Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

  She must be so worried. If Roddy was Declan’s cousin, then he was Desiree’s too. When one of the gypsies died, they all hurt because they were all connected in some way or the other. It made Sarah think that that’s the way it should be. Especially now in this new world of danger and insecurity. The gypsies had it right. But unfortunately, for New Dublin, theirs was a closed membership.

  Sarah sighed and kept walking on the path. She’d do a full circuit of the compound and see if anyone needed a break from patrol duty. Poor Archie was nearly worn out. She hoped he’d gotten some rest today. As she moved down the backs of the last line of cottages, she saw several women grouped around one of the milk cows.

  Kendra stood against one of the paddock posts with her back to Sarah but as Sarah approached, she whirled around as if startled.

  Almost like a sentry guard caught napping.

  Sarah nodded a greeting. “Kendra,” she said.

  “Know my name, do you? I’m flattered.” Kendra’s cheek was bruised.

  “What is your problem?” Sarah said, but didn’t wait to hear the answer. She pushed past Kendra to see the group of women huddled around the cows. Four small children played in the dirt at their feet.

  A line of six dishes with milk poured in each dish was on the ground.

  “I know you own the camp and all,” Kendra said, running to catch up to Sarah. “But I reckon we haven’t broken any laws to milk the fecking cow, have we?”

  Sarah looked at the four women clustered around the cow. They stared at her as if they’d been caught stealing.

  “It’s only for the fairies, Missus,” a young woman said. Sarah recognized her as Mary. She had a little girl. Her husband Kevin was one of the men out searching for Ciara.

  Before Sarah could answer, Ellen Murdoch stood up from a crouching position. She had a milk pitcher in one hand.

  “We’re doing what we have to do to survive,” she said, angrily. “You’ll not stop us.”

  “We’re not hurting anyone!” another woman said. Her name was Jill. Tommy’s mother. She probably wasn’t thirty-five yet but she looked fifty. On the rough side of fifty.

  “Where are your rifles, ladies?” Sarah asked, trying to keep her tone level.

  “Rifles won’t help us against what’s coming,” Jill said. “The spirits are commanded through the verra rocks and trees around us!”

  “My Davey came to me last night,” another woman, Liddy said. Her husband was also one of the ones who’d gone out with Mike. “He came to me in the form of a bird and told me we was to prepare. That the spirits were angry with how we’ve been living!”

  “Well, I’m sure that must have been a shock,” Sarah said. “Look, everyone, I know you’re afraid. I’m not asking you not to feel fear. All I’m asking you to do is your jobs.”

  “I didn’t sign up to be no fecking castle guard!” Kendra said.

  “Nor me!” Jill said. “I don’t even know how to shoot a damn gun.”

  “That’s not the job I’m talking about.” Sarah went to Mary who was seated on the ground, her toddler in her lap. Sarah put her hand on the baby’s head. “I’m talking about this job.” She looked around the ring.

  “Is there really a single person here who believes putting a dish of milk in a window is going to protect this child from the people who slit Roddy Barker’s throat?”

  Mary moaned and pulled her child close to her, holding the girl’s head with both hands. Tommy’s mother stood listening, her hand over her mouth. Sarah pointed to her.

  “Jill, you once told me how you used to love watching Real Housewives and playing Candy Crush for hours.” Jill smiled meekly and nodded at the other women.

  “It’s true,” she said.

  “You are a modern woman! Mary,” Sarah said, turning to her, “you had your first baby in a hospital with an epidural and then celebrated afterward with a cheeseburger from McDonald’s.” A titter of laughter erupted.

  Sarah smiled at her. “So do not tell me you now believe babies are found under a lettuce leaf.” She turned and addressed the group, her face suddenly sober. “Everyone, listen to me, please. This isn’t fairies doing this to us. It’s evil men who want to hurt us, hurt our children.”

  She looked at Kendra.

