Iron and Salt

by Calinda B

  Mum opened her mouth as if to continue but then paused as her eyes grew wide and her jaw became slack.

  Marie grinned, not certain whether Mum’s sudden speechlessness came from the fact that Ryan told her he loved her for the first time ever, or for hearing the news about her transformation.

  She turned to face him. “Do you mean that, Ryan?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she closed the short distance between them and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  He caught her easily, enfolding her in an embrace. “Yes, Marie, my one true love. I really mean it. I love you with every fiber of my soul.”

  “I love you, too.” She lowered her face to his, kissing him. The kiss felt like coming home. He loves me. He really loves me.

  Ryan gently broke the kiss and eased her to standing. “We’re going to give your mum a heart attack, you know.”

  Marie glanced at Mum.

  She still stood, gaping.

  Her brother no longer stood behind Mum.

  Marie searched for him, finding him next to Dad and the fallen figure.

  Both William and Dad crouched by the figure’s side.

  Seizing Ryan’s hand, not wanting to let him go, she tugged him toward them, tromping over the asphalt.

  Her mother followed them like a zombie.

  Marie frowned as the tableau came into focus.

  William held the hand of a stunningly beautiful corpse—a woman.

  “Is that…is that who I think it is?” Marie asked Ryan.

  “If you’re thinking it’s Maggie Strongbow, the Dearg-Due, then yes,” he said.

  “And is she well and truly dead?” Marie said, noting the blossom of blood around the corpse’s chest.

  “So it seems,” Ryan said.

  Marie released Ryan’s hand and crouched across from her brother.

  His eyes glistened with tears as he gazed at Maggie. “She looks so peaceful, eh, sis?”

  “She does,” Marie said.

  William stroked Maggie’s long, silvery hair with his free hand. “She’s beautiful.”

  “She is,” Marie agreed. She looked up to see her father staring at her.

  “I’m so glad you’re alive,” Dad said, tears filling his eyes. “Both of you.” He clapped William on the back.

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m sorry I’ve been an arse,” William said. “I tried to retrieve stones, but I was too weak. Marie had to save my ass.” He glanced at his father before turning his gaze back to the corpse of Maggie Strongbow. “And now I’m glad I didn’t get them. Damn, she’s lovely. Too bad she’s a murdering vampire from a different era.”

  “Who’s also very much dead,” Marie said. “Do you hear yourself, William, mooning over a dead vampire?”

  “Hey, she had a soul,” he snapped, lifting his gaze to hers. “Give it a rest.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” Marie said, holding her palms out to him. “Truce.”

  William nodded and let his gaze fall once more on Maggie’s face.

  “Rest in peace, beautiful angel,” he said. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

  The vampire’s eyes flew open.

  Marie gasped.

  Her father frowned.

  William blinked like a dart had landed between his eyes.

  And Mum exclaimed, “Well, fuck. Of course, we couldn’t have a simple ending to this sad story.”

  Chapter 22

  Wednesday morning – Paul

  Never let it be said that being deaf makes one unable to yell at someone.

  Paul knew this for a fact, as he lay in his hospital bed at Waterford, wanting nothing more than to shower the last twelve hours from his skin and soul. Instead, he faced his Ma in all her fury. His head pounded from the silent storm flung in his direction.

  The doctors had come and gone, but Ma hadn’t let up.

  Can we stop now, he signed. You’ve been at me for an hour and a half, ever since I woke up from the few hours’ sleep I managed to get in here.

  He inhaled deeply, catching the scent of his environment. The room smelled like disinfectant and sterility. The wafting odor of whatever the medical staff dabbed on his sliced-up face in the wee hours of the morning made his eyes sting. He inclined his head, sniffed, and caught a whiff of his own body. He smelled like man-funk and blood.

  Intending to get up, he pushed the sheet aside, revealing his hospital gown-clad body.

  Where’s Bres? Paul signed. Shouldn’t you go look for him?

