Dublin, Ireland - September 27, 2006 2:24 AM Greenwich Mean Time
"All right guys, closing time. Soldier's Song on four. One, two..a onetwothreefour.."
We'll sing a song, a soldier's song with cheering rousing choooorus,
Jeremy grinned at the ease of which Hydrofoil picked up the proud melody of Ireland's national anthem. He'd been a bit crestfallen when he'd discovered that Terry's replacement had been a cheery Scouser in his early sixties, but he had taught them the song and the Irish tradition of closing pubs with it. As far as his percussive talent was concerned, Jeremy had to admit that Jimmy Nichols was nothing short of brilliant. As good as he was, frowned Jeremy to himself, Jimmy wasn't their drummer, and once again he'd wondered what the hell Terry was so concerned about .
Galway, Ireland, a few hours earlier.
"Hey guys, hey guys," whispered Rachel. "Take a look," pointing discretely towards the corner. Dita, Heather and Mary turned to see Terry and Fiona make their way towards a door in the back.
"Mrs. McDonald," said Dita, "now no offense of course, but I think your barmaid could raise her standards by just a bit."
Mary shrugged, "That's just Fiona being Fiona, she's our best barmaid, and very friendly. Why are you so concerned about the boy?"
Heather sighed. "Terry's not a bad guy, just not somebody who fits in very easily. He's a good, potentially great drummer, lousy student except in English and music, an abysmal athlete. He has crushes on me and Dita, but he's not our type.
'We keep it cordial, but not overly friendly," acknowledged Dita. "Now we have this. His coming to Ireland and then following us to Galway is too bizarre, even for us." Her face twisted, thinking. "Unless he overheard something ... say." Realization dawned at last. "Sonofa.... he heard us on the plane!!"
"Oh come on Dita, we had at least two rows of seats around us." Rachel lowered her voice looking around, 'What are the chances that he heard us talking about wares?"
"Hmmm, either he did or he didn't. I'd call that about fifty-fifty, wouldn't you agree, Dita?" Heather smirked. Dita wasn't satisfied. "Guys, secrecy is paramount, if Terry knows our secret..."
"You make sure it becomes his", concluded Mary. "That being the case, do you really want to find out what he knows? Dita considered this. She had an obligation to her mother and friends to keep the pack a secret, on the other hand she couldn't very well munch on Terry without knowing that he knew... not that she would have the ability to pass it on for another eleven days anyway. She shrugged in frustration. "Nothing I can do about it till the seventh anyway, but we'll call Mom and get her opinion. And I'm certainly not looking forward to seeing the likes of Terry being gifted."
Heather wrinkled his forehead. "Babe, if it came to that, do you think you could... Dita grabbed her friend's hands, "I dunno," she said rapidly
Mary interrupted, embracing both girls. "Girls, girls., quit beating yourselves up over it. You'll do the right thing when you have to make the decision; right now we're here to enjoy ourselves. Let's talk about where you'll go after Galway."
Galway, Ireland - September 27, 2006 8:26 PM GMT
They come over here and they chop off our heads
They cut off our hands and they boil them in oil
They're taking our children and we have no heads
We drink and we die and continue to drink...*
Rachel shook her head. Was it just her imagination or had the quality of traditional Irish music really declined since her last visit?
Martin ambled up to the table. "Enjoying yourselves girls?"
Heather nodded eagerly. "Having a great time, Mr. McDonald. Great music, you know?"
"Ah, please, call me Marty, Heather. Yes, this band we've had in for a few nights. The Ti Nachtin pub will get 'em in a couple of nights, and we'll get a group over from Dublin pretty soon. Lot of the pubs are going upscale, hoping to find the next U2, but traditional is all too often what people come for."
Speaking of bands...
"Grandaa, have you seen Fiona? She went downstairs with a young man some time ago."
"Oh you've not met Fiona yet? Best barmaid we've had since Maryanne." His face tightened. "Mary, did you tell Fiona to take the rest of the night off? I haven't seen her for awhile."
"No Martin. I gathered you must have, she went downstairs with this young man she'd been sitting with." Martin sighed in exasperation, "So long as she's off the clock, thats not a problem, would be considerate if she'd let me know. I'll go fetch her, I'm sure she'd want to meet you all."
56 feet beneath Galway, Ireland - September 27, 2006 8:31 PM GMT
"Uuuuunngh," moaned Terry loudly. "Oh ... oh shit!" Terry awoke to find himself laying nude on Fiona's bed. His right side felt weak, his hand almost numb. Turning his head slightly, he saw his right hand.
"Oh my God!" Terry stared at his wounded arm in horror and felt lightheaded.
The succubus had done a nice job on his hand and wrist. Its claws had lacerated Terry's hand and forearm in four places, cutting it to the bone. Where the chemical of the eight ball had spilled, the skin was badly burned. Blood had spilled over the upper left quarter of the mattress, and some slowly dripped onto the floor. Terry tested his hand, wincing in pain as he found he could move his fingers, but clenching his fist seemed impossible, hopefully only because it was excruciating to do so.
Knowing that he'd already lost a great deal of blood, he thrust his left fist into his armpit to the pressure point. Gasping for breath he eased himself off the bed.
