“My point is this: you are too young and innocent to be dealin’ in such matters. Again, I suggest you forget what you heard."
McDonald nodded brusquely. “Fiona will be along shortly. You mind what I said and enjoy your stay in Éire."
Terry watched as Mr. McDonald walked away nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. Terry had never realized the origin of werewolves had been such a gruesome tale. Up until this point, Terry had thought of lycanthropy as a disease… but now, taking into account the old man’s story, Terry wondered if it might be a more of a curse.
Unfortunately for Mr. McDonald, his story had not deterred Terry one bit from attempting to help his friends. When it came to the wellbeing of his buds, Terry’s own physical wellbeing went out the back window. He knew well and good that helping those you love could have consequences. In fact, in one instance when he was younger, he had been sucker-punched by a bully at school for refusing to allow him to pick on a friend.
If anything, though, Mr. McDonald’s story had warned him to be cautious about approaching the subject. It was quite obvious that there was a long and tangled story here, and danger was an unpleasant but necessary part of it. However, it was becoming more and more obvious that Heather, Dita, and Rachel were all in danger here, and that was all Terry needed to know.
Terry took a long gulp of the Smithwick’s McDonald had poured him, and mentally thanked the man for his generosity. As Terry placed the glass back down, a familiar gir began to wander back over to his spot from behind the bar.
Fiona noticed the boy was no longer looking up as he had been before.
“…Do you two know each other?” Fiona asked as she leaned over the bar.
Terry looked up at the girl. “Sort of. One of the girls I was telling you about earlier was his granddaughter.”
Fiona’s face lit up. “So yer not just from Indiana, you know Rachel? What a small world!” Fiona clapped her hands together, giggling. “Rachel’s such a nice girl. She visits Ireland every few years, and when she does, she always visits us here at the pub.” Fiona placed her hands back on the bar. “So… what did you two talk about?”
Terry thought quickly. “Oh… He just wanted to tell me a story.” Terry took another swig of his drink. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“He’s a little rough around the edges, but you’d never meet a kinder man. He’d give you the shirt off of his back.” Fiona topped off
Terry’s glass of Smithwick’s.
Terry laughed. “You guys had better stop soon. I’m going to get used to this kind of treatment.”
Fiona began to laugh along with him, as she poured herself a shot glass full of Smithwick’s. “Hey, it’s not every day we get a friend of Mr. McDonald’s granddaughter in here.” Fiona raised her glass to the boy. “To new friends.”
Terry did the same, clinking his glass with the girl’s. “To new friends.” Terry moved the glass to near to his mouth. “…And the old ones, too.” Fiona nodded, as they both downed their drinks.