  Blocking his path, his ma loomed over him as she signed. He went to get coffee. And no, I’m not done with you. Her face still looked pinched with worry. Her movements appeared heavy and fatigued as if she had waded through a deep, muddy river in sopping wet clothes to get here.

  Will you ever be? Paul signed, still lying down. I could use a shower. He fingered the white bedspread and glanced around the room. He lay surrounded by life-sustaining, and life monitoring equipment and pale blue-green walls, the color of a faded ocean.

  His ma waved her hand at him, letting him know his need for a shower would only come when she was done with her rant.

  He sighed, sat up, and propped himself against his lone pillow. His cheek hurt as the anesthetic wore off. The docs had managed to pull his sliced skin together with skin adhesive. Luckily, the blade hadn’t gone too deep. Still, he would have a pirate’s scar for life.

  You’ve already chewed me out thoroughly, Ma.

  It’s not chewing out. It’s a litany of care and concern. Do you know how lucky you are to only have a mild concussion and not worse at Gillespie’s hand?

  Yes, Ma, of course, I know. He let out another sigh, remembering last night’s horror of nearly losing Anne to Gillespie’s insanity. He hadn’t seen her since she’d raced away, but he took comfort in her escape. And, then, the vampire flung me like a rag doll and struck Gillespie with her sharp, fanged incisors. That memory could never be erased. A shiver shook his spine.

  Eyes glistening, his ma signed a few choice curse words, adding signs he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand before signing, I get it. You were scared for me.

  She nodded vigorously, shaking several tears free.

  But, I’m okay. I got in a welcomed nap before getting my discharge papers. Now I’m going to get a good, long shower and wash yesterday away. You and Bres should, too. Go home, get a shower and a nap, and I’ll call you later, when I’m ready for a ride, okay? Paul regarded his mother with tenderness.

  Okay, she signed before wiping away her tears. Are you sure you feel all right?

  Other than a throbbing headache, I’m fine.

  Ma blinked in alarm. A throbbing headache isn’t good. I’ll run and get the doctor.

  Paul grabbed her wrist, giving it a gentle shake. No, Ma. I was checked out between your rants. The doctor said I’m good to go. Now please go home, get some rest and let me shower.

  She inhaled, shuddering slightly. Then, she leaned over, kissed his good cheek, and signed, I’m so grateful you’re alive, Paulie. So very grateful.

  Me, too. He gave her hand another squeeze.

  I couldn’t bear another loss. I love you.

  Love you, too, he signed.

  She nodded, turned, and strode away.

  Gingerly, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and got his feet under him. He stood, wincing at the bruises and strained ligaments that screamed in protest. He shuffled to the shower, turned it on, removed his hospital gown, and stepped inside the stall. He sat on the white plastic shower stool and hung his head, as the gravity of last night’s memories dragged at him. The water felt like heaven as it trickled over his back, rinsing away nightmares.

  Once he’d finished his shower, he shuffled toward the shelf where his ma had placed clean clothes. He tugged on a pair of jeans and began to zip and button when the last person he expected to see today strode through the door to his room.

  Anne.


  He stared at her. His heart hammered against his ribs, intense longing demanding to be set loose like a stallion bucking for freedom.

  Anne looked exhausted, disheveled, and dirty in a “kitten rescued from a muddy street” kind of way. She wore a huge forest green raincoat over the top of her white nightgown. It hung down to her bare calves. No doubt some Garda gave her the coat off his back to protect her modesty. Black sneakers clad her feet. And, she stared at his bare chest as if repulsed, or, maybe—just maybe—full of longing, like him.

  He hoped for the latter but figured it the former. With Anne’s attention pinned to his chest, embarrassment washed over him. He snatched his shirt from the shelf and yanked it on.

  While buttoning the clean brown linen, he said, “How are you? Are you okay? What’s happened to you since I was whisked away in the ambulance?” He indicated the chair by the bed. “Sit. You look wiped out.”

  Without taking her eyes from him, she ignored the chair and settled onto the edge of his bed like a falling leaf.

