Of Blood and Honey (Fey and the Fallen) Read Online Free PDF Page B

eyes. There were grey patches showing through the bars on the window. Everyone appeared to be gone. One of the older prisoners stooped over him. He’d never learned the man’s name.
    “Come on, lad,” he said. “You’ll miss the morning line up.”
    Liam didn’t move. He didn’t care if the guards came and shot him.
    “You look a fright,” the older prisoner said. “Do you need to go to the infirmary?”
    “No!” Liam shot up off the cot before the old man could call for the surgeon. He stuck his feet in his shoes and stumbled outside. A headache smacked into his brain with the brightness of the light. It was a slam-mer—the worst he’d ever had. He wanted to throw up but did his best not to show it. His body was a mass of bruises, and his arse was sore. He purposely didn’t think of why. Taking a place at the back of the group and as far away from Kevin, Tom and Hugh as he could manage, he waited while the guards called out the names.

    Christmas came and went. He didn’t care. He didn’t join in the stories and the singing of the songs. He didn’t even attend the Mass. He couldn’t, not with such a great sin on his soul. There was no chance he’d go to confession. He didn’t shave either—because shaving meant looking in the mirror, and he didn’t want to see what Sanders saw. As luck would have it, Sanders seemed to be away on holiday. Liam kept a watchful eye nonetheless and was careful not to be alone with any of the guards if it could be helped. It was weeks before he stopped jumping at shadows, or ceased shuddering each time his name was called. A few days after Christmas he got a package from home containing a card from his mother, two letters from Mary Kate, biscuits, tea, a brown neck scarf and a pair of thick socks. The biscuits and tea never made it past the guards. The only reason he knew they’d been in the box was because they’d kindly left him the crumbs and crumpled wax paper. As for the scarf, Tom took it off him two days later, giving him a black eye in exchange. At least he had the socks, for which he was grateful, and the letters, which he hid where Hugh wouldn’t think to look. He desperately wanted to know what Mary Kate had written but couldn’t read them. So, Liam carried both letters with him close to his skin, the paper growing dog-eared with each passing day.
    One day, he was making his usual route around the cage when he spotted a huge black wolfhound on the other side of the chain link fence topped with razor wire—the area between the fences that everyone called “No Man’s Land.” The cage was surrounded by other cages on three sides. This was the fourth, and it provided a view of yet another fence, a guard tower and brick wall. How or why the great beast had gotten inside No Man’s Land was beyond Liam. The creature had no collar and looked nothing like a guard dog—the BAs used Alsatians. The strange wolfhound pressed against the fence and whined. Thinking of the dreams, Liam moved closer and saw the beast’s fur was caked with mud. Dug under the wall, then.
    “Hello,” Liam said. “What’s your name, boy?”
    The wolfhound pushed his muzzle through the chain link and whined again. Liam put his hand up so the dog could sniff him. The hound licked his fingers and something in Liam’s chest loosened.
    “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” Liam asked. “Bit mad too. No one breaks into this place.” He checked the area before sitting down in the gravel, but he needn’t have worried. Everyone, except for Tom and Hugh, left him alone now. Although it was never mentioned, Liam knew why. It was because of what had been done to him. On some level the others knew without being told and were afraid that they’d be next.
    “You can’t stay, you know,” Liam said. “You’ll have to scarper before the screws come.” That was the most Liam had spoken in weeks. His voice felt rusty, but it was nice to have someone to talk to—even if the poor thing