"Fiona? Oh God, please..." Terry saw Fiona's body crumpled in the corner by the door, her head twisted strangely. "Please be breathing," he begged as he stumbled over to her. Terry sighed in relief as he felt a faint pulse in her wrist and badly rattling breath. He hesitated, this was a woman who'd seduced him and ... hmm, he wasn't really sure what she'd had in mind for him, but it didn't sound very pleasant. Even so, she did say that she'd been possessed, and he couldn't just leave her to die.
"Help," Terry screamed or tried to scream as his lungs didn't seem nearly up to the task of yelling. Nothing.
Then footsteps, barely audible
"help."
They accelerated, until they were right on top of him
"Fiona?" Terry was delighted to hear the gruff voice of the tavern owner. "we're in here, she's hurt," he called. Terry heard the rattle of keys in the lock.
Martin's eyes widened in shock as he saw his best barmaid sprawled out nude on the floor along with that boy he'd spoken to this afternoon nursing a badly injured arm
"Dear God!" Martin went to one knee, brushing her hair with his hand. "Get back, son," he commanded. "Mind her neck, sir, she's hurt bad."
Martin nodded, whipping out his cell phone and dialing 999. "This is McDonald at the O'Hara pub, 1916 Fienster Street. Send an ambulance soon as you can, we've got two kids hurt downstairs, possible back and neck injuries. Aye, thank you." He turned back towards Terry. "Your arm lad, what the devil happened here?"
"Uh, well, good choice of words, we were doing a kind of magical experiment and it seems we...ah...kinda...duh...summoned a ... um ... demon? Things got a little rough." Oh Christ I'm so fucked, thought Terry.
"Hmmm, I see... and where is this 'um demon'?"
'Well, we fought and she must have..." Terry returned to unconsciousness.
Galway, Ireland - September 27, 2006 8:30 AM
"I tell ye, it looks damned suspicious to me as well. Boy's unconscious now, and they're pumping him full of blood, vitamins, and antibiotics, he's lucky to be keeping his hand. Girl will be in a neck brace for a month at least, I'd say. Oddest thing is that their stories, least what we could get from the girl, match perfectly: they summoned a demon, demon got all riled up, nearly broke the neck of the girl and slashed the boy's arm." Doctor Murphy shrugged. "Not that I'm saying their lying of course, but I'm a rational man. Demons of all things?"
The constable nodded. "Odd would be an understatement, but as far as we're concerned there's no charges to be filed. I don't think you've any more need of the Gardai, though a priest might be a good idea, ay? Anyway, I'll talk to the boy when he's ready"
Heather neither expected nor wanted to spend any part of her first full day in Ireland in a hospital, but it seemed the right thing to do under the circumstances. Both Fiona and Terry remained unconscious through most of the day, so Heather and her friends explored Galway with Mrs. McDonald showing them the sights. Starting with a generous breakfast at home, the four made their way to the center of town, and strolled along the Corrib riverside to the fourteenth century Cathedral of St. Nicholas. They made reservations for the Town Hall Theatre later in the evening and had pizza for lunch in the Eyre Square Centre.
Though they wouldn't be on a very tight budget, Dita and Heather agreed to hold off buying anything significant till they finished up in Dublin. Around four in the afternoon, the sun already starting its plunge towards the western horizon, the phone rang for Mary.
"Oh good, both Terry and Fiona are awake. Shall we pay them a visit then?"
They first paid a visit to Terry. To Terry's horror, Rachel asked her grandmother to step outside for a few minutes. To his amazement he found himself being hugged and kissed on the cheeks by the three young women.
"So Terry, what did the doctors say?"
"I'll be hurting for a few weeks at least, Dita. Fortunately, I should regain full movement in my right hand, but there will be some ugly scars." Seeing the girls exchange worried glances, he smiled to put them at ease. "I'm lucky really, I'd lost enough blood that they first thought I might lose my hand altogether."
Heather gave him a worried look. "Tell us exactly what happened, please."
Terry sighed. "You're gonna think I'm nuts." Or maybe not, he thought to himself. "Fiona and I were talking about the folklore of Ireland and the whole of the British Isles. She decided to walk me through a rite that she had performed with her late cousin. Apparently when they did the rite for real they had gotten possessed by demons. The demon then manifested in Fiona and she attacked me. Fortunately I was able to fight her off, but not before I'd knocked its head off ... literally ... and gotten my arm torn up. She must have fantastic regenerative powers"
"Mary, mother of God," breathed Rachel
"So Fiona is a demon as well as the best barmaid your grandparents have," said Dita to Rachel. "Yes, well apparently my family isn't so much into deep background checks," retorted Rachel.
"Dita, Fiona is possessed. She's not an actual demon or I probably would have killed her last evening and extended my tour of Ireland to its legal system and penal code. She needs help."
"Terry!! We said we'd call you. What made you think ye should follow us across the whole bloody island," queried Rachel.
"Rachel, that's not your real voice is it?"
Rachel blushed slightly. "I was born in Florida, Terry, but I can never keep my American accent without thinking about it while I'm in Ireland." Not thinking about it again, she insisted, "now answer me question Terry."
Terry sighed. "All right, I heard you guys talking on the plane about the FBI being after your mom's friends. I thought I was kinda obligated to help out"
"You were eavesdropping!? Terryyyy!"
"Not deliberately Heather! I was just practicing and knocked the cover off an air vent, guess the vent acted like an amplifier, you know."
Heather shook her head. She remembered perfectly well what she had said, and the context in which she had said it.
* - Traditional Irish Folk Song written by Denis Leary, thus making it a not so traditional folk song