Liam

Prologue

THE THREE BOYS hunched down on the floor of the front parlor, peering through the tattered lace curtains at a figure on the front porch.

“What should we do?” Liam Quinn whispered. “We can’t let her in.”

“Answer the door,” his brother Brian ordered. “We have to pretend everything is okay.”

“She’ll go away,” Sean reassured them both. “Just wait.” Sean was Brian’s twin and they usually disagreed on everything.

“No,” Liam whispered. “She’s not going away. Not this time.”

A knot of fear twisted in his stomach and he held his breath. He and his five brothers had been dodging social workers long enough for Liam to know exactly what they looked like. This one wore a gray coat, nearly the same color as the dirty snow that melted on either side of the street. But it was the dour expression and overstuffed briefcase that really gave her away.

“Answer the damn door,” Brian snapped. “Just tell her you’re home sick and Da is napping in the bedroom.”

Liam turned to his older brothers, the twins both glaring at him. He was the swing vote, a position very difficult for a ten-year-old. “What if she wants to talk to him, Einstein?”

“You’ll just have to convince her that he can’t be bothered,” Brian explained. “Tell her he has a contagious flu…and that he’s barfing…and that the doctors said he has to sleep. You can do it, Li.” Brian gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

The doorbell buzzed again and Liam jumped at the harsh sound. The social workers had been a fear for as long as he could remember. They were like the mythical dragons in their father’s tales of the Mighty Quinn ancestors, always lurking in the shadows and waiting to swoop down to tear their family to shreds.

Winter was the worst season for the dragons to strike. In the winter, there was no way they could produce a responsible parent. In late October, Seamus Quinn took The Mighty Quinn down to the Caribbean, following the swordfishing fleet to warmer waters where he’d earn a winter income not possible on the North Atlantic. Since he was due to return at the beginning of April, they were still on their own for a few more weeks.

Liam didn’t exactly have a perfect family, but it was as close as the six Quinn brothers would ever come. Though his older brothers remembered a time when things were better, Liam had never known any other life. Conor, Dylan, Brendan and the twins, Sean and Brian, had all been born in Ireland, a country Liam only knew as an island on a map. But to hear them speak of it, Ireland had been a land filled with magic and mystery and wonderful, happy times.

Liam had tried to imagine what it was like to have a regular family, a father who came home every night and a mother who cooked dinner and read stories. But all that was over by the time Liam joined the family. Their father, Seamus, had brought his wife and five sons to America before Liam was even born. He’d bought a partnership in Uncle Padriac’s long-liner, The Mighty Quinn, working at an occupation that took him away from South Boston for weeks and sometimes months at a time.

Liam had been the first Quinn born in America. He had always harbored a secret guilt that maybe he’d been the cause of his family’s problems. He’d pieced together enough bits of information from whispered conversations between his brothers to know that everything had gone bad about the time he was born. His father had begun drinking and gambling, his mother often shut herself in her room and wept, and when they were together, they fought all the time.

And then she was gone. Conor had been eight at the time, old enough to remember her. Dylan had been six and remembered even less, and, at five, Brendan had only vague memories. As for the three-year-old twins and infant Liam, they’d been left to only imagine the dark-haired beauty who’d sung them lullabies and tucked them into bed.

“Fiona,” Liam murmured, his lips forming her name like a charm against evil. If she were here, he wouldn’t be scared. She was a Quinn, too, and she’d be strong enough to slay the dragon waiting on the porch. “The dragon is leaving.”

The social worker turned and started down the front steps, but suddenly she returned to the door, this time pounding on the weathered wood with her fist. “I know you’re in there,” she shouted. “Mr. Quinn, if you don’t let me in, I’m going to have to involve the police. Your three youngest sons didn’t show up at school today. They’re truant again.”

Why they had to interfere, Liam didn’t understand. He and his brothers were doing just fine. Conor was seventeen now and he had a part-time job that helped pay the bills. And Dylan and Brendan watched over things at home while their father was gone, picking up odd jobs when they could to add to the family treasury. And the twins, Sean and Brian, did chores around the house.

