Iron and Salt Page 9

  She stooped to scratch his head, then, stood and peeked through the slit in her door.

  “So, you’re saying your son William hasn’t been in town lately,” Inspector Brown said.

  “That’s what I said before, and what I’m saying now, and what I’ll be saying the next time you ask.” Mum waved her hands as she spoke. Standing in a nose to nose face-off with Inspector Brown, her wild red hair swirled around her head like flames. “He wasn’t here. Back me up, here, Cillian.”

  “She’s telling it true, Moira. You know for yourself, Lassi doesn’t lie,” he said.

  Marie couldn’t see her father but figured he sat at his favorite stool at the kitchen eating bar, coffee in hand. From that position, he had a splendid view of his garden mastery out the back window.

  “Every mother protects her young,” Inspector Brown countered.

  “Not this mother,” Mum shot back. “If I knew he was guilty of something, I’d be hauling his arse to your office, rest assured.”

  Marie eased away from the door. She gently shut it, trying to minimize the intrusive noise. Then, she removed her robe and pulled on running clothes.

  A few minutes later, the front door opened and slammed shut. Several seconds later an engine roared, and gravel grumbled in the driveway indicating Inspector Brown’s angry departure.

  Marie dared to venture out of her room for tea.

  “Good morning, lovie,” Dad said, giving her his sunshine smile. Sure enough, he sat at the counter, a nearly empty mug by his side. His mobile phone rested on the veined quartz countertop.

  “Sleep okay?” Mum asked. She leaned against the door, her face drawn and pinched.

  “Sure, until Inspector Brown woke me up.” Marie strode through the airy open-concept front room and kitchen, making her way to the cupboard. She retrieved a mug, dropped a teabag into it, and filled the cup with hot water from the kettle.

  “You might not have wanted to antagonize the investigating detective, Lasairíona,” her father said to her mother.

  Crusty jumped on the counter next to Dad and began grooming his paws.

  “Moira might not have wanted to come to my doorstep at eight in the morning, interrupt our daily routine, and go accusing your son of murder,” Mum countered.

  “Oh, so now he’s mine again,” Dad said.

  “You’re damn straight, he is. He’s an irresponsible arse.”

  “So, you’re telling me I’m an irresponsible arse?” Dad said, his cool composure beginning to vanish.

  “If the shoe fits.” Mum’s hands went to her hips.

  Marie winced. Accusing Dad of irresponsibility spoke to Mum’s stress level.

  Dad spent his three-hundred-year-old life fishing stones out of the sea to keep the Dearg-Due in her grave, as well as tending to the spiritual needs of the villagers. No one could accuse him of irresponsibility.

  Mum stomped into the kitchen and picked up Marie’s mug of tea.

  “Um, that’s mine, Mum,” Marie said.

  Mum blinked and looked at the teacup in her hand, poised at her lips. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can fix another. Clearly, you’re the one in need here.” Marie set to fixing another cup.

  Her mother whirled around. “Tell me, Cillian. How would you have done it differently? Would you have let your eyes turn Leviathan and met Moira with stony silence in your typical go-to move? Or, would you have reasoned with her, your also usual ‘shut the woman out of the conversation’ move?”

  Dad grew still, his jaw set into a block of granite.

  “That’s what I thought,” Mum said. “Now I’ve got to go get ready for work.”

  “Unlike me, who gets to laze through the day.” Dad stood and tromped toward the coffee pot.

  “Whatever.” Mum pivoted and stormed out of the room, heading for the stairs.

  Crusty leaped from the counter and trotted after her.

  Marie sighed. The only time her parents ever fought like this was over William. Sure, they argued on the regular. But then they made up in an “ew, don’t make me witness that ever again,” sort of way. I wish William would grow up.

  With a cup of tea in hand, she wandered toward the front room and settled on the green suede sofa.

  “Where’s your brother?” Dad said, abruptly.

  Marie looked up. “Why are you asking me? I don’t keep his schedule.”

  Dad let out a huge sigh. “I’m sorry, you’re right. We’re all a bit on edge this morning.”

