Stupid Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  Benoit glared at me. “What do you expect us to say to that?”

  “Well, you can say whatever you like. I’m not Morgan. I’m not going to shut you up just because you’re mean. However, I hope that Province 9 is a people that thinks with their brains, rather than follows their anger to their deaths. I’m sad Duke Roland died, too. I didn’t want that for him. I just wanted to pal around with my cousin. I guess I could rage, like you and your boys all are. Make threatening signs and let my temper do the talking instead of my brain, but instead I’m trying to honor the great Province 9 that I’m trying to serve, and behave like a princess you might someday want on your throne.”

  “You murdered our ruler!” he shouted, as if he was upset the yelling had died down. This time, fewer shouts echoed Benoit’s fury, giving him less and less fuel for his side of the discussion. I refused to call this a fight. Benoit and I were having a simple discussion, and I wouldn’t let there be more to it.

  I nodded, ignoring Draper’s hiss that let me know he was pissed I was taking the heat. “I did. Duke Roland broke the law, so he died, exactly like the law you live under says. If you don’t want to live under a law, I get that, but you can’t stay here. If you let him get away with all he did behind closed doors, you’ll let him destroy all Province 9 stands for.”

  Benoit shook his head. “You’re twisting words and making it all sound like murdering Duke Roland was okay.”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Believe me, there’s nothing about Roland’s death that was okay. You think you’re unhappy about it? You lost a friend, but I lost my blood – a member of my family. I’m doing my best, here, Benny. I know you don’t give two rips about me. That’s fine. But I thought you would’ve at least cared about King Urien. He didn’t deserve what Roland did to him.”

  Benoit’s voice was less antagonistic now, seeing reason and playing the card that made sense, rather than chucking random bullets at me. “We would die for our king, but you have no proof Duke Roland was involved in his slumber.”

  I nodded. “And I don’t expect you to blindly trust me. But I hope you’ll give me just a few days, so my dad can speak for himself and tell you the truth. Can you do that for me? Listen instead of rage?”

  Benoit looked out at the thousands of faces who were glaring at him, each with solid reasons that were finally starting to unite into a cohesive nation. Benoit swallowed hard before his gaze landed on me. “We can wait for King Urien to speak.”

  “Thanks, Benny.” I took a chance, my hands shaking, and stood to my feet. I closed the gap between us and offered my hand to him, hoisting him up and wrapping him in a quick hug that shocked him too much to be able to pull out of it. It wasn’t the perfect ending, but no blood had been shed, so it had to be good enough for now.

  If the Noise Rises

  I didn’t notice the grumbling, nor the men stalking toward us until Madigan’s brogue reached my ears. “Ye don’t need to lie for me, Rosie,” Madigan huffed when he reached the platform with Bastien in tow. Murmurs and gasps broke out all through the peace I’d worked hard to instill in the crowd. People fell back from the revered Untouchables by the dozens. “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” Mad moved up the steps and stood in front of me, blocking my body like a wall. His rough voice shot out across the Town Square, shutting everybody up way better than I had, but with unease instead of reason.

  Bastien stood behind me, his movements sluggish, his pallor grayish-green and his eyes vacant when they passed over me. He stank of cheap beer, enough to sting my nose from a few feet away. He was unshaven, rumpled and dirty, and though I’d been longing to see him, my heart sank that he clearly hadn’t been rebuilding the wall, but rather tearing down his life, one drink at a time.

  I put my angst on hold and decided to deal with the situation at hand. “Mad, it’s fine. I handled it.”

  It was as if I hadn’t spoken. Mad clenched his fists, and I could tell he was hungry. He always got crabby when he hadn’t eaten enough. “Listen to me, ye sorry lot. I don’t know why ye think your princess is someone ye can protest and complain about. I killed your precious Roland, and I took my sweet time with it. He attacked the throne of Province 9. Do ye stand for tha?”

  “No!” they answered in a voice far more unified than I’d been able to draw out.

  “He imprisoned King Urien. I trust ye would avenge your king if ye knew the man holding him down?”

