Messengers and Murderers

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER I:

'Dear journal,

I can't seem to do anything but drink now. I'm beginning to scorn my high alcohol tolerance. It's allowing me to drink so much, I don't even go to take care of the pub anymore. I got my buddy Sean to watch it for now. God, I can't keep doing this. Whenever I try to go talk with Arthur he just tells me to bugger off and why don't I go drink myself silly some more. Allistor says to man up and deal with it, that I don't need anyone and I'll be fine on my own. That might work for him but I want my brothers to at least enjoy my company. All I've done is try to help them and let them grow... but they hate me. The only one who is at all sweet to me is Peter, but Arthur doesn't let him near me anymore. Says I'll taint him with my drunken habits and bad influence. I haven't heard from Daniel in so long and don't know about him. His house is empty so I guess he moved without telling me. I guess I'
He was cut short by a quiet knock on the window and smiled, knowing who it was. His smile vanished, however, when he saw the weather as he opened the window.
"Peter, ye're soaked!!" The Irishman rushed to bring over a towel and blankets to warm the shivering boy holding a smirk.
"It w-was w-worth it..." the blonde laughed quietly as Faolan hugged him close and dried him off.
"Ye're goin' to get yerself sick, then what?"
"Then I'll come live with you, because Arthur wouldn't have time to take care of me!"
"I swear-- are ye tryin' to get yerself sick!?"
"Mayyyyybe." The short Irishman sighed and hugged the boy tightly.
"Don't do that. I don't want ye gettin' sick, even if it means I get to see ye. I wouldn't forgive myself." He frowned and Peter cast his blue eyes down.
"I'm sorry..." Faolan smiled a little apologetically after a moment and pulled the young boy into another warm hug.
"Hey, it's alright. Here, I'll get ye some cocoa, how's that sound?" Peter's face lit up and he nodded.
"Yes please!" Faolan took his hand and pulled him to the kitchen, getting out milk and cocoa mix.
"So, how's school been for ye, ey, Peter?" The redhead hummed as he worked, stirring two big mugs of the sugary warmth.
"Pretty good, the kids don't believe me when I say I'm Sealandic. Bastards."
"Oi, when'd ye learn that kind of language, mister?" He knew it was really most likely his own fault.
"I learned it a while ago, remember when you broke your wrist?"
"Oh. Yeah." That would explain it. The Irishman had been cursing like a drunken sailor after he fell down the stairs onto his hand. This man practically wrote the dictionary on colourful words, and boy did he deliver when the time came.
"Arthur doesn't like me saying bad things like that."
"I don't either, but I'll let ye." He shook his head with a quiet laugh and slid the mug over to Peter.
"Drink up, then we can watch some movies, aye?"
"Mhm!!" The boy's ocean blues lit up like little faerie lights, and he downed the steamy liquid quickly. With another laugh, Faolan was tugged to the plush grey couch and sat on. He put his own mug on the end table.
"What do ye want to see, ey, laddie?"
"I wanna watch The Boy in the Striped Pajamas!"
"That's a rather heavy movie, are ye sure?" Faolan warily eyed Peter, unsure if this movie was appropriate.
"Yeah, I've seen it a bunch of times already." The young boy just bounced a little, sending big, baby blue puppy eyes face the Irishman's way.
"Alright, turn it on." He chuckled.

About halfway through the movie, the power flicked off from the storm.
"Damn piece o' shite..! Peter, stay here." Faolan went and got a candle, bringing it back to the living room. "Here we go."
"Your phone is blinking." He pointed to the face down iPhone who's screen lit up the room. It was buzzing incessantly.
"Oh. Just, stay here okay?" The redhead told Peter and picked up his phone. "Hello?"
"Hello? Is this Faolan Kirkland?" A tired and staticky voice crackled through.
"Speaking, who is this?"
"Oh, finally, I'm so glad I got a hold of you... I have some bad news, I'm afraid. My name is Doctor Evans. I'm sorry to tell you but Arthur... as well as Daniel and Alistor... have been murdered." At that moment, the Irishman's world stopped. In slow motion, he looked at the peaceful boy on the couch. He was just swinging his legs and humming a little song, having no clue what had happened. His eyes trailed back to stare at the phone's screen before he hobbled to the kitchen, out of earshot of the young boy.
"T-they... they what?"
"They've been murdered, all shot. We can't find Peter."
"He's here with me..."
"Alright. The police are on their way, they're worried whoever killed them is after you too."
"Who would...?"
"Right now, our lead suspect is Arthur's current husband, Francis." Something about that didn't feel right. Faolan knew Francis well enough to know he genuinely loved Arthur, and would never go as far as to murder him, let alone all his family. "You and Peter are the last members of the Kirkland family, Faolan. You are standing in the way of anyone wanting to take the company. You're a prime target."
"I... I understand."
"I'm sorry again. The police should be there in ten minutes, make sure no one gets in until then."
"Yes sir."
With that, Doctor Evans hung up and the Irishman slowly put his phone on the counter. He walked back out to Peter and stared at him for a moment, a deer in the headlights.
"Big brother Fao? What's wrong?"
"Peter... c-can ye come here for a moment, laddie..?" Faolan was shocked at how little his voice wavered. The twelve year old blinked and walked over with the candle, setting on the ground beside him.
"What's wrong?" The older man didn't answer and simply leaned down to hug Peter close. It took a moment, but tears began cascading down his pale cheeks. "Faolan... you're scaring me..." he whimpered and hugged his waist tight.
"Our brothers are dead..."
"What!?" The young boy shrieked and stared up at his brother disbelievingly.
"Peter, someone murdered them... we're on our own now..." Faolan slowly sunk to the ground. As painful as this news was to Peter, he wasn't necessarily close to them all, unlike the other man in the room. He understood he needed to be strong, because any minute now, the Irishman would break down.
"..." after a short silence...
"Oh my God... oh my God, my little brothers, oh my God, they're g-gone, they're g-g-gone, Peter, they're d-dead, oh my God, why...!?" The emerald eyed man began bawling as the shock wore off and the realization struck him. "W-why!? Why, why, WHY?? My p-poor b-baby... b-b-b-brother..!!" Faolan sobbed and Peter hugged his trembling brother tightly, shushing him gently. "M-my l-l-little broth-ther..!!" He cried and screamed and prayed and cursed. "H-he doesn't d-d-Ser-erve that!! They d-don't de-serve it!"
"I know... I know... shhhh..." "I-I-I n-never apo-ologi-I-ized to him-m..." Faolan hiccuped and whimpered, clinging to Peter's small form. "I-I'm s-so sor-rry, A-Arthur... Al-listor... Daniel.."

"I'm so s-sorry..."