Page 26 of The Thief
Maybe that's what I am. Maybe that's all any of us are in this life: ghosts haunting the spaces between violence and love, never quite belonging to either.
"Freddie." Alastríona's voice again. It’s soft and careful. Like she's talking to a wounded animal.
"What?"
"Whatever happened... I'm sorry."
Simple words. Honest ones. No platitudes about everything being okay or time healing wounds. Just acknowledgment that sometimes the world breaks things that can't be fixed.
"Thanks."
"Was it someone close to you?"
"Yeah."
"I know what that's like."
Of course she does. She lost her father eighteen months ago; she knows exactly what it feels like to have the ground ripped out from under you.
"How do you deal with it?" I ask.
"You don't. You just keep moving until one day it hurts less."
"And if it doesn't hurt less?"
"Then you keep moving anyway."
Smart girl. Wise beyond her years. She probably had to grow up fast with Killian for a father.
We're in the middle of the city now, driving down Dublin streets I know like the back of my hand, around corners where I learned to pick pockets, and past alleys where I learned to fight. Every street corner holds a memory, most of them violent.
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"Henry's house. He'll want to meet you before things get complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"There's going to be a war. Your arrival just became a lot more significant than anyone expected."
She processes this, nodding slowly. "Because of what happened to your friend?"
"Because of what happened to everyone. This has been building for months. Tonight was just the match that lit the fuse."
"And I'm caught in the middle."
"You're family. That makes you a target and an asset at the same time."
"Wonderful."
Can't argue with that. The timing couldn't be worse. She’s walking into Dublin just as everything goes to hell, just as old alliances crumble and new enemies emerge.
But maybe that's for the best. Maybe chaos is exactly what she needs to find her place in this world. Sometimes you have to break things completely before you can build them back better.
"Are you going to be alright?" she asks.
Strange question. Nobody's asked me that in years. Jer used to, back when I was young and stupid and got myself hurt more often than not. But he's gone now.
"I'll manage."