  “I know you lost your husband last year, Kendra. And that you don’t have any kids.” She swept an arm to encompass the children playing in the dirt. “These are your kids now. Every last dirty-faced one of them.” She held Kendra’s gaze until the woman looked toward the children.

  “Siobhan Murray gave her life to try to protect one of our children. Our men are out there risking their lives to do the same. Is there anyone here who would do less?”

  Sarah patted the flank of the cow and pulled the lead rope gently out of Ellen Murdoch’s hands.

  “Our job as women is to protect the children. At the end of the day, it’s really the main thing we’re here for.” She sat down next to Brigit. “You could fill up a trough of milk for the fairies—a thousand-gallon vat of milk—and it wouldn’t do any good.”

  “But what about the Wicker Man? We all saw him.”

  “You also all saw Archie Kelley make kindling of him yesterday morning. And that’s all he is—a wooden contraption made by evil men.”

  “What in the world do ye imagine we can do?” Ellen said, helplessly.

  “Besides milking a cow and praying for mercy? You can be a warrior for your children.”

  “You mean fight?” Brigit whispered, looking at her daughter.

  “Yeah, Brigit. That’s what I mean,” Sarah said reaching over and squeezing Brigit’s hand. “Our husbands are gone. Siobhan and Mickey are dead. Regan and Ciara taken, my boys Gavin and John—God knows where. It’s up to us now.”

  “I’ve never fired a gun in me life. And who’ll watch the bairns?” Ellen said.

  “Are our men coming back? Can’t we wait for them?” Mary said.

  “I’m sorry, Mary,” Sarah said sadly. “I’m afraid we’re it.”

  And trust me, we’re not enough.

  Sarah let the silence carry the moment and felt the hopeless truth of it all in that silence. The truth that they were just ten weak, terrified women standing between their children and those who would murder them. Sarah stared at her hands still holding the cow’s lead rope when she heard Kendra clear her throat.

  “I say,” Kendra said in a low but clear voice, “that we make sure the only thing those bastards get when they come is blood—their own.”

  Sarah looked at her in surprise. Kendra walked over to her and held out her hand.

  “Count me in, Yank. You’re right, these are my kiddies, too. Same as they were Siobhan’s.” They shook hands and then Kendra turned to the rest of the women.

  “Let’s see how magical a load of shotgun shells feel to these wankers!” she said.

  A small cheer arose from behind Sarah. When she turned around she saw Fiona standing on the edge of the main perimeter path. Her eyes were clear for the first time since Ciara was taken and a determined look was etched across her face.

  “We’re all in,” Fiona said grimly.

  Behind her stood every one of the gypsy women.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Well, they were at least keen so there was that.

  Sarah stood on the catwalk and watched the light begin to fade on the group of women standing below. Archie had a group of half the women and Fiona the other half stretched into two long lines in front of makeshift targets. The gypsy women were natural marksmen, or maybe they’d just had more opportunity to shoot guns. Sarah watched Archie triage them according to ability. The better shots would line the walls, the ones who couldn’t hit the side of a cineplex movie screen would help as runners.

  Armed runners.

  The men of the compound sat and watched the activity. Even from this distance Sarah could hear them laughing as the women attempted to become familiar with their weapons. Tommy and Father Ryan were still keeping watch in two of t
he towers. She could see both of them easily from where she stood. Mary had been allowed to forgo the gun practice in order to man the third tower and Nuala’s sister Abby was in the final one. While not exactly mentally impaired, Abby was definitely a little slow and Archie had been hesitant to arm her.

  Sarah watched as each of the women handed her children to the next woman in line before she stepped up to shoot. Kendra, who had proved herself early on as a good shot, minded the rest of the children from Sarah’s front porch and watched the show.

  The bastards would come tonight. Of that Sarah had no doubt. The Wicker Man warning was two days old, and the deadline Cormac had given Sarah had come and gone.

  Tonight was the night.