  “Yes!” they cried as one.

  “Princess Rosie begged me to spare him. She’s only taking the heat for me because she’s a good person who thinks I need protecting.” He glared over his shoulder at me, as if I’d offended him. “I don’t.”

  I sealed my lips together to keep from getting into it with him in public. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but that mattered little when someone deep in the crowd called out “Ionsaí!” The war cry made no sense to me, but I stiffened all the same.

  Madigan’s eyes slid out of focus, and he mumbled in response what sounded like a rehearsed mantra. “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise.” As if suddenly not himself, Mad’s spine straightened, like someone else was pulling his strings, his muscles all at once tensed to strike from neck to foot. His heels slid in and his shoulders tightened – a soldier being called to attention.

  “Madigan?” I tried to call him out of his intense focus, but it was no use. Mad wasn’t present anymore. In his stead trembled with rage the fearsome Madigan the Formidable, his muscles tensed with an ominous message of rip, tear, kill. “Mad? Honey, are you alright?”

  “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise,” he repeated, this time with more fervor. It was as if my words were ricocheting off of him. His only response was the recited mantra that had made him the soldier he was.

  Benoit cocked his eyebrow in confusion, as if the whole thing was one big, awkward joke. “Your Untouchable’s cracked, your majesty. One too many hits to the head, I guess.” Benoit spoke as if everything Mad had gone through to keep his own life and escape his country’s army was a joke – as if Madigan himself was a joke.

  Mad turned to Benoit and gripped the man’s face in his giant hand. His long fingers had seen too many dungeons and carried out too many dark deeds. “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise.”

  Benoit cried out in fear that was coupled with sudden pain. His hands scrambled to remove Mad’s grip from his face, but there was no stopping the Mack truck that was Madigan. “Ah!” Benoit choked out. “Help!”

  But of course, no one came to Benoit’s aid. The reverence for the Untouchable was the highest law, so no matter how many came out to side with Benoit’s cause, they were mute now, stuck under the rule they adhered to above all else.

  “Bastien, do something!” I whispered, but Bastien didn’t respond. Instead he turned around and vomited right over the side of the stage, splattering a few gray chunks on the hem of my dress. It wasn’t the puke of a man with the flu, but that of a frat guy at the punishing end of a drinking binge. Draper was confused at the turn the speech had taken, unsure how to step in and help.

  I knew Madigan wouldn’t hurt me, so I took my chance and stood up to him, moving next to Benoit’s struggling form so that Mad could see my distress. “Stop, Mad! This isn’t you!”

  Or maybe it very much was him. He’d been a monster to Roland, but there was always the note of control behind it, his emotions never touched. This was different. Someone else was in control this time.

  “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise,” Mad chanted, stuck on repeat, his eyes locked on Benoit’s, which were bulged as he struggled fruitlessly against the brick wall that was my fake fiancé.

  My hand on Mad’s was a risk, but I knew this could end in a bloodbath if I didn’t at least try. Mad stiffened and jerked at the light touch, his nostrils flaring that I would intrude on his personal space so public
ly. “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise,” he warned. Then I heard a note of panic as the Madigan I knew tried to break through the command that would see him turned into an angel of death. “I can’t control it, Rosie! He… He has to die. I don’t know why!”

  I tried to keep my voice steady, rallying when I felt Draper at my side. Abraham Lincoln meandered around the stage with his menacing stare, grunting and growling, confused that Mad and I were at odds. Hamish was on his back, chittering his opinions that Mad was in the wrong. “If you hurt Benoit, it won’t solve anything.”

  Mad snarled at me, spittle flinging out between clenched teeth, his rage-filled eyes warning me away, lest his wrath turn on me. “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise!”

  His words felt like they were meant to be a slap, and I flinched accordingly. I swallowed, removing my hand from his arm, but staying close to let him know I wouldn’t be bullied away. “You’re hurting me with this, Mad. Please. What’s going on? What’s cracked you so badly?” I closed my eyes and covered my mouth when Benoit cried out after Mad’s unforgiving grip gave his jaw a scary-sounding crack.

