidden them to leave the compound until he and Declan returned.
“What do you think it means?” Fiona asked.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t there three months ago. I just wish I knew when it happened.”
“Dec said it was all gypsies.”
“Fiona, I am so sorry. Has Dec…are there any missing…?”
“No. I don’t think so. But I’m worried about him, Sarah. He’s that upset. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“How so?”
“He’s anxious. All the time. Ever since the baby was born.”
“Children make you see what’s important,” Sarah said. “They shine a light on what you truly value.”
“That they do.”
“Having said that, I think Mike needs to lock down the camp.”
“Are you serious?”
“Something’s going on out there,” Sarah said. “I feel it. Plus it’s not just Dec who’s nervous. Haven’t you noticed it? The whole compound’s on edge. It wouldn’t take much—a rumor, an accident—to light a match to this powder keg.”
Sarah worked in silence for a few moments. Outside her kitchen window she saw a group of children sitting on a blanket being taught basic math and reading by two of the compound mothers. Just like the one-room school rooms of the American West.
She focused her attention back to Fiona.
“But Declan thinks it’s a hate crime?” Sarah asked.
Fiona sighed and reached for her tea. “He thinks there’s a group of druids in the area.”
“Druids? He thinks druids killed twenty men women and children and left them in the woods for the crows to finish off?”
“Why are you so sure he’s wrong? People want answers during times like these. And the druids have been a part of Ireland for thousands of years.”
“If people are so keen to have answers why not just go to church?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Holy crap, Fiona, are you telling me you believe this stuff? Father Ryan will be interested to hear that.”
“There’s more answers to the universe’s questions than just the sacraments and go to mass on Sunday—at least if you’re Irish.”
Sarah sipped her tea and then reached across the table and touched Fiona’s wrist. “Sorry, Fi. I’m just an American ignoramus. Tell me who the druids are.”
“Well, you’re that, sure enough,” Fiona said with a smile, “but truthfully not often.” She arranged Ciara in her arms and the toddler stuck her thumb in her mouth and closed her eyes. “Let’s see. Well, the druids believe that there’s a spirit in everything that exists in nature, ya ken? In the trees, the rocks, the streams and of course the animals.”
“So that’s why we heard people talking about walking trees?”
“Aye. The spirits in nature come alive, sometimes as talking animals and trees and sometimes as fairies.”
“It’s just hard to hear you use the word fairies with a straight face.”
“Make no mistake, Sarah, this isn’t Tinkerbell I’m talking about. Irish fairies are fierce and they live underground. Of course, so they say.”
“And because we’ve got evidence of animal sacrifices—which is a part of the druid religion—you think we have practicing druids around here, right?”
Fiona nodded.
“And the massacre of Declan’s people?” Sarah asked.
“I’m guessing that was an offering to appease the fairies or whatever underworld deities the druid priests pray to.”
“So what’s their next step after sacrificing a marginalized population?”
“Pardon?”
“What do you imagine they’ll do after they’ve offered up dogs and gypsies to their fairy gods? Who’s next?”
Ciara woke with a start and cried out.
“Oh, sorry darlin’!” Fiona said, kissing the child. “Mummy didn’t mean to squeeze you so hard.” The baby closed her eyes and snuggled closer into Fiona’s arms. Fiona looked at Sarah.
The sudden fear in her eyes nearly took Sarah’s breath away.
*****
Several hours later Sarah could tell from the way her husband sat his horse that things were as bad as they feared. His shoulders were slumped in dejection as he rode next to Declan. He nodded at her as they made their way to the stables.
John stood beside Sarah and began to move down the porch toward them but she grabbed his arm.
“Give them a minute,” she said.
“He should have let me and Gav go, too,” John said, returning to her on the steps. “We were the ones that found it in the first place.”
Sarah glanced at her son.
“What did you think you could do, John? Help bury them?”
He flushed. “Look for clues. Footprints, hair caught on branches, stuff like that.”
“Let Mike handle it. Whatever’s going on is not something we’re equipped to handle.”
“You mean, because we’re American? It’s not fairies, Mom. It’s murder.”
“I know.”
Declan appeared from around a corner of huts with his head tucked. He walked straight for his own cottage across from where Sarah was standing.
“Alright,” she sighed. “Go help with the horses.”
John jumped off the porch and jogged in the direction that Declan had come from. Sarah eyed Fiona and Declan’s cottage door. After a moment, she saw a hand jerk the curtains shut across the front window.
“Has Himself returned then?”