  Dragging her hands across her face, she said, “I’ve been up all night. I was given a medical exam, then I spent the rest of the night answering questions and telling the Garda everything I know about Father Gillespie.” She paused, gathering herself in a calm, matter-of-fact way. “The good news is that he died in the ambulance on his way to the hospital. The further good news is that he died unshriven. I can’t help but feel a measure of God’s justice in him passing through the veil unforgiven.”

  Paul’s eyebrows launched high on his forehead. “That’s rather harsh coming from you, Anne. I thought you believed in the forgiveness of all souls?” Cautiously, he closed the gap between them and perched on the bed next to her. He knew, once she left this room, he might never see her again. What’s left to keep her but failed dreams and horrific nightmares? Inhaling deeply, he drew her scent inside, securing it in his memory.

  She grew quiet, fidgeting with her hands. “Perhaps harsh. But, Gillespie was going to rape me, Paul. Then, slice me open with his switchblade.” She shuddered. “I might have joined the others.”

  “Yes, far too many deaths have occurred by that awful man’s hand. So much sorrow for people we loved.” He shook his head. “It repulses me. He repulses me. Had I lost you…” Even though she was sworn to the church, Paul’s chest squeezed around his heart at the thought of her dying by that sick bastard’s hand—of her death at all. He longed to wrap his arms around her, ravish her and never let her go. But, she probably had other ideas, like getting as far from Ballynagaul as she could. He stared blankly at the sign-in screen on the monitor across from him.

  Without looking at her, he said, “Can my parents give you a lift when they come to pick me up? I’d drive you myself, but between my head injury and the fact that Moira Brown probably impounded my car for fun, I’ll be of no service to you.”

  “Oh, Paul. I’m so exhausted, I forgot to ask. How are you? Are you okay? That slice on your cheek looks horrific.”

  Absentmindedly, he tapped his cheek, then winced at the sudden stab of pain. “Nothing a good rest and a few job applications won’t cure. I’ve been fired from St. Christopher’s, don’t you know.”

  He kept his gaze trained on the monitor.

  “Since he was a madman, I’m sure you’ll get your job back,” she said.

  “I don’t know. Are you eager to get back to work where that sick fuck lived?” He quickly glanced at her. “Sorry for the strong language.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “I’m so sorry about your job,” she said. “Sorry about everything. But, you’re right…the memories there are…” Her voice trailed off as she stared into space.

  Not all of them are awful. That’s where I met you. Anne’s gaze burned into Paul’s cheek.

  He turned to face her and said, “We can drop you off at St. Christopher’s.”

  Her head shook back and forth like a weather vane caught in a tempest. “No way. I won’t go back there. I can’t. It’s crawling with police, and I just…” She shook her head again. “I simply can’t. It’s filled with bad memories.”

  He sighed, curling his fingers over the edge of the bed. “I feel the same way. That’s why I don’t want to work there anymore, even if I could get my job back. Where to, then? I could get you a hotel here in Waterford. You can stay here until you’re ready to go to Dublin or wherever you want to go. I’m happy to pay. I realize you have no money.”

  She gave him an indecipherable stare that made his belly flip and flop. “That’s truly kind, Paul. I’m sure the sisters would give me shelter and safe passage but… I’d like that, I really would. But, you’re without a job. How can you afford to pay my way?”

  “It’s no trouble. I’m extremely frugal. I have few expenses and no bad habits to speak of, so…” He shrugged. “I’ve saved my money.” He pushed to standing. “All right then. I’ll text Ma and tell her not to pick me up yet.”

  He shuffled over to the tiny closet and retrieved his coat, shoes, phone, and wallet. Grateful for whatever time he had left with Anne, he typed, No need to pick me up. I’m helping Anne get settled. I’ll let you know when I need a ride.

  A quick return heart appeared on his text window, followed by, Be safe and text me when you’re ready.

  He smiled and pocketed his phone, then put his shoes on and shrugged into his coat. Turning about, he looked at Anne.

  She held the same mysteriously quizzical expression on her face.