  “Understandably.” Marie sipped her tea. “Try ringing him.”

  Dad picked up his mobile phone and stared at it. His face grew into that of the disciplinarian. No one argued when Dad got like this.

  For a second, Marie felt sorry for her brother. Then, she shrugged. William got himself into this. He has no one to blame but himself.

  Her father tapped his phone screen, held the phone up to his ear, and waited.

  “He’s not answering,” he said, after a minute or so.

  “Try the pub.” Marie set her mug down on the coffee table.

  “No pub in their right mind is open at nine in the morning,” Dad said.

  “Doesn’t mean he’s not down there, fueling up for the day.” Marie sighed.

  A flush crept along Dad’s neck.

  Uh oh, he’s really pissed.

  Marie gazed out the front window, wondering if she should leave.

  Dad stabbed the phone screen, and again, held it up to his ear. “William,” he said, shortly. “Get your arse over here, now.” He listened for a few seconds. “I don’t care what level of hangover you have. I don’t care if you’re waltzing with death. If you’re not here in twenty…make that fifteen…I’ll send your ma to fetch you.”

  Marie snorted. That will get him over here in ten. Figuring it would be the showdown of showdowns, she decided to wait, if only to offer comfort to her twin.

  The second William pulled up into the driveway, Mum stormed down the stairs.

  Dad cringed from his position on the sofa next to Marie.

  “This will be fun,” he muttered.

  William exited his Audi and staggered toward the front door, wearing a torn U2 t-shirt and ripped jeans. Morning stubble covered his jaw. He gently knocked, then opened the door and skulked inside. His uneasy gait and pale appearance indicated last night’s binge hadn’t worn off.

  “Hey ya,” he said, to no one in particular. “Care to tell me why I’m being summoned to my execution?”

  “You’re a suspect in a murder case, that’s why.” Mum’s eyes blazed.

  “Yeah. My sis said as much. I didn’t do it. Ask her.” He lifted his thumb in Marie’s direction. “Can I go now? My head is killing me.”

  “No, you can’t go,” Mum shouted. “This is not something where you can be your usual inattentive, disregarding, inconsiderate, stupidly reckless self!”

  William snorted. “So, what do you really think of me, Mother?”

  “Your mother’s angry. She doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you,” Dad said. He appeared to have calmed, having done his duty of summoning William. Clearly, Mum held the reins.

  “She can tell me that herself if she has a mind to. I doubt she does,” William said. He sauntered into the front room and slouched into one of the forest-green easy chairs.

  “He’s telling the truth, Mum. He didn’t do it. Like it or not we can sense when either of us is lying to the other,” Marie said.

  Her mother launched another word grenade as if she never heard Marie speak. “Why do you insist on being so self-destructive? Your father and I never raised you that way. We did our best to nurture you with loving discipline.”

  William bolted to his feet. He strode directly in front of Mum and leaned in. “And, there’s the crux of the problem.”

  Mum reeled backward. “What do you mean?”

  “The fact that you raised us at all.” He threw his hands into the air. “Why did you two decide to fuck around without protect
ion or at least without knowing the consequences for your kids? Do you have any idea what it’s like not to know if you’re going to live a normal lifespan or be immortal?” He jabbed the air at Mum’s chest with his finger “Or, to have a monster inside that is always trying to get out? Or worry that if you do fall in love, and you’re immortal, but your lover isn’t, that you’ll have to leave them to protect the ‘all-important family secret’?”

  Mum grew pail. Her jaw slackened.

  Dad pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  Secretly, Marie agreed with William, but the bomb he’d just hurled had done its job of family devastation. Now was not the time to chime in with sisterly support. She pushed herself to stand and crossed the room to stand before William and her mother. “William, that’s a hell of a blow.”

  He whirled to face her. “Is it? You know we both feel the same way. I read it in your diary.”

  Marie’s head jerked back as if slapped. “You asshole. My diary’s private.”

  William shrugged. “You left it open on the bed a few years back. I peeked at it.”

