Red Dagger

by H G Lynch

  He was right. My face felt hot. “Stop it!”

  “What about cock? Does that one made you blush?”

  Yes. “Quit it!”

  “Never.”

  “You’re evil!”

  “Ah, she finally figures it out.”

  I burst into laughter, startling Peter, who scowled at me and thrust his hands into his porridge. I tilted my head to hold the phone between my ear and my shoulder, so I could pull Peter’s sticky hands out and remove the bowl. “Peter, for God’s sake, look at the mess you’ve made. Give me the spoon!”

  “Feeding time for the baby?” Ruairidh asked.

  “Yep. Porridge today.”

  “Yum,” he muttered sarcastically. “Here, put me on speaker so I can talk to him.”

  Careful not to touch the phone with my sticky fingers, I hit the speaker button, and Ruairidh’s voice came out of the phone loudly. “Hey, little man, how you doing today?”

  Peter stared at the phone with round eyes and made a confused noise. Ruairidh heard it and laughed. “He’s not used to the speakerphone, I take it? Peter, it’s Ruairidh. Do you remember me, little man?”

  Smiling, Peter grabbed for the phone, and I moved it away before he could get porridge on it. Then he cackled, and said, “Ooh-wee!” Which was about as close to Ruairidh’s name as he could get. I was unsurprised he recognised Ruairidh’s voice. He’d gotten used to it while Ruairidh had been coming over every weekend for tutoring.

  Ruairidh chuckled, amused. “Yeah, that’s right. Hey, Peter, do me a favour, big guy, and give your sister a break. Eat your porridge. It’ll make you big and strong one day.”

  I smiled, leaving the phone on the table so Ruairidh could talk to Peter while I cleaned up the mess. I wiped up the spilled porridge, but when I went to take the bowl away, Peter shrieked and reached for it. Frowning, I handed it back to him. He sat back in his high chair and opened his mouth wide.

  Cautiously, I sat down and picked up the spoon, scooping up some of the lukewarm porridge and flying it toward Peter’s mouth. He took it eagerly, and grabbed the spoon when I pulled it away. I let him have it, and he dug it clumsily into the porridge, struggling to bring the spoon to his mouth.

  I watched in shock, and Ruairidh said into the silence, “Islay? You still there?”

  I picked up the phone and put it back to my ear, taking it off speaker. “Yeah, I’m here. Ruairidh…”

  “What? What is it?” He sounded concerned.

  I realised I was freaking him out. “I don’t know how you did it, but Peter listened to you. He’s eating his porridge on his own.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re a miracle worker, Ru!”

  He laughed, and I could hear his grin. “Like I said last night, I have many hidden talents. Apparently, I just discovered another one. I should start a class, you know like dog training, but for babies.”

  “Oh God.” I giggled.

  “You’re right. Who wants to spend all day around a bunch of wailing babies? I’d rather spend the time teaching you about all the wonders of fucking.”

  “Gah! Would you stop that!” I cried as a fresh blush stained my cheeks.

  “Nope.”

  “You are so annoying.”

  “So annoyingly sexy, yeah. Don’t lie to me, Islay. You know you love it.”

  God, if only you knew . . . . “Yeah,” I whispered. “I do.” I really, really do.

  Ruairidh was quiet a second, and I wondered if he’d heard the longing in my voice. Then he said, “I have to go, babe. Talk to you later?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “And, please, give Angus a chance to apologise. Not because he deserves it, but for yourself. Okay?”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  “Good girl. Right. I’ll see you later. Bye, babe.”

  “Bye, Ru.”

  He hung up, and I laid down my phone. Sighing, I propped my chin on my hand and watched my baby brother spoon porridge into his mouth, making a mess of his face and his bib, and I smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ** Islay **

  I was a little calmer when Angus called again that night, and I answered the phone without yelling at him right away, which was something. We talked for a little while, and he apologised fourteen times. I was counting. By the end of the call, I still hadn’t forgiven him, but I wasn’t as angry anymore. I missed him too much. We weren’t back to normal, that would take a while, but at least we were speaking again. That was a start.

