He swiped a hand under an eye. Guilt pricked at his conscience. He shouldn’t’ve gone. He should’ve said no to Eddy. Instead he’d disobeyed his dad. But he’d just wanted to escape his life for a while.

But the problem was, the movie hadn’t been much of an escape.

Feeling like an intruder, he retreated. He backed slowly down the hall to the darkness of his room and covered his ears, but it wasn’t enough to block out his mother’s cries. Dropping to his knees at the side of his bed, he fished in the nightstand for his rosary. He began the litany, pushing the beads through his fingers as the words tumbled from his mouth.

He focused harder. Surely if he prayed hard enough, God would save his mom. He squeezed his hands together until the cross bit into the flesh. He repeated the prayer, over and over, hoping the words would drown out Mom’s despair.

But her sobs still crept into the bedroom.

The floor behind him creaked. He glanced over his shoulder. A huge, familiar shape filled the doorway. His uncle lowered his bulk to his knees beside him. Their shoulders pressed together, and Nathan took comfort from the strength that flowed from his uncle’s body.

“What are ye doing?” Uncle Aaron’s accent, once strange, was now strangely soothing.

“Praying for her.” Nathan reached into the nightstand and produced another rosary. His breath caught in his throat, and he had to swallow before the words would come out. “I know you don’t go to our church, but would you say it with me?”

“Aye. You just tell me what to say.” The beads looked tiny, like shelled peas, passing through his uncle’s thick, sausage-like fingers. Nathan looked up into piercing blue eyes. Trust and relief bubbled up inside his chest. He knew Uncle Aaron didn’t go to the Catholic church. But it didn’t matter. His uncle would always be there for him.

As Uncle Aaron always said, blood was thicker.

Nathan inhaled the scents of the forest, only mildly tainted by the smell of gasoline. The ATV beneath him bounced as it ran over some rocks on the moonlit game trail. The vehicle was noisy, but Nathan had much ground to cover this night.

So many tasks. So little time until Beltane, the annual fire ceremony that marked the end of winter and the beginning of spring. Just three more days.

Luckily, he was in an isolated area. There was no one around to hear the engine scream. He stopped the vehicle at the edge of a clearing. Before him sat his uncle’s old house, now dark and gloomy with neglect, but in his mind’s eye, Nathan could see the home of his youth, the place his uncle had brought him after the dual tragedies that had ripped the innocence out from under his childhood.