  “You said you didn’t read it.” Her insides twisted into knots.

  “I didn’t read all of it. I read the passage it was open to. I lived with you. I didn’t need to read you regurgitating your life or your obsession with Jonny Coyne.”

  “What did you see?” Marie asked, her chest tightening.

  “Something about ‘I hate myself, and if I didn’t think Mum and Dad would be devastated, I’d check out.’” William’s expression turned as stony as Dad’s did.

  Dad groaned.

  Mum gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Marie! How could you think of such a thing?”

  “Mum, it was a long time ago. Jonny had just split up with me, and I was going through a rough patch. I didn’t do it, did I?” Marie longed to take her brother outside and kick his ass.

  Dad stood and joined them in the foyer. “Son, you’ve unleashed a well of heartbreak. That’s surely a topic we’ll need to address. But, the real issue here is the fact that a killer is attacking our friends and family.” He placed his hand on William’s shoulders.

  William jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

  Dad lifted his hands in the air, palms toward William.

  “The women you’ve dated have been targeted,” Marie said. “At least two of them. Do you know any more?”

  William’s expression darkened, but he said nothing.

  “Oh, God. William! You’re in the killer’s crosshairs.” Mum staggered toward an easy chair. She slumped into it and dropped her face into her hands. Muffled sobs left her throat. When she lifted her head, she said, “You’re right, William. We were conflicted about bringing you and your sister to life. But, the second you were born, your dad and I fell madly in love with you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry you feel we did you an injustice. No. I refuse to believe it. You and your sister are meant to be. You’re so, so very precious to your father and I.”

  “Quit your rally cry, mum. It won’t work this time. I’m sorry I was ever born. Marie is, too, still. She’s just too nice to say anything.” William’s face was lined with scorn.

  Marie tensed. She glanced at her father, noting his anguished expression. “Don’t speak for me, you little twat. You’re a disgrace to this family.” The instant the words left her mouth, she regretted saying anything. “Wait. I didn’t mean it.” She grabbed his biceps.

  He yanked out of her grip, his eyes conveying some great wounding or betrayal. “Fuck you, Marie. We may have been born at the same time, but we’re as different as night and day. You’re nothing but a traitor. I may be nothing but a shit to this family, but I’ve never, ever, betrayed you. I’ve always stood up for you. Who do you think broke Jonny Coyne’s nose, huh?” William’s voice emerged all ragged and raw.

  “I…I didn’t know,” Marie said, her throat jammed with emotion.

  His eyes grew moist. “And who told Ma and Siobhan to back off about you and Paul ever picking out your engagement rings, huh? Huh? Who do you think did that?” His limbs shook.

  “William,” Dad soothed. “That’s enough.”

  “No, Dad.” William whirled to face his father. “It’s not enough. Enough would mean I get to lead a normal life, not one in constant fear of being found out.”

  “The Leviathan magic protects…” Dad began, but William cut him off.

  “It protects you, Dad. You and Mum. Marie and I have no idea whether we’re protected with this so-called magic.” William’s head fell backward, and he groaned. “I’m so tired of this shit. Enough would mean not worrying about my body transforming when I’m stressed, and no sea water in sight to sustain me. Enough would mean I got to settle down with a woman, not leave her before she got attached and found out what a monster I am. That would be enough.” He stormed from the house, slamming the door so hard Marie’s teacup clattered on the coffee table.

  Marie ran to the front window.

  William sat in his Audi. He shook a cigarette free from a pack he’d retrieved. With trembling fingers, he struck a match and lit it, inhaling deeply. Then, he revved up the engine and took off, fishtailing down the driveway.

  Mum sobbed.

  Dad put his arms around Mum and tried to soothe her.

  A certainty sank into Marie’s belly like a granite stone. She knew everyone in this house wondered how in the world they could ever mend from the fury William had unleashed. All while the killer could be circling closer to ending her brother’s life, or, destroying everyone he’d ever loved.