They managed pretty well as long as they stayed out of trouble. He cursed inwardly. Maybe skipping school that day hadn’t been the smartest move, but sometimes the twins could be so persuasive. Besides, they rarely invited him along on their adventures, so he’d been flattered by the invitation.

Liam turned his attention back to the porch. He knew the real reason why they’d asked him today. He served as a good excuse. If they got caught by Conor, Sean and Brian would convince Liam to lie about how he’d had a stomachache or a headache and his twin brothers had been generous enough to stay home with him.

“She’ll call the cops,” Sean muttered. “They’ll bust down the door and take us all away.”

“All right, I’ll do it,” Liam said. “But you’ll owe me.”

“Anything,” Sean said.

“My choice of your baseball cards-and yours,” he said, turning to Brian. “Any ten I want. No dibs or saves.”

“No way!” Brian protested.

“Give him what he wants,” Sean insisted. “He’ll get rid of her. She’ll believe him. People always like Liam.”

Though it was a backhanded compliment, Liam relished it anyway. People did seem to trust him and he did have a knack for disarming most adults. Wasn’t that why the twins always took him along when they planned to pinch candy from the corner store? If they got caught, Liam could always charm the store owner into letting them off the hook.

“Six cards,” Brian said. “Three from each of us.”

“Any ten that I want,” Liam said. “And you have to help me study for all my math tests and my spelling tests for a month. And you have to do whatever I say for the rest of the day.” He knew he was pushing it, but Liam so rarely had any power in the Quinn household.

“No way,” Brian said.

“Deal,” Sean countered.

Brian gave his twin a shove. “Who made you the boss?” A moment later he was pinned on the dusty parlor rug, Sean’s knee pressed into the small of his back. “All right, all right. Deal.”

“You guys go into Da’s room,” Liam said. “Close the curtains and crawl under the covers and pretend you’re him. I might have to prove he’s here. And don’t make any snoring noises. Make it look good.”

“Just get her out of here before Conor and Dylan and Brendan get home. They’ll kill us if they know we let her in.”

“You just do your job,” Liam said, walking to the door. “And I’ll do mine.”

When the twins got to the back of the house, Liam waited a few seconds then pulled the door open a crack. He tried to appear frightened. “What to you want? I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t go away.”

The lady stared down at him with a stern expression. “I’m Mrs. Witchell from County Social Services. I’d like to see your father, Mr. Seamus Quinn.”

“He’s sleeping,” Liam said. “And he said I’m not supposed to let any strangers in.”

“What are you doing home from school?”

“I’m sick. I have a fever.”

“You can let me in,” she said, showing him her identification. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just here to help.”

Liam shut the door, then grabbed his coat from the pile near the radiator. He slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind him. “I’m not supposed to let anyone inside. But I guess I can talk to you out here.” He sat on the top step, then patted the spot beside him. Mrs. Witchell smiled weakly at his invitation before she sat. “Why do you want to talk to my da?”

“Some of the neighbors are concerned. They say you boys are here on your own. That they haven’t seen your father since before Thanksgiving.”

“No,” Liam said. “My dad is here. He has a job where he works at night so he sleeps during the day.”

“That’s not what they tell me,” she said. “They say he’s off fishing.”

He shrugged. “Then they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I really need to talk to your dad.”

Liam tried to summon some tears, and when one dribbled down his cheek, he said, “He’ll be mad at me if I let you in. And if you wake him up, he’ll be madder still. Can’t he just call you on the phone? I’ll tell him to call as soon as he wakes up.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be good enough.”

Liam paused. He had to play this very carefully. He had a sense that Mrs. Witchell wasn’t easily charmed. But he could also tell that her determination was wavering. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I suppose you could wait inside until he wakes up. Then I wouldn’t be in trouble.”

“That would be all right,” she said.

