Free Bury the Living (Revolutionary #1) by Jodi McIsaac Page A

erupted in the dead center, shooting at least six feet into the sky. Nora scrambled back off the wall and held up an arm to block the heat. When she lowered it, hooded figures stood around the flames, chanting. And then the entire scene was simply gone, just like the women on the stairs at Kilmainham. No ash, no scorch marks, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. A vase of silk flowers seemed to wink at her as they swayed softly in the breeze.
    “Sweet Jesus,” Nora whispered, backing away from the site and almost tripping over a fallen headstone in her haste. She ran to the church doors and heaved them open.
    “Hello? Is anyone here?” she called, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. Just inside the entrance was a series of standing display cases and several large stone sarcophagi. A thin woman popped her head around the corner.
    “Can I help you?”
    “Do you work here?”
    “I’m one of the volunteers, yes. My name’s Suzanne. How can I help you?”
    Nora thrust the picture of Thomas into her hands. It was time for complete honesty, come what may. “Right, Suzanne, I know this is going to sound crazy. I’m not off my head, I swear it. But I’ve had several dreams about this man. He told me to come to Kildare so I could talk to a woman called Brigid. And then I found this photo of him. See, it says here he died in 1923. And I keep seeing visions of the past, knowing things I shouldn’t know. So I’ve come here, just like he asked.” She stopped, unable to believe she’d confessed all of that out loud to a complete stranger.
    The woman glanced at the photo for a moment, then handed it back. “Are you looking for prayer?”
    “No! I’m trying to find out how a man who’s been dead for almost a century is getting into my head.”
    It was clear from Suzanne’s expression that she thought Nora was mentally unstable. “Have you checked at the heritage center? They might be able to—”
    “Yes, and they sent me here. I’m not making this up! Someone must know—”
    “Is there a problem?” Another woman emerged from a door at the side of the church. She was short and on the plump side, with closely cropped coarse brown hair and an uneven fringe. She wore a long green shawl with a gold brooch.
    “May I?” Suzanne said, taking the photo from Nora. She passed it to her colleague. “She’s trying to find out about this man. He’s called Thomas Heaney. Do you recognize him, Mary?”
    Mary’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Yes, I do,” she said slowly, her eyes drinking in the photograph. Finally, she stared up at Nora. “ You’re the one looking for him?” Her voice held a hint of incredulity.
    “Aye,” Nora said warily. Was this woman having her on? Or was she really about to find some answers?
    Mary pressed her hand over her heart. “It’s a fine day. Why don’t we take a walk outside? Thank you, Suzanne, I’ll help this young lady from here.”
    Nora followed Mary past another stone coffin and a display of Kildare in the fifth century, back into the churchyard.
    “Well,” Mary began once they were well away from the front door. “I’m not exactly sure how to proceed, but I’ll do my best. You see, we’ve been waiting for you.”
    “You’ve been waiting for me?” Nora repeated, dumbfounded. “Why?”
    “Are you a religious person, Nora?”
    “Yes, o’course.” They were behind the cathedral now, wandering among the tombstones. The round tower loomed overhead.
    “That’s good to hear. So many young people have left the church these days. If they only knew how it sustained us in days gone by. But I digress. I belong to an order called the Brigidine Sisters.”
    “A Catholic order? But isn’t the cathedral Church of Ireland?”
    “It is now, but that hasn’t always been the case. The church you see now was built in the thirteenth century, but it rests on the site of the church Saint Brigid herself had built in the fifth century. Before that, it was a