  She stared again over the top of the wall at the main road that led to the compound. The catwalk allowed her to stand, with the wall coming to just below her shoulders. High enough to lean her elbows on the wall to shoot for hours if need be. She scanned the bushes in the fading evening light. A sniper could pick her off easily from where she stood. If they were out there.

  A noise made her turn to see Fiona approaching from below.

  “Oy, Sarah!” she called. “The Travelers are cooking the hog over the main campfire tonight.”

  “Okay, great. I’ll pass the word. You guys finished for the day?”

  “For better or worse,” Fiona said, then turned and rejoined her group of women. They greeted her with noisy conversation and hugs, camaraderie flourishing under unspeakable odds.

  God, please let us all survive this night, Sarah thought as she watched them. She turned her attention to Archie who appeared to be releasing his own troops to go eat as well. She watched them gather up their children and join the gypsy women at the main cookfire. Sarah descended the ladder and walked toward Archie.

  “They looked good,” Sarah said.

  “Oh, aye,” Archie said, glancing at the women over his shoulders. “They’ll do.”

  “You think they’ll be able to do it when the time comes?” Sarah asked.

  “Remember the lass whose five year-old was taken?”

  “You mean Brigit?”

  “It’s all I can do to keep her from going out there with a rifle and hunting the bastards down herself. And she doesn’t even know how to shoot a rifle. They’re all mad keen.”

  Sarah smiled but her stomach was churning. At the end of the day, all the energy and bravery and mother love in the world might not be enough. She glanced at the men. Barney Murdoch, Dez and Patrick regarded her as she stood speaking to Archie. Barney was leaning against a wagon wheel, his ankles crossed as if he were about to watch a football match. Tommy ran to join them. One of the women must have spelled him at his watch.

  Archie touched her arm and spoke quietly so the men couldn’t hear. “Are ye still happy with the plan, lass?”

  The plan. Rudimentary, hardly original. But at least a plan. They had thirty women and six men. Seventeen of the women would stand on the catwalk guarding the back and sides of the compound. Three armed women would take over the watchtowers. Their instructions were to shoot at anything that moved. If, God forbid, Mike and Declan chose this night to crawl back to the compound on their bellies in the high grass, the timing would be very bad indeed. All the women had been instructed to shoot first.

  “You still think we need runners?” Archie asked.

  “I do. It’s the only communication we’ll have once everything starts to happen. If the bastards come at us from the back, I want to know immediately.”

  “Who’s on the front wall?”

  “Me, Fiona, Nuala, Brigit and Ellen Murdoch.”

  “Nuala is a mother with two small lads. Are ye sure?”

  “We’re all mothers, Archie. And yes, she insisted. I’d do the same in her shoes.”

  “And the priest?”

  “He’ll stay in my cottage during the fight. If there’s wounded, he says he can help in that way.”

  “That’s it then. Now we wait?”

  “The gypsies are making us a last supper,” Sarah said.

  “You’ve got a wit, lass,” Archie said. “Although I’m not sure I care for it much.”

  “Cheer up, Archie. Just think, this time tomorrow it’ll all be over. One way or there other.”

  Archie frowned. “You’re not thinking dying won’t be so bad if you can see your lad in heaven, are ye?”

  “Archie, I know John’s alive. Mike too. I’m not thinking dying is the answer to anything.”

  “Well, then,” he said gruffly “let’s tell the lads what we need and get to that last supper, eh?”

  Sarah turned to face the four men. They were waiting with open curiosity.

  “Okay,” she said, standing in front of them with Archie to her side, “so here’s the deal. Tommy, Dez and Patrick, you three plus Archie are going to be our final line of defense. You’ll stand right here, spaced about ten feet apart, roughly at the compound center.”

  She glanced at Archie and he nodded.

  “When the alarm is raised you need to be no more that five feet from these spots so pick a soft place on the ground and that’s where you’ll sleep until then.”

  She saw Tommy wipe his hands on his jeans and shift his rifle to his other shoulder. She knew he was afraid and she knew his mother, Jill, was terrified for him. He was only three years older than John.