  Chapter 14

  Monday late morning – Marie

  As she watched the dust dissipate from her brother’s speeding car while sensing the tension in the room behind her, Marie’s world swirled in an epic shitstorm.

  And, her twin, William, stood in the eye of the storm, his fist raised high overhead in righteous indignation.

  She turned away from the window and wondered what she could do to calm her parents. She knew her limitations, and calming people sat at the top of the “don’t bother trying” list. Her Mum could do the job much better, so long as someone other than herself or her family was the one upset or injured. Mum’s job as a labor and delivery nurse depended on her maintaining her composure.

  Her dad was the calm one of the family, keeping his cool nearly all the time.

  Marie had only inherited the Finn tempest part. She didn’t seem to have a whit of calm from her father’s side. She was just as volatile as her mum without the curbing influence of having to work in crisis situations. Couple that fiery temper with her struggle to cope with a potential Leviathan inside, and she felt like a cauldron to the point of exploding, every single day. So, without a good, soothing idea in her mind, she shuffled to the kitchen and dosed Mum’s tea with brandy before handing it to her.

  “Thank you, lovie,” Mum said from her “collapsed on the couch” position. Her hand shook as she reached for the teacup. “Your brother will be the death of me.” She glugged her tea. “Let’s skip the tea formality. Hand me the whole bottle of whiskey, would you, please?”

  Marie studied her mum. Poor Mum looked distressed and haggard, more like the physical age she should be, instead of the perpetual youth she would remain until the end of time.

  Marie crouched before her and ran her fingers along her mother’s cheek. “William’s not so bad. What he said…about us not coping well with our Leviathan status…” She placed her fingertips on her forehead and rubbed. “Never mind.” She rose and turned to fetch the whiskey, but not before witnessing lines of pain etch her mother’s face.

  Her gaze collided with her father who remained perched on his stool at the counter.

  His face appeared pale and wan. He slowly shook his head.

  Marie pursed her lips into a pinched rosette. God damn William. He shouldn’t have dropped the bomb about our struggles with being Leviathans. She vowed to throttle the wind from him the next time she saw him. He could
ride away to his smarmy bar and bury himself between the legs of a female or ten. She had to keep coming back to this house to deal with the wounds he left behind.

  Stepping before a cupboard, she retrieved a bottle of Paracetamol. The analgesics rattled in the plastic bottle breaking the spell on the otherwise silent room. After twisting open the lid, she poured a couple into her palm for Dad. She pivoted and stepped toward him.

  Palms pressed to the counter, as if stabilizing himself, he lifted his sorrowful gaze to her.

  She took his hand, turned it over, and placed the pills in his palm. She gave his hand a squeeze, adding a kind smile, before turning back around. Then, she seized the whiskey and trekked the distance to her mum. She placed it on the side table with a thwack.

  Having done her due diligence with regards to parental care, she set out the front door to run. She had one destination in mind—Ryan’s house.

  When she arrived at his doorstep, the sun blazed mid-sky. Sweat dripped from her skin. She pounded on his bright blue door.

  A few seconds later, he opened the door, a dish-towel thrown over his shoulder. He wore a green skin-tight t-shirt and sweatpants which ended at bare feet. His mouth formed an O, no doubt because she’d whipped herself up to a thunderous storm on the way over.

  “Lion, I need to talk to you.” Her lips pressed into a stiff line. She took a second to appreciate his muscular appearance.

  “I can see that, kiddo. Come on in. The dishes can wait.” He stepped aside for her to enter.

  Marie charged across the threshold and entered the front room. Once there, she paced.

  Ryan stepped in and settled on the sofa. “What’s got you foaming at the mouth?”

  A half-finished glass of orange juice sat on the side table next to him. He hefted it and took a hearty swig.

  Marie seized her hair in both hands and pulled. She let out an exasperated groan. “My twat of a brother, that’s what. My father ordered him to come over at Mum’s insistence. Her intentions may have been good—she wanted to warn him about the murders and how they might be linked to him. And, he might be a suspect. But you know William. He went off the rails and spilled everything, and I mean everything.” She sped up her pacing.