Connor felt the water dripping from the ceiling and down his shoulder. He wasn't used to sleeping dressed, or on the floor for that matter, but it was a small sacrifice for the temporary happiness he felt at seeing the girls again. He hadn't realized how much he'd forgotten the beauty that could be found in the Isle. He smoothed his disheveled hair, rolling onto his back. Connor was sleeping between their beds. From under the one to his left, he could just make out Murphy's mocking smile in the dim. Connor smiled back, biting back the urge to laugh. They made quite the pair, sleeping on the floor like two tramps. Curse them from being so chivalrous. Further study of the room showed no sign of their father, but it wasn't unusual for him to disappear at all hours of the night to collect tools for their ventures.
Murphy stretched fitfully, pulling himself up on his elbows and shaking his head. He fumbled about in the lacking light for his boots, pulling them on. Connor got soundlessly to his feet, joining his brother at the unbalanced, round table in the corner. They both sat for a moment, not daring to break the silence. Connor smiled indulgently as he watched the steady rise and fall of Kiley and Brighid's breaths. They were huddled together on his bed, wrapped in separate blankets. Ciara was on Murphy's bed, sleeping without the warmth of covers. She had given hers up when the other two had fought over the blanket. She seemed less at ease, like she was ready to spring at a moment's notice. The brothers couldn't help but wonder what sort of trouble came to her in her dreams and made her so jumpy. She almost seemed to be waiting for someone to come close enough to surprise her. Compared to the other girls, she seemed so different indeed. She was taller, more wiry than her friend or sister. She didn't have the same feminine softness of the other two. She seemed lonely indeed.
Papa MacManus reappeared, holding a finger to his lips. He had a huge black sack across one shoulder. He gestured them to follow him out the door with a large hand. Rising, Connor took their rosaries off the wall and passed Murphy's over. Pulling on their coats, they passed quietly into the hall and out into the night. Smecker was waiting downstairs for them, dressed in a brown trenchcoat. His face looked grim in the streetlamp. "We got us a big mess this time, boys," he said. "They came into your pal Doc's bar and wiped out half the clientele. It's very messy, definitely someone with a vendetta."
"Doc!" Murphy nearly shouted, ready to take off in the direction of the bar. Connor touched his arm, bringing him back to the present.
"Doc was shot in the arm. Nothing fatal. They released him from the hospital an hour ago." Murphy nodded slowly, his resolve returning. As they walked, Papa MacManus, Il Duce, offered his plan.
Ciara rolled over uncomfortably, forcing the room into focus. She sensed something was deathly wrong, and managed to keep herself completely still. She could hear someone's stifled cries in the bed next to her. Was it a dream? She slowly rolled over, preparing herself for what she might find. She met Kiley's terrified eyes for a moment, wishing she knew what was going on. Upon gaining wakefulness, she could make out the ropes binding Kiley to the bedpost and realized the screams where Brighid's. Two male shadows were bent over her, where she was handcuffed to a chair. She could make out the young woman's bare breast in the filtered light, free of her torn dress. She was covered in cuts and bruises where they had buffeted her about the face and arms. "How does that feel, you fuckin' Paddy?" a voice ground out in her ear. Ciara made to leap from the bed, but was met by a third man pressing the muzzle of a silenced rifle into her forehead.
"Brighid!" Kiley screamed, fighting against the ropes that held her. Burns were rising on her wrists where the ropes cut in, blood running like stigmata into her palms. She gave an unearthly growl, straining harder. Ciara kicked out at the man, slamming her fist into his chest and knocking his gun across the room in one move. She dove at the other two men, engaging one as Kiley's bonds finally gave under the strain. Wrists still tied, she leapt on the other man, pummeling his face. She managed to disarm him, and picked up his gun.
Three things happened in rapid succession. Kiley fired the shot that killed her assailant, sending his lifeless body slamming to the floor. The first man Ciara had knocked down found his gun, and scrambling to his knees, fired it right at Brighid.
"No!' Ciara cried, diving toward her friend in an attempt to shield her. The bullet grazed her left arm and continued unchecked into its target. "Oh, dear Lord, Brighid! Brighid!" Enraged, Ciara threw herself on the murderer, wrenching the gun free of his hands with a strength born of anger. She slammed the butt of the weapon in his face, as it was unwieldy at such short range, and kept hitting him until he no longer stirred. The third assailant made to leave, but Ciara raised the gun, checked for a shell in the chamber, and fired right over her sister's shoulder into the man's head. As he shuddered in the final throes of death, Kiley burst into weeping, throwing herself over the still form of their friend.
Struck dumb with what she had just done, Ciara let the rifle drop from numb fingers to the floor. She fell to her knees, her head rolled forward as though no longer held up by her own control. No tears fell from her eyes, but she still felt the grief. After a long moment of silence, she walked on unsteady feet to Brighid's body, unbinding her hands from the chair and laying her across the floor. Kiley forced herself to her feet and pulled the sheet off of Connor's bed, laying it over her friend as though tucking her into her final rest. Ciara found a pencil and began scribbling fervently on the tile wall with it, lead lines forming a crude cross. She took her rosary from her pocket, pressing it between cold, shaking fingers. Kiley knelt next to her, joining her in begging the forgiveness of the Lord. What had they done? And why did it have to be Brighid? Where were the MacManus men that they weren't there to care for their own? All these thoughts raced through Ciara's mind as Kiley rested her head on Ciara's lap and lay quiet.
Connor shook his head. "They've disappeared like dust on the wind," he growled.
"Nothin'. All we got was a load o' nothin'" Murphy added in agreement.
"I think someone wanted us gone," Papa MacManus mused. "But why?" They rounded the final landing before the top of the stairs, pausing.
"I think we know," Smecker said quietly, gesturing to the bloody handprint on their slightly ajar front door.
"The girls!" Murphy and Connor shouted in unison, breaking into a run. The scene that met them was from a nightmare. At first, all they saw was a body covered in a sheet, and the three dead men. Blood was everywhere. Upon closer inspection, Connor could make out Kiley's slowly breathing form sprawled out on Murphy's bed. She was sleeping. He pointed at her, raising a finger to his lips.
Murphy found Ciara under the table, legs drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her slender knees. Her hands were covered in blood, and so was her shirt. Her eyes burned holes into his heart. There was such sadness and rage in them as he had never thought possible. "Oh, Love, what happened? Are ya a'right?" He dragged her trembling from beneath the table.
"They came in after yeh left, three o' em. Had Kiley roped to the bed an' yer…cousin…they were savaging her! I had a gun to my head…it all happened so fast, me n' Kiley took 'em out…but not before…" She stared dumbly at the body which was covered in the sheet. "No remorse," she said through gritted teeth.
"Never remorse," Murphy said to her, his voice deceptively calm as he held her hand.
"Kiley's worse off 'n me. She feels strongly for what she did. All she said to me over and over again was 'What'll Connor think?'" Smecker studied the men intently.
"Looks like you gave them more than they bargained for," he remarked. "You should be proud."
"No pride in taking life, but no remorse for the evil ones," Ciara replied, eyes smoldering.
"The evil must die that the good live in prosperity," Kiley finished, looking at them from under hooded eyelids. "So it has always been. So it shall always be."