Liam stood. It was a risky move, letting her in the house. But he had to make her believe that he wasn’t hiding anything. He held the door open for her and she nodded, clearly impressed with his manners. When they got inside, Liam helped her off with her coat, then showed her into the front parlor. Luckily, Conor and Dylan had cleaned the house last night. Though the furniture was tattered and stained, the room looked tidy.

“I’ll just get you coffee,” Liam said. He hurried to the back of the house and put the teakettle on, then tiptoed to his father’s room. In the darkness he could make out a huge lump beneath the bedcovers. “Stay in bed,” he whispered. “She’s in the house.”

Brian bolted upright. “You let her in? Jaysus, I knew we couldn’t trust you to do this. What’s she doing?”

“I’m making her coffee,” Liam said.

“Aw, hell.”

“Just pretend you’re Da. I’ll get her out as fast as I can.” Liam softly shut the door behind him, then turned to find Mrs. Witchell watching him from the end of the hallway. Liam cleared his throat. “He’s not awake yet. I’ll just get your coffee.”

She followed him into the kitchen and Liam watched as she carefully examined the room. Like the parlor, the kitchen was a bit shabby but still neat. “Who does the cooking?”

“Oh, my da,” Liam said, dumping a good measure of instant coffee into a clean mug. “He loves to cook. And he’s a good cook, too.”

“What about when he’s out on the boat?”

“Then Mrs. Smalley takes care of us. She’s a good cook, too.” Liam said a silent prayer that the social worker wouldn’t insist on a conversation with Mrs. Smalley. Though Seamus paid her a small salary to serve as their baby-sitter, she usually didn’t show up. And when she did, she was always drunk. Conor had told her long ago that they didn’t need her help, even though Seamus continued to pay her.

The teakettle screeched and Liam snatched it up from the stove. He’d watched Conor make coffee a hundred times, his brother’s choice of drink when he had to stay up late to study. He grabbed the sugar bowl and scooped a generous measure into the bottom of the cup before filling it with hot water. “Do you want milk?” he asked.

A smile broke across Mrs. Witchell’s face as he handed her the cup. “No, this is fine.” She took a sip and then winced. “It’s very good.” For a long moment she stared at him, then sighed. “I really have to be going. I have another appointment in a half hour. I’m just going to go talk to your father.”

“But he’s not awake,” Liam pleaded.

She stared down at him for a long moment, then sighed. “All right, why don’t I just look in on your father, just to make sure he’s here with you? Then I’ll leave my card and you can have him call me once he wakes up.”

Liam gave her a wide smile, the kind of smile that all the girls at school seemed to like. “All right,” he said. “But you have to promise to be quiet.”

She set her cup down and Liam grabbed her hand, pulling her along to the bedroom. He pushed open the door and allowed her to step inside. The lump on the bed breathed roughly, a perfect mimic by the twins. Liam quickly pulled the social worker back out of the room and shut the door.

“Fine,” she murmured.

By the time Liam showed her out, he could barely contain his relief. He watched her descend the front steps and walk down the block to her car, and as it drove by, he let out a loud whoop. A few seconds later Sean and Brian emerged from the bedroom. “She’s gone!”

Sean grabbed Liam around the waist and gave him a fierce hug. “I knew you could do it. What did she say?”

Liam handed him the card. “She said Da is supposed to call her. Today.” He turned to Brian. “Go get your cards. I want my ten.”

The twins looked at each other, Brian balking at the request. “We made a deal,” Sean admitted.

Liam settled onto the sofa and after Brian and Sean presented him with their treasured collections, he silently flipped through them, weighing the value of the cards he wanted. “Go get me some chocolate milk,” he ordered Sean. “And you have to tell me a story,” he said to Brian.

“No way,” Brian cried.

“You promised. If you don’t tell me a Mighty Quinn story, then I get twenty cards instead of ten.”

“Tell him a story,” Sean ordered.

“You tell him,” Brian countered.

