Free Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen) by Stina Leicht

done something terrible. “Don’t. You. Insult. Her.” He balled up his fists. The powerful, black beast in his head fought to free itself. He trembled with the effort to keep it back.
    No. Don’t. Please stop.
    The color in Patrick’s face drained away. Mr. Gallagher’s eyes grew round with horror. Liam didn’t know for sure what it was they saw, but he knew that look. He had seen it in the Kesh often enough, and now understood it had followed him his whole life. It explained why he had not been able to get work no matter how hard he’d tried—why Sister Margaret had been so insistent that he repeat his prayers exactly. It had nothing to do with his missing Protestant father. Something wasn’t right in him, and everyone sensed it.
    There’s a devil in that boy, Sister Margaret had once said to his mother.
    And it was getting worse.
    Mary Kate’s voice came from behind him, loud and clear. “I’ll marry you, William Ronan Monroe Kelly,” she said, using his full name as if she wanted all present certain of who she meant. Then she squeezed him tighter. “Never wanted anything more in my whole life.”
    The black hulking thing pressing for freedom shrank as the meaning of her words sank in. Liam stood a bit taller and let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted it. Was going to get work first and then a ring.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” she said.
    “And just how do you think you’ll live?” Patrick Kelly asked.
    Mary Kate circled around Liam and tucked herself under his arm. “I’ve a job.”
    His step father made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. “You’d expect your husband to live off you?”
    “Worked well enough for you. How long was it last?” Liam asked. “Two years? Three? And to be sure it wasn’t the only time.”
    “That’s different!” Patrick Kelly seemed to have forgotten his fear. “Your mother and I didn’t start our lives as beggars!”
    “Is that so? Then why is it we lived off Granny for all those years?” Liam asked.
    “Don’t you drag out the family troubles in front of—”
    “I’m sure I’ve not said anything Mr. Gallagher doesn’t know already. Him and the whole of Derry.”
    “You fucking wee bastard,” Patrick Kelly said. Moving closer until his nose was perhaps an inch from Liam’s chin, he then cocked back a fist.
    Some things never change, Liam thought. “That’s right. I’m not your son,” Liam said, turning his face toward the threat. He didn’t blink. He knew he was a goner if he showed any sign of backing down. “This is between Mr. Gallagher, me, Mary Kate and my mother. As of this moment, you’re out of it.”
    The sleet quit blustering and got serious, smacking the pavement with everything it had. Freezing rainwater poured over Liam; the only warmth in the world was Mary Kate at his side. She was all that mattered. Patrick Kelly didn’t twitch. Fist held high, his rounded face was bunched so tight that a vein in his temple pulsed.
    The tingling sensation was back. Let it go, Liam thought. It would be so easy. No more sanctimonious speeches about a man’s duty to his family. No more begrudging every mouthful of food. Dead easy. You know it. You’ve done it before.
    No. I didn’t, he argued with himself. It wasn’t me.
    A big man at six feet two and sixteen stone, Patrick Kelly had once intimidated him, but Liam had learned a great deal in the Kesh, and one of those lessons had been that when a man was afraid of you, you used it to your advantage. If you didn’t, you’d end up on the wrong side of a shed getting the shite pounded out of you.
    Unease shifted behind Patrick Kelly’s eyes.
    “I said leave.” Liam stared down that doubt until his stepfather looked away.
    “That’s it,” Patrick Kelly said. “Don’t you expect another damned thing from me.”
    His stepfather turned and stormed down the street, seeming to take the black thing in Liam’s head with him. Liam released the breath he