  He cocked his head and studied her for a second, then looked away. “Right. Let’s get going.”

  “Okay,” she said, sliding off the bed.

  He led her out the door and down the hall.

  Outside in the beautiful day, the world was awash with bright sun and brilliant colors, like abundant green hills, and, of course, pink and blue dotted sheep.

  They trekked along the walkway, heading for the marina.

  To keep from touching her, Paul jammed his hands in his pockets as he strode by her side.

  “That’s an interesting outfit you’re wearing,” he said, side-eying her.

  “I lived in a hodge-podge of clothes like this when I was a street urchin. I can’t wait to get it off. That’s the first thing I’ll do once I have a room secured,” she said.

  All sorts of naughty thoughts rolled through Paul’s mind. I’d love to help with that process. Nervously, he licked his lips.

  “Makes sense,” he said, hoping she didn’t glance at his trousers.

  “I’ll burn everything once I get some proper clothes,” she said.

  “I’ll help you,” he said. “Let’s perform a purge and release ritual.”

  She turned to look at him.

  He glanced at her, captivated by her beguiling gaze.

  “Do you know of one?” she said.

  He shrugged. “Between the two of us, I’m certain we can make one up. I’ll even strip naked and run through the fire if it helps.”

  He smiled.

  She nibbled at her lip. “Now that’s a delicious image. I’m sure I’ll forget last night if you do that.”

  “Consider it part of the ritual,” he said, grinning, a measure of hope winnowing its way into his chest. He moved closer to her until his shoulder brushed hers as they walked.

  She didn’t pull away.

  They passed shops and businesses, as cars sped by on narrow streets. To their right stood the King’s Channel, the water glistening in the sun. Boats bobbed at the water’s edge, moored by sturdy ropes.

  Twenty minutes later, they stood, eying two side by side hotels.

  “Which one do you favor?” Paul said. “Viking’s Hall or Marina Oasis?”

  She tapped her finger against her pretty lips. “I’ll choose Viking’s Hall. The Vikings were a formidable lot. They’ll keep me safe, I’m sure.”

  “Viking’s it is.” He climbed the stone steps to the entrance, twisted the brass doorknob, and held the black door open for her. At the reception
desk, he put a week’s worth of lodging on his credit card. He took the key card and guided her to the elevator. “Here,” he said, handing her the key.

  She took it.

  He stabbed the lift button, then retrieved his wallet from his pocket. He fished out several Euros.

  “Take these,” he said, thrusting them in her direction. “You’ll need to get some clothes, and you’ll need to eat. I can bring you more if you need it.”

  She held her palm, so it faced him. “No, Paul, I can’t take it.”

  “Yes, Anne, you can, and you must. Please let me take care of you while you’re still in the area.” He pressed the bills into her palm and closed her fingers around them.

  She flashed him that same mysterious gaze.

  He frowned, unsure what it meant. When the elevator doors slid open, he gestured for her to exit first.

  They trekked along the brown rug enclosed by cream-colored walls and wainscoting and found her room.

  Paul hesitated, his chest beginning to bear down on his heart. “Well,” he said. He drew a huge lungful of air into his chest, hating this part. “I wish you all the best, Anne.”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” she said. “Come in with me.”

  She slid the keycard into the lock, and the green light lit up. She pushed open the door.

  He frowned, not wanting to drag out the ending. “All right, but don’t you need to be heading out to buy clothes or some such?” He followed her into the simple room, noting a king-sized bed covered in white linen, a small, round table, two chairs, a dresser, and a television. A sweeping view of the harbor stood at the far end of the room. “I think you’ll be content here for a few days while you sort out your next move.”

  “Shh,” she said, pivoting to face him. Then, she put her hand around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

  Paul resisted slightly. The wound on his face burned, but a deeper reluctance shivered up his spine. He drew away from her. “I don’t need to be kissed in gratitude, Anne. It messes with my heart to think of you thanking me with a kiss then turning me out.”

  “It’s gratitude, yes, but so much more. You saved me from my foolish mind, Paul.”