The Shamrock Killer

Chapter Eighteen: Eire

As Samhain had passed, the nights began to grow shorter and the cold entreated over Boston at a brisk pace. I no longer went outside with just a cardigan on, instead, I bundled up with a hat, coat, and scarf. It was layers season. 

I shoved my hands in my pockets for warmth as I continued on down the sidewalk. I was coming from my house, going to meet Oisin at an Irish pub not far from where I lived. My cheeks were bright red and frosty, and I cursed myself for thinking that I could bear the cold and forego my nice, warm car. 

It was late afternoon, and the night was starting to close in on the city. Here and there, leaves in bright colors drifted slowly around me. Crowds of drifters and their pleasant laughter had all but gone, and the fading twilight lit a path for only myself. 

I slowed down as I passed the narrow entrance to the funeral home that was no more. The gates were shuttered but I could still feel the heat and smell the smoke from that night. The insurance payout had been enough for Mum and Dad to recalibrate and think about other business ventures. I wrapped my scarf around my neck where it had become loosened during my walk. I still felt guilty about that, but if I told them everything, I'm sure they would have made me go to therapy. 

I was never going to therapy again. Never. Again. 

Because the last time I went to therapy, my therapist had ended up committing suicide. 

--

I was almost to the pub by the time it was dark outside. Thankfully the streets were well lit, and a crowd was gathering outside due to the popularity of the place. 

As I came closer, I could hear the Celtic music streaming from inside and smell all the good smells that a pub should smell like. The neon lights told people that plentiful Guiness and beer were inside, although I wouldn't be partaking tonight, of course. 

I shouldered my way through a throng of people standing outside. There was no official line and I hoped I wouldn't have to show I.D. But Oisin said this place was pretty chill, so I was betting on his word.

I hesitated on the threshold. Inside it was warm, but also hazy, a sort of rolling fog that lay upon the patrons. Everything else seemed ordinary though, so I just shrugged and ducked inside.

I had never been here before, but it got rave reviews from Oisin, so I was hoping it was worth my while. 

I scanned the room, noting that almost every table was crowded with variety of folks. Even the bar was crowded, and I rubbed my eyes, was that someone dancing on the bar? I checked my watch, only 7 p.m. It was wayyyyy too early for that. 

I looked over my shoulder and found Oisin waving at me like a maniac from a corner booth. I ducked under waitresses and busboys carrying steaming tureens and platters that had weird things on them. 

What was this place?

I navigated my way around groups of tables. Some were high tops arranged right next to people having picnics on the floor. In all honesty, it felt like Pandemonium. 

I caught some very pale ladies looking me over as I went past their table. They stared openly at me, so I stared back. They were seated at a high-top, three of them, all wearing matching black dresses with shawls. They had the palest skin I had ever seen, and this was coming from an Irish person. But their hair was the darkest shade of midnight after a full moon and their pale blue eyes dilated and their blood red lips curled upwards synchronously when they saw me looking at them.

A rolling shiver passed through my body, and I fought to turn away. When I was finally free of their spell, I took a deep breath and almost ran to Oisin. I was for once grateful to see his cunning green eyes and devilish smile.