Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(104)

“That’s just what I mean,” Davy said. “The kid. Poor little Bruno who never had a father.”

“What?” Bruno burst out. “What does my father or lack thereof have to do with anything?”

But both men ignored him, too busy staring each other down.

“That’s not coddling?” Davy asked. “Having a hissy fit when you got Sean’s call? Having a tantrum in Tam’s kitchen? Cutting short your trip to come rushing home for this smart-assed, ungrateful punk?”

Bruno sucked in air. “Who are you calling a punk?”

Still, both men acted like he wasn’t there. Davy stared up out of the hole without even budging his piercing gaze from his brother’s. It looked all the more weirdly bright from his muddaubed face.

Sean slogged up over the rise, looking as happy to be there as all the rest of them. He frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be covering the back slope? We can’t get sloppy. Those f*ckers will slaughter us.”

Kev jerked his chin in Davy’s direction. “I’m waiting to hear what his problem is.”

Sean took in Davy’s expression. “Oh, shit. Now?”

“Now,” Kev said.

Day drove his shovel into the ground with the vibe of a vampire hunter planting a stake in the heart of the undead. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for the last few hours. I have a theory now.”

“Let’s hear it,” Kev said.

Davy arched back, staring at the sky. “When Margot was pregnant with Jeannie, there was this album she played to calm her down when she had morning sickness.”

“Yeah?” Bruno prodded. “And this tender domestic detail is relevant to this situation exactly how?”

“You shut up,” Davy said to him. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Oh,” he muttered. “Sorry! I forgot. I’m just that insignificant, ungrateful, coddled punk.”

Kev gave him a “shut up” arm wave. “Go on,” he commanded.

Davy stripped off muddy gloves, wiped his face with the backs of his hands. “So she’s not pregnant anymore,” he went on. “But whenever she hears that music, she turns green. Even though it was her favorite.”

Kev waited, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Bummer. And? So?”

“So the last time I dug a grave in the woods, it was yours.”

The words hung in the air, like some evil charm, turning them all to stone. They stood, unmoving, as the rain lashed down.

Connor limped out over the rise and gaped at them. “All here? Together? If those bastards corner us in this hole and mow us all down like *s, we have no one to blame but ourselves.”

No one countered his scold. Connor’s eyes went narrow, wary.

“So what are you doing here?” Bruno asked.

Connor glanced at his watch. “Relieving him.” He indicated Davy. “He’s been at it two full hours. That was the plan, right? Taking turns?”

No one moved. “What the hell is going on?” Connor yelled.

“I’m still waiting for the theory,” Kev said.

“I’m just contemplating the power of association,” Davy said. “Digging a grave, in the woods, in the rain. It was raining then, too. In August. A freak storm. And you, burned to a crisp in a box. I’d just flown back from Iraq to dig your f*cking grave.”

“So?” Kev made an impatient gesture. “So what’s your point?”

“No point. It’s just that doing this particular job makes me want to vomit. And kill someone. Not necessarily in that order.”

Kev’s throat worked. The rain pissed ceaselessly down.

Bruno cleared his throat. “And, uh . . . the fact that he’s now, um, alive? Doesn’t that make things, you know . . . better?”

Sean let out a bitter laugh. “That’s just it. It should have made things better. But it doesn’t seem like things have changed that much.”

Kev looked like he was braced for a blow. “Changed from what?”

“From when you were dead,” Sean said.

Bruno bore that silence for about ten seconds. “Uh, I’ll take that rifle and go do guard duty. You talk this private stuff out with your—”

“Shut up, or I’ll rip off both your arms,” Kev snarled.

Bruno winced. “Ah. Yeah. Right. Whatever.”

“See? That’s just what I’m talking about!” Sean pointed at Bruno. “You’re alive to him! You rip his face off all the timeuno

Bruno gaped at him. “And this is a good thing for you? A desirable thing? What are you, a goddamn masochist?”

Kev was too agitated to scold him about mouthing off again. “What the f*ck do you guys want from me?” he bellowed.

“I don’t know!” Sean roared back. “I just can’t feel you! I can’t reach you! It’s been too long, I guess. All those years of forgetting about us. Out of sight, out of mind, right? But with you, it’s out of mind, and therefore, out of everything! You no longer give a shit! Mr. Zen! Supercalm! Floating along, no worries! Fucking yay for you, man!”

Kev put the rifle down, walked over, and grabbed the front of his twin’s jacket. “You idiot,” he hissed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”