  “If the druids get through the gate or over the walls,” Sarah continued, “you four will be the line they have to get past. So you know what? Don’t let them get past.”

  She watched them exchange a serious look among them. Even Barney was standing up straight now and she was almost positive the brothers Dez and Patrick were sober. She waved a hand to indicate the compound.

  “If you see someone you don’t recognize, you kill him. You see someone waving a white flag? You kill him.” She turned to Patrick. “What if that someone is a woman?”

  “I…kill her.” He shook his head as if trying to wake up from a sick dream.

  “That’s right,” Sarah said. “If the druids get past us on the catwalk it’s because they’ve killed us. Got it? So if they get to where you guys are, they’ve already killed your wives and your daughters. Any questions?”

  “What about the children?” Tommy asked. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. He had an eight-year old sister.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Archie said, speaking for the first time. “They’re taken care of. You just make sure the bastards don’t get past you. The gypsies are making our dinner tonight and you can go on now and get yours.”

  Sarah watched them turn away.

  “Barney?” she said, “May I speak to you privately, please?”

  “I was starting to feel left out, Missus. A job for everyone but meself?” He laughed nervously. She gave a brief nod to Archie and he led the other men toward the main campfire.

  “I have a terrible job for you,” Sarah said. “I have the worst job of all for you.”

  She watched his face pale but his lips were set in a firm line. His daughter was gone, taken by these monsters, perhaps killed. His wife was standing at the front in order to be among the first to draw fire. And give it.

  “Tell me,” he said grimly.

  “We have eight children, aged ten months to eight years old. I’m putting you in the far watchtower with them. You’ll be able to see everything that happens from there.”

  He frowned. “I’m to babysit the bairns?” he said incredulously.

  “On the high back shelf in the tower, I’ll have ten sugar cubes, dosed with cyanide. If you see the compound being overrun, give the cubes to the children.”

  His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. “Poison them, you mean?”

  “That’s right. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Ten cubes, you say? For eight children?”

  “What you do with the extras is up to you.”

  He looked toward the catwalk as some of the women were already lining up and examining their rifl
es. He licked his lips.

  “Jaysus,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “For the love of God, keep the bastards out.”

  “We’re going to do our very best.”

  *****

  Sarah and Fiona sat back to back on the catwalk, their blankets wrapped around them so they could sleep. While the gate search lights swept across the front drive in intervals, Sarah had set up that each of the four watchtowers would flash a light every hour one right after the other. She took turns with the other four women on the front catwalk in two-hour watch shifts. If anybody at all—on the catwalk, the towers or on the main grounds—noticed a missing light where there should have been one, they were to rouse the entire compound.

  So far nobody missed a light.

  Sarah had asked for silence from the women on the catwalk. While the last thing she wanted to do was to leave anyone to their own thoughts—especially at a time like this, neither did she want them distracted from the job at hand. It was only one night. One night where, when they were awake, they needed to be more awake than they’d ever been.

  Sarah was on watch when she saw the faint glow coming toward them on the horizon. She didn’t wait to rub the sleep out of her eyes or to squint to see clearer. She raised the alarm. Turning toward the compound interior, she saw Archie making his rounds, walking back from one of the watchtowers.

  “They’re here!” Sarah said, her voice loud and unwavering in the still morning. Instantly, she heard the rustling of women standing up, sloughing off blankets, of murmured prayers, and rifles being cocked and loaded.

  Fiona was by her side, her gun poised over the top of the wall and directed down the road along with Ellen’s, Brigit’s and Nuala’s.

  “How many of them? Can you see?” Ellen whispered.

  The druids marched with torches held high in the dark, like an early dawn coming before time. As they drew closer, Sarah could hear the singing. Not like angels or the fairies that so many said they’d heard, but a deep, rumbling chanting. Like a warning.

  “A lot,” Sarah said in a low voice.