  I felt a little lighter as I hung up the phone, and I lay on my bed watching Peter crawl around my bedroom floor, clutching one of my shoes by the laces and getting tangled in my silver shawl, which I’d left on my desk chair.

  As I leaned over the edge of the bed to untangle him, I heard the front door slam downstairs—Dad was home.

  “Islay!” he roared my name.

  I flinched. Jesus. What had I done now? Was Ruairidh laid out on the sofa naked or something?

  The image in my mind made me grin and blush at once. But, surely, if Ruairidh had snuck in, he’d have called to let me know, or just come straight to my room.

  “Wait here, baby boy,” I muttered to Peter, who didn’t seem to be listening. He was solely focused on trying to use my shoe as a hat.

  I galloped down the stairs and skidded into the kitchen. Dad was standing by the sink in his work clothes, glaring at me. I raised my eyebrows.

  “What? What did I do?”

  He stepped aside and pointed at the dishes in the sink, the wreckage of Peter’s Great Porridge Escapade this morning. I’d totally forgotten to do the dishes, and I looked at Dad. “Oops. I’ll do them now.” I reached for the dishcloth, but Dad slammed his hand down on the kitchen table, startling me.

  “Damn it, Islay! I won’t have you shirking your responsibilities just because you’re on holiday now! I ask you to do one simple thing—keep the house clean. You can’t even do that!” he yelled, going red in the face.

  I took a step back, feeling as if I’d just taken a blow to the chest. Dad never yelled at me, and I’d done a lot worse things before than forget to do the dishes. Why was he so angry about this now?

  “Dad—” I said quietly, a little scared by his inexplicable anger.

  “No!” he snapped. “Forget it. I’ll do the dishes. Just . . . go to your room, Islay. Go.”

  I swayed in the kitchen doorway as he turned and rolled up his sleeves, picking up the first dirty dish. I felt as if the rug had just been pulled out from under me. I didn’t understand why he was so angry at me over a few unwashed dishes. It hurt, and I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t.

  I was so sick of people making me feel like crap. The kids at school with their rumours, and Angus making me feel guilty for liking Ruairidh, and then Dad, I was done with it. So done.

  “No,” I said, planting my feet.

  Dad glanced at me in surprise, and his eyes narrowed. “Islay, I said go to your room.”

  “And I said, no!”

  “Islay, don’t argue with—”

  “No! No, I’m not going to my room, Dad!” I yelled, furious. “I’m not a child! I’m eighteen, and I don’t deserve to be punished because I forgot to do the dishes! And you don’t ask me to do one simple thing. You ask me to do everything! You leave me at home on my own all the time, expecting me to do the chores, look after Peter, do my homework, study, and still pass all my exams at college. It’s too much, Dad! I don’t have a life!”

  He opened his mouth angrily, but I cut him off. “Peter’s your son, not mine. I shouldn’t have to take care of him all the time! I should be able to hang out with friends after class instead of coming home and picking up Peter, feeding him, and changing him. I should be able to go to dances and parties, and spend time with my boyfriend! I’m tired of babysitting Peter, cleaning the house, and staying at home while my friends go out and have fun! I’m tired of . . . .” My breath hitched, and I closed my eyes, forcing back tears. “I’m tired of being alo
ne all the time.”

  “Islay,” Dad said, his voice quieter.

  But I didn’t want to hear it. I spun out of the room and ran toward the front door. I shoved my feet into my trainers, not bothering to stop and tie the laces, grabbed my jacket, and bolted out the front door, slamming it behind me. I heard my dad yell after me, but I was already running down the street, determined to get away. I just needed some time to be myself, and I knew exactly where to do it.

  ** Ruairidh **

  Angus and I were thrashing each other when my phone buzzed. I wrestled Angus into a headlock and glanced at my mobile. Islay’s name flashed up on screen, and I grinned. The distraction cost me. Angus broke free of my grip and twisted me into a grapple hold. Glaring at the screen, I hit the Start button on my PlayStation remote control to pause the game, and Angus glanced at me.

  “Hey, why’d you pause it? I was winning!”

