Page 12 of When Kings Rise

I place the cup carefully back on the saucer. “They didn’t say. A page delivered the news.”

“Why?” Lorcan asks.

“Security reasons,” I answer and watch both my brothers.

Ronan grins like this is a game. “They thought the killer was in the room.” Bingo. He’s right.

I shrug. “They didn’t say.”

He tuts. “It’s clear as mud, Diarmuid. It’s served me well to have Andrew out of the way, so I won’t pine over him.”

“Careful, Brother, you sound like you might have had a hand in his death.” It’s my turn to smirk.

He grits his teeth and then relaxes. “I’m looking forward to seeing your brides.”

I don’t know my brides well, but they are my brides, and Ronan better not push me.

“Ronan, show some respect,” Lorcan states.

Any man who touches what is mine won’t live long enough to brag about it. I make that promise through narrowed eyes at Ronan. It’s a good thing that I am supposed to be meeting with my brides tonight. I need to let out some tension. I hope Niamh wears her church dress; it would be my pleasure to destroy it. After a bit more speculation about Andrew, I depart. I must do my job. Duty always calls.

I sit in my car, adjacent to the front door of the school. The graffiti on the wall next to me reads “Stey in Skool.” I touch the envelope in my lap, the envelope that contains the identity of the person I am supposed to kill.

I open it again and glance at the picture. It’s not a shady-looking teacher or the stern headmaster. I’m looking into the blue eyes of a young boy, Brien Cahill. He is eight. The son of Kane Cahill. Victor wants to hurt Kane, so Brien must die. That’s my order. I’ve never disobeyed an order, but Brien isn’t the guilty party here.

Why should sons pay for their father’s sins?

I stare at the picture, brain spinning. When I was Brien’s age, I made my first kill; Victor made me finish off one of his hits. I hesitated. Victor and Andrew punished me for this later when they found out I shivered and cried. I never hesitated again.

I place the image of the boy back in the envelope when movement along the sidewalk catches my eye. Brien meets two people, who I assume are his parents, and the three walk down the road together. I wait until the family is almost out of sight before I follow them all the way to the church. They enter, and I step onto holy ground only a moment later.

The church is deserted at this hour, and I take a seat at the back. I watch as the parents kneel to pray. I assume the man is Kane. His belly rolls out over his trousers; he’s obviously well fed. The strain on his shirt buttons is unappealing to the eye, but his wife still looks up at him with love in her eyes. Love can be blind. In this case, you would be better off having no sight.

The boy runs a fire engine toy along the top of the pew. I could follow them home and wait until the boy’s mother starts dinner. While Brien is playing in the yard, I could snatch him, and make him disappear. Kane wouldn’t be fit enough to catch me with all that extra cushion.

That’s what I could do. Instead, I watch as a priest walks to the family with a bucket and a mop. Brien tucks his toy in his backpack and takes the bucket without question. The priest smiles fondly at the boy and rubs his hair before speaking to Brien’s parents.

Of course. Nothing looks better on a college application than a lifetime of volunteer work. This boy has a planned future.

One that I am supposed to take away.

I rise from my seat and walk up the center aisle. The priest glances my way and smiles. When I reach him, he holds out his hand. “Welcome. You are new to our church? I’m Isaac Waryn.”

I don’t take the priest's outstretched hand. The boy is far enough away not to hear as he mops the mosaic floor of the church.

“We need to talk.” I glance at Brien’s parents.

I look at Kane, who has paled. “You are Diarmuid O’Sullivan.”

I nod. “Yes, I am, Kane.”

I don’t turn to the priest as I speak to him but keep my gaze fixed on Kane in case he decides to run.

“Father, close the main doors.” The priest doesn’t act, but Brien’s father nods while he swallows. “Do as he says.”

The priest doesn’t look happy but closes the main church doors. I take a seat behind the couple, and they turn to look at me.

“What is this about?” The wife asks.

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