Sarah turned to see Siobhan and Margaret Keenan coming from the direction of the compound entrance. Had they been outside the walls?
“He has,” Sarah said to Siobhan. “I haven’t talked to him yet.”
&nb
sp; “Did he find the bodies?” Margaret said, her face pinched in a frown. Sarah tried to imagine that she had been pretty or young once.
“I don’t know. I imagine he’ll make a full report at the campfire tonight. Siobhan, will you have supper with us tonight? Miz Keenan, you’re welcome as well.” The last invitation was hard to get out but she couldn’t not invite the woman standing right on her doorstep.
“No, darlin’,” Siobhan said. “But thank you. Maggie and I’ll have our tea before the compound meeting. Go on now and get off your feet. You look done in.”
“Do I?” Sarah had to admit she felt tired. In fact, she’d felt tired since the moment she’d gotten out of bed this morning. Must be pretty bad if people noticed.
“Well, it’s the bairn that’s to blame most likely, but still, take care of yourself.”
“I don’t have that excuse today,” Sarah said, turning to go back in. “Fiona’s kept Ciara all day.”
“Sure I wasn’t talking about Fiona’s little one,” Siobhan said with a cackle. “It’ll be your own, Sarah Donavan, or are you telling me you don’t even know?”
*****
Mike looked around the dinner table and frowned. He was glad Siobhan wasn’t here. He didn’t have the patience, tonight of all nights, to deal with her silliness. Gavin had begged off to eat with Regan’s family and that reminded Mike that he’d need to deal with that whole situation soon enough. Sarah seemed quiet, more than usual. Was something wrong there?
He shook himself out of the thought. If there was, he’d take her in his arms tonight in bed when the rest of the world was finally asleep and he’d know. They’d share their secrets and soothe each other of the day’s trials. When they were alone, the rest of the world fell away. If something was the matter, he’d find out soon enough.
“So what are you going to say at the meeting?” John asked as he passed Mike a bowl of boiled squash. “Everyone’s going to freak out.”
“No they’re not,” Mike said firmly. “There’s nothing to freak out about.”
“Well, there kind of is,” John said. “They’re gonna have questions like who did it and are we next and stuff like that.”
“Don’t worry about it, John,” Sarah said absently as she buttered a muffin and then placed it on her plate uneaten. “Mike will take care of it.”
“Are you all right, Sarah?” Mike asked.
“Of course.”
“The whole compound thinks we’re practically under attack by fairies and leprechauns,” John said.
“That’s ridiculous.” Mike snorted.
“Aunt Siobhan says—”
“Siobhan Murray is an old lady set in her ways,” Mike said. “She also doesn’t believe in long-range radio waves or the Internet. Still think she’s a bastion of good sense?”
“Well, there kind of isn’t any Internet anymore,” John pointed out.
“It still exists, lad, as you well know. Just not in Ireland.”
“Or Scotland or Wales.”
“Fine. I’m just saying, respect Siobhan because of her age and that’s right that you should but take with a wee grain of salt just about everything else that comes out of her mouth.”
He glanced at Sarah but she wasn’t listening to the conversation. Her eyes were glazed and her thoughts elsewhere. Aye, he’d definitely have to get it out of her later.
*****
Sarah sat next to Mike on a bench that faced the courtyard cookfire. The gypsies had fried fish over it early in the day and a slight, briny scent still wafted in the air. The seats circling the fire had filled early. Everyone knew where Declan and Mike had gone today and why. There was a feeling of tension in the air that crackled like the jumping sparks from the fire. Even the kiddies weren’t racing around in their usual manic style, but sitting at the feet of their parents, waiting.
No, not on any level in any universe had it ever remotely occurred to Sarah that she might be pregnant. Getting pregnant with John fifteen years ago had been nothing less than a miracle of scientific intervention, one followed by years of repeated attempts resulting in agonizing but resolute infertility.
Combined with the fact that Sarah was forty-four years old, and the idea that her exhaustion, her mood swings and her weight gain might possibly have something to do with the fact that she was with child was as unbelievable to her as if fairies really were to start roaming the earth.
She was pregnant.
How the world could change in the split of a moment. She put her hand on her abdomen and then quickly removed it. She was growing life in there. She was creating another being to come into this unsettled world or danger and hunger.
And it was wonderful.
*****
Mike stood up and the murmur of voices and the occasional burst of laughter ceased immediately. He saw Declan seated with Fiona with their child, Ciara between them. The little one was growing quickly. Behind them sat a group of gypsies. They normally didn’t attend the compound meetings and Mike was surprised to see them but perhaps he shouldn’t be, considering the find that day.