  I snorted. “In your dreams, baby brother.” I picked up my ringing phone and hit Call to answer it before Islay hung up. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

  “Ruairidh, it’s Islay’s father.”

  My eyes widened. Oh, shit. That couldn’t be good. “Oh. Um. Hi, sir.”

  Angus frowned at me. “Who is it?”

  I mouthed, Islay’s dad.

  He winced and whispered, “What did you do this time?”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t spoken to Islay since that morning, but surely, she would have warned me if she knew her dad was going to call me. And why was he using her phone? I so wasn’t in the mood for the, “You’re not good enough for my daughter, and I want you to stay away from her” spiel. Not that I’d listen, anyway. I’d already decided I wasn’t walking away from Islay, and her dad wasn’t going to convince me to change my mind. If he didn’t approve of us being together, that was his problem.

  Still, I figured I should play nice, or Islay might get pissed at me for yelling at her dad. “Look, Sir, about last night—” I started to explain, but he cut me off.

  “Islay’s run off and she didn’t take her phone with her. Is she with you?”

  I blinked. That wasn’t what I’d expected, and my heart squeezed. “What? No. No, she isn’t here.”

  Angus’s head snapped up at the word “she” and he hissed, “What’s going on? Where’s Islay?”

  I glared at him to shut up.

  Islay’s dad sighed, sounding stressed. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone? I’m worried about her, and it’s getting late. I don’t like her being out there alone.”

  I had to agree with him there. It was dark outside. It wasn’t safe for her out there. I knew that better than anyone. But I couldn’t imagine where she could have gone. The only place she would go to would be my house, but I’d have known if Islay was in the house. She might have gone to Ashley’s, but Ash was out at Niall’s party.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t . . . .” A thought smacked me between the eyebrows, and I felt like an idiot. “Wait . . . damn. Actually, I might have an idea where she is. There’s a party tonight, and a lot of kids from class are going. She might have gone there.”

  “Do you know where the party is?” he asked sharply.

  “Yeah, we all got invites.”

  “Tell me where.”

  Whoa, there, cowboy, I thought. “Um, sir, maybe I should go. I can get into the party no problem and find her. I’ll make sure she gets home safely, I swear.”

  There was a beat of silence, and then, “Thank you, Ruairidh. Please, just make sure she’s okay.”

  “I will. Look, I’m going now. I’ll call you when I find her.” I hung up and leapt to my feet, shoving my phone in my jeans pocket.

  Angus sprang up next to me, looking worried. “What’s happening? What’s going on with Islay?”

  I was already striding out of Angus’s room and toward my own. I shook my head. “I don’t know. I think she had an argument with her dad or something. She’s run out of the house without her phone. I think she’s gone to Niall’s party.”

  Like an anxious puppy, Angus followed me into my room, and watched as I flung open the wardrobe doors and pulled out the loose panel at the bottom. “What makes you think she’s gone there?” he asked.

  I pulled out my leather ankle sheath and my red-handled dagger from my hidey-hole in the bottom of the wardrobe and strapped the blade to my left leg under my jeans. “She’s sick of being cooped up at home. She missed the dance to look after Peter. It makes sense she’d head for a party, and the one at Niall’s is the only one she’s likely to know about,” I explained. I just hoped I was right. If I was wrong, she could be anywhere.

  Angus raked a hand through his hair and said, “I’m coming with you.”

  I stood up and grabbed my leather jacket from the hook on the back of the bedroom door. “No, you’re not,” I said evenly.

  “What? She’s my best friend, Ru! I want to find her just as much as you—”

  I turned to face him and laid my hands firmly on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye, so he would know I wasn’t just jerking him about. I was dead serious. I had a really bad feeling that something was going to go down. Something seriously bad. My instincts were screaming it, and I couldn’t afford not to trust them—not when Islay was out there alone.

  “Angus, I need you to stay here, bro. I’ve got a nasty feeling about this, and I’m going to need you here and ready with the first aid mojo—just in case. You hear me? If something happens, I’ll send Islay on ahead, and she’ll need you, okay? So, please, baby brother. Stay. Here.”