“I’m getting him chocolate milk. And you’re better at stories.”

“Tell me the one about the boy with the silver tongue,” Liam said. “I like that one.”

“This is the story of Riagan Quinn,” Brian began. “Riagan was a foundling-”

“His father was killed in battle,” Liam interjected.

“And his dying mother left him in the forest,” Brian continued grudgingly. “And no one knew his real name, or where he came from. The fairies gave him the name Riagan ’cause it meant ‘little king.’ The forest was wild with wolves, but the fairies watched over him, feeding him drops of dew from their wands.”

“Magic drops of dew,” Liam added.

“Yeah, but that comes later. I’m not supposed to tell that part first.”

Liam snuggled down on the sofa, distractedly examining a Bucky Dent card as his brother’s voice wove the familiar tale. He loved the Mighty Quinn stories, especially this one. When his father or one of his older brothers decided to tell a story, Liam could almost picture Ireland. Brendan was the best storyteller and then his da. But in his da’s stories, the women were always the enemy and Liam wasn’t sure he liked that.

“One day, a poor beggar woman wandered into the forest, looking for food for her starving family and she came upon the wee child. But where were the babe’s parents? she wondered. They were probably doing the same thing she was, gathering food in the forest. So she sat and waited for them to return.”

“But they never came because Riagan didn’t have parents,” Liam said.

“He did. No one knew who they were,” Brian said.

“No, he didn’t. He was an orphan,” Liam said.

“If you know the story so good, then why don’t you tell it?” Brian snatched the Bucky Dent card away. “You can’t have that one. Take the Carlton Fisk.”

“As darkness fell, the woman began to worry,” Liam said, prompting him to continue as he clamped his fingers on the Bucky Dent card and pulled.

Brian gave up the card. “She couldn’t leave the baby in the woods for surely he’d be eaten by the wolves. But she already had seven children to feed at home. She walked away, but her heart had been captured by Riagan’s sweet smile. In the end, she returned and carried him out of the woods. The fairies watched from the shadows, happy to see that Riagan had found a loving home.”

Just then, the front door opened and Conor stepped inside. He shrugged out of his jacket, then glanced over at his brothers, giving them a suspicious look. “What are you three up to? You’re supposed to be doing your homework when I come home.”

“A story,” Liam said. “A Mighty Quinn story. Come and tell it. Brian doesn’t do it the right way. It’s the one about Riagan and the silver tongue.” Conor groaned, but he didn’t refuse. In truth, Conor rarely refused Liam anything. “The lady found him in the forest and took him home. That’s where we are,” Liam prompted.

Conor sat between Brian and Liam, throwing his arms along the back of the sofa. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, then began to spin the tales that had become a regular part of their evenings together. There were so many Mighty Quinn tales to choose from, all of them featuring one of their long-ago ancestors, all of them exciting and heroic.

“Riagan settled into his new family,” Conor said. “And soon their fortunes seemed to change. Everyone in the village came to see the baby and were so captivated by him that they left small gifts of food and clothing. And as Riagan grew, he became more and more handsome. And the drops of dew that the fairies had fed him had given him a silver tongue. Riagan could talk anyone into anything.”

Liam snuggled against his brother’s side, his earlier fears fading. Everything would be all right. Conor would make it right.

“Around the time Riagan was growing tall and strong, the king died and Queen Comyna came into power over the people of Ireland. She was greedy and suspicious and coveted all things of beauty and value, believing these things to be reserved for those of noble birth. And while her husband was generous with the poor people of his kingdom, his queen wasn’t. She went through the kingdom, stripping her subjects of even the tiniest valuables. Times were hard and many people went hungry.”

“But Riagan was a clever boy,” Liam continued.

“Yes, he was. One day, while he was fishing in a stream, he came across a shallow pool, the bottom lined with pretty pink stones worn smooth by running water. He gathered them up and when he got back to his village, he sought out one woman in town, a woman known as a gossip. Riagan showed her one of the stones and told her that a fairy had given it to him and that it was more valuable than gold.”