  Bastien was on all fours, still uselessly puking over the side of the stage. Abraham Lincoln was worried at the state of his daddy, and galloped to Bastien’s side to rest his maw on Bastien’s shoulder while he puked. Hamish pounded on Bastien’s butt, scolding him to pull it together already.

  Draper started quickly directing the crowd to go on home and wait to hear from the king, now that an agreement had been reached. Abraham Lincoln turned from Bastien and moved to my side, howling at Mad to get away from his mommy.

  There was no one else to save Benoit. Even his buddies who protested me alongside him were fleeing in the crowd to escape being associated with him and incurring more of Mad’s wrath. I threw what little caution I had left in me to the wind and ducked under Madigan’s outstretched arm, pushing my back to Benoit, so I could get in between them. I stared Madigan down as calmly as I could. “Sweetheart, you have to stop this. Let him go.”

  Madigan only squeezed harder, angry that I was trying to sway him otherwise. “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise.”

  I shook my head, begging him with my eyes to see reason. “You do this, and the people will never trust me. Please, Mad! I don’t understand what snapped! The man who shouted at you, what did he say to you that set you off? What did that word mean? This isn’t you!” Though, part of me wondered how true that statement was, and how much of it was wishful thinking.

  The voice in the crowd that had started all the chaos boomed out again in a sinister voice that had the grating edge of something metallic to it, “Ionsaí, soldier! Kill the princess, Madigan!”

  I tried to locate the source of the command, but the people were in a frenzied state of get-me-the-crap-outta-here, so it was hard to make heads or tails of anything. All I saw was a person in a black hood, face hidden, but nothing more descriptive or specific than that.

  I screamed when Benoit’s neck snapped, turning his head forcefully to the side to stare and gape at me with his last exhale. His body fell limply to the wood floor of the stage with no protest to it, and no life, either. I had no words, no plan, and no fiancé that I recognized.

  Mad’s eyes narrowed on me, torn between attacking and issuing me a fear-laced warning. “If the noise rises against the… Run, Rosie!” Mad bellowed, warning me that he was the danger, and there was no protecting me against a force like him. He was no longer an island of a man who was under his own control, but rather a lost soldier – dancing while someone else pulled the strings.

  “Draper, take out that guy!” I pointed my finger into the crowd, hoping dude was wearing a neon t-shirt that said “I’m the bad guy.” I knew I couldn’t win a fistfight with Mad, so I did what came natural to me. I flung myself into his arms, hoping my hug would soften him. Somewhere inside of me, I believed my love was stronger than what I was guessing must be the deeply engrained mind control of a soldier who’d been twisted, perhaps beyond repair. “Please, Mad!”

  He held tight to me for a few panicked seconds, but then shoved me so he could deliver the heaviest backhand of my life. My body dropped on all fours, my cheekbone throbbing in time with my heartbeat. I heard the people screaming around me, and knew I couldn’t allow myself to feel the pain until the insanity was over.

  I thought I knew what fear was, but until Mad grabbed me by the back of the neck, I’d severely underestimated what I’d thought was the peak of that particular emotion. His grip was so steely, I couldn’t move my head, but stared up at him blankly with my mouth open in shock. He pulled me back so I could take in the full breadth of his roar. “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise!”

  “Madigan, stop!” I choked out, my trembling hands clawing at my fiancé’s arm. People were fleeing now, and I could hear women crying their fear in the streets.

  Mad wouldn’t hurt me. I just knew he couldn’t once he calmed down and saw reason again. Both of Mad’s hands curled around my throat, covering the raw tattoo that matched his own. My engagement ring hung on a chain around my neck, the gold shining out at him and meaning absolutely nothing. A brand new terror engulfed me when his thumbs closed around my windpipe. His eyes closed in dread and fear as he whispered a scared, “If the noise rises against the Breithiúnas, the Breithiúnas silences the noise.”