  Blinking big, worried blue eyes at me, he nodded solemnly. We’d arranged an unsteady truce that morning, after Angus heard me trying to convince Islay on the phone to give him a chance to explain himself. I think he was surprised I’d taken up for him with her, but after everything, he was still my brother.

  I strapped two more knives to my body, concealed under my jacket, and went to find the girl we both loved.

  Niall’s house was a few streets over from mine, close to the new housing estate, and from the sounds of it, the party was roaring. The music was thumping, techno beats and drunken teens spilling out into the garden. There was a crowd of partygoers smoking on the front porch, and a couple making out on the front steps. The distinctive smell of weed caught on the breeze, and I tried to avoid inhaling the smoke. The last thing I needed was a contact high.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone checking off a guest list, so I just strolled right past the stoners and went inside. From what I could tell, it was usually a nice house — tasteful black-and-white landscape portrait on the entryway walls, cream-coloured leather sofas, flat-screen TV, bumping stereo system. But at the moment, it looked like a frat house. There were scantily clad girls and guys holding beers. Couples and even threesomes tangled together anywhere there was space—on the stairs, on the sofas, even on the kitchen floor. Balloons and party streams littered the floors, and someone had taken a can of glow-in-the-dark silly-string to the place.

  Any other time, I’d have been tempted to grab a Heineken and join the guys on the front porch. Just not tonight. Tonight, I was on a mission, and so far, there was no sign of Islay. I scoured the entire ground floor, asking people if they’d seen her, but nobody seemed coherent enough to be a decent witness until I found Ashley dancing with Niall in the living room.

  Niall saw me first, and I jerked my chin in greeting. He nodded back casually, but I could see he was wary of me—smart man. I tapped Ash on the arm, and she craned her head back to look at me. She broke into a wide grin that made wonder if she was sober, but her eyes were clear behind her glasses.

  “Ruairidh! I knew you would come! I told Islay you would, but she didn’t believe me!”

  I tensed. “You’ve seen her? Islay’s here?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I saw her a while ago.”

  Oh, thank God, I thought. “Do you know where she went? I’ve been looking for her, and I can’t find her.”

  Ash pointed toward the staircas
e strewn with tangled, slumping bodies. “Probably went upstairs to take a breather.”

  I sighed in relief. “Thanks, Ash.”

  She beamed. “My pleasure. But Ruairidh?”

  “Yeah?” I glanced back.

  Ashley looked abruptly serious, her hazel eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Don’t hurt her, or I’ll have to castrate you. And that would be a pity.”

  My eyebrows went up, and I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not, so I just nodded. “I’ll try my best,” I said. It was the closest I could come to a promise. With my life, there was no guarantee I would never hurt her, or that I would be able to stop anything else from hurting her. But I’d give it my best shot.

  I made my way carefully up the stairs, trying not to step on fingers or trip over legs. It was an obstacle course, and by the time I reached the top, I felt like I deserved a medal. But I didn’t dwell on it, and headed down the hall, checking the rooms with open doors first. There were people in every room, mostly doing things that should require a closed door at the very least. I hated to think what I’d find behind the doors that were closed, but I still hadn’t found Islay, so I guessed I was going to find out.

  I moved back down the hall a door at a time, listening with my ear against the door before opening it, which was just as well. From the sounds of it, there was at least one couple getting nasty in one of the bedrooms, and a possible threesome happening in another. Aside from the bathroom, where one guy was passed out in the tub, and a girl with dyed-pink hair was puking her guts up into the toilet, there was one room left that I hadn’t checked.

  Putting my ear to the door, I listened for noises inside, but it seemed all clear. Tentatively, I turned the handle and peered inside, ready to cover my eyes if I came upon something I didn’t want to see. Instead, I found what I wanted to see. Well, not exactly what I wanted to see.

  Islay was sitting on the floor amidst a circle of other girls and a couple of guys, and there was a spinning bottle in the middle of the circle. The bottle slowed its spinning, and I bit my lip, praying it wouldn’t land on her. But, because fate hated me, guess where did it stop?