Page 94 of Irish Vice
The shout comes from beside me. Aiofe’s gripping the back of the couch. Her fingers stand out like jagged icicles against the dark green leather. Her face is covered in snot and tears.
“Uncle Braiden!” she shouts. “Stop!”
Aiofe’s voice hits him like a two-by-four. Shock stiffens everymuscle in his body. But I know the code he lives by. Madden betrayed him, betrayed every one of the Fishtown Boys. Madden sold out his clan to Russo, and that can never be forgiven.
Still, Aiofe is the child Braiden has protected for the last seven years. He was there when bright red blood stole her voice. If he fires that gun, he’ll do more than torture Madden. He’ll ruin Aiofe forever.
He settles for snarling over his shoulder to Seamus. “Let’s get him upstairs.”
Seamus reaches for his phone. “Want me to call Kelleher?”
“No.” Braiden puts force into the word. It’s a direct command.
Seamus nods as if he expected the order. Now he knows what will happen in the infirmary room on the second floor. All four of us adults know. “I’ll tell the others we have him.”
“No,” Braiden says again, and this time Seamus is surprised. “I need to be certain Russo’s kept in the dark.”
That admission costs Braiden something. Madden fooled him for weeks, for months even, working secretly with Russo. There may be other traitors in the ranks. Braiden will have to scour the Fishtown Boys, test their loyalty from top to bottom.
And Madden will pay for that too, once he’s upstairs.
As Seamus bends over the writhing Madden, Braiden turns to me. There are a thousand things I want to say—every thought I’ve had in the past week, every discovery I made when I saw him standing in the hallway. But we’ll have time for all of that later, when the house is quiet, when we’re alone.
“Get her out of here,” he says, jutting his chin toward Aiofe. And he’s right. She’s already seen far too much.
Aiofe’s hand is limp in mine. I ease her through the doorway and down he hall lined with bookcases. Red lights flash outside the windows. A quick glance shows three fire engines and at least a dozen firefighters in full turn-out gear. The flames are already out.
The men start to swear behind us. From the range of curses, they’re forcing Madden to his feet. Aiofe tries to turn back, but I keep my body between her and the bloodshed. After a moment’s resistance, she lets me guide her toward the kitchen.
Fairfax frets beside the stove, shifting a kettle over an open flame as if that will make the water boil faster. A stack of foam cups waits on the counter, waiting to restore the firefighters. I suspect there isn’t a crisis in Fairfax’s life that wasn’t made better with tea.
His face is marked with soot, and I spy a burn on his wrist, as if he was caught by an ember. But he smiles weakly as I lead Aiofe into the room. “Such a fuss all those men are making outside. Did they wake you, little one?”
Instead of answering, Aiofe says, “You’re hurt!”
He startles and looks at me, as if I’m the one pulling puppet strings, making the once-mute child speak. Of course, being Fairfax, he recovers so quickly I wonder if I imagined his surprise. “I’ll be right as rain by tomorrow,” he promises Aiofe.
He glances past me, at sudden chaos in the foyer. Braiden and Seamus are getting Madden upstairs, being none too gentle about it. Aiofe’s paying too much attention again, so I ask her, “Why don’t we help Fairfax with his tea?”
“Chamomile?” Aiofe asks. “That always makes me feel better.”
“Chamomile it is,” I say. “Lets find the strainer.”
Fairfax shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” I don’t know which amazes him more—Madden’s injury or Aiofe’s speaking or my voluntarily taking on the task of drowning foul leaves in water.
But then he keeps Aiofe busy, asking her to choose a favorite teacup and saucer. He directs her toward a step stool so she can retrieve a decorated tin filled with fresh toffee cookies. It’s not until she’s lining up the foam cups for all the men outside that Fairfax says to me, “Go on, then. Aiofe’s the only assistant I need.”
“I—” I start to tell him I’m happy to stay. But the truth is, I’m desperate to know what’s happening upstairs. “Thank you,” I say.
Before I can leave, Aiofe gives me a fierce hug. “And thankyou,” I whisper into her hair. “Thank you for keeping an eye on Fairfax.” But I mean more than that. I mean,thank you for warning me about Madden.I mean,thank you for choosing to speak.
“All right, Aiofe,” Fairfax says. “After we take care of the men outside, you can help me back to my cottage. In fact, why don’t we have a sleepover out there? You can stay the night, and I’ll make us both waffles in the morning?”
I suspect Fairfax will be needed back at the house, once he gets Aiofe into bed. But I slip free while the child is still distracted by the promise of breakfast.
The door is closed to the infirmary on the second floor, but I don’t let that stop me. Braiden has rolled up his shirtsleeves. The scar on his forearm looks purple in the bright light, raised like a mountain range and twisted like a snake.
He looks past me. “Aiofe?” he asks.