  I heard Draper shouting into the crowd, trying to get to the mystery man who was calling the shots. He no doubt figured, as I had, that Madigan wasn’t in control of himself, but rather someone else was calling the shots. If we wanted Mad to stop, the ghost who’d started the chaos would have to be located.

  My eyes bulged when Mad squeezed tighter. My hands scrambled to find purchase on his beefy arms. I wouldn’t let my last moments be spent accepting the inevitable, but I would fight for my life – the life I hardly recognized anymore.

  “She’s wearing your mark!” Draper cried, frantic when my eyelids started to droop. My brother shouted toward the stage from his spot in the crowd, torn as to where he would be most useful. “Bastien, get up and tell him!” But Bastien didn’t come to my aid. He was passed out on the stage in a puddle of his own puke. I barely recognized how he could be the man I loved. If this would be my last image of my boyfriend, it was a crushing one, for sure.

  I pulled an image of Judah into my brain, on one of our road trips back to home on break from school, singing our favorite songs from Lost and Forgotten’s extensive music catalog at the top of our lungs.

  I planted a mental picture of Lane painting my toenails as I painted hers. I must’ve told a funny joke, because she laughed so hard, she snorted. I loved it when I made her do that. If this would be my final moment, that was a perfect note to go out on – the sound of Lane’s happy snort.

  Abraham Lincoln decided he understood enough of the situation to choose sides, once he ruled out the possibility that we were just playing with each other. He roared out a cry of “Don’t touch my momma!” before Hamish leapt off of Abraham Lincoln’s back to attack Madigan.

  As if in slow motion, I watched as Mad caught my brave squirrel, shook him like a rag doll, tossed him onto the platform and stomped his boot down on my Hamish’s head.

  I couldn’t scream – my throat was too damaged, but Abraham Lincoln’s roar more than made up for my muted howl. It was then that my bear turned truly animal, sinking his teeth into Mad’s calf muscle. Madigan howled, dropping me to the wooden platform like a sack of potatoes. I sucked down air and tried not to drown myself in my own tears, which fell freely down my face.

  Draper fought his way back to me, scooped me up and ran me to the coach while Madigan palmed the wooden floor of the platform. He heaved like a beast, trying to decide if he was going to fight or stand down. My heartbeat stuttered when I looked over Draper’s shoulder and saw the brawl that turned from man-o
n-man, to man-on-woman, to man-on-beast as Madigan surrendered to the ghost in the crowd’s command. I tried to call out for Abraham Lincoln to run away, now that I was breathing, but I couldn’t manage more than a rasp.

  The sound of my bear’s howl through the air lit my spine on fire. I fought with everything in me to get out of the coach Draper wrestled me into, and run to Abraham Lincoln. The curtain swished as we jolted down the path past the fleeing citizens.

  I screamed mutely when my eyes took in the horror I could not comprehend.

  Madigan’s long, arched blade sunk deep into Abraham Lincoln’s side. My baby swung his massive paws through the air, but they didn’t hit with the precision they needed to. My silent scream ripped through my injured throat when my precious protector fell with a final chilling roar, lifeless next to my squirrel at Madigan’s feet.

  Thumbprints on my Throat

  The coachman wasted no time driving the horses back to the mansion. So deep was the mind control, that Madigan ran after us, as if willing his muscles to be stronger than two horses. It gave us enough time to get into the castle and bolt the doors. I tried screaming for Link, but my throat was still hoarse. Draper picked up the slack and barked “Link!” through the overlarge house.

  Link trotted down the hallway, as if he had nothing but time to kill. His laid-back shoulders stiffened when he saw my bedraggled state and the no doubt red marks around my throat. “What happened, wee Rose?”

  I pointed to the front door. Though we had a good distance on Mad, he was determined to end me, so I wasted no time, but whispered the story as loudly as I could. “Mad hulked out and turned super soldier! Someone in the crowd shouted out a weird word, and he turned into this maniac who couldn’t stop saying this ‘If the noise rises, blah, blah, blah’ mantra. Then he killed a man in front of the whole province, and tried to choke me out!”