Page 8 of Rehabbing the Beast
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GRAYSTONVILLE, IT TURNEDout, was an old mining town in Northeastern Pennsylvania, known to local historians for its high concentration of Molly Maguires (a secret society of Irish mine workers who rebelled against poor conditions and unfair practices) back in the heyday of anthracite coal mining and railroad barons. Even today the remains of old breakers and black hills of slag and culm were visible beneath the lanky trunks of sturdy white birch.
It took a while to track down Quinn’s family. The area was still heavily populated with those of Irish descent, and trying to find someone with a surname of “Brennan” in Graystonville was akin to finding a needle in a haystack.
But Seth was on a mission, and when Seth was on a mission, the only possible outcome was success.
He began a methodical search, beginning at one end of the town and working his way through the pubs. Like most small town folk, they tended to be wary of outsiders, but Seth was able to work his magic. Having the last name of O’Rourke, a couple of great-uncles who’d worked in the mines a bit to the north, and the ability to drink copious amounts of beer and whiskey all played in his favor.
By the end of the afternoon, Seth had made some new friends. He also now knew exactly where he was going.
Seth pulled in front of the house at twilight and parked along the raised curb. It was old, like every other home around it. Tall and narrow, each floor the width of a single room, it was built into the side of a hill. What little paint remained on the front porch was peeling away, revealing the same dingy color of gray that seemed to permeate everything else in the depressed, forgotten town.
Seth had a hard time imagining Quinn growing up here. Everything about her was so soft and this place was so ... hard. Then again, maybe it was her absence that made everything seem so bleak. God knew, he could relate to that. Quinn had been like a ray of life-giving sunshine in his life when there had been nothing but cold and darkness. Too bad he’d been too fucking stupid to realize it at the time.
Now he was going to make it right.
A TV blared from within, broadcasting some sporting event as Seth made his way toward the house with a heavy feeling of foreboding. There were secrets here. Secrets that would most likely change the way he thought about certain things, and suddenly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Inside, the beast’s ears lowered and flattened against its head.
Fighting a growing sense of unease, Seth made his way to the front door. The steps creaked and groaned beneath his weight but held firm. The doorbell hung drunkenly by a wire from the outer frame, so Seth took a deep breath and then rapped his knuckles on the wooden screen door.
The low rumble of male voices preceded the tread of heavy feet growing closer across hardwood floors. The inner door opened, and Seth found himself face to face with a burly man tall enough to look him in the eye.
“Yeah?”
It only took a second or two for Seth to commit the man’s features to memory. He had the same honey-colored hair as Quinn, but his was shaved close to the scalp in an old-fashioned buzz cut. He had the same unique shade of gray eyes, too, except where Quinn’s were soft and kind, this guy’s were cold as granite. Beyond those two things, the similarity ended, but Seth knew without a doubt he was looking at Quinn’s brother.
“Is this Fergus Brennan’s place?” Seth asked, modulating his voice to the proper tone that both commanded and gave respect.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”
“Seth O’Rourke. I’m looking for Quinn Brennan.”
“Who is it, Johnny?” called a voice from farther back in the house.
Johnnyleaned against the door frame and looked at Seth like someone might view a rattlesnake coiled up on the welcome mat. “Some guy’s looking for Quinn,” he called back without taking his eyes off of Seth.
His words were met with an abrupt halt to the conversations in the other room, followed by the sound of several pairs of heavy tread heading his way. Over Johnny’s shoulder, Seth was able to see three other men of similar size and build, all within a few years of each other in age, and one older man who could only be their father.
Fergus Brennan pushed his son out of the way and glared at Seth. It was hard to believe that his gentle Quinn came from the same stock when sheer malice radiated from these guys in tangible waves. The beast rose, alert and no longer uncertain.
“What’s she done now?” Fergus Brennan barked through the door, using the same kind of commanding tone that Seth often used himself when he was out for blood.
Seth bristled, but forced himself to remain calm. He needed information. He could always come back and kick their asses later if he needed to.
“She’s done nothing wrong,” Seth heard himself saying, surprised at the even tone of his voice. Inside he was raging and he didn’t even know why. “I’m hoping you can help me find her. May I come in? I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.”
One or two of them shifted behind Fergus, but not one of them spoke a word.
Fergus made no move to open the door, speaking through the dirty screen. “What’s she to you? She run away?” Seth caught Fergus’s pointed glance down at Seth’s left hand.
Jesus Christ, Seth thought.Didn’t he even know if his daughter was married or not?
The sick feeling in his gut deepened with every second he spent in their presence. How long had Quinn endured this?
“Nothing like that,” Seth said, though that wasn’t exactly true. Quinnhadkind of run away, but not from the abusive husband Fergus obviously thought he was. The saddest part was, Fergus didn’t seem bothered by that at all. Quinn’s father’s eyes scanned the scars visible along his neck and arms.
“She helped me a while back, and I wanted to th—”.
