The wrong side of the door, with the wrong people

old-wooden-doorThe door to the large storage room was unlocked, which seemed odd, but perhaps it was intentional. Perhaps Dubin’s plan involved accidental stumblings.

Knob turned, I listened for any sounds.

In the absolute still of the church Niall’s breathing behind me was louder than anything behind the door.

I pushed it open and stepped into the dark.

Accidental stumblings indeed.

As the lights blinded me, I don’t know who was more startled when we collided, me, or Conor Dubin.

I whipped around as the church door slammed. My glimpse of the spot where Niall had been standing was now a glimpse of a heavy wooden door.

Then, it was the inside of the storeroom door, and I was on the wrong side of it with some people I desperately wanted not to see.

This is an excerpt from Into the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

I popped up in time to see her take a flying leap

hotel-lobbyShe turned the flashlight off again at the corner, but since the windows were closer to the corner on this side, she got down and crawled right off.

About twelve feet over, she peeked through the window.

Then she stood up, shoved through the shrubs under the windows, and yanked the front door of the hotel open.

Surprised, I popped up in time to see her take a flying leap into Fearghal O’Quinn, sitting in a chair in the lobby.

This is an excerpt from Into the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

I will shoot that man in both knees

I like my knees just the way they are“Mr. Dubin is not patient. As a result, I am not patient.” He squeezed and twisted and I’m afraid I may have made an unmanly noise because great googlymooglies it hurt.

“I am not authorized to, well, take action, without conferring with Mr. Dubin, and I am not going to waste his time with this.”

He let go and stood up straight. “However, if you waste my time like this again, I will shoot that man in both knees. Myself. I will simply have to explain the circumstances to Mr. Dubin after the fact.”

This is an excerpt from Into the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

Think like you’re fleeing

I realized I wasn’t walking any more, but standing across from the street that turns left away from the church. Couldn’t see the name and couldn’t remember it.

No, follow the curve. Think like you’re fleeing. Fast as you can, no thinking.

Church Street, Galway, Co. Kerry

I passed a little alcove, a three-walled wide spot that had lighter patches of stone as if there had been doorways there once upon a time.

“Ssssss.”

No, I didn’t shriek like a little girl when I heard the noise behind me, but I sure did jump.

I landed facing almost back the direction I’d come. A shadow divided itself from the darkest spot in the corner of the alcove.

This is an excerpt from Into the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.

Beloved Irish History Expert Visits Galway

Irish historyRob patted the paper. “You should read it. Compliment is the word.”

The headline was “Beloved Irish History Expert Visits Galway” which could have been better if it were accurate. And shorter.

The facts in the article were accurate, but it read more like a resume written by my mother. Apparently, according to the article, the Irish people consider me one of their own, and would gladly entrust me with their nation’s most valued historical artifacts. Assumptions about my run-ins with the late Michael O’Quinn, known by one and all to be a rabble-rousing pseudo-patriot of the worst kind, furthered the assumptions that I was some kind of history-saving hero. “Death before dishonor” was the general tone of the article.

This is an excerpt from Into the Fog. To read the whole story, get your copy at Amazon.