At that moment Dylan and Brendan came bursting through the front door, joking and laughing. They caught sight of their four brothers lined up on the sofa. “What’s this?” Dylan asked.

“A story,” Liam said. He motioned them over. “Brendan, you tell now.”

Of all the Quinn brothers, Brendan had a special way with words, and if Liam closed his eyes and listened to Bren, he could see the story as if it were a movie in his head.

Conor continued, giving Brendan his cue. “Of course, the story about the pink stone spread quickly around the kingdom and, a few days later, Queen Comyna’s soldiers showed up at Riagan’s door, demanding that he turn over the fairy stones he’d found. But Riagan told them that the fairy had only given him one.”

Brendan sat on the floor and stretched his legs out in front of him. “The next day Riagan retrieved another pink stone from his hiding place and took it to town, telling the gossip that the fairy had visited him again. This time, a local merchant paid him a tidy sum for the fairy stone, but, as expected, the queen’s soldiers soon came to collect the stone from the merchant. Time passed, and again and again, Riagan brought the fairy stones to town. And each time, the wealthy merchants fought to buy them from Riagan, certain that if the queen was collecting the stones, they must be of great value.”

“I love this story,” Liam murmured.

Bren smiled. “Finally, the day came when the queen’s soldiers came to Riagan’s house again and took him away to the palace. Queen Comyna demanded that Riagan give her all the stones he possessed, but Riagan told her that the fairy only gave him one stone at a time, for these stones were very powerful. Once a person possessed them all, they would be granted anything they wished for-wealth, beauty, youth, happiness.”

Liam wondered where he might be able to find a stream in Boston. All he and his brothers needed were a few pink stones. They could use them to keep the family safe. And they could use them for food and to pay the heating bill.

“Now, no one knew how Riagan was able to convince the queen of this fantastic tale, but, many years later, they said it was his silver tongue, which he’d gotten from drinking the dewdrops from the tips of the fairies’ wands. But many believed that Riagan was just a very clever boy, for he not only convinced the queen that the pink stones were more precious than diamonds or gold, he convinced her that trading all her possessions for the remainder of the stones could only increase her wealth a hundredfold. For all those possessions could be immediately replaced simply by wishing for them and so much more.”

“So the greedy queen offered him everything,” Liam said.

“Riagan walked home to retrieve the rest of the stones and, on they way, had to walk through the deep woods where he’d been found as a baby. There he met a fairy who appeared before him in a beam of light.”

“Riagan, you have returned,” Dylan interrupted in a high, squeaky voice. “You have shown yourself to be a kind and clever lad, but now you must become a man and take your rightful place as king. Give the stones to Comyna and she will offer all she owns. Take it. It is your birthright, but you must rule as King Ail-frid did, with compassion and a generous spirit.”

This was the part in which their father usually launched into a long lecture about trusting women, about how all women were greedy and deceitful at heart, and how Ailfrid met his ruin because he loved Comyna and was blinded to her evil side. But Conor and Brendan usually left those parts out.

“And so the charming boy learned of his charmed life,” Brendan said. “Riagan took his place on the throne, and during his reign, the kingdom flourished. And in a crofter’s cottage at the edge of the dark forest, the greedy Comyna lived out her days, with only a bagful of pink stones found on the bottom of a small stream, knowing she had been bested by the boy with the silver tongue.”

Brendan reached over and ruffled Liam’s hair. “How was that?”

“Good,” Liam murmured with a smile. “I feel better now.”

Conor frowned. “What was wrong before?”

Liam heard Sean suck in a sharp breath and Brian nudged him in the ribs, a silent plea to keep his mouth shut. But Liam knew better. Conor was the only one who could keep them all safe. He was the Mighty Quinn and he’d find a way to keep the dragons from descending on the house.

“We skipped school today,” Liam said. “And a social worker came to visit.”