Declan had said little on their ride home. They’d spent the day riding in a ten-kilometer radius of Seamus’s farm and had found nothing. Not even a campsite.
Siobhan sat a few families away from Dec and Fiona with that troublemaker Margaret Keenen. The two women were close in age and Mike thought he remembered that they had known each other before. Right now he saw their alliance as an unfortunate one.
“I’ll be having your attention, if you please,” he said in his loud, booming voice. But they were ready for him, in fact had been waiting for this moment all day and the silence slammed down like a guillotine on greased hinges.
“If you haven’t heard the news,” he said, scanning the group, “we found a mass grave about two kilometers north of us.” If he’d been hoping for gasps or anything else that might indicate this was a surprise, he was disappointed. Everybody knew.
“Declan and myself did an extensive search of the area and found no trace of anyone or anything.”
Margaret Keenan’s hand shot up like she was in Sunday school but she didn’t wait to be called on.
“Are you thinking we’re being invaded by the English then, oh great chief?”
Margaret’s question served to cut to the core of what the group was feeling at the same time she was able to mock his leadership. Mike held on to his temper and took a deep breath to keep control of it.
“Not at all, Miz Keenan,” he said mildly. “But we’ve dealt with villainy in the past and we’re likely not done with dealing with it in the future.”
“So if it’s not the English,” a voice called out. “Then who killed those poor bastards?”
“Well, like I said,” Mike said, “Declan Cooper and I did an extensive search—”
“Sure, why aren’t you telling us the truth, Mike Donovan?” Margaret said. She turned to the group. “He’s treating us like children without the right to know the danger we’re in!”
“That is not true, Miz Keenan,” Mike said. “But I’ll thank you to wait your turn to speak.”
“Let the woman speak!” Mickey Quinn shouted out. “We want the truth!”
“There is no truth as yet to know,” Mike said, raising his hands to calm everyone down. “As soon as we know it—”
Margaret jumped up and turned to the crowd. “Am I the only one to hear them sing in the mornings when it’s too early for even the roosters? Am I the only one to see them moving in the woods? In the shadows?”
“Samhain is over, Miz Keenan,” Mike said gruffly. “The time for ghost stories is past for another year.”
“I knew your mother, Michael Donovan,” Margaret said. “She was a good woman and I can’t help think she’d hate to see her son today lying to his people.”
“Tell us the truth!” a voice shouted. It was followed by a chorus of angry voices.
Mike ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He was tempted to stomp away.
�
�I heard it was a band of gypsies murdered!” a voice yelled.
“No, it’s the village! Tell ‘em, Donovan! The whole village of Ballinagh gone and everybody murdered in their beds!”
“Everyone settle down,” Mike called out.
“If you’ve seen them,” Siobhan said in a shrill voice, “you need to appeal to them! Put milk out in the windowsills at night! Walls can’t stop them! All our guns and patrols won’t save us!”
Mickey Quinn stood up with his arms outstretched.
“As God is my witness,” he said, “I seen the Wicker Man! Right outside our walls!”
A woman screamed, and Mike strode over to Mickey and picked him up by the shirt front.
“I will throw the next person in jail who says another word about the fecking Wicker Man or fairies or anything else.” He looked over at Siobhan and Margaret. “Don’t think I won’t do it, ladies. By God I will.”
Mike released a quivering Mickey who sat down on the bench with a hard thump.
“Bullying old men now, Donovan, who don’t agree with you?”
Mike whirled around to see Declan, his hands on his hips, the expression on his face unreadable. The two men stared at each other until the voice of Tommy Donaghue pierced the silence.
“I saw him, Mr. Donovan,” he said. “I saw the Wicker Man.”
“You’re either lying or you’ve been reading too many fairy tales,” Mike said.
“It’s the truth,” Tommy said, digging into his pocket. “And I can prove it.” He held up a USB key for all to see. “I got him on video.”
CHAPTER SIX
Mike jabbed the USB key into the back of the laptop computer on the desk in the living room of his cottage. Half the compound gathered on his front porch and waited. He clicked on the icon when it appeared on the desktop but nothing happened.
“John!”
“Yessir,” said John, sitting beside him. The boy reached over and moved the track pad to open up an application Mike hadn’t seen. When he did the video started playing immediately. Sarah and Declan stood behind Mike. Gavin hadn’t followed them into the house. Mike assumed he was with Regan.
Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6 Page 6