Page 13 of Inflict

Evelyn’s father had a smooth brogue, albeit loud, like every other Irishman Connor had met in his short lifetime. The sudden voice coming from the back of Evelyn’s house startled Connor from his position at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t been waiting there long, but he had hoped Evelyn would join him outside if she saw him there.

“It’s not that cold, sir,” Connor mumbled against the neck of his coat.

That was a lie.

It was feckin’ cold.

Declan raised a single eyebrow, his silent way of calling out the lie. “It’s cold, Connor.”

Connor shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Evelyn’s had a nasty cold all week—she’s not allowed outside in this mess to play.”

His shoulders dropped at that statement. “Oh.”

Declan sighed loudly. “You can come in, I suppose, but not for long. Does your father know you’re over here today?”

Connor shook his head.

His father wouldn’t be happy if he did know.

Declan didn’t even look surprised at the omission. “Get in the feckin’ house, before your fingers fall off from the cold, and your father comes over here, looking for me when he figures out where ye went to, lad.”

Evelyn’s dad was a strange man—especially where Connor and his father were concerned. Declan didn’t talk very fondly of Sean, though Connor knew the two worked together for that thing they called the organization. And even though Declan was the man that Connor had heard others call their leader, or the boss, he’d also seen Declan give Sean a wide berth of space whenever the two were near each other.

Which wasn’t very often.

Connor didn’t understand a whole lot about it.

He figured it didn’t much matter.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Declan’s irritation spilled over into his tone, and it sent Connor running for the back of the house. The tall man stepped aside to let him in, but made sure to tell him not to get the snow all over the floor before he closed the door.

“Evelyn’s in her room with that damn cat of hers—keep the door open, understand?”

Connor nodded. “Yes, sir.”

It took Connor no time at all to strip down from his winter clothes, and head for the back of the bungalow style house where he knew Evelyn’s room was. While he’d been allowed inside once or twice before, he’d never been allowed inside his friend’s bedroom, but he still knew where it was because she had told him.

Sure enough, Evelyn sat on her bed in pink pajamas, her hair tied up in a high pony-tail, and Kitty sleeping in between her crossed legs. She had an opened bottle of nail polish that she was carefully balancing on her pillow as she tried to paint a streak of blue on her fingernail. Once she saw Connor standing in the doorway, she pushed all the stuff aside, except Kitty, and smiled.

“Daidí said I couldn’t play today,” she said.

Connor could tell why as soon as she spoke—her words sounded different, stuffy maybe, like her nose was full. “It’s okay.”

“Want me to paint your nails?”

He made a face. “Nah, that’s okay.”

That wasn’t a guy thing, really.

“Want to help me paint Kitty’s nails?” she asked.

“He probably won’t—”

Evelyn’s laughter interrupted him from saying more. “Kitty is a girl, just like I said. Daidí says the vet told him so. She’s all fixed now—no kittens, no scratching.”