Page 100 of The Business of Blood
“Wait! Just wait.” Frantically, I placed myself in between Aidan and his prey, holding my hand up, fully aware of what his coal-heated knife could do.
As much empathy as I had for Aidan’s helpless rage in the face of true evil, I couldn’t stand by and watch him brutally slaughter another human being. This wasn’t right. Not only did I suspect that his fury, in this case, had as much to do with me as it did with piety, but his motive was also ethnic in nature. Such motivation had nothing to do with a misguided love.
And everything to do with hatred.
That, in itself, was evil. And if there were such a thing as a soul, as an afterlife, as Hell…this act would surely send Aidan there.
“I…understand your motives for reaping vengeance against the others.” I did. And I didn’t. I’d havewantedto kill both Frank Sawyer and Katherine Riley once I learned of their crimes.
But I wouldn’t have. That’s the difference. I’d have called upon the law.
What about when you find the Ripper?the dark voice inside my head asked.Will you leave him to the police?
Now was not the time to answer that question.
“Jorah is no Pharisee.” I maintained as even an intonation as I could. “He’s just a man. A sinner, like me. Like all of us. The repercussions of his demise could evoke more evil than you could possibly imagine. There is a gang war brewing in this city, Aidan, and he’s the only one keeping it in check. If you kill him now, you doom more innocent people to death, and worse.”
“I’ll repent, if that’s what it takes,” the Hammer conceded evenly. “I’ll offer your church atonement for any sins you deem necessary.”
“Jorah?” Aidan repeated my use of the Hammer’s given name with a treacherous deliberateness. “He isJorahto you now? What do you mean, your sins are like his?”
“Nothing.” I’d never been more thankful to have kept a confession to myself. Aidan knew I’d sinned for the Hammer, but at the moment, he placed blame for those sins on the Hammer’s own head.
Lord, help me, but I wanted to keep it that way. Even if that wish made me a selfish woman, I couldn’t bear to see condemnation in Aidan’s eyes. Not so much out of love anymore.
But out of terror.
“I just meant that we all have sins that we must repent. We are promised mercy, are we not? It’s not only criminal to do what you’ve done—what you mean to do—it’s a mortal sin. Unforgivable. It’s murder, Aidan!”
His calm had returned, and it did exactly nothing to restore my serenity.
“You think I hate these people. I don’t,” Aidan said. “That’s what you don’t understand, Fiona. I love them. As unworthy as they are, I do. And so does God. I offer them a path to forgiveness. Their only way.”
He softened further when he read the utter confusion on my face.
“I am a sinner, too,” he murmured. “Those beads you found in Frank Sawyer’s blood were mine. Did you know that? They came from a rosary an Apache man made for me in America. I paid him in tainted blankets and faulty weapons. His entire clan died of cholera not three weeks later.”
My lungs deflated. “What?” I thought this day could contain no more declarations of horror. How wrong I’d been.
“You lived through the war on our soil, wrought by these blood-thirsty English hypocrites. You know what it is like. The Republicans were dying. Starving. Desperate. A faction of us with powerful kin in America went in search of aid. We found men of industry, government, and military, Irish Americans who supported our cause. We did whatever they asked to save our country. We made land deals at first. Then arms deals. And, finally, we were told we could keep whatever we looted from native tribes. We were paid for their scalps.”
I’d never seen a man more riddled with remorse. It buckled my knees. My joints ached with it, froze with it. I became paralyzed byhispain.
And still, he continued, his confession clawing at what little was left of my own sanity. “I’ve been the cause of the deaths of more innocent—more innocence—than Frank Sawyer, Katherine Riley, the Hammer, and the Rippercombined. I had a hand in the slaughter of thousands, Fiona. And the whole time, I thought my cause was just. Those heathens had rejected Christ. Declared war on Him. They lost the war, and I knew it was because He was on our side. I prayed every night, and I heard the voice of God. I felt his righteous wrath. But then…there was this village…”
He pressed his lips together and turned his head, clearly fighting the rise of his own gorge at the memory.
“Oh, Aidan,” I whimpered through my never-ending tears. “What did you do?”
He didn’t seem able to bring himself to look at me. “There are no words for it. Butchery comes close…but not close enough. After that, God was silent to my soul. And in the silence...I heard your voice calling me home. But by the time I made it back, there was nothing. I was alone. Forsaken by the Lord.”
He took my hands, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to wrench them away.
“I could not inflict my sins upon you, Fi. Upon our house or our children. So, I made my atonement the only way I knew how. I devoted my life to God. I asked to minister in the capital city of my enemy. To love them as Christ told us to love them.” He bent his neck to gaze up at the celestial mural on the ceiling. “And still, when I prayed, I heard nothing but the pagan supplications of those slaughtered people. I wondered if He heard their prayers, I wondered if He heard their screams. I asked Him again and again. Do you know what my answer was?”
I was crying too hard to speak, so I shook my head.
“Silence. It'salwaysbeen silence.” His hands tightened on mine until the small ring I wore on my right hand bit into the fingers next to it.
